Seeking the Middle Way

The Little Supervisor on a typical morning.I have never been one to do things the easy way. When I was in high school, I decided I would read War and Peace—all 1,600 pages of it—for my senior paper simply because my English teacher said no one else had ever done it. I left Minnesota for college on the East Coast because I wanted to see how people and life was different outside the Upper Midwest. As a twenty-something, I crisscrossed the country for journalism and publishing jobs that would take me out of my comfort zone and allow me to learn something new, no matter how uncomfortable the experience was at times.

Now I am a mom, and my penchant for making my life ahem, challenging, has not abated. Not satisfied to be either a full-time stay-at-home mom (for reasons financial, intellectual, and emotional) or to be a full-time corporate working mom (been there, done that, got the IV for exhaustion and dehydration), I have tried to find the middle way: a freelancing mom who works roughly 30 hours a week from home.

It is the best of both worlds in many ways. Instead of frantically ironing my outfit and gulping my coffee as I rush out the door to beat the infamous traffic on 395, I get to make cupcakes with my daughter and play puzzles in the mornings before I take her to our nanny-share. Then I come home to write about the housing business, decipher economic releases, and handle projects for other clients. I am exceedingly grateful for all of this, for I feel like I have a different relationship with my daughter than if I had continued in my previous corporate path.

But there are times when walking the middle way feels exceedingly deserted. When I meet other moms in a group, I sometimes feel like I don’t fit in with either the working moms or the stay-at-home moms, because my issues and challenges are just different. I am lucky enough to have escaped the financial pressures*of many stay-at-home moms, who amaze me with their disciplined budgeting and creative ways of living on one income, especially in this outrageously expensive area. And I have tremendous respect for the working moms I know, who manage both demanding jobs and parenting in a way that I discovered I could not.

*Although we do fork out a staggering amount of money for full-time care even though we only need two-thirds care. Don’t get me started on trying to find part-time child care.

Putting the Little Supervisor in preschool has been one of those times when walking the middle way has felt downright solitary. With so many parents working, preschool spots are in high demand, and the admissions process has evolved accordingly. Open houses take place in January and February, with lotteries for new students shortly thereafter, for placement the following fall.

If that sounds frighteningly like applying to college, well, you’re right.

I opted out of that insanity earlier this year for many reasons. I didn’t believe in such madness, at the time the Little Supervisor wasn’t ready (i.e., still in diapers), and I just wanted her to have more time to be a kid. Talk to any parent or teacher today, and you will learn how much more academic school has become, even in kindergarten and first grade. I applaud the idea of accountability in public education, but I deplore how much testing and anxiety and drilling that movement has produced.  I used to be an education reporter—trust me, high test scores are much more reflective of students’ home environment and the importance their parents place on education than they are of any particular teacher or individual school.

Fast forward to September, and ironically, the Little Supervisor is now definitely ready for preschool. Of course, the chances of getting her a spot are slim. Classes are full, waiting lists are full, and preschool secretaries say kindly, “I know. It’s just crazy.”

It has just about given me an ulcer. It has also provided a fresh reminder of how lonely it sometimes can be to walk the middle way, when seemingly everyone else is following the program. It can also be exceedingly complicated. When you’re a work-at-home mom, finding a solution that is the right thing for your child, your finances, and your work schedule is like solving an impossible puzzle.

Mercifully, I think we have found a solution, at least for now, to our preschool puzzle, thanks to a fellow freelancing mom who saw my panicked post on Facebook. Her daughter’s preschool had an unexpected opening in the three-year-old class if I was interested. (Was I INTERESTED???????)

The schedule isn’t ideal—the Little Supervisor’s class meets three mornings a week, so now we’ll be paying for nanny-share plus preschool until I cobble together something that doesn’t put a chokehold on our checkbook—but the school is small, friendly, and convenient, with a rockin’ playground. I know the Little Supervisor will love it, and I’m unspeakably grateful to my friend for her help.

Maybe the middle way isn’t as solitary as I thought.

