Reflections Archives – Leap of Faye

My 2017 Year in Review: A Year of Change

As ~~January~~ February quickly nears its end, I’m reminded that I had intended to write a post about my 2017 reflections on, well, the first day of the new year. But then the flu happened, and then various events, and then day-to-day laundry lists and suddenly it’s nearly ~~February~~ March.

Better late than never, right?

Speaking of late, I realize it’s been quite a while since I’ve blogged at all. Excuses, excuses, I know, but it’s been crazy busy with all the things. I’ve had ideas simmering, and even have a handful of half-written posts, but inevitably I’m distracted or pulled away by schedule demands. As I sit here now mid-afternoon with a napping toddler, two “resting” little boys, and no known fires on the horizon, I’m hopeful I can get my thoughts down – and coherently at that.

When I think about the past year, I’m encouraged by how personally rich it was. It absolutely felt like a year of transition for me, and while I was reluctant and tentative in the beginning I’ve now embraced it. My learnings from 2017 are compelling me to take even more leaps in 2018.

I lamented the loss of my baby’s babyhood.

I almost used the word “grieved” here, but realized that word is not accurate nor sensitive to those experiencing actual grief. While my emotions were real (there were tears – so many tears), they have more to do with my own coming-to-terms with the fact that my baby is growing up. Just as he’s supposed to.

It started when he stopped nursing at 14 months – his choice, not mine. In fact, I tried to force him – over weeks – to reconsider. Offered and begged and pumped and cried (again with the tears) but his mind was made up. He was done and no longer required that experience for comfort. I was (irrationally) hurt. And emotional. And hormonal until everything began to level out.

Then the baby who had wailed until Mommy would bring him into bed every single night since birth – the baby who had clung to me with his whole little body as he drifted off – decided he no longer wanted to sleep with me. Yes, he would cuddle with the best of them as we lounged watching TV, but as soon as he began getting sleepy he would point to his crib with a firm “BED.” At first I thought it was just a game, and would laugh and hug him closer, but he would become angry with his repeated “BED, BED” until I laid him down. And again I felt rejected. Sad. My baby no longer needed me the way he used to.

I moped around in my own bubble of self-pity until the day he decided he no longer wanted to be carried up the stairs in the morning (I know, I know – but he is the baby after all). I picked him up as usual and he screamed to be put down. Again I felt that familiar pang in my heart, until he suddenly held out his hand and looked up at me. “Mama? Help, Mama?” And as he clung to my hand walking up those stairs, it occurred to me that he did still need me – just in different ways. And that it was my job to adjust my expectations as he grows so that I can be there but not stifle him. Just be.

And it’s continued. He puts on his own shoes now. Hangs his own jacket. Attempts to brush his own hair. But I’ve learned to accept that this is how it goes, that this is how it’s supposed to go, and to simply cherish each experience as it comes and then eventually goes. I still miss my baby. But then I realize he’s still here, doing exactly what he needs to be doing.

I re-engaged in my social life.

I never really realized I had disengaged, to be honest, until I looked up from the madness that is life and work plus three difficult pregnancies and baby/toddlerhood stages – and suddenly grasped that I was on the fast track to isolating myself (turns out you can only decline so many social invitations before people begin giving up on you).

I’d never intended for that to happen. Didn’t recognize it was happening. I was just so overwhelmed and deep in the weeds that is young parenting that I couldn’t bring myself to commit to even one. more. thing. before drowning completely.

But alas, it gets easier. Children grow and become more self-sufficient (read: I lamented the loss of my baby’s babyhood). And suddenly I was able to think beyond simply getting through the day to future days and even weeks. As I was needed a bit less at home, I began to remember my old social life and how personally fulfilling that had been. I realized I missed it. Needed to get out of the house more often. And I made a conscious decision to re-engage, to put myself back out there, and to accept invitations as able.

