ad hoc MOM

Aug9Movin’ On Up?
Tonya

It’s been so amazing here at adhocMOM but, sadly, we are moving on. Moving up.

I can now be found at my new blog: Going To Mensa and on twitter: @Going2Mensa.

I can also still be found at The Mouthy Housewives.

Unlike Weezy though my move won’t come with an apartment in the sky.

Anyway, since Gwyneth Paltrow has a cookbook and J.Lo seems to be up for Single Mother of the Year award I’ve decided to branch out into poetry. After a few attempts with a “Man from Nantucket” I moved on to the haiku.  I’ve written one for all you lovely folks out there in the blogosphere:

A train to catch. Now.

I know not where it travels.

Maybe back to you?

I know; it’s pretty damn deep.

Seriously, I just want to say I feel so lucky to have met such amazing people! I will miss everyone so much! And I really hope that you all come over and visit me on Going to Mensa and The Mouthy Housewives. But most of all, though, THANK YOU for all of the awesome comments, the wonderful advice, the amazing support, and, most of all, the huge laughs!!!

Love,

Tonya

 

Filed Under: Milestones


4 Comments

 
May23Mom Without Routine: Brain Without Leash
Carrie

As readers may have noticed in the past few weeks, we at ad hoc MOM have taken a break from routine. For me, the break  hasn’t just been from the blog–it’s been from all of my life’s regularly occurring activities. The month of May has been a crazy one for my family–a kid-less trip to Montreal, my husband’s 40th birthday, lots of family visits, our 7th anniversary, Mother’s Day and soon, our youngest son’s first birthday.

The kids have also been keeping us busier than usual: our oldest is no longer taking a nap (horror!!!) and our youngest is transforming into a thrill-seeking toddler. Their entertainment requirements have spiked, resulting in awkward adult/child dance parties, messy craft projects, lego skyscrapers to nowhere and an unsettling parental policy of appeasement doled out via chocolate milk, cookies, and new trucks. It turns out, we do negotiate with terrorists in our house.

With all of the craziness, I have found myself deviating from my normal day-to-day activities: regular blog posts, freelance assignments, coming into the office space, playdates, cleaning, dinner preparing, showering, keeping up with friends and making sure the house has enough baby soap, baby carrots, bananas, juice boxes, wine, garbage bags, toilet paper and laundry detergent to get through the week. After several weeks of unscheduled chaos,  I find myself feeling adrift, and perhaps (despite the festivities galore), a little sad. I realize that without a routine, I am without sanity.

A routine’s best gift comes in the morning when you wake up and can start the day without any existential panic about your life’s meaning. With a routine in place, you can go about your business on auto-pilot–completing tasks and getting stuff done. In the absence of routine, my mind goes to dark places and my body goes to…Ikea. Lowe’s. Home Depot. The Container Store.

Yes, that’s right. Apparently, when the kids aren’t around and I am avoiding productive work like the plague, my eyes dart about my house looking for projects that will take all day and yield minimal life-improving results. To wit: this past Friday. As soon as the babysitter left with both kids, my brain was besieged by a jumble of home improvement “ideas” courtesy of a mind doped up on HGTV and too much coffee:

Put all of the kids’ artwork in frames, rotate them on a weekly basis, just like Genevieve Gorder said to do on Dear Genevieve. Can’t afford a big piece of artwork? Frame lots of little things in discount frames spray-painted the same color just like that weirdo stubby guy told me to do on Design on a Dime. In the event that I have to sell my house (which we have zero plans of doing in the next 10 years), I better damn well get rid of all that clutter in the basement just like Lisa LaPorta would have me do on Designed to Sell. If my block was featured on Curb Appeal the Block, I’ll be damned if my house is picked by John Gidding and his lackeys for a makeover! I gotta get to the nursery and buy some window boxes STAT!

“Take a breath,” the rational part of my brain whispers. “Where are the &*$% are the car keys, Ikea is opening in 15 minutes and all the good parking spots are going to be taken, so you better MOVE IT MOVE IT MOVE IT sister,” the panicked part of my brain screeches.

