Mama Nuggle

Life is all about timing. And rules. And rules about timing. And planning. And rules about planning your time. I have several unofficial rules that I follow when it comes to planning an extended amount of time off from work:

1. Babies are meant to be born in the spring (or summer.) Unless you live in Alaska - in which case, God help you - who wants to be off when it is cold and snowy?

2. If you need to be off work for medical reasons, you need to do it when the weather is warm. (See rule #1)

3. Wait for the “window of opportunity.” That means that all major surgeries, vacations, childbirth, and (un)expected sickness must happen when the sun is out and the average temperature is above 73 degrees. (See rule #2)

4. Every two years, I need a Leave of Absence (hereby referred to as LOA) to keep me sane.

5. LOA’s occur in even numbered years only (2006, 2008, 2010…) and usually begin in April or May.

This year, my LOA is not because of a joyous occasion like the birth of a baby (as in 2006 and 2008), but because I somehow managed to thoroughly tear up the meniscus in my knee. And, because of a crazy surgical calendar and a national meeting, my time off somehow managed to fall in the spring. (Gee, I wonder how that happened?!?!?)

“But wait Lori!” you’re saying… “How can you possibly get time off from work? I know I couldn’t! I am way too important and busy to take time off! And my company needs me! And I can’t possibly (*gasp*) plan to be off for an extended period of time without everything going to hell in a handbasket!”

Well, you would be wrong. NO ONE is that important. Not even (shockingly enough) me.

If you think you can’t take time off, be it a week or a month or more, ask yourself this: “if I got hit by a bus tomorrow, what would my company do? Would it fold? Collapse? File bankrupcty? Cease to function?”

I am guessing that unless you are self-employed, your company would find a way to absorb your workload and manage to survive without you.

You disagree? Have you ever heard the expression that “you are only essential until they don’t need you anymore?” Well, I have. And since a sleek metal walker lovingly adorned with fluorescent green tennis balls was SO NOT the fashion statement I wanted to make, I needed to have my knee operated on - STAT! As it is, I have waited for more than a year to have this surgery (read : subsequent time off) and let’s face it, my knee wasn’t getting better on its own. So, my work can live without me. My family can’t.

So, how can you get time off - and still have a job waiting for you when you get back? Simple: strategically devise an interim plan that rivals modern warfare in its scope and complexity. Remember: your goal is to get that time off, but have your company and colleagues glad when you come back. Here are my ESSENTIAL RULES for getting that time off:

1. You must notify your boss many, many months in advance. Because, inevitably, some crisis will throw your “planning” off and you will need to punt. And if you haven’t planned for your absence, your company is not likely to approve your leave.

2. Select your replacement. They must be savvy, intelligent, knowledgeable, ambitious, friendly, and likable. But not too likable that no one wants you to come back in favor of keeping your replacement.

3. Let your co-workers know who will be in charge of covering your workload while you are off. Let them know you will be going out on XX/XX/XXXX date - come hell, high water, or national emergency. 

4. Clear your desk, inbox, and phone of all stuff that “only I can do.”  Sigh deeply, as this will never happen again in the history of your lifetime.

4. Turn on your out-of-office and show faith in your replacement by letting them do the job they are entrusted to do. Enjoy shirking your responsibilities for a while. Breathe a big sigh of relief. After all, it is not your responsibility to handle the everyday chaos that happens - that’s why it’s called a LEAVE of ABSENCE.

And now, for the non-work work related stuff that is really critical to making the most of your time off:

* Fill your prescription for pain-killers in advance. Stock-pile if needed. There is nothing worse than being stuck in a house by yourself, unable to drive, and being out of those oh-so-comforting meds. Except maybe a straightjacket. Which you will need if you don’t get those meds in advance. Trust me on this one.

* Clean your house. Thoroughly. Because for the next few weeks, no one else is going to do it. Unless, like me, you have taught your toddlers how to wield a dustbuster. In which case, you may be able to avoid dust bunnies swirling across your hardwoods. Besides, even if enough debris accumulates to impede your access to the couch, you won’t care about it either.  (That’s the magic of Vicodin.)

* Do every last scrap of laundry. Because, unless you are out of clean underwear (which, by the way, is optional on LOA) you really aren’t going to give a flying fig Newton about the mounds of dirty towels that are clogging up your laundry room for the next few weeks.

