Not a first timer

I have blogged before. Nothing earth shattering, but I lost my motivation with the topic, so I stopped. I think my last post on the other blog was sometime in July. But this is different. This is a blog about being a mom. I happen to be a working mom, but a mom is a mom in my view. I make no judgements about those women who choose to stay home and I ask no one make judgements about me choosing to work. Everyone is welcome. And I'm not mad like angry mad. Just crazy. Running around in 10 different directions with my head cut off.

I'll start by telling you about me. I am married (eight years), have three great kids (two girls ages 7 and 5 and one boy age 2). I have a college education and own my home. I drive a minivan five days a week from my house in the burbs to my cubicle 17 miles away. My younger kids are in a daycare three days a week. I wish I could tell you what I do, but I can't. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you (kidding). It's not really that ominous, but it's not a can of works I want to open. And in case anyone wonders, I don't do anything of questionable moral value, like take my clothes off, just for a paycheck. I have an office, for Pete's sake (and if anyone can tell me who Pete is, I'd appreciate it). I carry a Blackberry, check my e-mail from home too often, there are business cards at the bottom of my purse in a lame vinyl case. So it's a legitimate job. I don't like to think of myself as a soccer mom. But with the minivan and the Girl Scouts and speech therapists, I probably am.

For purposes of this blog, my husband is DH (dear husband) and my children will be affectionately referred to as "Kidlet A" or KA (the 7 year old), "Kidlet B" or KB (the 5 year old) and (can you guess?) "Kidlet C" or KC (the 2 year old). Those initials in no way correspond to their real names or initials. It's just how my husband I started referring to them when we didn't want them to know we were talking about them.

Today is Thanksgiving (unless you are my relatives in Canada, in which case it's November 27th). My son brought home this adorable picture he made at school. I've had these kinds of things for Mother's Day, but I've never gotten one at Thanksgiving. Isn't it cute? I want to put it in a frame and I know it's one of those cheesy kid things that I'll never throw away. I have the perfect place for it in my cube.

Motherhood starts at different times for different people. For some, it's the moment of conception; for others, it's the birth. I have a sister who takes in foster kids. For her, she becomes the mom as soon as those kids walk through the door, even if they don't stay very long. The one thing I notice that we all have in common is that being a mom is hard. Whether you work or not, all moms start by having to diapers and feeding (don't get me started on how hard breastfeeding was), then it becomes potty training and and toddler beds. I'm in several different stages at the moment. KA is working on spelling words and using the Internet to practice. KB is in a half day Kindergarten for kids who just miss the deadline for regular Kindergarten and is working on counting to 100. She's doing pretty well, but she always seems to skip the number 15. Not sure why. And KC is struggling with certain elements of using the potty. I am seriously buying stock in Fruit of the Loom. I refuse to wash poop out of underwear.

Sometimes I may be humorous and laugh at all that being a mom has to offer. Some days, I may just be flat out exhausted and rather crusty at all that being a mom requires. Laugh with me, cry with me, share with me. I need all the help I can get. This is my diary - the diary of a mad working mom.