Working Mom vs Stay at Home

I was asked a question today, "will you come back to work after the baby is born" and I didn't hesitate to answer, "yes, I will". There's a pressure, I feel, as a mother, not as a parent because fathers don't get the same questions, to split our time evenly between home and work. If we work too much then we're being unfair to our children by "allowing other people to raise them" and if we're home full time then "we're not contributing to the financial needs of the household". Dads tend to get a break, they're expected to work and it's okay if they work a lot. Moms should be available for both conference calls and carpooling when deemed necessary. Working mothers of the middle class world feel this pressure almost every day. We make the schedule, figure out daycare and babysitters, mark the calendars and tell dad when he needs to be somewhere all between our 8 hour work day. I'm supposed to be fulfilling my destiny as a career woman, something my ancestors fought for me to be able to do and yet there's a stay at home mom out there that's judging me. You know the one that volunteers for ALL the school events, she's the one that runs the PTO and asks you in that knowing little voice to make something for the school bake-off. So if she's so irritating then why does the thought cross my mind when someone asks if I'm coming back to work, "it would be the perfect opportunity to walk away"? Working, in our situation, provides better and more financial opportunities for our children. If my kids need new clothes or want to participate in sports or extracurricular activities, we can do that without putting ourselves in debt.

I often say that if/when my husband ever gets a promotion, I'm done working. And then I think to myself would I really waste an education just to be home with my kids? Am I no longer considered an equal to my husband since he now "brings home the bacon"? Would that affect his expectations in our marriage, would I be expected to have dinner waiting for him when gets home along with a fresh cocktail, clean house and children so all he has to do is kick off his shoes and relax? I don't get to relax because why, "I'm home all day"? To be fair, these are questions that I believe have crossed every married couple, every working mother debating a life change and every person who has had an opinion on the subject. Personally, I envy stay at home moms and I believe it is a full time job that does not receive the acknowledgement that it truly deserves. It does, however, reap many benefits. We don't miss out on firsts, like walking or talking. When we teach our children something, there's a sense of accomplishment and pride that no job in the world could ever provide. We get to be a part of their lives in a way that we couldn't if we were tied to a commute and full time job.

So who wins, which position is better? Do we go back to our roots and give our children the foundation of family that they so much need to learn about and appreciate? Or do we stick to what the economy, our ancestors and the American standards now expect of us and stay in the career world, hoping or knowing that our time with our kids after work and on weekends is enough? Simply put, it's not a matter of winning. It a matter of knowing that what your decision is, is what best for the family. Your children will understand and Betty Crocker with the PTO may just be a little envious, maybe, just maybe she feels that she missed out on her opportunity. The grass is always greener on the other side. When the time comes my husband and I will discuss what's best for the kids and what our (my) concerns are. He knows me well enough to know there won't be a cocktail waiting at the door.

I worked hard for two Degrees, in Honors, I might add, I've pulled myself out of financial turmoil and for 9 years I've been the only female Facilities Manager in my Region. I've made a life for my family and I've done what people told me I couldn't do. I've even patted myself on the back for it. When it's slow at work, I'm not thinking so much about the next opportunity to get my foot in the door, I'm thinking about what my kids are doing, is there a board game I could be playing with them, a park we could be at, homework I could be helping them with. Now, I think it's about me teaching my children the same values and work ethic that got me to where I am today. When you are dedicated and passionate about something that makes either a difference in yourself, other people or even the world...there's a breath, a release, a moment that has no words...just a feeling...that's a wonderful accomplishment. 

Saudi and Beyond

The year was 1993; I was just into my second month of my freshman year. My father had gotten a contract to go overseas to work for Raytheon and had moved there a few months earlier. He was living on an American compound and had just gotten family status so my mother was also able to get a job teaching at the elementary school on the compound. Family status meant me, my mother and my father would be moving to a foreign country where women were not only, expected to cover up from head to toe in what I assumed was a bed sheet but also not even allowed to drive. How convenient for a 14 year old girl. And my brother's who were 24, 21 and 18 were "forced" to stay back in the United States (while their parents were out of the country) and take care of the house. Not sure who got the short end of the stick in this situation.

I was sad to leave my friends but I was actually excited to start a new life and maybe even get my own identity outside of "Elizabeth, the youngest of the Doherty kids". I envisioned tipis and camels in Saudi with a house here and there. I never lived anywhere except for my small town and computers weren't as high tech as they are today so we depended on letters, pictures and imagination. My dad was never good at drawing a picture for us during our brief phone conversations so when he told us it was hot, I envisioned tipi's and camels and lots of heat.

