I hired a babysitter. She seems to be a perfect fit. Her hobbies include running half marathons and she rides a scooter. She is perfectly at home being a pirate for 3 hours straight. And when she leaves, Ryan says, "You'll come back and play with me again, right?"
The babysitter comes twice a week for a couple of hours each time, but it feels like a week's break each time. I am completely not used to being out and about without children. It is so strange. At lunch with David this week, I was in a bit of culture shock, seeing tables full of professional women. Then on another day, I went to the library and ran into some moms. Usually, I'd be in line with them, praying that Ryan stays still and quiet while I check out the books. And here I was, or so it seemed, foot loose. I almost felt like apologizing.
When I got back home, the kids were exhausted from having a great time with Cacie, the new sitter. I put them down for their naps and had another two hours. Wow.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The photo shoot
Last week, I took Charlotte to the photo shoot of my profile subject and his family. Since I found out that we'd have access mere hours before the appointed time, I had no choice but to take my daughter to work. I figured we'd only be given a few minutes, and during the photo shoot, I'd wear Charlotte so that she would hardly be noticed, except for being super cute and maybe sleeping so peacefully as the cameras clicked away. We'd be out of there within an hour, home for her nap time, and all would be well. And then God laughed.
We arrived at 10 am sharp and met the photographer who, to constant amusement throughout the morning, actually looked quite a bit like she could be my twin. The subject of my profile has a secretary who also has a secretary. The first fortress guarder met us and ushered us to the waiting room area which had in its center a square, granite coffee table which probably has never had coffee set upon it but which had wickedly scary corners and, on one end, a large plaster bust of a tiger. This was to be Charlotte's plaything for a large portion of the waiting time. Did I mention that the waiting room was on the second floor with open areas overlooking a 25-foot drop and stony tile floors? Not the ideal place for a crawler.
We were there to take pictures of the man and his family. But neither the man nor his family was anywhere in sight. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Thirty. The frosty secretary started to crack as Charlotte's wails echoed off the glass, wood, tile and everything but carpet in this palatial office. She approached us, not with the news that we'd soon be meeting the man and his family, but with one of those small, stuffed cows that have pathetically and desperately painted a sign that reads "Eat More Chickn." This did not do the trick. Charlotte wanted one thing, and one thing only. So we headed to the car, the only place to nurse in this cold, harsh world of ours.
In the car, I considered quitting and going home. Charlotte grew quiet and calm. I welled up, thought "What am I doing?" Then regrouped. We went back into the offices. Back up the stairs. The photographer was still waiting, her camera at her feet. We started to kvetch in whispers about the nerve of this establishment and its leader. The ridiculous turns this story has taken. "Don't leave," the photographer, a star who shot during Katrina, said. "I don't know anything about this family. I am going in blind. I need your senses." So we stayed, and Charlotte kept creeping along the scary coffee table and I kept praying.
Then, the family arrived. the nine-year-old and the five-year-old headed straight for Charlotte. "She's so cute," they said. "How old is she?" Soon, the subject's wife was holding Charlotte. Then he arrived and started telling me to "ENJOY THESSSE TIMESSSS." (He has a booming voice and a strong midwestern twang).
In the end, we got some beautiful photos and great details for the story. I am figuring out how much I love this work and how much my children bring to the whole picture. Thanks, Charlotte!
We arrived at 10 am sharp and met the photographer who, to constant amusement throughout the morning, actually looked quite a bit like she could be my twin. The subject of my profile has a secretary who also has a secretary. The first fortress guarder met us and ushered us to the waiting room area which had in its center a square, granite coffee table which probably has never had coffee set upon it but which had wickedly scary corners and, on one end, a large plaster bust of a tiger. This was to be Charlotte's plaything for a large portion of the waiting time. Did I mention that the waiting room was on the second floor with open areas overlooking a 25-foot drop and stony tile floors? Not the ideal place for a crawler.
We were there to take pictures of the man and his family. But neither the man nor his family was anywhere in sight. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Thirty. The frosty secretary started to crack as Charlotte's wails echoed off the glass, wood, tile and everything but carpet in this palatial office. She approached us, not with the news that we'd soon be meeting the man and his family, but with one of those small, stuffed cows that have pathetically and desperately painted a sign that reads "Eat More Chickn." This did not do the trick. Charlotte wanted one thing, and one thing only. So we headed to the car, the only place to nurse in this cold, harsh world of ours.
In the car, I considered quitting and going home. Charlotte grew quiet and calm. I welled up, thought "What am I doing?" Then regrouped. We went back into the offices. Back up the stairs. The photographer was still waiting, her camera at her feet. We started to kvetch in whispers about the nerve of this establishment and its leader. The ridiculous turns this story has taken. "Don't leave," the photographer, a star who shot during Katrina, said. "I don't know anything about this family. I am going in blind. I need your senses." So we stayed, and Charlotte kept creeping along the scary coffee table and I kept praying.
Then, the family arrived. the nine-year-old and the five-year-old headed straight for Charlotte. "She's so cute," they said. "How old is she?" Soon, the subject's wife was holding Charlotte. Then he arrived and started telling me to "ENJOY THESSSE TIMESSSS." (He has a booming voice and a strong midwestern twang).
In the end, we got some beautiful photos and great details for the story. I am figuring out how much I love this work and how much my children bring to the whole picture. Thanks, Charlotte!
