|Tales from the Mommy Track is a weekly column about the daily life of a part-time working mom. Risa Green is a critically acclaimed author who lives in Los Angeles. Her previous adult novels, Notes from the Underbelly and Tales from the Crib were made into a television series. Her latest novel, The Secret Society of the Pink Crystal Ball, is a Young Adult book that will be released in September, 2010.|
So, I know I said last week that I’m not expecting my life to change at all when the show airs, and I’m still not, but I am really relieved that it is finally going to be on television, if only because people can now stop asking me why the show isn’t on television yet. Being in tv-airdate-limbo kind of reminded me of being pregnant - in that lots of well-meaning people asked me lots of well-meaning questions to which I did not have answers – and we all know how much I loved being pregnant.
Last year, one of the mothers at my kids’ preschool asked if I might be interested in co-chairing the school carnival. Why this woman thought of me, I have no idea. My former school volunteer experience consisted of hosting a parent coffee at my house and driving two kids besides my own to a class field trip. But I must have been feeling particularly competent that day, because for some unfathomable reason, I said yes. I mean, what’s one more full time job on top of being a mom and writing a book, right?
If you’re looking for a girl who’s going to complain about how she never gets to exercise anymore because, between work and the kids and the husband and the house, who has the time, well, then, sorry, but you’re barking up the wrong blog. If you’ve read either of my books, which are, admittedly, based just slightly on my own life, then you know that I’m kind of a freak about exercise. It’s an obsession that started early for me; when I was just fourteen years old, my parents bought a family membership to Bally’s Total Fitness.
Ah, Father’s Day. The most inequitable holiday of the year. Think about it: according to a statistic whose source I can no longer recall, mothers in dual income families do approximately seventy percent of all household and child-related duties, while fathers tackle the other thirty percent. This, by the way, is hailed as progress. Yet, somehow, mothers and fathers are celebrated by society for the exact same amount of time each year. We have Mother’s Day, and we have Father’s Day. Seems pretty unfair to me.
One of the things that I learned from having a crappy publisher who doesn’t promote my books is that if you want to do something right, you have to do it yourself.
My daughter’s preschool class just did a month-long unit on the ocean, culminating in a field trip to the aquarium last week. As a “present,” lovely male teacher gave each child an early lesson in death, oops, I mean a goldfish. My daughter, ever the enthusiast, was thrilled by her new pet. She named the thing Seashell and made a birth certificate for it and everything. Now, to lovely male teacher’s credit, he did give us typed instructions on how to take care of a goldfish, as well as an envelope full of fish food.
My daughter is a notoriously picky eater. If it doesn’t involve cheese or plain pasta, she’s generally not interested. I went through a period where it really stressed me out, and I would make her try new foods, but she usually cried for twenty minutes first, and then would take a bite so small that it was barely visible to the naked eye, at which point she would gag uncontrollably and, occasionally, barf all over the rest of her plate, thus precluding a second bite. So I gave up, and decided that one day she would outgrow it. I hoped.