There are moments during the packing and moving process that have always stuck with me. Like the list of items that we weren't allowed to bring with us into Saudi Arabia (i.e. Barbie dolls, alcohol) and the tape recordings that we made of the family sitting around and talking so my dad could hear the familiar sounds of home and that last hug that I gave to my dog before I left her and the city lights of New York getting smaller and smaller as we flew away from the United States. I cried and my mother held me.

Those first few days on the compound were....ummm....a shock to the system, to say the least. Saudi wasn't a desert with tipis; it was a city with lots of twists and turns and a lot of people. Our compound had a gate with guards and barbed wire wrapped around the top. It, in some strange way, made you feel safe. The houses were all white concrete and there were bushes, trees and even some palm trees scattered around, (I'm guessing) an attempt to make it feel more homey. There was a pool and a rec center where the compound kids would go to hang out. This is where I made the horrible assumption that I would be welcomed with open arms. I was going through a Kerri Strug stage and had chopped all my hair off, I wore collared shirts tucked in, of course, and stone wash jeans and converse with threaded bead necklaces to finish off my prep look, a look that didn't communicate well with the already established cliques. It never feels good to be called ugly, not even when it's coming from a red headed bully who apparently lacked his own self worth. I suddenly missed my three older brothers. At the time I was vulnerable and all I wanted was to fit in. There were many times when I would run home to my mother and tell her how much I hated it there. I just wanted to go back home and never move away again...but obviously that wasn't an option. My friends, back home would send me letters and pictures with signs that said "we miss you". I waited for those letters and I hung each one on my wall as a reminder that somewhere in the world I had friends.

Outside of the compound was the school that I would attend along with other compounds that students of the school lived on. About a day after I arrived in Saudi Arabia, I took a placement test at the school. My parents were told it was just routine. Come to find out, I placed in an 8th grade level so the superintendant decided that I should start in the 8th grade and get "an extra year's experience in Saudi". After 9th grade the company paid for boarding school, anywhere in the world you just needed to get accepted. No, I was not excited about going back to the 8th grade; I had already started my freshman year back home why would I want to go back to middle school? My parents fought the decision because obviously if I had just finished the 8th grade I would have tested at that level. Unfortunately, we lost the fight and my hatred for the new place grew even more.

Surprisingly, I didn't become a recluse or ban myself to my room; I tried to start each day fresh as though it were a new opportunity for a new beginning. I buckled down and went to school, I made friends there and even continued to go out and attempt to socialize with the kids on my compound. Eventually I started to make friends but unfortunately and, typical to my personality, I made friends with people in different cliques. There was Michelle who hung out with the British kids and Michaela who hung out with the younger kids and Naomi, from school who just clicked with me right away and then, of course, Anna who was the most popular girl on the compound and at school and whose dad also happened to be my dad's boss. You ever see Clueless with Alicia Silverstone, well I didn't end up like that but after hanging out with Anna I did start to become more confident and more focused on my own style. The other kids didn't like that I wouldn't just pick a group so the kids that I didn't hang out with would make comments that I was Anna's puppet. In some ways maybe I was and in hindsight she meant well, she would tell me not to hang out with the troubled British kids because they smoked and I would get labeled. And she would help me with the Arabic customs so I wouldn't accidentally insult anyone, like the time I put my feet up on the bus seat in front of me and she nearly broke her neck flying over the seat to pull my feet down, apparently I was telling our Arabic bus driver that he was lower then me, HUGE insult. But the one thing that she directed me on is a memory that always sits in the back of my mind, its that familiar moment in everyone’s life where you look back and say, "had I known then what I know now". We were talking about what we wanted to be when we grew up and I, without a doubt wanted to be a Veterinarian and rather than being excited for me she shook her head and said "In order to be a Veterinarian, you have to be good at math Liz, and you're really not good at math". She was right and just like that I didn't know what I wanted to be anymore. I have to believe that this moment (like many others in my life) was a part of my journey to find myself. There are people in this world that are meant to come into our lives to be a positive influence but that doesn't mean that they are meant to influence all of our decisions, knowing that difference will set you apart from the guided and the guider.

Aside from my social life, Saudi's culture was definitely an unforgettable experience. If I went out to the city markets, I always had to go in groups and they always had to be with other girls. As a "westerner" we didn't have to wear the traditional abaya or head wrap when we left the compound but most of the time we would wear the abaya to avoid further stares. There were stores in the markets that had signs on them, "no women allowed" and because of the laws for stealing many people would leave the stores unattended. No one was going to steal if it meant losing a body part. As a woman from a free country you would think that I would be insulted by all of this but instead I learned from it. Yes, I appreciated my home country even more but I also found that the respect and dedication that all of the people, including the women, had for their own culture was rather breathtaking. There is a misconception that these women are slaves to their country, however, what I witnessed was pride. Wearing an abaya and head wrap is done so out of modesty not because the men want them to fade into the background. My eyes were beginning to open up to so many new things and I was beginning to realize that there was a whole world out there outside of my own sheltered opinion.

