I haven't bothered with this blog since last summer because I don't feel like I have anything earth shattering to say about parenthood. It is what it is. Some days we laugh our butts off at the bizarre things the boys do and say, and other days we want to slam our heads into a wall out of frustration.
As the boys get older, though, I find I can relax more and enjoy their company in a way I couldn't when they were babies and toddlers who relied on us (me) for every little thing. The big guy turned 5 in January, and his little brother is 2.5yrs. One potty trained kid and one on his way. I am already dreaming of diaperless days in our household. Such a freeing state of being. And since they're both boys, I don't even worry about long car trips. They can pee anywhere: by the side of the road, in an empty Gatorade bottle. Who cares? When we get to stop buying the little man diapers, we are FREE!
I have already begun to notice how our house is becoming cleaner and more organized, bit by bit, as the boys become more able to do things for themselves. For those of you who have seen my house, I don't mean it's now ready for House Beautiful or anything. I just mean that sometimes beds get made, and often there is more than just a path through the toys in the living room. It's far from perfect, but it is improving. All because the boys spend more time playing with each other than relying on me for their every happiness. It's bittersweet, certainly, but it's the way parenting goes. If you do the job right, the kids grow up and leave you, maybe calling you once a week to let you know they still care.
I'm doing all I can to enjoy these last years of real "kidhood" in our house. Already P is a little man instead of a boy, and H is moving up to those ranks quickly. I've got the lawn mower all ready for them when the time comes.
2.22.2010
6.07.2009
Happy campers
Take two kids under age 5, two beagles, and two tired parents. Add one enormous tent. Result? Pure joy for all!
Last week Ken suggested to me that we have a backyard campout this past Saturday night, and I was all for it. When we were dating and then DINKS, we used to camp a couple times a year with friends of ours who were also DINKS. I recall with some degree of longing the late nights by the campfire, talking, drinking, laughing, freeing ourselves of all responsibility.
But except for Ken going on his annual canoe trip with cousins, neither of us has been camping since we started our family. Lots of things come to a screeching halt when you have little ones, but the good news is that eventually you get to share y our past favorite with a new generation.
So Saturday morning Ken mowed the lawn (usually my job, but I was sick) and by midafternoon he had a chance to pitch the ginormous tent that we affectionately call "the 3-room circus." We plopped an air mattress at either end, a sleeping bag next to one mattress, and a pack-and-play in the back. We ate burgers and dogs on the deck, and at dusk we lit the outdoor fireplace. We invited the neighbor kids over to roast marshmallows and make s'mores, and they all played with glo sticks and romped around the yard.
Henry was the first to crash in his new outdoor bedroom. We tucked him into his pack-and-play with his favorite two blankets and "snuggle guy," his stuffed rattle toy, and off to snoozeland he drifted. Could've cared less that he wasn't in his own bedroom.
I was next. I turn into a pumpkin much closer to 10:30pm than midnight, so I crawled into my sleeping bag atop one of the air mattresses pretty close to that time. Henry picked up his head to smile at me and then crashed back down after I said, "Night-night, Henry." I wasn't yet asleep, though, when Ken brought a newly sweatsuited Padraic in to tuck him into his sleeping bag. Padraic was psyched that we were camping, but he settled right in and fell asleep, with beagles Bailey and Tully close at hand.
We really thought that the dogs would be the most difficult ones to persuade to do the camping adventure, but they are dogs. They wanted to be where their people were. We just feared that they'd wake up in the middle of the night and howl their fool heads off because of a bunny hopping through the yard in search of a late-night snack, but although Tully woke up at one point and sniffed the air furiously, Ken was able to settle him back down before a peep was made. Whew.
Instead of awaking at 5:30am when the dawn peeked through the trees above, the boys (and even the dogs!) let us sleep until the heavenly late hour of 7:45. At which point we all crawled out of the cozy tent into the cool morning air and went in search of the bathroom and breakfast.
So now we have made it through the trial run, happy and surprisingly well rested. While we might not actually take the dogs to a campground and certainly aren't taking them to Wisconsin when we visit SIL, BIL, and our nephew in a few weeks, we will definitely be taking the boys on camping adventures, both in our backyard and beyond.
