Urban Suburban Mommy

Tag Archives: working mom

Can a mama get a minute for herself?

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

I had all the time in the world before I had kids. I had no IDEA how much free time I had, how much time I wasted doing literally nothing.

Now, free time is counted in the gaps between moments, where things still have to get done, but there is a little less…panic? Cacaphony? These are the moments when chores become luxuries and my to-do list becomes an opportunity to have time for myself. Below are some moments I never categorized as “free time” pre-kids, but now look forward to:

Going to the grocery store

When I was pregnant with my second, everyone would wake up super-early on Saturday mornings. My husband would take my oldest to soccer class (it should be noted that no actual soccer was played, but there was a lot of running, followed by chasing and herding) and I would go to Loblaws and buy groceries.

It was pure delight.

The glass doors would breeze open and I’d saunter in with my cart empty and my head full of tranquility. I took my time, wandering up and down the aisles, reading labels, picking things up, putting them back, or not. I’d meander around that store with a big stupid grin on my face. The cashiers must have thought I was nuts. For 45 minutes there would be no gauntlet, no mad dash to grab a few necessities à la Hunger Games. No screaming, no crying, no begging for chocolate at the checkout line (FYI, Loblaws? Putting candy at the checkout line? Genius, keeping the crack at the crackhead’s eye level. Bravo, well played.) For 45 minutes, I had all the time in the world.

Cleaning the basement

My husband took a week off to clean our basement to prepare for a small reno (read: we’re finishing the basement so that the Suicide Squad of cars, Lego blocks and tiny plastic toys that threaten my life on the daily will have a final resting place, other than under my feet or in my jugular.) He spent every day lugging, grunting and shuffling boxes and bins, deciding what stays and what goes, hauling everything up the stairs, and then back down again. All I could think to myself was “Lucky”.

Going to work

I’ve always liked my job, but never really saw it as a place to “escape” to. However, there are mornings where the kids are full of crazy and I can’t get them to my parents’ place fast enough.

I get to work early, and not only is the silence golden, but the perks are endless: completing a task, finishing an email, drinking hot coffee, going out for lunch, having discussions with grown-ups about topics other than projectile vomiting and daycare.

If you don’t work out of an office, I highly recommend that you construct a mini lean-to in your living room and just sit there with your laptop for an hour or so each day.

And now for the things I didn’t even know qualified as “free time” until they were taken away from me:

Being sick

It sure doesn’t sound luxurious, but pre-kids, I remember taking a sick day.

A. Whole. Day. To just be sick.

I could stay home, sleep, eat soup and take cough medicine. Today, there is no such luxury. For my oldest, daytime is awake time and those frozen waffles aren’t gonna toast themselves. I get a sick “15 minutes” if I’m lucky. There are no more “days off” when I’m not feeling well. It’s get up, suck it up, and get out the door. Oh, and try not to black out while driving.

Going to the bathroom – alone

I used to have an air of mystery about me. There were certain private indignities that I kept private because they were, well…undignified. Now that there are three men in the house, my secret garden is not so secret, and my toilet activities are not only available for public viewing, but are subject to a rating system. I tried locking the door…once. Based on the screaming and banging, I suspect they thought I had disappeared into a black hole and wasn’t ever coming back. And then who would have made toaster waffles?

Phone calls

Imagine you’re taking a very important phone call. Let’s say you’re trying to schedule a mover, book a doctor’s appointment and get your car seen by the mechanic because it’s making that Bloods vs Crips gangland noise under the hood again. Now cradle the phone in your neck, because someone has just handed you a wet, sticky washcloth in one hand, and a sticky toddler in your other arm (note: toddler will be reaching a pitch that only dogs and bats can hear because Newton’s fourth unpublished law states that a matter of urgency is equal to the volume your children will hit so that you can’t accomplish it.)

Still with me? Good.

Now wipe the toddler’s face and hands while perching on one leg like a stork, because your oldest child is pretending to be the “bad guy” while ramming your leg with his Fisher Price fire truck. Oh, you need to give a credit card number over the phone? Good. Now take an air horn and blast it against your other ear. That’s your oldest who, in perfecting his comedy of pain, is now screaming because you’ve diverted your attention for all of 15 seconds.

Feel free to cry at this point.

I’m in a brave new world, one where getting a root canal is considered a “spa day” and business calls are taken semi-dressed and covered in food residue. Though I’ve traded “free time” for phases of indentured servitude, I try to be present in the little moments before they’re gone, even the less-cherishable ones. I’d hate to look back and think that I didn’t enjoy the spaces in between the madness.

To quote Into The Woods:

Let the moment go…
Don’t forget it for a moment, though.

 

How I became a pumping machine

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

Krista Holmes shares her personal story about breastfeeding while trying to be a working mama.