* Religiously DVR every chick flick, crime drama, and reality TV show known to man. Memorize the Bravo TV line up. Search and record every Ryan-Seacrest-produced show on E! TV.  To be fully prepared, my rule of thumb is that you need 16 shows for every week you are off. Give yourself bonus points for successfully recording an entire series of The Real Housewives and managing to keep your husband from “accidentally” deleting. Ditto for any Kevin Costner movie and for Criminal Minds. (Truly, is there anything better than Shemar Moore every week? I think not.)

* Load up your pantry with every flavor of fat-laden, salty snacks known to man. Buy in bulk. Hit Costco like a snowstorm is coming. Forget bread, milk, and eggs. You won’t bother to eat those anyway. But don’t forget the toilet paper. Again, reference my last point for clarity - you don’t wanna be without this stuff!! Besides, LOA means that you can eat leftover Chinese and cookie-dough ice cream for breakfast, and chase it down with a Propel and a vicodin. No one but you will care - unless, of course, you allow your kids the same pleasures. Because a visit from Child Protective Services is certainly not the house call you want to have.

* Make a trip to your local public library and reserve every new book by Danielle Steel, James Patterson, Stuart Woods, and Jen Lancaster (my new favorite author, who does “snark” like no other.) It’s cheap! It’s free! It’s an easy way to “look busy” while working on your tan!

* If at all humanly possible, send the kids to their grandparents’ house for the week. I personally like to be miserable in peace. With this surgery, changing diapers and chasing kids while on crutches simply was not a viable option. Hooray for Grammy and Pop-pop! They graciously gave me the quietest four days I have had in the past five years!

*Upgrade your cell phone plan to include unlimited talk and texts. Use this to torture co-workers and up your entertainment quotient for the week. Example:

Hey - what’s new? Oh, no, I didn’t see that e-mail. No, its too hard to read the tiny screen on my Crackberry with all the glare from the sun, even with my Chanel knock-off sunglasses on. Why is it so bright? Oh, did I forget to mention I am on my deck in the 79 degree weather, icing my knee? Oh, sales suck? Hmm… I must have missed that. Yeah, no, sorry, I haven’t really been keeping track of the stock price this week. My biggest accomplishments today were navigating the stairs and getting a shower. No, I didn’t know that was due. Oh, it’s due at 5 PM today? I hope that she sends it in for me… Oh! Whoops! Sorry, sorry, I dropped the phone. Funny how slippery my hands get with all that tanning oil on… Oh, yeah, I thought it would be a good idea to let the sun warm me up a bit. Yeah, I have been so busy today. I finished the book Bright Lights, Big Ass in record time. The only thing better than that was managing to carry my cranberry pomegranate cocktail outside without spilling a drop! It’s so festive! All that crushed ice, capped off with a tiny pink parasol and a cherry-orange garnish. Yessss…. I realize it is only 1 P.M… No, no, of course it is just juice. Of course I know it’s dangerous to mix alcohol and painkillers. Pffft. I am not Heath Ledger or anything.    Oh, you have to run? So soon? Oh yeah, no, no problem. I didn’t realize you were trying to get a performance review done. Yeah, that’s OK, call me back later. But not around 4 - that’s when Oprah is on. Oh, yeah, sure. Have fun today. Talk to you soon! Love ya - ‘bye!!

See what I mean? How much fun was that? That’s priceless entertainment there, baby!

So… have I inspired you to “get away” yet? Well, get your ducks in a row. Call your doctor. Schedule that surgery. Turn on that Out-of-office. Plan for your absence. And yes, “take leave while the sun shines!”

Hey work - see you in May!

I am guessing that some of you may have noticed that I have been on an extended leave lately. I am not referring to my recent maternity leave - but a blogging LOA. You see, way back in August, I re-acclimated myself into my paying job. After 12 weeks off, this was both easier and harder than I expected.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a good job. My colleagues and co-workers like and respect me. My boss treats me well. My team seems to enjoy working for me (or at least they are smart enough to fake it.) It’s just - well - there’s no place like home.

