The Mommy Track

For the first two weeks of my sons' lives, I never wanted to go out to dinner, work, or go shopping again.

"Would you like to take a nap?" My mom asked me. "I could watch the babies."

"No, thanks. I just want to sit in a chair and bury my face in my sons' heads."

"Would you like to go out for an hour or so to the store?" My dad inquired. "I could watch the babies."

"No, thanks. I just want to sit in a chair and bury my face in my sons' heads."

"Would the two of you like to go and get a bite to eat?" Our friends asked Ty and me. "We could come over and watch the babies."

"No, thanks. We just want to sit on the couch and bury our faces in our sons' heads."

Then, sometime in the midst of the diapers and the feedings and the tiny fingers and the chubby cheeks and the wonderfulness of having newborns at home, something happened.

I turned thirty.

"What would you like to do for your thirtieth birthday?" My family asked me.

"I want to sit in a chair and bury my face in my sons' heads. Oh, and eat cake, and takeout sushi," I replied. (After all, it HAD been nine months...)

When the last piece of yellowtail was gone, I opened my presents. Among my husband's generous offerings was a gift certificate to my favorite local clothing store. I remembered how I used to sneak away, in between grocery shopping and picking up dry cleaning, and spend a pleasant hour or so sorting through the racks there.

And I had turned thirty.

And babies--well, they cry a lot. And they poop.

And I got my bank statement. And, well, they aren't cheap.

So, a few weeks later, I started to think about doing some work.

Around the same time, someone I know called with some work for me. It was the kind of project I'd really like to do, but have long been afraid of doing. In fact, I've turned down similar work before. Not because I couldn't do it, but because I was scared to do it.

But, well--now things are different. I need some money. And I'm thirty. I am the mother of two children. I've had a C-section. I've injected myself daily for months. I've been solely responsible for the health of two unborn babies, who, towards the end of the pregnancy, depended on me focusing on their movements at all times and marking any changes, to make sure they stayed alive. Now I'm responsible for the health of two born babies. Babies who've doubled their weight in eight weeks. Babies who already smile, reach for their bottles, and sense when their parents enter the room.

It's time to stop being scared, isn't it?

As it turns out, thirty is pretty good.