Barefoot

I did something slightly nutty at work a few months ago. I agreed to do some work on the side as a favor to a doctor. One of my colleagues has been doing some great work recently, with a few publications and a lot of recognition and I wanted a piece of it as well. So when an enthusiastic doctor with a great project came along in need of help, I jumped on board. And when my managers didn't want to approve the project, I agreed to do it anyway, on the weekends.

Then, one weekend, I spent every hour of my son's nap time and few more in the evening working on this project in a desperate attempt to meet a Monday deadline.  By Sunday afternoon, my house was a wreck, I hadn't worked out, I hadn't finished the project, and I had an enormous to-do list that I hadn't even started yet hanging over my head.  "Wow, I can sure tell a difference on the weeks I don't clean," I said (passive-aggressively) to my husband.  Ever naive he responded, "It looks the same to me." Wrong answer. "I need a workout and I need to talk to Abbie," I said and grabbed my phone on the way out the door.

I explained the situation to her and in the process realized that it made no sense at all for me to cut back on my paid-time at work in order to spend more time with my child and then take on additional projects that had me working overtime on the weekends.  "What was I thinking?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said. "I know it isn't the money that drives you.  There is a word for what's motivating you, but I can't put my finger on it."
"I can't either, but it doesn't matter.  What matters is how do I get myself out of this without looking awful for agreeing to do something and not following through?"
So we came up with a speech and a few answers so I was ready in case the doctor thought I wanted to negotiate.  I headed home a much calmer woman than I had left.

On Monday, I rushed in to work for an early morning meeting, leaving Vince and Evan munching breakfast in their pajamas.  And as I expected, the doctor called. He had found some money to pay for my time, but I was ready with an answer, "I'm not really motivated by money. I don't work 100% time because I need to spend time with my son. I was motivated by the project, because I believe in it and I think it can help patients, but I can't do it. But I can help transition it to someone who has more time available to devote. I am thrilled you have funding for that. I'll work to make the transition as smooth as possible." He was gracious and understanding. He has a son the same age as mine and he missed the birth because he was working, he said he had paid a high price and learned the importance of family time the hard way.

On the way to pick up Evan after work, I called Abbie to report the good news.  While talking to her, I realized something else.  "It's true I wanted to help people, and I do believe in his project, but I think what really motivated me is that I wanted to be important." "That's it!" she said. "That's what I was thinking yesterday, but didn't know how to say." We hung up and I headed to the daycare playground.

"Mama!"
"Evan, where is your coat? Where are your shoes?"
Evan pedaled happily over to me on his little tricycle as his teacher rushed up to get to me first, "This is how your husband brought him in," she said. "No coat, no shoes." It was 40 degrees outside.  One of the little girls was crying she was so cold.  Evan was totally unfazed and happy as could be.  I was simultaneously appalled and yet somehow relieved. I am important. My son needs me. It was the best confirmation I could have I made the right decision for me and for our family.

Happy Halloween!

I'm stealing this story, so my apologies to the original teller...

We went to our neighbor's house for Halloween.  The hostess opened the door in a polyester wedding dress, full veil, curled tendrils of hair framing her heavily made up face with it's shockingly blue eye shadow.  Her pregnant tummy jutted out under the empire waste, lifting the hemline enough to display her bare feet.  "Ah, barefoot and pregnant," I see.  Her husband came in with camo suspenders, the Mormon equivalent of a wife beater t-shirt, and a bow tie. "We're a shotgun wedding," she responded.

My husband, asked, "Is that really your wedding dress?" I nearly died.  There is no way this woman got married in a polyester wedding dress that looked anything like the one she had on.   Ever polite, she launched into her story before I had time to apologize on his behalf.

"I actually got it on Craig's List.  I went over to this sweet, Mormon woman's house and when she saw me, she said 'I made it temple-ready, so it's all ready to go. ' (This means sleeves and a high neck).  And then I took off my coat.  I was wearing it when I got there, so she couldn't see my stomach.  When I took off my coat, she just went, 'OH.' Uncomfortable pause. 'Well, do you think it's still going to fit you?"  "Let's find out!" I said, and slid it on and had her zip me up.  'Yup. It fits! I'll take it!' She was mortified.  You don't want a pregnant woman to fit into your wedding dress, no matter who you are or what they are doing with it."

"Oh no!" I responded. "Did you tell her what you were going to do with it?"

"Yes, but I don't know what's worse, 'I'm going to defile your wedding dress by using it for my shotgun wedding or use it as a Halloween costume to dress up like it's a shotgun wedding'. Most uncomfortable Craig's List exchange ever!"