Seven Signs

So. The other morning, amidst the chaos of getting three children out of bed (OK, they got me out of bed), getting their breakfast made and getting them ready for camp, I received an email from Linked In with the subject "7 Signs It Is Time to Quit Your Job."

I honestly don't know what compelled me to open that particular email, since most emails from anyone other than my close friends, the kids' schools and Nordstrom get automatically deleted.

This includes messages from Capital One alerting me that our credit card has a high balance and the subsequent emails from my husband asking me why we have a high balance. That may or may not have to do with the Nordstrom emails mentioned above. But I digress.

So why did I open this particular email on this particular day?

Maybe it was the frantic 20 minute search I had just conducted trying to locate Kid #1's camp tee shirt only to have him sheepishly admit that he probably did, in fact, leave it at the water park after last week's field trip.

Maybe it was the all-out tantrum that Kid #2 was having because I had dared to put sunscreen on him before getting him dressed. 

Maybe it was because despite having three bananas for breakfast Kid #3 was walking around in his third dirty diaper of the day, making me wonder what organisms are living in the stagnant water that I caught him lapping up when he was playing in his outdoor water table.

At any rate, I clicked open the email and scanned the list of telltale signs that it's time to update the resume and give two weeks notice. 

1. You can't sleep at night due to the stress and thought of having to go into work the next day.

Let's see...the other night I lay in bed for a half hour worrying about how to convince Kid #2 that eating nothing other than vanilla yogurt with M&M's was not a good way to meet his recommended daily allowances of, well, anything other than calcium and sugar.

I worried because Kid #1 told me he had a tummy ache at bedtime and was he coming down with something or just looking for extra attention and how do I give him more attention when I feel like I'm constantly being pulled in three (five if you count attending to my husband and having a freelance graphic design career) different directions?

I worried because Kid #3 is thirteen months and is participating in his first ever mommy-and-me class and at this age Kid #1 had been to every library story hour in the county, about a hundred My Gym classes and was enrolled in swim lessons and is this the reason Kid #3 thinks that a cow says 'bow wow' and not 'moo'? 

Am I losing sleep over this job?  Yes.

2. The stress from the job makes you irritable and cranky around your family and friends.

Well, no.  That's what Zoloft and those mini bottles of Moscato they sell at the grocery store are for.

Oh crap.

3) The job has zapped all the life out of you. You are tired all the time and lack the motivation you once had.

Yesterday I had three different caffeinated beverages before 2 pm and I still couldn't manage to unload and fold the laundry that was in the dryer.

I often fall asleep during a game of Zingo and wake up to a three year old poking me in the eye with a Lego Ninja.  

Halfway through today's body pump class I wondered what I was even working out for - I'm never going to be in better shape than I was before I had kids.

Check.

4) You don't agree with the corporate culture or the direction the company is headed.

The thing is, up until recently, being surrounded by PBS and Nick Jr didn't really bother me.  I love Sesame Street for it's educational value and topical content (their Homeland spoof is too much) and I manage to stay somewhat relevant (if not actually cool) thanks to the musical guests on Yo Gabba Gabba.  

Even Jessie amuses me, although I have some serious doubts about a couple who adopts kids from India, Uganda and Detroit and then leaves them in the care of an inexperienced and (let's face it) kind of flaky nanny.  However I'm sure my parents had concerns about Saved By The Bell and AC Slater's mom jeans, so I let it go. 

But lately it seems that every time I turn around I hear "NINJAGO!" and see a sword fly past my face. Sometimes that sword is a foam sword from a pirate costume we own.  Sometimes it's a shish-kabob skewer.

Because I'm a Caucasian female raised in a land of Barbie and My Little Pony I had to actually look up what a Ninja is, so that maybe I could better participate in the, er, culture of my 'company.'  I had a vague idea that it had something to do with Asian martial arts but I was hoping there was some redeeming quality that would help me get on board with the whole Ninja Lego / Ninja Turtle thing.  

Like maybe the swords are really used for slicing up maki rolls.  Maybe Ninjago is Japanese for spicy tuna.

This is what I discovered:

A ninja was a covert agent or mercenary in feudal Japan. The functions of the ninja included espionage, sabotage, infiltration, and assassination, and open combat in certain situations.

This is so not the direction that I want the company to be headed in. 

5) Your ideas are not being heard, and your work is not valued

In the past several weeks I've been told my dinners are 'yucky,' my rules are 'unfair' and so-and-so's mom is prettier than I am (OK, she might be a little prettier, but seriously? Who tells their mom that?). I've been kicked in the shins trying to get a three year old to go upstairs at bedtime and my suggestion that maybe we try loving each other instead of biting each other has done nothing to stop Kid #2 from leaving his dental records all over Kid #1's back. 