Even before my son was born, I knew that I wanted to be able to pump – mostly, for the freedom and possibilities that it provided. Little did I know that 4.5 months later I would re-enter the workforce (more on that some other time) and become a pumping machine.

About 3 weeks before Tyson was born, my husband and I headed down to Babies’R’Us to purchase the pimped out version of a breast pump. Unlike many mothers, I hadn’t read too much on being a first time mother for fear of overwhelming an already anxious me. But pumping was something that I wanted to do. So I did the research and settled on my brand: a Medela Freestyle Breastpump. Expensive, but worth every penny.

Within 3 weeks of being born, we had a 50th birthday party to attend. I was SO excited to be going – just a few hours for my husband and I to be out.

Without a baby.

Or diapers.

Oh, and did I mention that there was wine?

I pumped a handful of times leading up to this night out, so I felt like I was prepared.

It was just up to the Medela bottle and my son to keep the night going. We made it through dinner and a few drinks when my mom texted to say that Tyson drank all of the milk!

WHAT? All of the milk? But I had left over 16oz! It was time to get back to my parents’ home – luckily I had more milk in the fridge at home.

To be honest, I had only breastfed my child up until this point, and of course I had NO idea how much milk he was getting – just that he had wet diapers and that he was growing; essentially the main things that we first time mom’s look for. So, it was time to evaluate this whole pumping situation.

Was it worth it?

You betcha it was! Within another week or two, we met up with friends for a birthday dinner. Except the dinner was almost an hour from our house, the restaurant was behind schedule on reservations and our friends (all still childless) were all late. I kept in touch with my parents and learned that my child was doing well on the 4 bottles that I left him. It was great that things were going so well. Well at least for them…..

This was the longest that I’d gone without feeding my child or pumping, and I was ready to burst!

You know when you see sausages in the pan and they just burst all of a sudden? That was the state of my boobs. Both of them. And since we hadn’t received our food yet and had the long drive ahead, I had to do it – pump and dump. But hand expressing? Thankfully we had reviewed that in prenatal class so I was good to go.

Fast forward 3 months later, I was applying for a job. Yes, I was ready (mostly) to return to the workforce. But it meant so many more steps now as a mom. Other than the obvious – Getting 2 of us ready. Being on time. Not looking like a zombie. It meant getting up even earlier.

After chatting with a few other moms that went back to work early, I felt as prepared as I could be. So I pumped, often, for the 2 weeks leading up to the start of the job. I had my “just in case” pumps all bagged up and labeled.

I had pumped for over 3 months now and I seemed to have it down pat. The pimped out breast pump that we had purchased was awesome. The Medela Freestyle would allow me to pump from both breasts WHILE DOING SOMETHING ELSE! Like watering the plants that handn’t received a drop of H20 in weeks. Or laundry. Or reading a book. Or WHATEVER! I could still DO things while pumping. Obviously my son needed to be considered (I should add here that I miss those long naps) but pumping bottles could be my middle name.

feeding my baby

But don’t think that I didn’t have issues. Sometimes I’d be too exhausted. Or sometimes I’d spill when pouring from bottle to bag. Or sometimes I’d have to pump due to the pain from one of the many blocked milk ducts that I experienced. And then there was leaking, through my shirt and sweater.

If I provide any words of wisdom, it is to plan when you’re going to. And where.

I might pump while breastfeeding my son (side note – I think that mothers who have twins and breastfeed both at the same time deserve a medal), or pump while he was showering with my husband. But I always tried to plan it. I think that planning helped because then I was in the right mind frame to pump. I would have time to grab a drink (stay hydrated), and grab my iPhone, a book or a magazine. And then find a comfy place. Though I have been known to pump while driving out of town, while on a conference call, and even once while walking on a trail with another mother.

When we started our son on cereal, we were able to use most of the frozen milk that I had in the cereal. And then we mixed some of the breast milk when introducing homo milk.

For those that find it odd that I returned to work early, it wasn’t because I needed to. It was because I wanted to. Sure there were days when I second guessed my decision, but then I remember that my sanity was still intact, and that in fact, I might’ve been a better mom to our son. For now, from one pumping-breastfeeding-foodnatzi-mother to another, pumping gave me options. It gave me comfort. But most of all, it gave the option of someone else feeding my son. And here I am 17 months later, and I still pump the occasional time (usually it’s to avoid a blocked milk duct).

I think that with the right pump, the right surroundings, and of course the right support, pumping can be something that can really help a mother have some time. Kudos to those mothers who exclusively pump – that takes discipline!

 

Krista HolmsKrista Holmes,KH Mgmt, became a mother in the summer of 2014. She works behind-the-scenes in the Canadian music industry, designs several social media campaigns and manages special events. Her love for motherhood & music can be found on her blog, mommylovesmusic.wordpress.com.

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