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Adventures in Babysitting
Well, if I am going to do this writing thing, I recently realized, I guess I've got to find a babysitter.
As I embark on the hunt, I admit to having a serious ping pong of feelings. Everything from guilt to fear to joy to wonder to number crunching. The thing about freelance work is that there's always a lag between the work you do and the cash coming in. Then there's the fact that Charlotte is still nursing and has never stayed with anyone except family.
I keep falling into an either/or dichotomy. Either I work and my kids are with others or I stay home and feel cut off from myself and the rest of the world. Isn't this the kind of thinking that has betrayed so many women in the workplace anyway? Why can't it be and, and and? Without the burnout that comes with believing you can have it all?
Luckily, Ryan goes to mother's day out twice a week and is thriving. So I will probably end up hiring a nice sitter to come stay with Charlotte a few hours a week while Ryan is in school.
As I embark on the hunt, I admit to having a serious ping pong of feelings. Everything from guilt to fear to joy to wonder to number crunching. The thing about freelance work is that there's always a lag between the work you do and the cash coming in. Then there's the fact that Charlotte is still nursing and has never stayed with anyone except family.
I keep falling into an either/or dichotomy. Either I work and my kids are with others or I stay home and feel cut off from myself and the rest of the world. Isn't this the kind of thinking that has betrayed so many women in the workplace anyway? Why can't it be and, and and? Without the burnout that comes with believing you can have it all?
Luckily, Ryan goes to mother's day out twice a week and is thriving. So I will probably end up hiring a nice sitter to come stay with Charlotte a few hours a week while Ryan is in school.
Vision board
Each day, I TIVO Oprah and if she's talking about anything I think might be useful, I tune in. We always laugh at her vocal mannerisms, as in "It's DENZEL WASHINGTONNNNNN!" but I admit that she has really helped me at times gain perspective on my life and spirit. I recall once, when I was just starting out and feeling very doubtful, I happened upon a show. I don't recall what the content or guest was, but I do recall Oprah saying that no matter what, "your work is good because you are a child of God." I remember being on my way to cover a public meeting for the local daily paper--not at all inspiring--and I just really needed to hear that maybe what I was doing meant something. Now that I look back, those meetings were integral to my journalistic training. I wrote the articles as the meetings went on, which taught me to condense on the fly. An important skill, no matter what you're writing.
Anyway, Oprah's been doing a lot on the "law of attraction," as in if you think it, you can make it come true. She and her guests recommend doing what they call a "Vision Board," in which you build a collage of the things you'd like to see manifest in your life. Considering that I am at a bit of a professional crossroads, I decided to make one. I pasted the name of the magazine I am currently freelancing for, along with a column from my current editor. I put a picture of the pyramids, a room that Clif Inc. provides to its employees for pumping milk (I want to work with/for organizations that promote breastfeeding), the NPR logo (I have no idea how you break into radio, but it's some of the best writing out there). There is a lot of blank space, but it seems like some of the vision board is already coming true.
Within 12 hours, I received an e-mail from my editor that is a highlight of my professional life so far, more meaningful than some of the national awards I've received because it has come at a time when I have had so many questions and doubts. In it, he complimented the profile I wrote (my first assignment since I had Charlotte) in such concrete, detailed terms that I have no choice but to just drink it in and know I am doing the right thing.
Oprah says that when you focus on the things you would like to see happen in your life, the universe rises up to meet you. It just seems so odd that just as I started to really picture that this, yes, this, is the kind of work I want to do, from here on out, for this kind of editor, said editor would return the same shout out. Just about right away, I started to riffle through the mastheads of such publications as Vanity Fair and Outside Magazine, magazines I admire, and who knows what kind of great yarns I could spin their way?
If you're reading this and wondering what you're going to do, I recommend getting a slice of cardboard and a magazine. Start cutting and pasting the images that call out to you. You just never know what flowers will bloom around your feet.
Anyway, Oprah's been doing a lot on the "law of attraction," as in if you think it, you can make it come true. She and her guests recommend doing what they call a "Vision Board," in which you build a collage of the things you'd like to see manifest in your life. Considering that I am at a bit of a professional crossroads, I decided to make one. I pasted the name of the magazine I am currently freelancing for, along with a column from my current editor. I put a picture of the pyramids, a room that Clif Inc. provides to its employees for pumping milk (I want to work with/for organizations that promote breastfeeding), the NPR logo (I have no idea how you break into radio, but it's some of the best writing out there). There is a lot of blank space, but it seems like some of the vision board is already coming true.
Within 12 hours, I received an e-mail from my editor that is a highlight of my professional life so far, more meaningful than some of the national awards I've received because it has come at a time when I have had so many questions and doubts. In it, he complimented the profile I wrote (my first assignment since I had Charlotte) in such concrete, detailed terms that I have no choice but to just drink it in and know I am doing the right thing.
Oprah says that when you focus on the things you would like to see happen in your life, the universe rises up to meet you. It just seems so odd that just as I started to really picture that this, yes, this, is the kind of work I want to do, from here on out, for this kind of editor, said editor would return the same shout out. Just about right away, I started to riffle through the mastheads of such publications as Vanity Fair and Outside Magazine, magazines I admire, and who knows what kind of great yarns I could spin their way?
If you're reading this and wondering what you're going to do, I recommend getting a slice of cardboard and a magazine. Start cutting and pasting the images that call out to you. You just never know what flowers will bloom around your feet.
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