During my year in Saudi Arabia I swam in the Red Sea, found a new love for mushroom pizza with my best friend Naomi, decorated my room in a tile pattern from pages ripped out of magazines, received my Confirmation and had my first underground Christmas (all behind closed shades as religion was not allowed to be celebrated) and I even had my first boyfriend (whom I quickly broke up with when he tried to kiss me). I was finally getting settled into a new life which meant it was time to shake things up again. Raytheon was having "its first layoff in very long time" and my dad's name was on the list. Rather than packing up and going back to MA, my mother scouted the nation and found North Carolina to be the best economical move. We even had a map of the United Stated taped to our concrete living room wall so my mother could research different parts of North Carolina. She planned a road trip for the summer we moved back to MA. It was all very well organized but unlike Saudi, there wasn't a furnished house waiting for us. My mother, I believe, was being spontaneous...

Daily Dish- Pasta Salad

My sister-in-law will occasionally bring this dish to family outings and people always dive right into it. She's the type of cook that can look through an almost empty fridge and bare cabinets and still be able to whip up something fantastic. Although she admits that she usually doesn't make the same dish twice since her way of cooking is, "not sure what seasoning I used last time so I'll try this one". It's amazing only because when I do that, the chef that also happens to be my husband gives me advice on how to do it differently next time.

So I finally commented one day on this amazing pasta dish and, of course, my sister-in-law says "oh it's the easiest thing". She gave me the ingredients and I tried it for one of my own cookouts and, to my surprise, it was a hit. Of course I did it slightly different but I got the same results and now I'm required at almost every outing to make this dish (or my deviled eggs).

Ingredients:

• 1 Package family size, Three Cheese pasta (preferably Bertolli)
• 1/2 Onion
• 1 Cucumber
• 1 Red or Yellow (or both)
• Small vine tomatoes
• Diced olives
• Mozzarella (or you can cheat and get string cheese and just cut into small round pieces)
• Robusto Italian Dressing

 Directions:

• Cook the pasta and then let it sit in a large strainer while you run cool water over it
• Dice the onion, cucumber and pepper. I always prefer small pieces
• Slice the vine tomatoes into fourths
• Cut the mozzarella or the string cheese into small round pieces
• Mix all the ingredients together in a large serving bowl
• Not sure if this makes a difference but I always wait to mix the Robusto dressing into the pasta salad until I'm ready to serve the dish

Enjoy! 

The Boy with ADD

When I found out at the tender age of 19 that I was going to be a mother, there was no doubt in my mind that my life had changed forever. If I were able to take a peak into my son's future I don't believe I would have foreseen what was to come for him. At the time I was a single mother and just a child myself. Raising one, in my naive opinion entailed feeding, changing and putting them to bed...job done. Calvin tested every aspect of this theory.

In my 11 years experience as a mother of a boy I have concluded that every boy has received a small dose of what we call ADD. Calvin received about two tablespoons more of this dose. There were always signs and I always asked his daycare, preschool and even kindergarten teachers if they also thought Calvin had a hard time paying attention. They would say, "he's just being a boy". But he would never sit for TV so I would tell myself, "good, I don't want the TV to be the babysitter". However, it would have been nice to do the dishes without worrying about what Calvin broke or swallowed. He would have meltdowns....All. The. Time. I had anxiety about going out in public to a store, to family outings and to friends houses. And I also had a lot of guilt that I had done something wrong and I was just a bad parent. My sweet boy was the most genuine and caring human being and yet at the drop of a dime he became so frustrated and confused. His environment always needed to be on his terms. I often imagined during these moments the house of mirrors, you know the one at the circus where everything becomes disfigured and overwhelming and scary. There were many times that I would have to sit and just hold him, I was helpless in his world. So I prayed and asked for patience...

He was around 2 years old when my life started to move into a more positive direction. I had just started dating my future husband, I had also just started working for a new company and I decided it was time to go back to school. Why not load it on? I've heard many people say, "How do you do it?" and the answer was simple, "My mother did it with four kids, you just do it". There were moments in the beginning of this new life where I often wondered when the black cloud would come back. The lesson I learned was if you start to surround yourself with positive people, you become a more positive person. I found honesty to be an important part of my "growing up" process. And when a black cloud presented itself, it became a lot easier to deal with. Calvin also got a more focused and better (definitely not perfect) mom.