Of course, while I was off, I broke the cardinal rule of leave - I occasionally worked. I read e-mails almost daily. I fielded a few phone calls. I read through the internal company website to keep up with what was going on. Basically, I did all this in attempt to make my first few weeks back at work that much smoother.

You know how hard it is to get caught up at work after taking a week’s vacation? It takes a few days just to dig out, to clear the pile off your desk and to respond / delete / file all the messages in your inbox. Your phone rings off the hook. Everything takes twice as long to finish because you wish you were still on vacation and not chained to your desk. Combine all that with the busiest time of year for your particular industry (in my case, back to school), so every day is a MADHOUSE. NOW, MULTIPLY THAT TIMES TWELVE, for the number of weeks I was off. Then, multiply by 14, for the number of stores I supervise. Do you now understand why I have begun to fantasize about drinking heavily, although it is only 8:23 A.M. and I am not really a drinker?

Nevertheless, I am happy to report that I survived my first day back, which was an at home “office day.” Which meant I didn’t need to leave the kids that day, thank God. You may wonder what an “office day” is… basically it’s manager-speak for trying to catch up on a shitload of work while taking conference calls and trying to dodge people you are really not capable of dealing with at that immediate moment. I have 4 phone lines in our house. Plus a cell phone. And they were all still ringing at 8:30 P.M.

And yet, I made it through the first day. And the first week. And the first month. And the second month.

Then, things started getting tricky.

You see, the back to school rush is over. It was followed by a post-holiday type of letdown.

Everyone in my  stores suddenly began to think, “Hey, wait! I am finally not swamped, and I have been meaning to talk to Lori about XXX.” Which translates roughly into “Hey Lori… I am ticked off about XXX, and I need you to fix it / give me a raise / solve this problem for me.”

In fact, all the “issues” that could have cropped up while I was off DIDN’T. Instead, they were merely in hibernation until I returned. Everyone was waiting for their “real” boss to come back.. and hoo boy, are those festering issues smacking me in the face right now.

Like ever-present tumbleweeds blowing across a sun-parched desert, like dust bunnies hiding in a rarely used room - all the issues have quickly resurfaced. And they are now cluttering up my brain. I am stressed - which is, quite possibly, the largest understatement I have ever made.

In fact, I have been so stressed that I have chewed what my dental hygenist refers to as callouses on the inside of my cheeks. Is that even freakin’ possible? Apparently so!

I find myself waking up in the middle of the night thinking “Oh, crap! I forgot to call so-and-so back!” Or, “I hope so and so doesn’t quit.” Or, “I hope those two don’t go all postal on each other before I can get in to mediate.” Or, “If I have one more issue at Store #### I will plead with real estate to just close them already!”

I have been working like a madwoman over the past few weeks. And I am making progress, but I am not  - metaphorically speaking - where I want to be right now.

And oh - did I forget to mention this? - Jeremy re-entered the workforce a few weeks ago. He has been traveling several days a week, doing “overnights” as part of his training. Which leaves me (the parent not so used to being a full time caregiver) in charge of the kids. Aaaaccck!

I must confess that I have a great support network… my parents have ever-so-insanely signed up for watching the kids several (read: three to four) days a week - Thank God! But, since my parents live in a different state than we do, I have been staying (read:living) at their house, in my childhood bedroom, several nights a week. With a 2 year old and a four month old in tow. Which sounds so easy on paper, but in reality it is quite challenging.

Even the sleeping arrangements are unique. Thankfully, Kid #2 sleeps like a champ, but only if she is attached to the magic boobies on and off for most of the night. Meaning she is sandwiched next to me all night. I live in fear of rolling over on her. On the other hand, Kid #1 has been bunking with my dad. (Oh, Pop-pop, how lucky can you get!) My dad and Ty, they are quite the pair.

Why, you ask?

Well, Pop-pop snores like a freight train (sorry, Daddy!) and Ty kicks like Billy Blanks doing a “best of Tae-Bo” DVD. One would think that Grammy - being the only member of the household to NOT be co-sleeping with anyone - is getting the better end of the deal.

One would be wrong in making that assumption.

Why, you ask?

Well, although the bulk of the child care responsibilities is “technically” mine (seeing as how they are MY kids and all) Grammy has been gracious (or crazy enough) to take care of the kids all day until I come home from work.

