I’m usually not on time to work. I’m always 2 to 10 minutes late. Not a biggie, except when it is. One would think that after years in the workforce I would have mastered this. Wrong. Let’s break down why. First I need to wake up, that is the hardest part. No matter how much sleep I get, I’m always craving more. Second, I need to fight with her dad on who gets to go in and say good morning first. Man-dad and I are both convinced that the first one in the room gets parent kudos and permanent engraving in her mind for the day, so it’s a real rat race. Not that it’s a competition or anything, but she is clearly happier when I walk in. Until today, when I win, walk in with a huge mommy I love you smile, and get “papa are you?”. Fail. Then I start to try to make her laugh, distract her while I change her diaper, remind her why she does need her paci (bobo), even though she cries for it like a stage 10 paci clinger. It may be helpful to rush through this morning embrace, since I need to remember that I actually do need to get to work on time, but no, I act as if I have no where to be. Just today, after I was 45 minutes late to work, I get a lovely email from my boss to the entire sales team reminding us of working hours. Here is an excerpt:
“Sales is the career we’ve all chosen. This means that we’ll work and work some more to be successful. We’ve got a very aggressive comp plan that can and does pay very handsomely. We have colleagues who are counting on us to be the revenue engine of the company. We have personal financial goals that we want to meet.
To that end, there are too many folks departing early for various and what has now become apparent dubious reasons. Our work hours are 8:30 to 6:00 and you’re expected to be at the office, working during that time.”
Ouchy. That hurts. Literally I feel a pain in the side of my stomach for that one.
My outfit today, for example, set me back by at least 10 minutes. What started with a blue pencil skirt and grey cardigan, made me feel like I was going to a dental conference, turned into an edgy short black skirt with cool snakeskin boots. Bam. Even my nanny Rose didn’t see that one coming.
Next, Lily likes to play with my makeup. So as I’m trying to put it on, she is trying to eat it. Lick the brushes, eat my nail file, play with my Nars colors and attempt to put lipstick on. Then she goes and gets my heels and jewelry. Home-girl is full fabulous diva at the ripe age of 23 months. She is her mothers daughter!
By 7:30am/8am, Rose gets in and tries to distract her, but Liliana’s favorite thing to do is play with medicine in the bathroom, try to eat toxic chemicals and bang the toilet seat down so hard I’m worried for her little fingers, all why I am helpless, panicked and rushing through my shower. Showers have gotten faster than I think is even reasonable.
Even though Rose wants to distract Liliana, she can’t full on walk in on me nakeys in the shower, and man-dad and I are trying to get dressed, leaving Liliana to try to distract us with her fashion show.
Today, mommy won by spending a few extra minutes with baby and she even leaned in for a kiss when I said bye! I got a little wave, with a very high pitched “bye mama”, and off I went.
Smile For Mama 