I finally did it! I finally filed my first case! After months of balancing a new baby, a six year old, and legal research, I have finished the complaint, sent it off to local counsel, and am officially suing the government. Oh Yeah! What did I do to celebrate this amazing merging of law and motherhood? Let me show you:

I bought myself an 8.1 MP Canon Rebel SLR digital camera. This working mom will not miss any more precious baby smiles because my camera won’t capture the image fast enough. This camera clicks away at the speed of… well, a real camera. You will likely see more pictures in the blog from now on. I am sure while I get used to the new toy you will see pictures of the kids, the husband, the pets, random shoes, the trees outside my home, pretty much anything you can point a camera at. I promise to eventually be more choosy, but for now, I am simply taking pictures of everything I see. It is so much fun!

Now I am off to capture life on film!

My Grandpa Ralph lived on a farm in eastern Colorado. My childhood is peppered with the scent memories of dust, wheat, and land in various stages of growth. I remember the quiet, and the dark, so different from those things in the city. I remember the false rug painted on the wooden floor, the old combine we would clamber around on, and the rooms full of my father’s and aunt’s childhood artifacts. What I remember the most though, is my Grandpa waving to us from the path, every time we drove away.

The path was really, really long. We would say our goodbyes, give our hugs and kisses, get in the car, and he would come into the lane. As we slowly drove off his arm would raise, his face would light up with a smile, and he would wave. And wave, and wave, and wave. He would wave and I would stare out the back window of the car waving back. I would watch him until we turned onto the main road, when he would lower his arm and turn to go back inside the house.

He never stopped waving to us. It wasn’t just something he did when I was small. I remember watching out the back window as a teenager, too cool to admit I would have been crushed if the tradition hadn’t continued, and relieved and pleased to discover he was still there, waving.

My Grandpa’s waving is what keeps me standing outside my daughter’s school in the morning, in all types weather, waving and smiling and blowing kisses as she runs inside. I never get back into the car before she gets into the building. I never turn to walk back home until she is completely inside. I remember how nice it is to be able to look back over your shoulder, time and time again, and always see someone waving to you.

For the most part, I love my job. Well, I guess I should say I love my full time job, as I also have a part time job, which I also love. However, I do not love feeling as though my full time job isn’t work, simply because it can be fun and I love it.

If I were spending all day (and night), every day watching over and caring for someone else’s children, and receiving a paycheck for it, I am certain I would not feel a little guilty when my day mostly consisted of cooking, light cleaning, baby feeding, homework overseeing, and playdates. However, because the children I watch over are my own, I feel as though I am not working. Unless I manage to tame the laundry beast, or deep clean the entire house, or prepare an excellent dinner, I don’t feel as though I have been working.

Now, I don’t feel as though I have been relaxing, but I feel vaguely as though I have been slacking off a bit, you know, playing solitaire instead of finishing those TPS reports.

Unfortunately, much of society seems to feel the same way. Maybe it’s because I had the children, so I am supposed to take care of them. A philosophy I don’t argue with. I agreed to accept the job, now I have to do the job. Note that is still makes it a job.

Isn’t taking your children to a play date fun? Isn’t that more… play? Isn’t playing with your children all day, fun?

Okay, yes, it is fun. It is fun! A fun job. In fact, it is a fun, 80-120 hour a week, volunteer job.

Playdates are fun, in the same way office events are fun. You get away from your normal routine, you can relax a little more, enjoy some conversation with a co-worker, but you are still hanging out with your boss. It’s not the same as sitting on a couch with a cup of coffee, a good book, and some frackin’ glorious silence.

My full time job is a lot of work. Keeping a small but determined baby fed, changed, clean, entertained, and happy all day long is a tiring, demanding, and all together challenging task. Keeping a brilliant, creative, and tireless six year old fed, clean, clothed, homeworked, and entertained is also a tiring, demanding and challenging task. Mine is not a bon bon filled existence. I may watch ER a couple of times a week, but really, what else am I supposed to do while nursing? Should I develop a nursing sling so I can clean the kitchen or mop the floors while he partakes of his breakfast?

So, this is officially me giving my Mommy guilt it’s pink slip. I work my ass off (which unfortunately doesn’t make it any smaller) every day. I deserve to be told I worked hard today, I deserve to get an employee of the month plaque, but mostly, I deserve to be treated like a contributing, hard working member of society.

And so, my dears, do you.