On some nights, my arrival doesn’t occur until well into the final minutes of Dancing with the Stars. On a few occasions, I have actually dragged myself over the threshold in the wee early morning hours (around 2 AM or so) after doing a night inventory or remodel. My ridiculous schedule alone is enough to really aggravate even the most dedicated caregiver. Couple that with the amount they are spending on beverages (Milk, diet Pepsi, and formula - in that order) while housing my clan, I am surprised my parents have not kicked me out by now. I am sure it will happen any day now. Just please, mom and dad, keep the kids, will ya? And at least give me two weeks notice!

PS I love you Mom and Dad! See you Monday!

So Monday will be my first day back at work. I am SO not looking forward to leaving my baby and my toddler at home. Without me. There, I’ve said it.

It doesn’t feel any better to have said it, but at least it’s my first step on the path from denial to acknowledgement.

Two years ago, at about this same time, I headed back to work after having my son Ty. My husband had been keeping an e-journal of Ty’s first 100 days at home after birth, a tome he called “Daddy’s Diary.” In it, he reflected on each new day with Ty, and the wondrous impact he made on our life. There were many introspective moments captured, some humorous, some poignant, some trying, some laughable, but most were just REAL.  Seeing those moments in print brought it all home, all those little moments we would have otherwise forgotten.

One of those particularly difficult moments was my first day back at work. I felt like a kid going to back to school after my first summer vacation - apprehensive, scared, excited, nervous, and emotional. Here’s a glimpse of what Jeremy wrote to sum up that day:

“Ty got up at 11:15 p.m.  I fed him until about midnight, and then he was out cold again. I think Lori got up with him around 5:00 a.m., and I don’t remember hearing him in between. As we agreed, I got up at 8:00 a.m. and was ready to take him by 8:20 a.m. This was Lori’s first day back to work that she had to leave the house. She didn’t want to give him up, and she fed him for 20 extra minutes while I got coffee and the newspaper and checked e-mail. I didn’t want to rush her out the door, as it was an emotional experience for her. [...] Ty and I gave Lori a big hug and kiss good-bye, and I told her not to worry and to have a good day…but don’t stay at work any longer than absolutely necessary. I’m sure that, in between tears, on her way to work Lori thought, ‘He’s never going to be able to do this.’”

What Jeremy didn’t write was that I really bawled the entire morning. I bawled like a baby who just lost his pacy. At the front door. Kissing Ty and Daddy goodbye. Getting into the car. On the way to work. The entire hour drive, I BAWLED. In between gasps and sobs, I called my mom, looking for some moral support. She tried, but it didn’t really help. She told me to just try to make it through the day, and that it would get easier. “Fat chance!” I thought. I was virtually inconsolable.

No, scratch that, I was a train wreck.

By the time I arrived at my destination, I looked like a cross between Tammy Faye Baker and Amy Winehouse. I had huge mascara clumps congealing on my cheekbones, eyeliner smeared and “winged” across my temples, and rivers of foundation streaking down my face. My nose was so red I gave Rudolph a run for his money. I knew this was going to not be a good day.

I wasn’t worried about Jeremy taking care of both Ty and Chani, who had just arrived the previous day. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he was a great daddy, and I secretly felt he had it easy and was getting the better end of the deal. When you find yourself longing to be changing a poopy diaper instead of doing what you’re doing, you know you are in a bad place.

 

Somehow, I made it through the day. I can’t say I was effective. I can’t say I got any “real work” done. To be quite frank, I can’t even remember which stores I visited that day. It was all a blur.

 

Side note: While I was on leave, there were a few “fires” in my stores that my acting DSM attempted to put out. He did a great job, but was clearly overworked and undercompensated for his trouble. My temporary replacement was also “geographically challenged,” as he lived in NJ and my territory was MD/VA/PA/WV, which made just simply getting to a store to fix an issue a heckuva lot more challenging. But, they survived without me. And that lead me to think, “Why can’t they survive without me for just one more day? I don’t know how I am going to make it through this day, let alone seem professional and upbeat about being back!”

 

I do remember thinking - for about the thousandth time in a span of a few hours - about just getting the heck out of there and calling it a day. After all, I made the attempt and showed up. No one said I needed to be productive, did they? I could always be productive at another time, like say, next year.