Thanks to the abandonment of my routines, here’s what I have to show from last week:

1. A net gain of 3 pounds (from eating all of leftover birthday cupcakes.)
2. Three vases of rotting flowers from birthday/mother’s day extravaganzas.
3. My three year old’s favorite new game is called “Iron Man”, since he was allowed to watch anything he could point to on Apple TV. Iron Man Game (™) consists of him getting into an aggressive fighting stance, scrunching up his face in a threatening manner and yelling “Iron Man!” and attacking anyone who comes near him.
4. Six cans of spray paint in Lowe’s bag, placed on kitchen table.
5. Six discount store picture frames shoddily spray painted all different colors, stacked up akimbo in dining room, posing a great threat to anyone who brushes by them.
6. Weird, unpleasant artwork in Ikea purchased frames (which, of course, are already falling apart.)
7. Unwanted baby Gear lined up in front of the house that’s so busted up, nobody will take it. The rain-streaked Free! sign tempts not a soul. The front of my house looks like a garbage dump.
8. Dying window boxes.
9.20 minutes of billed time
10. Zero blog posts.

Sometimes, we all need a break in routine to re-calibrate our brains. But I think it’s important for me to remember how too much of a break from routine is a dangerous place for me to go. So while I am not promising you the world, I submit to you this jumbled up, rambling blog post as my white flag. Deliver me from the chaos of an unorganized day and into the safe arms of an office, a blog and some billable hours. Thanks for waiting.

Filed Under: Apologies, Disorganization
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13 Comments

 
Apr13Playdate of One = NO Fun
Paula

I usually think it’s a good thing that my daughter isn’t much like me when I was a kid (June = confidence personified , I was scared of my own shadow).  However, I’m starting to worry that my daughter cannot entertain herself for one single second.  NOT one.  This became especially clear today. . as we were stuck inside the house together from 9 am to 9 pm.  It was pouring rain, and we had appointments with various people about house stuff.  June finally has her own bedroom, a basement full of toys, and one of rooms on the top floor has NOTHING BUT HER TRAINS IN IT.  And yet she refuses to pick up a toy unless I agree to play with her.  I get it. . the kid misses her friends – and I’m all for playing some of time, and it should be noted that we read books, color, and do artsy stuff with her 900 markers.  It’s not like I’m watching Days of Our Lives and General Hospital while smoking Virginia Slims while she roams the streets.  But do I really need to wear a Princess Cape for two hours of the day to placate my daughter?  Is this crucial to her development as a decent human being?

Why have friends when you have Australian beauty Olivia Newton-John and Scientologist John Travolta to entertain your young?

I was an absolute champ when it came to entertaining myself when I was a kid.  Who needed friends when you had a library card, some bitchin’ tonka trucks and your very own copy of the Grease soundtrack?  I certainly had friends, but my mom’s priorities seemed to be getting stuff done around the house rather than making sure I was “sufficiently entertained.”  While I’m not necessarily sure this was always the best approach, I do know that I managed to make do with what I had to play with, and had plenty of fun whether it was with friends or not.

Am I over thinking this?  Is it a phase?  Or do I really need to encourage June to learn to play by herself more often?  One second I feel guilty.  I should play with my child and relish every second of this precious fleeting time!  Then after the third hour of playing with the Dora the Explorer Castle set (complete with Unicorn driven rickshaw), I am seriously wishing I had a xanax. .  then we’re back to the guilt.  Sigh.

Filed Under: Motherhood: The Job, Worries
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10 Comments

 
Mar23Whatever it Takes, Which May Include My Sanity
Paula

We are moving.  Any day now.  Really.  However, we’re at that horrible point in the selling/buying process where terrible glitches pop up and I’m now pretty much convinced my family will soon be living in a tent in Prospect Park.  I’ve spent a good portion of the day either on the phone or scanning documents.  I hate my scanner.  It’s old and overly complicated.  I can also use it to produce fake IDs make toast and pop popcorn.  Every time I started to use it June would become fascinated by the device and demand to get involved.  Since I don’t know how to build a wig-wam, and I really like to shower, I decided I would do whatever it takes to get this situation resolved. . .  which means June was going to have her way.  This is how I kept the peace today.

BREAKFAST: Chocolate cupcakes.  My friend Jess pointed out that this really isn’t all that different than a muffin.  I figure, why start the day off with an argument?

