More Reporter Mama Observations

It felt so good to write here yesterday, I thought I’d squeeze in another post, in lieu of a shower though so maybe that’s not such good news for the people who interact with me in person.

But, for those of you who have written asking if I finally succumbed to the temptation of sticking my head in the oven during my long cyber-silence, this ought to be a good sign.

And, by the way, that whole oven thing? Mostly a joke because I use inappropriate humor as a coping tool, hey, it beats drugs, right? See, I can’t help myself .

Also, mine’s an electric oven, so the joke would ultimately  be on me.

Yesterday I was amazed at the way technology plays such a critical role in how I do my job in ways that I never dreamed of last time I had this gig.

A decade ago, I had a cell phone but it was at the coast and rarely charged – so between those two factors – totally pointless.

Yesterday I was on a field trip with a group of fifth-graders touring the local landfill. I was on the school bus when my editor texted me that we needed a story in the paper, due later that afternoon.

The story was about a young man named Cody Myers who was murdered a year ago by two sick-twist psychopath white supremacists monsters.

Actually, the story was about the foundation that’s been formed since his death by his family in order to continue his vision of providing children who couldn’t afford them musical instruments, and lessons.

I followed the Myers’ story very closely last year, it was when I was still a stay at home mom writing my monthly column. It struck a chord deep within me that these worries of mine with little ones are a blessing compared to those I will face when they are old enough to, like, leave my field of vision.

One night, on deadline this column came to me, truly channeled from beyond myself.

A little gratitude goes a long way.

(click title to read, if you’d like).

Anyway, in that column I mentioned Cody’s mom as she was in my heart so much as I followed the story. I’ve often thought of her and Cody’s story as a way of bringing myself back to a place of grace despite the madness around me.

For the story on a tight deadline, it was tempting to just stick to the basic facts of the benefit concert: October 21, noon to midnight, Trails End in Oregon City … but it means so much more in context doesn’t it?

So I used our archives and Facebook posts to put as much of it together as I could while praying for the chance to talk with the right person for the story.

An hour before the story was due, I got the opportunity to talk with Cody’s mom who was gracious with her time and in sharing such a painful story, but also she said it is good to have her son remembered.

I know I am only one of many who never even met him, and yet will never forget him, or his story.

Here's a link to the story and more information on the Cody Myers Music Outreach Foundation.


Job throws identity in flux, again

JUL 4, 2012 | COMMUNITY

I used to believe guilt was every mother's burden. 

Then I started doing something that called that into question on a daily basis. I did something that's become more the norm than the exception for mothers in America — working outside the home.

A month ago, I went back to work after five years of being a stay-at-home mom.

Originally, our plan was for me to stay home until both boys were in school. In fact, when I wrote my column last month, I had no idea this was coming. I only knew that the shoestring we were living on was starting to strangle us.

I started looking into daycare options, just in case something turned up. I made some phone calls, said some prayers for a positive change and prepared my boys for the possibility.

Then I got the call that the job I'd wanted for years was available.

I applied to be a reporter at this paper, after 12 years away. And in a whirlwind process, I got my desk back in the newsroom.

While I was thrilled to get the job, I would be lying if I didn't acknowledge the deep sense of loss I feel for my identity as a stay-at-home mom — ironically, an identity it took me years to adjust to.

That being said, I'm good with my choice. It's what's best for my family. We now have a neat little thing called health insurance, among other necessities. 

Initially, while looking into daycare I felt like I was putting the boys in a basket and sending them down the river. But even that worked out for Moses, so I realized they were going to be fine as long as I found the right place. 

And I did. I consider the providers partners in parenting and am grateful for them.

That being said, after five years of being attached at the hip, it's disconcerting to find a sticky note reminding me to pick up the dry-cleaning — and the boys.

There are some shallower changes as well.

For example, instead of making do with my "pony-tail as pen holder" hairstyle, I've learned to use a curling iron. That caused our first job-related injury when Sam burned his arm on this new foreign object when it appeared in our only bathroom.

And some new phrases have crept into my vocabulary.

After immersing myself in weeks of county budget talks, I told Sam I would put a dollar into his "squirt gun fund." He looked at me oddly and laughed. "Mama! Don't you mean piggy bank?" 

A social life and exercise are two things I'm having a hard time working into this new gig.

I began to set my gym clothes and shoes by the door the night before my first day.

Every night, as I set my alarm for 5 a.m., I announce I'm planning to go jogging in the morning. But it hasn't happened yet.

We now use "jogging" as a euphemism for "I have no intention of doing that." As in, "I'll read that while you're jogging."