Last week Ken suggested to me that we have a backyard campout this past Saturday night, and I was all for it. When we were dating and then DINKS, we used to camp a couple times a year with friends of ours who were also DINKS. I recall with some degree of longing the late nights by the campfire, talking, drinking, laughing, freeing ourselves of all responsibility.
But except for Ken going on his annual canoe trip with cousins, neither of us has been camping since we started our family. Lots of things come to a screeching halt when you have little ones, but the good news is that eventually you get to share y our past favorite with a new generation.
So Saturday morning Ken mowed the lawn (usually my job, but I was sick) and by midafternoon he had a chance to pitch the ginormous tent that we affectionately call "the 3-room circus." We plopped an air mattress at either end, a sleeping bag next to one mattress, and a pack-and-play in the back. We ate burgers and dogs on the deck, and at dusk we lit the outdoor fireplace. We invited the neighbor kids over to roast marshmallows and make s'mores, and they all played with glo sticks and romped around the yard.
Henry was the first to crash in his new outdoor bedroom. We tucked him into his pack-and-play with his favorite two blankets and "snuggle guy," his stuffed rattle toy, and off to snoozeland he drifted. Could've cared less that he wasn't in his own bedroom.
I was next. I turn into a pumpkin much closer to 10:30pm than midnight, so I crawled into my sleeping bag atop one of the air mattresses pretty close to that time. Henry picked up his head to smile at me and then crashed back down after I said, "Night-night, Henry." I wasn't yet asleep, though, when Ken brought a newly sweatsuited Padraic in to tuck him into his sleeping bag. Padraic was psyched that we were camping, but he settled right in and fell asleep, with beagles Bailey and Tully close at hand.
We really thought that the dogs would be the most difficult ones to persuade to do the camping adventure, but they are dogs. They wanted to be where their people were. We just feared that they'd wake up in the middle of the night and howl their fool heads off because of a bunny hopping through the yard in search of a late-night snack, but although Tully woke up at one point and sniffed the air furiously, Ken was able to settle him back down before a peep was made. Whew.
Instead of awaking at 5:30am when the dawn peeked through the trees above, the boys (and even the dogs!) let us sleep until the heavenly late hour of 7:45. At which point we all crawled out of the cozy tent into the cool morning air and went in search of the bathroom and breakfast.
So now we have made it through the trial run, happy and surprisingly well rested. While we might not actually take the dogs to a campground and certainly aren't taking them to Wisconsin when we visit SIL, BIL, and our nephew in a few weeks, we will definitely be taking the boys on camping adventures, both in our backyard and beyond.
5.31.2009
Our house is a very, very, very fine house
Well, no it's not, but it will be. This year we're doing small improvements, all leading up to next summer's commencement of the major renovations we're planning.
But first, the little details. A few months ago we finally replaced the two hideous exterior doors that'd been crapping up our house's facade. Now we have doors that actually (gasp) match.
This weekend Ken took down our colonial blue shutters that screamed, "I'm from 1983! Love me!" and repainted them a dark blue. For about $5 worth of exterior paint, our house just leapt decades into the future to land in the present. Whew.
Who knows what little project we'll do next that will make me feel a little more like this house is a place we want to be proud of? It's not that we don't, all appearances to the contrary; it's that we bought it in 2002, spent 2003-2004 building the detached 2.5-car garage, and had babies in 2005 and 2007. So we've been a little busy.
But now we're getting closer to the point where we'll finally turn our house into our dream home. Next summer we're going to start the process of turning our 1400sq-ft, 3bdrm, 1ba split-level into a 2400sq-ft, 5bdrm, 2.5ba split-level. There will be many steps to this process, all of which I wish we could bypass with a snap of the fingers or a Bewitched-style twitch of the nose:
(1) Frame out a new kitchen where our current deck is and raise the roof on the lower level of the house by a full story.
(2) Finish the interior of the new kitchen. (Yippee!)
(3) Gut the existing kitchen (double yippee!) and combine that space with the current dining room to make a dining room that people can dine in without climbing over each other.
(4) Turn the new second story into 3 bedrooms and a full bath.
Down the road from all this renovating hell we will turn the current bedroom level that has three bedrooms and our only bathroom into a master suite (by combining the two larger bedrooms) and a laundry room (the smallest bedroom). I dare say our 1950s vintage home will be barely recognizable when all is said and done, but it should be an incredible change for the better. Now we just have to figure out how to do it while raising two boys and having two dogs who will temporarily lose their access to the backyard. I dare say my sanity will suffer a few blows, but I hold out hope that it will all be worth it in the end. And anyone who knows my family knows that we think sanity is a bit overrated anyway.