I'd say I'm being ignored and undervalued, wouldn't you?

6) Unrealistic expectations make it impossible for advancement.

Yesterday I was berated  for not being able to turn a Transformer High Octane Bumblebee into a race car in under five minutes.  

And am I really supposed to keep all the socks in the house neatly matched and put away even when they are constantly being stuffed in between the couch cushions and shoved under beds?

To sum up, my workload has tripled in the past six years yet my salary and time off have been cut in half. 

7) You are the victim of verbal abuse, sexual harassment, or other types of illegal behavior.

I've been out of the corporate world for 6 years, but I don't think it's appropriate for your subordinates to walk in on you while you are going to the bathroom and ask you why you don't have a penis or what happens if they pull "that string."  

As for illegal behavior, my oldest is only six.  Give it time.

So.  I got to the end of the email and I was a little sick to my stomach.  Oh my god, I hate my job.  And my job is being a mom.  I hate being a mom!

Wait, that can't be true.  If I hated being a mom, why would I have had three kids? OK, I admit, it was partly because other people were making it look so easy that I thought I must be doing something wrong and figured that if I just kept reproducing eventually I'd figure it out.

But still. There must be some redeeming quality that keeps me showing up day after day, aside from the fact that in order to "show up" all I really have to do is get out of bed. 

I came away from this email feeling discouraged and headed off to the gym in the hopes that some post-exercise endorphins would help me find some clarity and figure out what my next step should be.

While I was on the treadmill I pondered The Big Question: Should I quit my job?  Go back to work full-time and outsource my childcare?  I have no problem with day-care and nannies, sometimes I actually wonder if a trained professional would be better for my kids than my fumbling attempts at motherhood.

But working full time wouldn't mean I would actually quit my other job.  It would mean juggling two full time jobs - and a guarantee that I'd really lose my shit.  

I don't know how working moms do it.  

Turns out motherhood is kinda like the mob. The only way to get out would be a complete escape into the Witness Protection Program.  I would need dark sunglasses, a trench coat, and a good dye job.  

So I did the logical next step.  I stood on the treadmill and googled "Seven Signs You Love Your Job."

Here's what I got:

1. You don’t talk about other people; you talk about the cool things other people are doing. 

Last night when my husband called from out of town to ask me how the kids were doing I told him all about Kid #1's excitement over his first time roller skating at camp and about Kid #3's first time walking all the way across the room unassisted. When my parents' call it's all about how Kid #1's summer reading is going and whether or not Kid #2 enjoyed his tee-ball game.  

Taking massive amounts of pleasure in the success of my "coworkers" makes the days when they won't. stop. fighting so much easier to take. 


2. You think, “I hope I get to…” instead of, “I hope I don’t have to…” When you love your job it’s like peeling an onion. There are always more layers to discover and explore. 

This is especially true for Kid #3.   You'd think that after two boys, the third wouldn't be as exciting, but weirdly enough, it is.  Every day #3 does something for the first time, and he adds his fun personality to it so that we all know that he is his own person and not his brothers' mini-me. 

Yesterday this meant he placed a toy car in the toilet which I unknowingly peed on and then had to fish out with kitchen tongs and thoroughly disinfect (the tongs and the car) because, while #1 and #2 have taught me to always make sure the seat is down, they hadn't thought to teach me to make sure the bowl itself is empty before using it.  

This is why I look forward to real milestones like walking and talking and learning to use swear words in correct context, even though I've been there before-- because I know that this kid will put a unique spin on those accomplishments and I can't wait to see what they are.


3. You see your internal and external customers not as people to satisfy but simply as people who have real needs. And you gain a real sense of fulfillment and purpose from taking care of those needs.

There's nothing I've found in the corporate world that can compare to the satisfaction of three freshly bathed children in their pajamas all ready for bed, or the look of contentment on a baby's face after he's been fed and rocked to sleep, or the relief in the eyes of a feverish toddler who's case of strep throat you're soothing with a bowl of chicken soup.  

I might have had to wrestle the children into the bathtub, try three different formulas until I found the one that would ease colic, and sat on that toddler and pinned his arms behind his back while, sweating with effort, I poured the penicillin down this throat.  But when it was all done, the feeling that I was responsible for their current state of well being was at least as satisfying as any positive evaluation I got at any of my previous jobs.