FIRST-AID: No less that twenty spider-man themed band-aids are applied lovingly to a non-existent “boo-boo” on child’s foot.  For some inexplicable reason (namely child insists on removing them) the band-aids will not stick.  Constant attention to fake injury seems to placate child.

ENTERTAINMENT:  Toy Story 3.  I rewind crucial “barrel of monkeys” scene about 17 times.  Toddler rolls on floor in hysterics first few times. . . then stands directly in front of tv as if dissecting every second of scene.  Is she future Sofia Coppolla? Or future Judd Apatow?  Or is she just ruining her eyes?

DINNER: Pizza is ordered at her majesty’s request.  The first slice has “too much sauce.”  WTF?  Second slice is “funny.”  Huh?  Third slice is actually second piece simply walked back into kitchen and returned. . .  Third piece is eaten with enthusiasm allowing me to spend an inordinate amount of time fighting with ancient scanner.

BATHTIME: Since I admittedly spent a good portion of the day ignoring my child, I decide not to get mad when she pours a large measuring cup of water on top of my head during bath time.  There’s nothing that says “this is pay back bitch” like a giant cup of luke-warm sudsy water running directly down your back and into your jeans.

I’m sure that if paired with a bushel of organic apples, a box of bran cereal and a pile of tofu this delicious chocolate cupcake is part of a nutritious breakfast!

This is when I realize I’ve really let myself be taken for a ride.  Why do I feel so guilty about having to take care of some stuff?  Yeah, obviously it’s easier to deal with mortgage brokers and real estate people without your child screaming in the back ground, but it’s probably time I teach her that when mom is on the phone it’s time to play quietly with Mrs. Potato Head.  Tomorrow is another day and there will be more drama.  Instead of cupcakes for breakfast – I think I’ll go back to cereal.  Unless I feel like oatmeal.  But whatever we have, it’s going to be my decision, and I’m not going to be afraid of a little arguing.

Filed Under: Food, Insanity, Motherhood: The Job, Shortcuts
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9 Comments

 
Feb23Betty Crocker Has Saved The Day
Paula

It’s been awhile since I’ve had to call upon the wisdom of Betty Crocker.  I’ve been a big fan of Betty ever since I came across her sage suggestions in my mother-in-law’s copy of the Betty Crocker Picture Cookbook.  Helpful gems worthy of Deepak Chopra or maybe Pee-Wee Herman . . . . such as “If you’re tired – immediately lay down on the floor.”  Am I lying on the floor right now?  You tell me.  Or, “if you’re going to use the oven, you need to turn it on.”  Good to know!  I definitely noted that one.

Based on these suggestions alone it was undeniable that Betty Crocker was a giant font of knowledge.  But could she save a mother from crushing her daughter’s dreams with a mediocre birthday cake and a flaccid pizza from Antonio’s on Flatbush Avenue?  June has been to some serious birthday parties, and her expectations are running high.  One day she wants “a blue cake with a moon, and stars” the next day “a giant chocolate cake with birds” and the next some bizarre Colin Cowie style minimalist fete with “100 balloons.”  Bubbles in large quantities have been mentioned.  Maybe I should just order up a unicorn petting zoo to cover all my bases?  What June doesn’t know is that she’s not getting an official party this year.  We’re celebrating at home with family.  That being said, I don’t want her third birthday to be on the top of the list during that inevitable first therapy appointment.  I was wondering if Betty could work some party magic with my limited time and resources.  It turns out she totally can!

1)            “Party-Surprise Sandwiches”

The shockingly horrible ingredients in this sandwich are entirely masked by cream cheese.  Betty sure knows how to surprise people!

Why make a sandwich when you can make a sandwich ENTIRELY COVERED IN CREAM CHEESE?  I know, you’re wondering why you’ve never done this before right?  Betty recommends filling them with margarine, mayonnaise, chopped olives and “canned chicken.”  These ingredients would certainly result in a surprising sandwich.  You’re looking in your mailbox for an invite to this party right now aren’t you?

2) “Candle Salad”

Seriously?  Seriously??

