And as though all of the ups and downs, challenges and triumphs of this past year weren’t stressful enough, I’ve made a decision. The decision.
I know what I’m going to do about my career.
Saturday, January 10
And on Sara’s first birthday party, the Lord said, “Let there be lots of primary-colored plastic crap.”
I stayed up late last night to finish my review of Bumbo Baby Seats for Hip Parent magazine. (My verdict: I worship them even more than epidurals.) Of course, as is always the case with parenting, Sara somehow knew I needed a few minutes to sleep in and woke up at the crack of dawn. I tried to tell her it was her party day, to go back to sleep and rest up for the crazy day in front of us, but she just wanted to walk around her room and pick up blocks and put them in her trash can. So, I sat in the chenille glider and watched her, my eyes half-open, the room still pitch-black.
I woke up Jake an hour later and we switched off. I figured I’d sleep for an hour or two and then wake up and start getting everything ready for the party. Well, Jake apparently lost track of time, let me sleep in, and I woke up an hour before people were supposed to arrive.
The party was great. Sara got lots and lots more toys, adding to the already-embarrassing collection from Christmas. Natalie made Sara a hideous painting. “For her room,” she explained. Apparently, she’s been taking art classes and decided she’s the next Picasso.
Which is true. If Picasso sucked at painting.
Not to mention she spelled my daughter’s name out in sequins in the middle of the painting: sarah.
Nice. She spelled my kid’s name wrong.
Then, Sam told me I probably ruined Sara’s life already by having her birthday so close to Christmas and every kid she knew whose birthday was in December or January got screwed out of birthday gifts. I pointed out her chipped nail polish and she left me alone after that. Although I did overhear her talking to one of her friends on the phone and couldn’t resist a comment.
“Yeah, yeah. I know, I’m almost done here…. Of course I was going to go…. I know, it would’ve been fun … but you know how close my sister and I are, I couldn’t not be here,” Sam said into her phone very matter-of-factly. I stood around the corner in our dining room, unsure if my eardrums deceived me. “Yeah, talk later.” I heard her snap her phone shut.
I took a deep breath and considered the options for a moment.
Screw it.
I walked around the corner and stood in front of Sam, still messing around on her phone. I smiled at her and she glanced up.
“What?” she said as she clicked on her pink phone keyboard.
“Nothing.” I smiled at her and put my hand on her arm. “Thanks for coming,” I said, and gave her forearm a little squeeze.
She looked startled and her eyes met mine. “What? Did you think I’d miss it?” Her eyes quickly narrowed and she squinted at me. “You guys always think the worst about me and—,” she started to say when I shook my head.
“Nope, just happy you’re here.” I nodded my head briefly before walking into the kitchen. I clapped my hands together and said, “Time for cake, everyone!”
We sang “Happy Birthday” and watched Sara smash cake all over her face. I swear, my daughter is Pig Pen’s long-lost sister. I think she got like two crumbs into her piehole. The rest wound up on the floor, on the cat, on the high chair, and thrown on Marianne. (I silently high-fived Sara for the last one since Marianne asked me if I’d iced the cake with store-bought icing. I said of course I did and she snorted a little and remarked that she used to make her own icing.)
Jake proposed a toast to my mom, in honor of her finishing chemo and treatments. As we all took a sip, I cleared my throat—this was as good a time as any.
“So, everyone,” I started out in a voice a few octaves too high. “I have an announcement.”
“You’re pregnant!” Natalie screeched as she threw her plate in the air, embedding cake into our carpet.
“No!” Jake said quickly as he bent down to collect the mess on the floor. Everyone turned to peer at me.
I cleared my throat again. “As you all know, I’ve been going back and forth a bit in my decision to work or continue staying home. I love my job and I’ve worked hard for all of my accomplishments, but I also miss Sara constantly. I’ve wrestled with the decision over the past several months and, after my last event, had an idea. It doesn’t have to be a black-or-white choice, and I found a way to find the gray area. Everyone,” I said as my face broke out into a wide smile, “I’m going to start my own event company.”