 

I also remember the boobies being ready to explode, and I mentally used that excuse to cut my losses and bolt a little before 5 PM.  I remember the wave of calm that engulfed me as I walked in the door and picked up my baby and smothered him in kisses. I also recall how glad I was to be home and how tormented I was at the thought of doing it all again tomorrow.

 

As the days passed, it got easier. Ty was still not pleased when Mommy left and often pitched a crying fit upon seeing me gather up my things and head for the door. My heading to work routine soon sounded like this:

Ty would ask in this sad little voice, “Where mama? Where mama go?”

To which Jeremy would reply, “Mama’s going to work.”

And Ty would respond, “Mama go work? Bye- byes?”

Jeremy would then say, “Yep, mama went to work - she’ll see you later.”

And Ty would say “Mama work. Bye byes” - and promptly burst into tears.

Those were the days it was the hardest to leave. To this day, my mom thinks he’ll never want to go to work when he becomes an adult, because of the bad associations he has with that word!!!

 

Eventually, Ty got better at this part of our daily routine. He’d say ”‘Bye mama” as he waved and blew kisses. Later on, he added the “see ya gator” expression to his vocabulary, indicating he was OK with me leaving him in Daddy’s capable hands.

 

I’d like to say that it got to a point where I didn’t mind leaving. But, that would be a lie. It did get easier, particularly as Ty transitioned into the terrible two’s at about 15 months of age.  Though I felt bad for Jeremy on those days, there were a handful of moments where I was like “Peace out! Gotta go! Have fun with the crying screaming baby! See ya later!”  as I made a mad dash to the door.

 

There was an upside to all of this work nonsense, besides just getting paid. What I really took away from going back to work was a sense of better time management. I got a LOT of work done in the wee morning hours between 4:30 and 7 AM. I prioritized my e-mail and phone calls, and squeezed them in before and after my store visits. I multitasked by burning through literally thousands of cell phone minutes during my commute, which often stretched into ungodly realm of 5 or 6 hours a day .

 

Most importantly, it became easier to walk away from my job and call it a day, knowing that work could wait but my family couldn’t. A self-proclaimed workaholic, I suddenly realized that my work would never fully be done, and my to-do list would never be completely blank. And I accepted that. My colleagues noticed. My husband noticed. I noticed. And most importantly, Ty noticed.

 

I soon lived a new mantra: being a manager is NOT HOW I AM GOING TO DEFINE MY ROLE IN THIS LIFE.  It’s like the John Lennon quote, “LIFE IS WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU WHILE  YOU’RE BUSY MAKING OTHER PLANS.” 

 

I quickly realized I needed to be a wife and mother FIRST, and an employee second. It helped that Ty welcomed my return each day with his own fanfare - equivalent to a thousand Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parades. He’d stretch out his chubby arms and excitedly yell, ”Mama! Mama! Hi Mama! Mama HOME!” with a huge grin plastered across his cherubic little face. THAT ALONE WAS ENOUGH TO MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE.

 

I know that next week will not be easy. Let’s face it, it will probably suck. Running errands for a few hours without the kids is nothing like going back to work and leaving your newborn for the first time.

 

It’s going to be hard on all of us. Ty’s gotten used to having both Mommy and Daddy around. Caitlin has never gone more than 4 hours without me. And let’s face reality - Jeremy won’t have it easy either, as he will be in charge of a 12 week old AND a 27 month old. SIMULTANEOUSLY. And the “reinforcements” won’t be home for another 9 hours after I walk out that door in the morning. That is, of course, unless I hit the lottery this weekend, in which case, Sayonara! I won’t be going back at all!

 

But in reality, I’d like to think I’m a little better prepared for going back to work this time around. I bought waterproof mascara and eyeliner. I’ll skip the foundation. My support team is on-standby for my impending Chernobyl-like meltdown. I bought 8 boxes of Kleenex at Costco. I’m putting my game face on, and am psyching myself up like a starting quarterback before the Superbowl.  But we’ll get through it - I think. Wish me luck… and pass the Kleenex.

 

Anyone else relate to this moment? Moms? Dads? Let me know what YOUR family did to cope!