And it’s worked! Fortunately for me, I have some pretty amazing friends who simply get it. As I’ve sheepishly crawled out of the woodwork, I’ve reconnected with these people and there’s been no love lost, only welcoming arms and support. Lots of meals and wine and cathartic catch-ups later, I realize that my life is richer and happier with this network of pretty incredible people.

I refocused on my health.

Back in the day, I was pretty healthy. I exercised regularly, ate well (within reason), and was rewarded with a lot of energy and good sleep. But having three kids over five years has a way of shifting your own health to the back burner. I tried in the beginning. Oh, how I tried. During my first pregnancy I was determined, but pregnancy-related health issues made it very difficult. Then the second and third pregnancies were even more challenging, and I physically could not do it.

Then after birth, there’s nursing. My body already seems to not make enough milk, and any exercise seemed to stifle production even further, so on the couch I remained. Besides, I wasn’t ready to leave the baby in anyone’s care but my own which pretty much relegated any exercise to the weekends anyway.

But as my stress levels increased and my waistline grew, I knew I had to get back to it. I missed it. That time to myself to really focus on physical challenges and my own health. So I made a pact with myself that I would begin again on the 1st of last year (I know, cliche). I figured the baby would be just about a year old so could be left in the gym childcare room for a couple of hours while I exercised.

So I did. And boy, it was HARD. I was out of shape, out of breath, and self-conscious as I could barely muster the strength to complete a warm-up, never mind a full workout. But my stubbornness pushed me to continue and slowly – ever so slowly – I began to improve. I accepted the fact that the muscle soreness would pretty much never go away (although eventually it did – after about 4 months) and kept on. I began working out with a small group of people who I genuinely like and who hold me accountable, even if I do curse certain ones under my breath when forcing me to lift more, push more, go faster.

And this, probably more than anything, has gotten me back to ME. Made me feel more like myself again. Has improved the quality of my sleep, the fit of my clothes, and my energy levels. Has actually become fun and something I look forward to. And has connected me with people who inspire me to try things I’ve never dared before (hello climbing and kickboxing).

I said YES to new opportunities.

One of the best things about leaving a traditional full-time job is the time it frees up to focus on endeavors more interesting to you. I immediately began freelancing and part-time consulting, and have enjoyed this work immensely. But I realized that some of its greatest benefits (hours flexibility and the ability to work from anywhere) are also some of the greatest challenges (turns out I miss face-to-face adult human interaction). I wanted to continue this work that I love, but I also missed working with people in person.

And just like that – a small fitness studio opened a 6 minute walk away. As fate would have it, I’d just completed my Personal Trainer certification and was looking to get some hands-on experience working with clients to see if it was something I’d like to pursue further. I talked to the owner and it ended up being a fit – he was satisfied with the very part time hours I could provide, and I was happy to try something new and interesting. And so far, it’s been a lot of fun! I’m able to keep up with my other professional obligations while working with some pretty kick-ass clients a few times a week.

On the writing front, I began to ramp that up again as well. I’d not taken on any new clients and had neglected my blog, but again began saying YES to sponsored opportunities that came my way as able. It’s increased my workload, yes, but reignited my interest and openness for new projects vs. simply saying no every single time.

I stopped putting off recreational pursuits as well. I finally said yes to climbing (after many months of procrastination) and was surprised by how much I actually enjoyed it. It’s now become something I look forward to. Same with cooking in a new way and with getting more involved at my son’s school. Each of these opportunities has taught me more, rounded me more, and opened new doors. I plan to continue saying YES to see where it takes me.

I became more selective about who I spend time with.

Maybe that sounds bad, as if I’m a snob, but it’s really not. At my age and with my experiences, I’ve simply come to terms with the fact that my free time is limited, and I really only have a desire to spend it with people I care about. No more, no less. I don’t want to force friendships out of convenience, nurture relationships simply because I “should” (due to obligation, etc), or spend time with people I simply don’t like that much.

I’m not saying that every relationship needs to be a deep and complex soul bond, but I am saying that unless it’s bringing something positive to both people it’s not one I care to pursue. And I’ve found that by making this conscious decision, the times I spend with people are more rewarding, more carefree, and more fun. Instead of limiting my social circle, I feel that it’s widened it by freeing up space to nurture the relationships that are most important me.