I looked around the room at silent faces, eyes bugging out and mouths slack jawed. I cleared my throat again. “See, I’ll be able to work at home, so I’ll see Sara more and run my own schedule, but I will still get to have the career I love. And I’ll get to choose which events to take on.” I stopped and looked around again.
Nothing.
“Hello?” Jake said as he nudged his mom next to him.
“I’m so happy for Sara! Now she doesn’t have to live with a working mom anymore!” Marianne said as she clasped her hands in front of her chest. I’m surprised my mom didn’t punch her out. But she was too busy making her own analogies.
“Like in Baby Boom!” my mom said triumphantly. She raised her glass in the air.
“What?” Natalie said as she screwed her lips into a scowl.
“Baby Boom. In the movie, Diane Keaton is torn between being a working woman and a mom and in the end decides to start her own business, to have the best of both worlds.”
“Oh. The only movie I’ve seen in the past few years was Twilight. Isn’t Edward dreamy?” Natalie said, and sighed.
Not wanting my big moment to get overshadowed by vampire romance, Jake stepped forward and lifted his glass again. “Er. OK, anyway, cheers to Clare and her new venture!”
“Did you get fired or something?” Sam said, her eyes narrowing.
I sighed. “Nope. More like I fired myself.”
“Did you quit your job?” Marianne said, looking confused.
I shook my head. “Not yet. I’m still getting everything in place, but my goal is to quit within two to three months.”
“Oh. I was going to invite you to join my quilting circle next week.” Marianne looked disappointed while I made a mental note to get caller ID on my new office phone.
After a few more toasts and pats on the back, Sara started to crash from her sugar buzz, and soon everyone left. With Jake in the dining room, desperately trying to find a way to make Sara’s new talking caterpillar Leapfrog toy say dirty words, I started cleaning up.
Saying the ideas germinating in my head made them seem real—and much more scary. Up until now, it had just been a brief plan, one that I had yet to put into action.
But in the quiet places of my heart, I knew this was right. My dreams and goals flexed and found a new way to grow into the spaces of my life.
Wednesday, January 14
There’s a possibility I might die thanks to wayward gang members before I can even get my event business off the ground. I should probably start carrying weapons around, like old wine bottles. Because I’m such a good mother that I totally would not hesitate to break off the neck of a Pinot bottle and cut a bitch up to protect my child.
These ponderings are necessary since Jake and I wound up in the ghetto tonight.
OK, scratch that. Jake and I wound up in what I call the ghetto. He called it “a shortcut to the restaurant.”
Except there was no restaurant. There wasn’t much of anything. Just a few liquor stores, gun stores, ammo stores, a few more liquor stores, a bar, and a pawnshop. And a few cars set on fire.
Yet he insisted we were perfectly fine, it was a totally normal way to go, and Judy wouldn’t fail him.
Judy is what he’s named his new navigation system in his car. His parents bought it for him for Christmas. I was eternally grateful when he opened it, since I thought it meant no more screaming at each other a
bout which way to get on the highway. But it does not mean that. It means driving through an area peppered with drug dealers and waving off hookers as they approach the car.
It also meant I twisted around to face Sara in the backseat in a desperate attempt to distract her from staring at the loitering teenagers on every block.
Yet Jake insisted Judy wouldn’t let him down and she’d guide us to our destination. After fifteen minutes, I told Judy to screw off and directed us back to the highway. She got really pissed and was like “PROCEED TO THE HIGHLIGHTED ROUTE. TURN AROUND. TURN AROUND WHEN POSSIBLE. YOU ARE GOING OFF INTO UNMAPPED TERRITORY. JAKE WILL NEVER LOVE YOU AS MUCH AS HE LOVES ME.”
Judy’s a bitch.
Sunday, January 18
“Your latte, Ms. Event Planner Lady,” Julie said as we sat down at Starbucks this afternoon.