But first, the little details. A few months ago we finally replaced the two hideous exterior doors that'd been crapping up our house's facade. Now we have doors that actually (gasp) match.
This weekend Ken took down our colonial blue shutters that screamed, "I'm from 1983! Love me!" and repainted them a dark blue. For about $5 worth of exterior paint, our house just leapt decades into the future to land in the present. Whew.
Who knows what little project we'll do next that will make me feel a little more like this house is a place we want to be proud of? It's not that we don't, all appearances to the contrary; it's that we bought it in 2002, spent 2003-2004 building the detached 2.5-car garage, and had babies in 2005 and 2007. So we've been a little busy.
But now we're getting closer to the point where we'll finally turn our house into our dream home. Next summer we're going to start the process of turning our 1400sq-ft, 3bdrm, 1ba split-level into a 2400sq-ft, 5bdrm, 2.5ba split-level. There will be many steps to this process, all of which I wish we could bypass with a snap of the fingers or a Bewitched-style twitch of the nose:
(1) Frame out a new kitchen where our current deck is and raise the roof on the lower level of the house by a full story.
(2) Finish the interior of the new kitchen. (Yippee!)
(3) Gut the existing kitchen (double yippee!) and combine that space with the current dining room to make a dining room that people can dine in without climbing over each other.
(4) Turn the new second story into 3 bedrooms and a full bath.
Down the road from all this renovating hell we will turn the current bedroom level that has three bedrooms and our only bathroom into a master suite (by combining the two larger bedrooms) and a laundry room (the smallest bedroom). I dare say our 1950s vintage home will be barely recognizable when all is said and done, but it should be an incredible change for the better. Now we just have to figure out how to do it while raising two boys and having two dogs who will temporarily lose their access to the backyard. I dare say my sanity will suffer a few blows, but I hold out hope that it will all be worth it in the end. And anyone who knows my family knows that we think sanity is a bit overrated anyway.
5.26.2009
A tough age
No, not 33. I'm doing OK with that. But Henry is not quite 2 years old, and this is the age of my kids that's the roughest on me. I don't even mean the defiance that Henry has that Padraic, my people pleaser, only ever had a hint of. It's the mobility without maturity aspect.
I just spent three long days of Memorial weekend chasing Henry around three different bbqs. One of them involved a hot tub he was desperately trying to catapult himself into headfirst, and another involved an inground pool that was right there next to where we were eating. Heart attack city on the last one.
I keep telling myself next summer will be easier. He'll be able to play in sight but not have to be within arm's reach at all times like he pretty much has to be right now. Where Padraic was always tentative about new things, Henry is ready to rush in head first, and he is too young to know anything about consequences.
Of course, next summer might not be easier. In my head Henry will be the easily tractable three-year-old that Padraic was, but that is probably not going to be the case. Somewhere along the genetic line there was a stubbornness gene that seems to have implanted itself firmly (stubbornly, you might say) into Henry's DNA. I have no idea where that might have come from. I swear. Really.
I just spent three long days of Memorial weekend chasing Henry around three different bbqs. One of them involved a hot tub he was desperately trying to catapult himself into headfirst, and another involved an inground pool that was right there next to where we were eating. Heart attack city on the last one.
I keep telling myself next summer will be easier. He'll be able to play in sight but not have to be within arm's reach at all times like he pretty much has to be right now. Where Padraic was always tentative about new things, Henry is ready to rush in head first, and he is too young to know anything about consequences.
Of course, next summer might not be easier. In my head Henry will be the easily tractable three-year-old that Padraic was, but that is probably not going to be the case. Somewhere along the genetic line there was a stubbornness gene that seems to have implanted itself firmly (stubbornly, you might say) into Henry's DNA. I have no idea where that might have come from. I swear. Really.
5.11.2009
A productive day is a happy day
Ah, Mother's Day. I've gotten to celebrate this day for 5 years now, and it's awesome. I slept in until 9am and then got to wake up to my little boys giving me hugs and kisses and wishing me Happy Mother's Day under the whispered guidance of their daddy.