And – there is something liberating about saying to yourself, “nope, don’t like that person very much” and letting it go instead of trying to force niceties, forge a bond, etc. I could definitely get used to it.

I stopped justifying my NOs.

I’ve learned that just as important as saying yes is the ability to say no – without apology, justification, or guilt. This is something I’ve struggled with for a long time, constantly feeling like I have to substantiate WHY I can’t or won’t do something. But just as I’ve begun allowing myself to say YES to me-time without guilt, I’ve also started saying NO followed by a period. No guilt, no excuses, no reasons. Simply, “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to XYZ.”

This has been a huge game-changer for me. Yes, it was awkward at first. Sometimes still. I have a natural tendency to try to fill the space after the NO. But I fake it, say my “sorry, no” firmly, and leave it at that. So far I’ve only had one situation where the requesting individual has demanded a reason. I started to give one but then stopped myself, and ended with “it just doesn’t work for us.” And that closed out the conversation.

Just like letting go of relationships I don’t care to pursue, this exercise has been liberating. I realize I don’t owe anyone except my closest family and friends an explanation for anything – and even then, those closest always respect the NO. It makes me think that I’m finally at “that age” – you know, the one everyone talks about when you finally start giving zero f—s about what anyone thinks.

I dare say I like it.

And with that, I’m ready to take 2018 by the horns! I’m starting this year (okay, okay, so it’s almost March) with optimism, energy, and excitement for more changes on the horizon. The past few years – since turning 40, having children, and going independent – have been the most transformative for me yet; I’ve learned so much about myself, my strengths, my ~~weaknesses~~ opportunities, and what I really want out of life. Cheers to 2018 and more developments to come!

7 Reasons to NOT Have a Baby in the United States

The United States is a country based on family values. We preach loudly about the children being our future, and about how important it is to make them our top priority.

Yet the sad fact is that we’re the only industrialized nation in the world with no paid parental leave. The only one. And in the bottom three of every country worldwide that does not mandate paid time off for new parents.

But wait – there’s more! We have little support systems in place for new parents, and even fewer for the children themselves. Physically, professionally, and financially, many American families struggle once having children.

It’s no wonder that my Canadian cousin once called the prospect of having a child in the United States “barbaric.”

Having a #baby in the United States is not for the faint of heart. #pregnancy #parenting #birth Share on X

WTF??

For a nation that touts family values, this is shocking. Appalling. And, for the parents who live it, incredibly difficult. Here are just a few reasons why.

Pregnancy is considered a disability.

You heard that right. In the great old US of A, new working mothers are put on Short Term Disability for either six weeks (vaginal delivery) or eight weeks (cesarean delivery) postpartum. Salaries – or portions of salaries – are paid by Short Term Disability insurance during this period.

After the 6-8 weeks are up and assuming she is recovering normally, the new mother’s Short Term Disability insurance runs out and in most states she’s now left without pay unless she – wait for it – returns to work. Never mind that she’s still waddling around the house in pain. If she wants money to buy new baby necessities (or simply pay the bills), she’ll need to get back on the job STAT.

Breast is best in theory only.

We talk the talk but don’t exactly walk the walk. Considering the fact that a mother’s milk supply isn’t even fully established until up to 12 weeks, we are sending her back to work long before there is a chance of that occurring. Once there, she has to contend with meetings, schedules, and discouraging bosses while trying to find the time and a good area to pump. It’s no wonder most American mothers aren’t successful over the long term.

We care more about Mom fitting back into her skinny jeans than the physical ordeal she’s just been through.

Other countries focus on nurturing and caring for new mothers after the births of their babies. In China, for example, new mothers are expected to rest and concentrate on eating and nursing for 30 days – while family or friends (or even hired helpers) care for them and the needs of their families. Mexico has a similar tradition, and even France keeps new mothers in the hospital for close to a week.