“Whatever. It’s still in the planning stage; it won’t officially be launched until the spring. Besides, I haven’t even quit my job yet,” I said as I raised my cup to my lips.
“Yeah, well, you’ll probably get to plan your brother’s wedding, whenever he and that horrible bitch get engaged.” Julie smiled.
“Oh yeah, she’s terrible. Nice, sweet, pretty. Hate her!” I laughed as I raised my coffee. “He asked me to go ring shopping with him next week.”
“Well, regardless, I’m really proud of you. I feel like you’re going to be so much happier and finally feel a little more balanced.” Julie pulled a tube of ChapStick out of her pocket and carefully applied it.
“Definitely. I always thought that it had to be one or the other—working or staying home—but the breast cancer fundraiser really opened my eyes; it made me realize that I can mix the black and white of my life together and make an awesome shade of gray. Not to mention that I’m so excited to make something happen. For me. You know?” I slowly rotated the paper cup in front of me.
“For sure.” Julie nodded and took a sip of her drink. She leaned back. “OK, I have news. And you can’t freak out. Deal?” she said.
“Can’t promise. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth. But go ahead.” I set my drink down on the table and laid my palms flat down.
“I’m taking Trevor to meet my dad.”
“Whoa! Big step!” Freaking huge step, in fact. Julie’s beer-bellied, NASCAR-watching, profanity-spewing father is the ultimate relationship litmus test. But he’s also one of the most awesome people ever.
“No kidding!” Julie rolled her eyes.
“He’s going to do great.” I nodded my head and smiled at her. I have a great feeling about the two of them. Maybe my little Julie is finally growing up.
“Whatever, I’ll let you know. So, I saw the article about Elise,” she said, swiftly changing the subject.
“I know, isn’t it great?” I said.
“Totally. She’s so redeemed herself. Every news station is going to be fighting over her.”
“They already are.” I smiled.
“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: she rules.”
Monday, January 19
Jake stayed home from work today with Sara. He claimed he had a head cold, but I think he’s still just a little tired from going out with Bill-Until-Two-Months-Ago-I-Still-Lived-with-My-Parents on Saturday night.
I walked in the door and dropped my keys on the entryway table. I tiptoed through the foyer. Jake walked out of the kitchen and said, “Hey, I—”
I put a finger to my lips and whispered, “Where is she?”
He smiled and pointed to the family room.
I crept down the hallway. Sara was sitting on her play mat and playing with her Little People firehouse, sunlight streaming through the window and reflecting off her blond curls, forming a halo of light around her head.
“Sara,” I said to her in a low tone.
Her head snapped and she shrieked when she saw me. “Erghhh!” she gurgled.
“Mama’s home,” I said to her as I walked over and picked her up.
We sat down on the couch and I held her close to me.
“Whatcha do today? Whatcha do? Did you play? Did you sing songs?” I murmured in her ear.
She leaned back a little, looked at me in the eyes, and smiled. She put her hands on either side of my face and laughed. I grabbed one of her hands, held it, and kissed it.
Jake walked in and sat down next to us on the couch. He put his arm around me as I rocked Sara until she started to get sleepy in my arms.
“I love you,” I whispered to her.
She dreamily opened her eyes and looked up at me before letting herself lazily drift off. Jake and I stayed on the couch, watching her sleep. I held her in my lap as I rested my head on Jake’s shoulder and we silently watched the snow begin to fall outside.
I assumed that when I had a child, when I acquired the title of mom, I’d have so many things in place already—financial success, personal achievement, confidence, wisdom. But maybe Sara had to come first. Maybe, instead of each achievement being a ladder rung to the next and arriving in an all-for-one package deal, they had to be catalyzed by her.
And this feels like just the beginning; I can’t wait to see what happens next.
As the snow lightly pelted against the windowpane, Sara reached up, grabbed my hand, and held on tight.
Table of Contents
Cover
Other Books by this Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Not Ready for Mom Jeans Page 32