4. You would recommend working at your company to your best friend…

As much as I might complain about the exhaustion (emotional and physical), the frustration and the pure...stickiness...of having three children, I wouldn't deprive my best friend of the perks that come with it. The miracle of childbirth (with the right drugs, of course), the open-mouthed kisses and hugs that knock me over (are everyone's children so forceful in their affection or is it just mine?), the sweet sweet silence that fills the house when they are asleep for the night and I can say to myself that I survived another day.  

Sure, not everyone is cut out to have children - not everyone wants children - but to any of my friends who are on the fence and wondering if it's worth it, I'd have to say - yes.  

5. You don’t want to let your coworkers down.
 
My 'coworkers' think I'm perfect.  OK, one called me an idiot the other day and another called me a monster.  But really I think that was more about demonstrating their vocabulary skills than about the way they genuinely feel.  At the end of the day, they rely on me to meet their physical and emotional needs and I'll be damned if I fail them. 

Which is why one day last week when I forgot my cell phone at home and missed two calls from Kid #1's camp alerting me that he'd forgotten his swimsuit I felt HORRIBLE.  I felt like I'd ruined his whole day - no, summer - by leaving his swimsuit on the kitchen table instead of packing it in his backpack.  I frantically raced up to camp to deliver it, only to find out that the campers had moved on to another activity and he no longer needed it.  I spent the rest of the day feeling guilty as hell that I had let him down.  And, when he walked in the door that afternoon all smiles as I nervously inquired as to whether the suit was missed he brushed it off with a "no worries, we decided not to go swimming today anyway" and I breathed a giant sigh of relief.

Since then, many mothers have confessed to me times that they let their own children down by forgetting or misplacing something.  My own mother reminds me of the time she showed up to my sister's friend's birthday party a week after the party actually took place!  

While those anecdotes were meant to reassure me that not being able to swim one day out of an entire summer was not life-shattering nor would it be the last time that I disappointed my child, they also serve to demonstrate that we, as mothers, never forget the times that we let our children down one way or another.  We hold ourselves to a higher standard than any boss at any job could.

6. You hardly ever look at the clock.

Well, seeing as I'm always late dropping Kid #2 off at preschool, this one is kind of obvious.  I mean, who has time to look at the clock in between changing diapers, cleaning up toys and breaking up fights?

But seriously, while some days just getting from 3 pm to 6 pm feels like it takes three years instead of three hours, looking back you suddenly realize that Kid #2 can totally hold his own in a wrestling match with his older brother and you wonder where all the time has gone.

7. You help your coworkers without thinking.

At this point, shoe-tying, food-cutting and butt-wiping have become second nature.  I could insert a straw in a capri sun in my sleep. I wonder what it will be like one day when I can drive my family somewhere without having to fasten any other seat belt besides my own.   And sometimes NOT helping is also helping - like when I make my children put their backpack away after school or clear their place after dinner - I'm helping them grow into functioning adults (who may or may not roll their eyes when asked to pick up after themselves by their superiors - er - wives).  These are the things that I do because it's second nature, because I want every person on my "team" to succeed. 

So there you go.  I love my coworkers but is this job worth the endless setbacks, sleepless nights and self-doubt?  

I've worked since I was 16, but I never had a job that made me go into another room, shut the door and scream into my hands, cry in the shower because I was so exhausted I didn't think I could function anymore or doubt my self-worth because my coworkers tried to use their superior Ninja skills to sabotage my carefully prepared dinner.  

I wondered, was it time to turn in my two weeks notice?  Pack my bags and take the midnight train going anyyyyywhere? 

Damn Journey song on Pandora.

Still unsure of which path to take, I started to make my way out of the recreation center. I saw a bunch of kids wearing yellow Rec Camp tee shirts and realized I was there just in time to catch Kid #1 at lunch.  I thought I'd check up on him since he'd been a bit weepy at the bus stop that morning and I wanted to make sure he was having a good day. 

When I got to the lunchroom I looked around but I couldn't find him amongst the sea of campers and I didn't really have time to spare as I was due to pick up Kid #2 from his camp, so with a heavy heart I turned to leave.

All of the sudden I heard a little voice yell "MOM!" I turned around.  Kid #1 was coming out of the bathroom and running straight for me, arms outstretched. "How is camp going?" I asked as we embraced.

"GREAT!" He said with an ear to ear grin, "I went off the high dive!"  I congratulated him and told him I had to get going.

With bright eyes that were shining - either from happiness or the chlorine in the pool- he looked up at me and said, "It's really great seeing you here."

Screw it, I'm vested. I'll be staying at this job for the rest of my life.