Busy, Busy Butterfly

A monarch butterfly at Brookside Gardens.Tiny ballet shoes, creativity at the Fenton Street Market, bunny houses--so much to say, yet no time to write. We have been very busy butterflies lately.

The Little Supervisor and I watch the butterflies.

Idaho: More Than Just ‘Famous Potatoes’

If you think I'm crafty, you should meet my sister, who is the ultimate crafter, hobbyist, and now homeowner. Over the past year, she and her husband stained the exterior of their newly built house, painted all the interiors, laid the slate floor, drywalled the basement, and essentially established themselves as the Teton Valley version of HGTV, at least in my opinion. (You don’t want to know how long it took us to paint the Little Supervisor’s room here at Chez Yarn, Bikes, and Books.) Earlier this month, we finally got to enjoy the results of their countless hours of work when we flew to Idaho for vacation at Chez Riceawlewski.

Views of the Teton Valley.

Life truly moves at a different pace in the Teton Valley. The county has just one stoplight, and it’s at the intersection with the buffalo building.

Hot-air balloons float over the house on a regular basis (we saw three during our one-week stay). 

People go to drive-in movies at the Spud.

They grow their own veggies.Auntie Eunie picks green beans with the Little Supervisor.

They ride horses.

The Little Supervisor waits her turn to ride Charlie Brown the horse.

Local kids pile their stuffed animals and dolls into a bike trailer and haul their toys to the playground.

And grownups dress like this to go to WORK. In an OFFICE.

Uncle Maz before his walk to work.  

Cupcake Economics

You heard it here first (or second): Beware the Coming Cupcake Crash.

Luckily, I do not have to worry about the imminent burst of the cupcake bubble (click here for the Washington Post story on the boomlet of cupcakeries in the D.C. area), because I make my own every Tuesday with the Little Supervisor. 

Granted, I started this weekly tradition to avert the Tuesday Tantrums, but who’s to say all these grownups aren’t paying $2.75 for a little baked goodness to ward off their own crankiness? 

  Martha Stewart's strawberry cupcakes, with sprinkles added by the Little Supervisor.

Metamorphosis

I have turned into a full-fledged knitter.

I know, I know—I’ve been knitting for nearly three years now, so of course I am a knitter. But recent events have made me realize that I have crossed the line from dabbler to dedicated yarnster.

1. Thanks to the Dye for Glory sock yarn competition sponsored by Ravelry and the Sock Summit, I now own not one, not two, but FIVE skeins of sock yarn. What was I thinking? As previously disclosed, I don’t knit socks. Or do I?
2. When I was on vacation in Idaho last week, I virtually accosted the sales women at the local yarn store as I grilled them about their works-in-progress. “What are you knitting? What do you usually knit? What’s your favorite yarn?” I was the knitterly equivalent of a Labrador puppy meeting a fellow canine for the first time in, oh, a block. 
3. For an “easy” project suitable for vacation and airplane knitting, I chose a Rowan sweater pattern for the Little Supervisor. A SWEATER. And I didn’t even blink when I looked over the directions. “Hmm, there’s nothing I can’t do here,” I thought. (Please don’t let the knitting gods smite me for this. Thank you.)
4. Finally, when I saw the submissions in the “knitting” category to this year’s local county fair, my yarny transformation could be denied no longer. A ribbon for a basic garter-stitch eyelash-yarn scarf? That’s just not right. Let’s save such honors for the very impressive and justifiably award-winning Fair Isle vest, please. Or so I told the Baker, my friend and neighbor who was (justifiably) gnashing her teeth over losing first place to some teeny-bopper in the baked goods competition. (This was not welcome news to either of us—with 11 different kinds of flour in her kitchen, the Baker knows her way around a cake pan and doesn’t like to lose.) With visions of blue ribbons dancing in my head, I pledged to my friend that SOMETHING—Lucy’s turtle, a pair of Norwegian mittens, or just maybe a little sweater—will be entered in next year’s fair under my name.

After all, the Baker needs a companion in this fair madness, don’t you think?