The most stressful thing so far is staying up at night with boys who seem to be coming down with something and wondering, with two new jobs between us, which of us is going to call in sick. I used to be able to shrug off long nights with sick kids as part of the package, but now I'm sweating at the first sign of snot. 

So while this transition isn't easy, it's awesome. I believe the attitude with which we do anything is how we do everything. How can I teach my boys to embrace opportunities and have a healthy sense of adventure if I don't demonstrate what that looks like?

Yes, change can be hard. But it's one of life's few constants. Our attitudes determine our conditions, so I'm careful to keep mine positive. 

I don't miss my boys during the day in an active, aching way. My job doesn't really allow for that sort of ruminating. Plus, I truly love being a reporter. It's just that I wish I could have both at the same time. 

When Sam says, "I'm happy because I'm at daycare, but I'm not happy I can't see you; I feel that way at the same time," it sums up exactly how I feel about this whole reporter mama thing.

You're welcome, future daughter-in-law. It's looking like my little dudes are going to be capable of holding simultaneous emotions and expressing them. 

So about that guilt business?

I'm starting to think it's a choice. And I'm not having any part of it.

Nathalie Hardy invites your feedback at nathalie@nathaliesnotes.com or at her website, www.nathaliesnotes.com .


Reporter Mama, observations

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It’s unreal to realize I am in my fourth week at my new job already. Let me preface this by saying I love my job. But … I may have underestimated the impact of this transition on myself and the boys.

It all happened in such a whirlwind (have I even told you the story yet?!) so I didn’t  have much time to acclimate mentally, or emotionally to what I’m calling my New Life. Because it feels exactly like that. Sam and I, at times, would like our old life back. The one where there seemed to be more time, yet still never enough. The one where we didn’t have to be somewhere at a certain time every day. Dressed.

During our separation, I knew I was going to have to go back to work sooner than later. I just didn’t know how soon it would happen!

The picture above is after my interview day, which ended up being one of the longest times I was away from the boys and as you can see … we did alright.

I really miss writing this blog so I know I’ll be working on a way to work that in to my days. I just don’t quite know how that’ll look. Shorter, more frequent posts perhaps?

I’m writing tonight to ask that you don’t let my longish lag in posting be cause to unsubscribe me. I’m just checking in to let you know I haven’t stuck my head in the oven or anything, far from it! I’m just adjusting to this whole business of being a reporter mama.

(FYI: to those of you who care about this kind of thing, I loved the Reporter Mama idea as soon as I had it, then quickly realized it was probably because I liked Christina Katz’ Writer Mama … so I got her blessing to adapt it to my life now. ‘Cause she’s cool like that.)

 

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And, some days are tougher than others. This is from the Friday of my first week. I’d been meaning to have a meltdown since Tuesday but just couldn’t fit it in.

More observations to follow, as well as one of my new favorite funny stories from the newsroom.

Best,

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Clips – okay, these really are mostly for my parents who adore me enough to read scan the less juicy stuff I write, and also as a working list of clips for my own reference …

Urban a legend of our own

If you fund it, they will come

Times a changing for transit system

Commissioners Spurn Pay Raise


Game Changer

I have an interview today. For a job. One that doesn’t include wiping noses, bums or counters. Though, I’ll still be doing those things as well … just not as much. 

I am excited and nervous which creates sort of a barfy feeling.

Sam said to me yesterday:

“Why are you nervous? You’re just going to go and see what it’s all about and try to have fun, then you won’t be nervous.” He looked at me like duh and added: “You taught me that, Mama!”

Which made me feel amazed at my fortune to have such an awesome little dude as my son. And also like I’m doing alright raising him. And that it’ll be okay if I’m not available to him 24-7 like I have been for the last 5 years. Five years. Which is not to say it’s not going to be an … adjustment.

(Just a heads up … when you start affirming that you are in the process of positive change on a daily basis, be prepared for things to … you know … change.)

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On June 4th, I posted “Daycare found, resume and cover letter written, over-analyzed and sent ... now to find shoes in my closet that don't say ‘five-year SAHM.’” on my Facebook page—but you know that ‘cause we’re friends, right?!

Update: I guess I found the right shoes because … I got the job! I’m a reporter again … the kind with a desk in a newsroom.

My only regret is not picking a pair of more comfortable lucky shoes because I don’t know how often my tennis-shoe and flip-flop accustomed feet are going to be able to handle these!

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p.s. for anyone who randomly found this by Google and doesn’t know me … I am kidding about the shoes. Not about the uncomfortable part, but about them being magic. I got the job because, you know … it’s what I’ve worked toward for approximately … forever.