Feeble Knees

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Dispatch from the Front

So I had a few precious minutes to peruse some mommy blogs, and what to my wondering eyes did appear, but a link to this blog listed under Blogs in Focus This Week over at Actual Unretouched Photo.

Ack! I feel like I've been caught at home by Ed McMahon and the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes Prize Patrol with unbrushed teeth, bed-head and a leaky nursing bra.

Hi Mel. Hi folks from Mel's. If you're reading this, thanks for stopping by, I do appreciate it. I'm sorry I haven't had more to offer here lately, but this college-educated, former hi-tech professional has been busy cleaning up spit-up, changing poopy diapers, picking up a million plastic baby toys and getting my feet repeatedly run over by a wild-eyed eight-month-old in a walker.

I know Linda R. Hirshman would be perfectly horrified.

I'd love to have her here for tea.

In between diaperings, (Bug's, not mine) we could discuss my former career in the software world, during which I collected a ridiculously fat paycheck for work that had little or no socially redeeming value and did absolutely squat for the cause of women worldwide. I'd give her the names and addresses of a whole slew of female (and male) working friends who regularly get together to lunch and inevitably end up discussing how depressed and unfulfilled they are in their big-honking-paycheck/technically-challenging jobs. They'd probably lie and tell her what she wants to hear to get their names in print. (Ha. Just kidding. Sorta.) But I know what they really think about what they're doing every day, some of them six and seven days a week, for companies who would think nothing of laying them all off and shipping their jobs overseas.


But I digress.

Recently we had the occasion to entertain some child-free friends, one of whom works at a Very Big Company that pretty much dominates the world, but shall remain nameless here. This person has the Important Job, the Money, the House, the Travel Excursions, and more Professional Achievement than Ms. Hirshman could probably manage in a lifetime. But the most striking thing, after getting reacquainted again years and one eight-month-old later, was the lifelessness - the ennui - that emanated from this accomplished professional. Yeah these friends could talk about this big conference or that big multi-million dollar project or those exotic trips halfway around the world, but when they got all done flashing the style, there wasn't a whole heck of a lot of substance. They looked bored to hear themselves talk.

I don't think I'm missing anything here. Maybe other people do. More power to them.

It's not that I want to pick a fight with Ms. Hirshman, or anyone else for that matter. Personally I'd prefer it if folks on both sides of the so-called Mommy Wars would at least agree to hold off the next salvo until I finish switching a load of laundry around. 'Cause you know I got enough to do here before I can afford myself the luxury (yes, there I said it, luxury) of letting my grey matter wander off to contemplate whether or not I should be feeling fulfilled. Am I fulfilled? Maybe I'll let you know once I finally get some lunch - or more than two contiguous minutes to type.

Now if you'll excuse me, there's a drooly potential future world leader over there in the Pack 'N Play who needs a teether and a big mommy hug, STAT.
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