Ken made me breakfast while I sat on my bum, and then it was time to get working. What I really wanted for Mother's Day was to get our garden plot planted and fenced so the seedlings Padraic and I planted a couple months ago would have a more permanent home in which to grow and thrive. I've been so excited to have a garden since we bought our house 7yrs ago but didn't have time to put in a garden the first couple years because we were building the garage, and then we became Mommy and Daddy, and if you have kids you know that that means nothing useful can get accomplished.
Finally, the boys are old enough that Padraic can help with a garden, while Henry safely wanders the yard, playing with the push toys, blowing bubbles, or digging in the dirt around the garden's edge. It still was a miracle that we got everything done, but we did it! Thanks to Ken hauling 40 concrete blocks to the far reaches of our yard so it'd be harder for critters to climb into the garden and destroy our handiwork. We now have seedlings for cantaloupes, green peppers, and tomatoes transitioning to their new homes, and we hope to see sprouts of onions, two kinds of green beans, snap peas, broccoli, lettuce, spinach, watermelons, carrots, and strawberries within a few weeks. Some things won't make it, but we'll do our best to nurture the seeds and seedlings and keep pests at bay so they get a chance to produce. Bonus: Padraic agreed to try at least one of everything that grows. So we might have him eating more veggies before long.
Having a garden reminds me of gardening with my own mother when I was a kid. Our garden is roughly 10' by 15', but hers must've been 10' by 25'. It definitely was huge. The first few years we planted numerous things, like corn, potatoes (ugh, hate potato bugs), asparagus, strawberries, and a zillion other things I've since forgotten. As my sister and I got older and more involved with non-home activities, the garden eventually became half asparagus, half strawberries. :) A love-hate relationship for me! But the hours spent digging and weeding and hoping for good harvests were energizing and relaxing and tiring all at the same time. I hope my sons enjoy our new garden and the family time it fosters as much as I enjoyed those days.
By sunset we were all exhausted, Henry was already asleep, and there had been baths and showers to remove the layers of dirt and sweat. But we'd done exactly what I'd hoped: Spent the whole day together out in the sunshine. Oh, and started our garden.
Ken made me breakfast while I sat on my bum, and then it was time to get working. What I really wanted for Mother's Day was to get our garden plot planted and fenced so the seedlings Padraic and I planted a couple months ago would have a more permanent home in which to grow and thrive. I've been so excited to have a garden since we bought our house 7yrs ago but didn't have time to put in a garden the first couple years because we were building the garage, and then we became Mommy and Daddy, and if you have kids you know that that means nothing useful can get accomplished.
Finally, the boys are old enough that Padraic can help with a garden, while Henry safely wanders the yard, playing with the push toys, blowing bubbles, or digging in the dirt around the garden's edge. It still was a miracle that we got everything done, but we did it! Thanks to Ken hauling 40 concrete blocks to the far reaches of our yard so it'd be harder for critters to climb into the garden and destroy our handiwork. We now have seedlings for cantaloupes, green peppers, and tomatoes transitioning to their new homes, and we hope to see sprouts of onions, two kinds of green beans, snap peas, broccoli, lettuce, spinach, watermelons, carrots, and strawberries within a few weeks. Some things won't make it, but we'll do our best to nurture the seeds and seedlings and keep pests at bay so they get a chance to produce. Bonus: Padraic agreed to try at least one of everything that grows. So we might have him eating more veggies before long.
Having a garden reminds me of gardening with my own mother when I was a kid. Our garden is roughly 10' by 15', but hers must've been 10' by 25'. It definitely was huge. The first few years we planted numerous things, like corn, potatoes (ugh, hate potato bugs), asparagus, strawberries, and a zillion other things I've since forgotten. As my sister and I got older and more involved with non-home activities, the garden eventually became half asparagus, half strawberries. :) A love-hate relationship for me! But the hours spent digging and weeding and hoping for good harvests were energizing and relaxing and tiring all at the same time. I hope my sons enjoy our new garden and the family time it fosters as much as I enjoyed those days.
By sunset we were all exhausted, Henry was already asleep, and there had been baths and showers to remove the layers of dirt and sweat. But we'd done exactly what I'd hoped: Spent the whole day together out in the sunshine. Oh, and started our garden.
