Milestones and Persistence

     Another milestone has been reached today:  my son officially rolled over on his own.  This got me thinking about milestones in general, as well as the value of persistence.

     Milestones amaze me.   During the first year, I'm finding out, they're frequent.  The first laugh.  The first time he holds a bottle.  The first time he eats pureed food.  Then he crawls.  Then he walks.  And talks.  They're hard to keep up with, really.  
     
     As we get older, these milestones are fewer and farther between.  At 16 we get our driver's license.  At 18 we graduate high school.  And vote.  At 21 we can legally drink.  We may also have college graduations, begin our careers, have weddings, and babies. Finally, we stop once every 10 years to celebrate the passing of another decade.


     In genealogy, we look at our ancestors through time lines, or mile markers on the road map of their lives.  I begins with their birth, and ends with their death.  In between are the significant pit stops.  We look at baptisms, graduations, weddings, etc.  How often do we think past these milestones?  It takes drive to get to them; it takes lots of fueled persistence.

     My son has been trying for weeks to roll over.  He has spent lots of time on his belly, and we have encouraged him, and aided him in this process.  We watched him learn that he has to lift his legs and kick them over to roll from back to belly.  We watched him fail several times.  And try again.  Persist.
    
     I may not know when my great grandmother first rolled over.   But she did.  And her mother was probably so proud.  As I am today.

My Life is a Mess

     My life is a mess.  I'm a loving wife, mother, and a teacher.  I was respected in graduate school.  My current colleagues trust me with roles that require responsibility.  I have great, meaningful relationships with my friends.  Why is my life a mess?  I'm a secret slob.

     I've been one my whole life, really.    Clothes, toys, and books haphazardly tossed around my room in a monsoon-like fashion.  When I was in elementary school, my teacher, I forget her name, peered inside of my desk.  It was one of those desks with the lids that lifted.  She was appalled at my wretched state of being.  Papers disheveled, torn, and wrinkled.  Soft-covered workbooks were folded and torn. I think she was surprised, and disappointed, because I was a good student.

     The house I lived in during high school was large and newly built, a source of pride for my family.  It had 6 bedrooms and 2.5 bathrooms, marble-topped this-and-that and over priced furniture.  I called it the museum because we weren't allowed to touch anything.  My Mom hated my bedroom because she wanted to show off the house to visitors, and of the three children, I was the messiest.  Mom always made me clean, and I vowed I'd never clean a day in my life as an adult, "I'll get a maid!" I proclaimed.  Nonetheless, I heard "clean your room" as often as I heard "I love you."  And my Mother really loves me.

     I know I was difficult to live with in college.  As an English major and self-proclaimed writer, I left paper trails throughout the common living areas because my bedroom was cluttered with clothes, accessories, childhood memorabilia and bulk furniture.  Ashtrays were filled to the brim with stale cigarette butts.  I could've been one of those embarrassed families on Clean House.  I was on my way to graduating; moving up to Hoarders.  Luckily my roommate was a coffee addict who would drink it pots at a time and clean several days a week.

     For the record, she and I are still friends, and she says I have straightened up a bit, literally.

     But just a bit.

     I had to.  I had a baby.  When I was pregnant, I was petrified that I would trip over my mess while holding the baby.

     Clothes are still on the floor.  Often times they are separated by laundry loads, though.  We can't afford a maid, as my teenage self would be disappointed to know.  We do pay our next-door teenager to sit with our baby twice a month for an hour and a half so we can straighten up our house.  Family also volunteers to come sit with the baby so we can get stuff done.  Five month old babies require a lot of attention.

     I'm also lucky to have a husband who lives in the 21st century.  He definitely pulls his weight in housework.  Honestly, he pulls some of mine too.  We agreed if we were ever in the position to have only one working spouse, he would be the one to stay at home.  He is just better at that stuff than me.  And I am a career girl at heart.

     Being a secret slob is a flaw.   But I'm working on it.



     

Why I Created this Blog

I have many reasons for creating Career and Baby:

1. A place to connect with women like me:  I would love to create a network of working Moms, particularly  women who are new to their careers, motherhood, or both.  There are so many changes going on in our lives, I'd love to discuss them with you!
2. A place to hold myself accountable:  I have many professional and personal goals.  If I publish them, I will be more accountable.
3. A place to possibly earn extra income:  My husband and I earn modest teachers' salaries.  We live in a neighborhood that is slightly above our means and quality childcare is expensive.  I plan to be an affiliate for companies that are relevant to the professional and the mother.
4. A place to vent:  Simply put, trying to succeed in a new career and motherhood is challenging and stressful.