But here, new mothers are sent home a day or two after giving birth. They’re then expected to not only jump back into everything they were doing before, they’re expected to do it with raw and leaky nipples, sore and tender nether regions or tummies, and brand new babies.

Oh, and the minute Mom arrives home is the minute the clock starts ticking for her to get her “pre-baby body back.” Even a simple trip to the market can be misconstrued as a planned “debut” of her post-baby bod.

Many employers are not supportive.

Granted, you can’t blame them with the limited laws (often ignored) protecting pregnant women and mothers. While more employers are becoming more open to the fact that – gasp – a pregnant woman or new mom CAN remain a committed and valued team member, there are many that see it as a stark disadvantage.

From being asked about whether she plans to have children to the anxiety of telling her boss she’s pregnant to having to fight for maternity leave rights to being mommy-tracked once she returns from leave, new mothers have seen it all in the workplace. And it ain’t pretty.

Having a baby is excessively expensive.

And you better believe that medical facilities upcharge every chance they get. We’re talking thousands upon thousands of dollars for prenatal care and delivery – and this is WITH health insurance. I often wonder how families can even afford to have babies anymore.

I recently reviewed the medical receipts from the birth of my third child and was blown away. In addition to the exorbitant fees I was charged for a natural delivery that occurred 11 minutes after my arrival to the hospital, I was additionally charged for a can of Dermoplast at 25 times the listed cost on Amazon. Better yet was the daily “bassinet rental fee.” Yep – you read that right – the bassinet that my baby was placed in at the hospital was later billed to me at a daily rental rate.

No wonder more and more women are considering home births.

Mothers commonly work right up until they give birth.

Imagine it. You are nine months pregnant, sore, uncomfortable, and ready to give birth at any moment – and still working. While the federal Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA) does provide job protection for up to 12 weeks, it is unpaid and must be due to an approved reason – such as pregnancy complications certified by a doctor. Even if a mother DOES qualify to begin her FMLA prior to birth, it shortens the period of job protection she is eligible for after birth.

So you have a choice – use it before the baby is born (unpaid), or after (and combine it with Short Term Disability to receive pay for the first 6 or 8 weeks).

Given these options, no wonder mothers work until their waters break. Every penny of salary is needed before a new human being is brought into the world, and every postpartum minute counts in a country where new parents are given mere days to bond.

We don’t prioritize affordable quality childcare.

Do “affordable” and “quality” even belong in the same sentence? After paying thousands of dollars to merely have the baby, working parents then struggle to find reliable childcare that won’t break the bank.

There aren’t many options available. Parents can opt for a traditional childcare setting, an in-home childcare, or pony up to pay a private nanny (or au pair). Childcare licensing leaves a bit to be desired, and nannies are not regulated at all. So no matter what, parents are taking expensive leaps of faith when they return to work and leave their tiny six or eight week old babies with hired help.

So where do we go from here? Change is necessary, and it is long overdue. There’s not a single right answer, but I do know that prioritizing our nation’s family values, as we say we do, would be a helluva start.

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7 MORE Learnings Since Quitting My Job One Year Ago

I can hardly believe it’s been a year.

Well, almost a year. Technically the end of August will be a year since I resigned, although my last day on the job (before being taken out on medical leave) was in June 2015.

So over 12 months since I’ve worked for Corporate America. That went fast.

Most days it still feels fresh. Like I’m on a temporary break, scheduled to go back at any moment. But then I remember that this is not a break, and that each day is up to me. And then the excitement bubbles up again, even now, as I consider each week, each project, each new opportunity.

And after one year, a milestone I wasn’t sure I would achieve, it feels like a good time to reflect on what I’ve learned through my leap of faith.

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Time goes quickly.

Okay, so this may not directly correlate with my career, but it is something that has been cemented into my psyche since my transition to self-employment. I think about the years I hesitated to resign and try something new, and I now realize that I could have started long ago.