In the first grade, about a week into the school year I got my first note. The teacher (surprise!) wanted to meet with me. She said, "have you ever had your son tested for ADD?". The light bulb went off and I thought, "finally, we may have an answer". I called the town who set up testing and we met with a psychologist and his teacher to go over the results. Calvin, was textbook ADD. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders...and replaced with a whole new set of concerns. So what next? Do I become that parent that medicates my child? Will Calvin lose his signature personality? What am I supposed to do?

The town directed us to a psychologist, fairly well known, who even wrote articles on parenting for the local newspaper. At our first meeting we started with my parenting style and the many things that I could do differently, I remember that being a low-self esteem day. However, I looked to the positive and figured why not, I'll try something new, heck I'll try anything. Calvin was given choices not open ended questions, a strict schedule, a new diet, a layout of errands and consequences if mom could not finish the errands and, of course, constant structure. Sticking to all of this was the key. We had a token jar for every good deed he did with prizes like, "spend an uninterrupted day with mom", "go to the park" or "have a sleepover". There was great improvement over time (and I mean months not day's)in both our lives but Calvin seemed to still be struggling. The Psychologist had us go to the Psychiatrist in the same office to start Calvin on medication.

So here it is 11 years later. Calvin has been on medication since the 1st grade and I can honestly say, he never lost his personality. He is also still visits with a therapist so that (a) Calvin can continue to learn new ways to control his environment and (b) we can continue to help him stay on track. His lifestyle is different from the "average boy". He still has moments but I find that they happen more around people who don't understand the struggle of ADD. I used to be one of those people, I would get angry and yell and wonder why my child could not just behave normal. I'm not sure when it dawned on me that ADD was not a disease. It is a wonderful gift. It taught me, no scratch that, it made me organize my life and in return it helped Calvin find solace in the chaos of his brain. There was an episode of Nanny 911 where the nanny had the mother put on a head set that blared music while her four children ran around. She put a book on her lap and told her to read. She said, "This is what your son is going through every time he needs to concentrate".

Calvin, is by far, the brightest young man I know and the best big brother. Little kids LOVE him which is par for the course with ADD and works best with fenced in yards. He adapts very quickly to (what I believe) are impeccable answers and he finds the holes in your responses and before you know it...you have engaged in a 20 minute conversation about why he is not allowed to drink coffee. He has quirks like washing his hands up to his elbows and making sure the upstairs and downstairs light switches are facing the right way. Because of his ADD I have learned that structure and schedule must always be consistent and yet it must evolve with him. Using a white board for rules today may not work tomorrow. Over the summer we found that Calvin loves to read, so we're at the book store all the time. Chess is another skill that he did not get from me. And karate is his place of structure and respect, never cross the ShiHan. He has even beaten the odds academically and done so at a private school. His teachers and principal care so much and everyone wants to see him succeed. Everyone knows "Calvin" and they usually say that with wide eye's and a nod. There's an energy that a child with ADD brings into a room and it's our responsibility to embrace it.

I am so blessed.

Daily Laughter- Summer Fun

We all need a little laughter in our lives, nothing is better than listening to the sound of our children.

Life & Death

One of my earliest memories was in my very first home, we only lived there until I was 4 years old but I remember bits and pieces like it was yesterday. This one, in particular, was a simple life lesson that I learned from my mother.

I was outside playing when I saw something on our front step. It was a mouse and it wasn't moving...in fact, I thought to myself, "it looks hurt". I thought, "what would mom do?" and I ran into my house, grabbed the necessary supplies and then flew back past my mother (whose attention I quickly grabbed) and went back outside to rescue the mouse. I put the band aid neatly over its wound and then I sat with it and "read" one of my books to him. "Read", because I don't believe I actually knew how. My mother came outside as I was tending to the mouse and asked, "Elizabeth, what are you doing?". I simply turned to her and said, "sshhhhh, he's sleeping". In my adult opinion, she very patiently sat with me, because as a mother I probably would have had my daughter in the bathroom with a scrub brush and disinfectant. But, my mother didn't even flinch. She gently explained to me that the mouse had passed away and God had taken him home for a very important job in heaven. We buried this mouse in our backyard and we said a little prayer for him. That was the day that I wanted to become a veterinarian.

I would later learn that these poor mice were actually gifts that our adoring cats brought home to us. One of many truths my brother(s) would cruelly reveal to me.

