The Green Green Grass

I have a job. 


No, I don't have just a job, I have a career. A career that for over nine years has allowed me to mostly work in assignments that were considered hard, elite, or just plain cool. A career that has paid well--nay, extremely well. 


I have a career that I love most days. Granted, it's in vogue to gripe about work. Just peek at any Facebook page and you'll see moaning and groaning status updates about work, going to work and being at work. I've even participated from time to time. But random gripes aside, I love my work.


I have a stable career, and I should be ever so grateful that unlike so many others, I don't have to worry about pink slips, unemployment lines, or pinching pennies to the point that my family's quality of life suffers.


I have a career which I really truly believe allows me to make a difference in the lives of others.


I have a career in which I am a contributing member of my family financially. All things being equal, I match my husband's paycheck dollar for dollar.


I should be so damn grateful and proud.


And yet...


Yet I find myself longing to make but mere pennies or work in an occupation where I was completely expendable.  I find myself longing for that simply so that I could justify quitting and staying at home with Jeremy and Emma. So many friends and family seem to be doing the SAHM thing that I wonder more and more, "If they can do it, why can't I?"


Unfortunately, it just is not in the cards.  I am currently contributing half of our total income. Plus--I think there is something about showing Jeremy and Emma how Mommy and Daddy work for everything they have, and work damn hard at that.  I know that they won't grow up any worse for the wear just because we happen to be a dual income family.  And I hope that Jeremy and Emma will make smarter decisions as they grow up knowing that both Mommy and Daddy work careers that require honesty, integrity, dedication, a modicum of personal sacrifice and sense of selflessness. 


There's also the pride knowing that Jeremy is already learning what Mommy and Daddy do for a living, and he finds it worthy of his admiration and therefore imitation.

First lesson, commandeering vehicles.

Second lesson, starting a black and white.

Third lesson, plain clothes investigations and interrogations.

Interrogating Brobee.

And yet still, here I am looking over the fence at the green green grass.

New Year, New Chaos

One baby is easy.  Two is easy as well, as long as Mommy and Daddy don't intend on showering, sleeping or eating with any relative consistency.  Suffice it to say, the logistics of juggling two children takes some thought and pre-planning.  With that said, the addition of Emma is warmly welcomed.

I must say--I thought we were a perfect family when Jeremy was born.  He was and still is an awesome kid.  He has been my lil' buddy for the last three years and more importantly has been my world.  Tom and I deliberately tried for a second because we both wanted to.  However, it wasn't until I heard her tiny screams at 12:15 on New Years Eve that I suddenly realized Emma was the missing link of our family.  I know that a parent can love multiple children equally, but I truly had no idea that the fierce strength of that love was so equal too.  The love I feel for them is so awesome and at the same time so dang scary.

Our adjustment to be being parents of a second newborn has, in my opinion, been much easier than I expected.  The whole "been there, done that" definitely seems to ring true.  All the fear, doubt and complete shock that accompanied Jeremy's arrival seem to still be but distant memories this time around.  A nurse at the hospital warned us that when we got home with Emma we would have to hit the ground running, and we definitely did. Unbeknownst to us, the biggest challenge has actually been Jeremy.

Poor Jeremy.  He is jealous, confused, angry, and so dang lovable all at the same time.  Not only is he in the throes of the Trying Threes, but he is learning--albeit extremely reluctantly--that Mommy has to share her attention with Emma now.  It's actually sad for both of us.  I wish there were two of me so that Jeremy was never wanting.  But everyone assures us that he'll grow up none the worse for having a little sister, so I'm desperately holding onto that promised comfort during his frequent meltdowns--meltdowns that include the heart crushing words, "I don't like you Mommy".  He's thrown out the, "I don't like you Daddy" too, but I think that Daddy is better able to see it for what it is than I am, which is a little boy acting out.

So we press on.  Double the children, double the drama.  Emma isn't able to be very dramatic right now, so maybe Jeremy is just handling her share too.

NEW!

Freshly cleaned up.

Our very first family photo.

Jeremy getting introduced to Emma outside of the scary sterile hospital.

Hello, Clarisse....

Emma in her bedside crib....

....And her bunk mate.

How does one take a shower with two kiddos while Hubby is away at work?  In this house I  have to get Emma fed and sleepy enough to knock out listening to Pandora in the bedside sleeper. Then I have to get Jeremy placated with juice, food and cartoons.  Lastly, I have to kiss the living room good-bye as it will be destroyed by Jeremy in the time it takes to shower.  

Prologue

This blog is being started in 2011, but a whole heck of a lot has happened previously to get us here.  Allow me to catch you up with a quick recap:

January 1999

Tom and I started dating. 

 

July 31, 2004

Tom and I were married on the deck of the Queen Mary.

November 12, 2007 (6:28 pm to be exact)

Jeremy turned "us" into a family.

December 31, 2010  (12:15 pm to be exact yet once again)

Emma made our family feel complete.

Phew!  Caught up now?