This past year went fast. Incredibly fast. And having the opportunity to spend that time on pursuits that are more fulfilling to me has allowed me to see just how much time I squandered while trying to deny what my heart was telling me. It’s given me the resolve to pay much more attention to how I’m spending my time going forward, understanding that it is in finite supply and every moment really does count.

The money works itself out.

This had always been one of the primary reasons I feared resigning. Finances. What if? What if we no longer had enough? What if we went broke? What if we could never afford to travel or do anything fun again? Yet interestingly, over the past year, money has fallen close to the bottom of the list of concerns – even though we have less of it. With a bit of planning, I’ve realized that it really does work itself out.

We made sure we were “financially fit” before I resigned, and we continue to track our budget. And that has been enough. We still travel, do fun things, and purchase what we need (and sometimes want). I liken it to having a child – you never think you have enough financially, but somehow it all adjusts.

Find out what I've learned in the year since I #quit my Corporate American job! #career #freelance Share on X

I am more purposeful in my work.

When working in a corporate environment, I did pretty much whatever was “needed” – whether or not I agreed. After all, my time wasn’t really my own. I was required to maintain a presence 8-10 hours a day, so what did I really care if I was asked to do time-sucking tasks that didn’t matter over the long term?

Now, that’s all changed. I am in complete control of my time and therefore every second counts. All of it is a means to an end and if I can’t see a concrete reason for doing something, I simply don’t do it. There is no superior telling me I have to do it anyway. I am able to make those decisions, for better or worse. And it has resulted in me becoming much more deliberate about how and why I do things.

There are more opportunities than I ever dreamed possible.

Outside of money, one of my biggest hesitations in resigning was the fear of never working again. What if I couldn’t find anything? What if I became a financial drain on society?

Well – I need not have worried. I’ve learned over this past year that there is an over-abundance of opportunity available to anyone wanting it. I am not exaggerating when I say that I take on approximately 20% of work that is offered to me. 20%! That means that I’m turning down more work than I can accept.

Now don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I don’t want nor appreciate these offers – I DO! It’s simply that between the clients and projects I already have, not to mention the responsibility of raising three children under the age of 5, I just don’t have the time. Truly a good problem to have.

The work you do speaks for itself.

Perhaps the most exciting thing about working for myself is that I can take on new projects and clients of interest. I can learn about completely different industries and businesses while developing a variety of skills outside of a single competency. And no more office politics! No longer is it all about who knows who and who has the better officer title. Now it’s just about the work.

Even more amazing to me is how the work leads to residual opportunities. Case in point: I’ve been very lucky to have had some articles published in popular online magazines. I was thrilled by this in and of itself, but what I didn’t expect is all the opportunities that grew out of it. The large majority of my current ongoing clients are business owners who found me through my writings on these outlets (that are, interestingly, about topics that their businesses do not relate to). This has been a huge learning for me – the power of marketing by my work alone.

Some people are still not supportive.

I had been shocked by how vocal the non-supporters were when I initially resigned. Over the course of a year, most of them have come around, but there remain a few sticklers who cannot/will not accept the choice I’ve made.

And I’m okay with that.

I understand and respect that it is definitely not the right choice for everybody, and that it may not even be permanent for me. But at this point in my life, it is right.

I have noticed lately that the holdouts have largely dropped the topic (a welcome relief). Whether that’s because they see that I’m okay/not starving/still working or are simply too tired to bring it up anymore, I’ll take it.

My priorities have changed.

I knew they were changing even before I took the leap, but this past year has solidified it. I’m no longer the same person I once was. Whereas before I prioritized climbing the corporate ladder, earning additional raises/bonuses, and acquiring more respected titles, now I’m focused on producing quality work, building meaningful partnerships, continuously learning, and dedicating time to my family and close friends.

I would take more time with my children in a heartbeat over a significant financial increase – and I don’t know that I would have always felt this way. I’ve realized that, for me, time is a commodity of the highest value. I can’t get it back, and I am much more careful now about who I give it to. Meaning, growth, and family now top my list of priorities, and I work harder to align my lifestyle around those.