Daily Dish- Deviled Eggs

I absolutely love food, with that said, food isn't always fond of me. I prefer things a certain way and honestly believe that you can cut a carrot three different ways and each way it will taste different. My husband is a chef and comes from a family of cooks so I often tell people that I'm his biggest challenge. And since my son, Calvin, has my taste buds, I've had the pleasure of witnessing the two go back and forth on the difference (or rather lack there of) between a piece of cake and a cupcake. Calvin has this gift of making you believe what is, actually isn't.

You would think that it would be easier for me to adhere to my dietary needs with a chef in the house, however, my husband feels that if it doesn't have fat and if you can't add salt then it shouldn't be cooked. His food is truly amazing and he applauds me for my "amazing" pallet but pats me on the head whenever I attempt to cook a real meal. So I bake and I make side dishes or appetizers. One particular (and very easy) dish is my grandmother's deviled eggs.

Ingredients:

• Eggs (6-12)
• Dry mustard
• Mayonaise (any)
• Salt/pepper

Directions:

• Hard boil eggs, preferrably the night before and then let them sit in a bowl overnight in the fridge
• To peel the eggs, I roll the egg on the counter over a paper towel, put a strainer in the sink and run room temp water over the egg as I peel it. The shell should come off very easy.
• Place peeled eggs in a bowl
• Use a sharp steak knife and slice the eggs evenly in half
• Using a spoon, scrape out the yoke into a mixing bowl
• Lay all the halved eggs in an egg dish or a round plate for serving
• From here everything is to taste, smaller portions are better so none of the ingredients become to overpowering
• In the mixing bowl, add the mayonaise (should be about a table spoonful or a little more), dry mustard and salt/pepper
• Continue to taste with each addition, once you approve then scoop the mix into the open holes in the sliced eggs
• Serve and enjoy!

The birth of Wheeze

I'm a mother of two with one on the way. I'm happily in my 30s with a wonderful (not perfect) husband and a life that I've worked very hard for. My road hasn't been easy but it's the one I chose to take.

I had many nicknames growing up, being the youngest and only girl of three older brother's, having a nickname was no surprise. Wheeze, however, wasn't what I expected to inherit. There was piggy for gymnastics with reasons you wouldn't expect, Shorty for obvious reasons and other names my brother's used but shouldn't be repeated. My birth name is Elizabeth and at some point two of my brother's started calling me Wheeze. It was different, I answered to it without hesitation and none of us can remember when or why it started. Now my 6 nephews and 1 niece call me Auntie Wheeze. It's a piece of my childhood that stays with me...and it's a lot easier to say than Auntie Elizabeth.

I grew up in a small town with a blue collar, Irish Catholic family in Massachusetts. My dad liked his golf and his beer and my mother liked her prayer's. We went to church every weekend, did our chores on Saturday's and rested on Sunday's. I spent most of my summer's in Georgia with my grandparents while my brother's stayed home and worked on the golf course. People envied our family, we had a nice home and family dinner every night. I always thought it was more like a painting, real pretty from a distance but as you get closer you can see all the imperfections.

I didn't fit in at school, I was the girl that stood in the middle of all the groups and the girl the popular girl's talked about. I had Scoliosis, food allergies and an alcoholic parent and was convinced that I got my parents leftover genes. I had a bulls eye on my head and where I thought I would get sympathy, I was even shunned by some of my teachers. At home, I definitely didn't fit in with my older brothers and often heard the reason for exclusion "because you're a girl". Being daddy's little girl had it's perks, however, shortly after puberty kicked in the golf course became off limits. So you can see where the resentment may have started to boil over. What I did have were a few close friends, my animals and gymnastics. I've always been the quirky girl with little patience for stupidity and a strong sense of real friendship and family.

It took me many years to find my voice and my faith. My mother would say, "just turn the other cheek". I understand now what she really meant and accept that we are not the same person but at the time there was a lot of anger that I bottled up. Now don't get me wrong, I wasn't walking around waiting for death to cross my path. I had a childhood that I have learned over the year's to appreciate greatly, it has made me who I am today. I have a lot of compassion for children and I do not tolerate bullying, I have a great affection for animals and truly believe I missed my calling but that's for another post. I believe without a doubt that independence, communication, financial understanding and mutual respect are necessities in a marriage. And that saying "never judge a book by its cover" is mostly true, one should never assume someones personality by their appearance.

Needless to say, I made it through middle school and happily waved goodbye to go onto an all girl Catholic school. Dad had sobered up and mom had found her sense of direction. One month into my freshman year and it was time to pack up and move to Saudi Arabia. Things were headed for a really big change.