5.04.2009
Back to reality
Whew, OK, while I don't really like having to travel for work, what I dislike even more is the first 48hrs after arriving back home. Not bc I don't want to see my adoring husband and sweet little boys, but because the house that is usually a wreck is supremely wrecktastic, the laundry is waaaaay behind, and things in the fridge are so out of control that there isn't yet a scientific name for the kind of mold I tend to find. (OK, I'll take some blame for that last one since not all the mold sprouts w/in the 3-6 days I'm usually away.)
I miss our housecleaning service so badly that I'd give my right eye to have them back. Their name is Domestic Bliss. Say it with me, "Domestic Bliss." Ahhhhhh. You feel less stressed already, don't you? And this isn't even about you; it's about me. Don't you forget it. ;) Methinks I need to rework the family budget to fit in visits from them on a semi-irregular basis. Definitely not monthly, probably not bimonthly, but absolutely now and then. Most assuredly. And once Padraic starts kindergarten in September 2010, I completely plan on having them here once a month, if not twice. Hell, if I can shell out the cost of a new car annually on day care, I sure as hell can buy myself some sanity in the form of less dust and dog hair on my belongings.
If you couldn't tell already, though, today was rough. Thank goodness I didn't have to leave the house for work, but then again, being cooped up with this mess was no joy, either. And the rain, ugh, the rain. After finishing with work, I had to do the grocery shopping so we wouldn't starve the rest of this busy week, and not thinking last night I agreed to let Ken take my car like he usually does on Mon/Fri. Except, getting the boys in and out of his F150 takes much longer than getting them in and out of my car, and on a rainy day, that is not a good thing. Add to that the imbecile who parked right up on my effing door at the grocery store, and I could not avoid getting drenched while trying to get Padraic back into the truck after we were done shopping. Seriously, people. When you see a truck that has wide doors parked in a lot, do you need to park 3mm from the sideview mirror, making it impossible to even wedge the door open a little bit? One wonders how in the world the person who did that to me managed to get their own ass out of their vehicle. From the looks of it, they'd have had to climb out the hatchback. Geesh.
But things are improving. The rain will end in a couple days (ha!), I'll feel more caught up at work in another day or two, and on Thursday I have taken a personal day to clean the house. Cuz I know how to party, that's why. And heck if I won't feel a sense of accomplishment for those few hours between when I finish and when Ken and the boys get home to start undoing it.
I miss our housecleaning service so badly that I'd give my right eye to have them back. Their name is Domestic Bliss. Say it with me, "Domestic Bliss." Ahhhhhh. You feel less stressed already, don't you? And this isn't even about you; it's about me. Don't you forget it. ;) Methinks I need to rework the family budget to fit in visits from them on a semi-irregular basis. Definitely not monthly, probably not bimonthly, but absolutely now and then. Most assuredly. And once Padraic starts kindergarten in
If you couldn't tell already, though, today was rough. Thank goodness I didn't have to leave the house for work, but then again, being cooped up with this mess was no joy, either. And the rain, ugh, the rain. After finishing with work, I had to do the grocery shopping so we wouldn't starve the rest of this busy week, and not thinking last night I agreed to let Ken take my car like he usually does on Mon/Fri. Except, getting the boys in and out of his F150 takes much longer than getting them in and out of my car, and on a rainy day, that is not a good thing. Add to that the imbecile who parked right up on my effing door at the grocery store, and I could not avoid getting drenched while trying to get Padraic back into the truck after we were done shopping. Seriously, people. When you see a truck that has wide doors parked in a lot, do you need to park 3mm from the sideview mirror, making it impossible to even wedge the door open a little bit? One wonders how in the world the person who did that to me managed to get their own ass out of their vehicle. From the looks of it, they'd have had to climb out the hatchback. Geesh.
But things are improving. The rain will end in a couple days (ha!), I'll feel more caught up at work in another day or two, and on Thursday I have taken a personal day to clean the house. Cuz I know how to party, that's why. And heck if I won't feel a sense of accomplishment for those few hours between when I finish and when Ken and the boys get home to start undoing it.
4.30.2009
Hey, where've you been for four months?
OK, so I'm not the most diligent (or interesting) blogger. I gave it a big ole rest after the last post. If you read that one, btw, I am happy to report that my test results were all good. I have exactly the number of kidneys I'm supposed to have, and they are in the right places, hooked to the right stuff. So that's a relief.