Described by a party guest in the book as “better than a real candle because you can eat it.”  Indeed!  This salad could also be called the “penis salad” or maybe even the “cock ring salad.”  The directions indicate that one would insert a banana upright in the center of a pineapple ring and then top the banana with a cherry.  Why?  Why would anyone do this?  Has this slutty salad ever been served in the history of birthday parties?  Betty, were you drunk when you came up with this one?  You can tell me.  I’d totally understand.

3) “Fatso and “Old Hobo Joe.”

Which old people fruit/cereal combo can we get you?

And for our third course, I’d like to offer you a choice of “Fatso” which consists of a half of a canned peach on a bed of cheerios topped with a deadly maraschino cherry nose (which they do NOT carry at the Park Slope Food Co-op by the way, don’t even ask) and an apple slice for a mouth, OR “Old Hobo Joe” which is an ever appetizing prune nestled in a pile of Wheaties wearing a jaunty apple cap, banana slice ears and blood red cherry eyes.  Cute and delicious!

As for the cake?  Apparently I can just add about a gallon of cancer ridden food dye to the icing, and then throw a pile of animal crackers on it and I’m good to go.  Easy-peasy.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNE!  MOMMY LOVES YOU SO MUCH!!!!!

Filed Under: Disorganization, Food
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11 Comments

 
Jan7You Catch More Flies With Honeycombs
Carrie

There is no shortage of economic forces and cultural voices telling women, especially mothers, that they’re not valuable–employers who pay mothers 73 cents to a man’s dollar (60 cents if you’re an unmarried mother); workplaces that have discriminating hiring practices against women with children; companies that “mommy track” women and pass them over for promotions; and the Senate failing to pass the Paycheck Fairness Act late last year.

One of the most negative voices I’ve heard since I became a mother belongs to someone I know very well: me. The voice is especially harsh when I think about what’s to become of my career after these years limping along in an ad hoc fashion: stringing together freelance gigs, doing work for free, wanting more work but scared of what that would do to my daycare situation and/or sanity.

While there are indeed many important political and economic battles to be fought in Congress, courtrooms, workplaces and homes to remedy inequality, I’m beginning to believe that I need to change the way I talk to myself about balancing motherhood and work. On bad days, I can visualize the hole in my resume growing bigger and bigger.  I can see the on ramp back into the work world getting farther and farther away. The once bright flame of my professional life has settled into the pilot light position. A flicker, waiting for more gas.

These images haunt me! As a designer–it got me thinking.  What if I could stop thinking of my professional life as a linear path that I travel along or a ladder that I climb? It’s too easy to fall off ladders or to take the wrong road. I need a new visual metaphor for my career or I am going to drive myself crazy.

So from now on, I’m visualizing my current and future career as a honeycomb. The honeycomb can include all of my experiences as both a designer and a mother.  A weird freelancing gig gets a cell in the honeycomb. So does free design work for friends and family. Blogging about motherhood gets a cell. So does trying to coordinate bath time with two kids. Holding a coherent conversation on 1 hour of sleep–that gets a cell. Gaining perspective on what really matters after taking your kid to the ER gets a cell too.

Being a mother requires courage, creativity, patience and endurance. My sons have re-ignited my curiosity for the world around me–an essential trait of all good designers. The long and lonesome hours of watching the kids makes me feel a passion for working that I never had before. Sipping a cup of coffee on a boring conference call can seem like a spa treatment when you haven’t had a second of wakeful alone time in weeks. After three years of being a mom, I feel like a mean, lean (tired) fighting machine. I have ideas, I have skills and I have drive. The only thing I don’t have is a seamless resume, an unbroken line, an uninterrupted career trajectory.

By the time my kids are old enough to be in school five days a week, my honeycomb will be a large, strange, strong and utterly unique network of cells. By not holding myself to unrealistic linear career path standards, I will try to take pride in my experiences and hard work as a mother so I can see them as part of a greater whole.

So what about you–can you quit thinking in terms of ladders, paths, tracks, on ramps and off ramps? Can you quiet that mean voice in your head just long enough to hear the buzzing of the bees building honeycombs?

Filed Under: ad hoc LIFE, Life Lessons, Motherhood: The Job, Work Issues
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17 Comments

 
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