I promised myself I wouldn't do retro-blogging. If a day went by and I didn't write down my thoughts for that day, so be it.
But I'm breaking my rules. Today is Monday, and I have to write about last Friday.
Friday morning, I was sitting in the Museum of Contemporary Art's darkened auditorium in the last row next to my friend and fellow board member for a group we volunteer with. We're both in dresses, legs crossed. At our feet are programs for the event our group has sponsored, along with index cards and pens for the audience's questions. She's quietly clicking away on her Blackberry, and I feel this urge to lean over and give her a squeeze. She was the last friend who had visited me in the hospital before Jossie was born. She's a fundraiser for the medical center I was at and not only held my hand but had ensured I was getting the right people to look in on me. I remember her clicking away on her phone in my hospital room, working hard to get my questions answered.
And here we were Friday on a lovely October morning, being so normal. Wearing nametags and networking over coffee and danish with fellow fundraisers. Listening to a program that challenged me to think creatively about my fundraising profession and reminded me of the strong connections forged with others in this field. Happy to be here.
After the morning lecture, I was desperate to finish a grant proposal that was due that day. I had to pick up Jack at 11:45 a.m. from preschool, so rather than go into the office, I decided I would work along Michigan Avenue to save time. I ended up in the lobby of Prentice. They have free wi-fi, good tea and vegan muffins (taste better than they sound) and I liked the idea of being there and being able to leave any old time I wanted. I also liked know that Jossie was at home and not in 1082E on the 10th floor.
Halfway through the proposal, I realize it's time to fetch Jack. He's still young enough that I can kiss his face over and over in front of his friends when I get to his school, and he's not embarrassed. I like that. We don't need to be home until 12:30 p.m., so Jack and I do some seriously fast shopping at 900 N. Michigan. I score a new winter coat and gloves.
On our way out, Jack declares he'd rather take a cab than a bus. Yes, this comes from a 3-year-old. We end up taking a cab because we're far from the bus stop. And I think it's fun to teach a preschooler how to hail a cab.
We're home, and Maria sticks around and eats lunch with us. I love when she does that - it's nice to stop and have time to chat with her. Jossie is asleep, and I'm banking on Jack taking a nap too so I can finish my proposal. That doesn't happen. He yutzes around, watching TV, as I type away at my laptop, frantically emailing drafts to my co-worker to ensure I'm making sense. This proposal is for one of my favorite families who funds our work, so I want to give them my best.
Proposal gets sent, and Jossie is up. After a change and a bottle, we're headed to the pediatrician to our beloved Dr. Hong. It's Jossie's nine-month check-up, and Jossie girl is 25% percentile for weight (17 lbs 6 oz), 50-75% for length, and 50% for head circumference for her actual age. Also 100% in awesome hair; here's a picture taken a week ago:
We end the day by visiting Jeremy's office and seeing his co-workers and then a yummy dinner at Epic Burger. There's a young family sitting next to us - their infant baby is seated in a high chair, her Tiny Diner spread out, and appropriate finger foods and sippy cup are offered. I look over at my Jossie, my second, who is sitting in Jeremy's arms, playing with a paper napkin.
What was good about today? It was a good mix. I got to have my volunteer work, my work and my kids. Seeing people I care about and who care about me. And shopping. I've missed you, shopping.
As working mamas, we don't always get days like these - feeling that balance. And I had it, at least for a day.