As the time has passed, I've been made busy by exactly what you've probably guessed (if you were interested enough to guess, that is): work and family. The kids are doing great: Padraic turned 4 in mid-January and Henry will be 2 in mid-July. Every stinking day they wake up a little bigger, a little sassier. I personally believe that Henry learned to talk early just so he could talk back. But they're cute little devils, all the same, and that keeps them from getting into *too* much trouble.
I'm soaking up whatever love I can get from those two because some day it's gonna click inside their heads that it's not cool to be lovey-dovey with Mommy. Then, poof! No more hugs or snuggles, barely a grudging peck on the cheek. That'll be a hard transition for me, having given over my life to raising them and loving on them. I bet I'll make a pretty crappy empty nester. Ken'll kick me out for driving him nuts!
So work's the other time-sucking beast. The travel that's involved is a strain on our family, but I like to think we're adjusting. And I hold firm to my position that if Ken were the one doing the traveling, no one would bat an eyelash and life would go on. It's that the MOM is doing the traveling that upsets the applecart. But my job is a good one and one that I enjoy, and we just keep on dealing with each trip as it comes. Better to do it that way than look at our lives as an endless stream of Mommy absences.
Right now is one of those gone-Mommy times. I'm at a conference in Reno and will be back home Saturday night after the boys have already been tucked in. I'll still sneak into their rooms and whisper to them that Mommy is home. They may hear me and smile in their sleep. And on Sunday morning they'll pile themselves all over me, until I start to lose track of arms and legs and start thinking I might have 4 or 5 children, what with all the chaos. And then we'll gradually slip back into our normal routine. My taking Padraic with me to do the grocery shopping while Henry naps and Ken either naps or putters around the house doing whatever can be done without waking Henry. Then we'll play outside if it's nice or inside if it isn't, and we'll eat dinner and maybe watch Bolt before getting the kids in bed and getting ourselves ready for the inevitable Monday.
Our daily routine is fairly exhausting, but I do miss it when I'm out of town. There's something very comforting about it. Something that says, This is my family. We belong together, and these are the things we do to help each other.
I'm hoping I can continue being a good mom and good employee for many more years. I'm sure there'll be no shortage of feedback from either side should I start to slip up with either job.
As the time has passed, I've been made busy by exactly what you've probably guessed (if you were interested enough to guess, that is): work and family. The kids are doing great: Padraic turned 4 in mid-January and Henry will be 2 in mid-July. Every stinking day they wake up a little bigger, a little sassier. I personally believe that Henry learned to talk early just so he could talk back. But they're cute little devils, all the same, and that keeps them from getting into *too* much trouble.
I'm soaking up whatever love I can get from those two because some day it's gonna click inside their heads that it's not cool to be lovey-dovey with Mommy. Then, poof! No more hugs or snuggles, barely a grudging peck on the cheek. That'll be a hard transition for me, having given over my life to raising them and loving on them. I bet I'll make a pretty crappy empty nester. Ken'll kick me out for driving him nuts!
So work's the other time-sucking beast. The travel that's involved is a strain on our family, but I like to think we're adjusting. And I hold firm to my position that if Ken were the one doing the traveling, no one would bat an eyelash and life would go on. It's that the MOM is doing the traveling that upsets the applecart. But my job is a good one and one that I enjoy, and we just keep on dealing with each trip as it comes. Better to do it that way than look at our lives as an endless stream of Mommy absences.
Right now is one of those gone-Mommy times. I'm at a conference in Reno and will be back home Saturday night after the boys have already been tucked in. I'll still sneak into their rooms and whisper to them that Mommy is home. They may hear me and smile in their sleep. And on Sunday morning they'll pile themselves all over me, until I start to lose track of arms and legs and start thinking I might have 4 or 5 children, what with all the chaos. And then we'll gradually slip back into our normal routine. My taking Padraic with me to do the grocery shopping while Henry naps and Ken either naps or putters around the house doing whatever can be done without waking Henry. Then we'll play outside if it's nice or inside if it isn't, and we'll eat dinner and maybe watch Bolt before getting the kids in bed and getting ourselves ready for the inevitable Monday.
Our daily routine is fairly exhausting, but I do miss it when I'm out of town. There's something very comforting about it. Something that says, This is my family. We belong together, and these are the things we do to help each other.
I'm hoping I can continue being a good mom and good employee for many more years. I'm sure there'll be no shortage of feedback from either side should I start to slip up with either job.
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