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Most of all, I’ve realized that the changes I’ve made this past year have made me happier. This is despite it being a stressful year, with adding a new baby, resigning from a 20+ year career, and starting a small business. I’m happier because I’m in control of my own destiny. I have the freedom to work when and on what I want. I am able to spend more time with my children and better understand what I have missed in the past. I can realistically entertain opportunities that come my way. And I’ve learned that titles and money are not the only ingredients for success.

So as I wrap up Year 1, I am buckled in and holding on tight – even more excited about where this ride will take me.

27 Reasons Students of the 80s Had it Tough

School wasn’t easy for Generation X students.

Granted, we didn’t have to walk 10 miles through snow (each way!) to get there every day as our parents did, but we endured comparable struggles all our own.

While our kids breeze through the educational system with every modern convenience, we were forced to be stronger and more resilient to succeed. Largely left to our own devices to bear burdens that no student today will ever have to face.

Writing on brown cursive paper.

The fat pencil markings would be so faint that they were hardly readable, and the pencil would shoot out halfway across the page if you hit a grain. But hey – the Troll pencil toppers were kinda cute.

Using wall-mounted pencil sharpeners.

Having to parade to the front of the class and stand in line for the sharpener that mangled your pencil. Knowing that everyone could see your butt jiggling while you sharpened.

Carrying plastic lunchboxes.

They had cartoon characters on them and zero insulation, unlike the fancy BPA-free bento ice-pack creations kids carry today. The thermos always leaked and would squish your sandwich.

Getting smacked in the face with a tether ball.

And having to suck it up so you could make a comeback before your opponent won it all.

Making textbook covers out of brown paper bags.

Mom, can you save ten grocery bags for me? Then spending an evening selecting the ones that weren’t wet or stained to cut and fold into covers for textbooks – that were already written in anyway.

Making textbook covers out of brown paper bags was just one way Gen X had it tough. #midlife Share on X

Playing dodge ball.

Potential injuries be damned! Mastering a game that required you to hurl a red rubber ball at someone as hard as you could. While praying that nobody pegged you.

Having a kid with a gross wet thumb touch yours.

Then wiping it on your Jordache jeans as you played Heads Up 7-Up in class on a rainy day.

Using a card catalog.

Spending hours in the school library searching for the required ten books for your assigned essay’s bibliography. Silently cursing your fellow students when cards were missing from the catalog or books were misplaced on the shelves.

Always dying of dysentery in Oregon Trail.

Or having to write a tombstone epitaph for a family member who died of typhoid before you.

Being forced to stand in the corner as a disciplinary measure.

Public humiliation at its finest. You could be stuck in the corner five minutes or twenty, depending on your teacher. Attempts to turn around would be penalized with additional time added to your sentence.

Finding the right Trapper Keeper.

You’d search forever to find one that everyone else would ogle, only to see that the girl next to you in Social Studies had purchased the same.

Always getting a shack in M.A.S.H.

And secretly envying your friends who always got Mansions.

Being picked last for a team in gym class.

And facing the shame of standing by yourself as the kids on your defaulting team groaned and rolled their eyes, already bemoaning their upcoming loss due to YOU.

Having a teacher intercept one of your passed notes.

And hanging your head in humiliation as she unfolds the origami shape and reads aloud to the class. Cheeks burning as she relays your crush’s answer to the age-old question: Do you like me? Check YES or NO.

Transcribing lectures the old-fashioned way.

Taking frenzied notes by hand while shaking out wrist cramps and hoping you don’t run out of paper. It didn’t really matter because you couldn’t read your chicken scratch later anyway.

Squinting to read your teacher’s chalkboard scribbles.

And cringing anytime her piece of chalk made that awful screech. Or when that kid would purposely drag his fingernails across the board.

Trying to decipher notes on the overhead projector.

Your teacher’s handwriting would either be too small or too messy to read. Or he would lay his hand over what he had just written, smudging the ink.

Bearing the weight of 3,000 textbooks in your backpack.

And constantly trying to heal the permanent kinks in your back and neck. Even worse, having your JanSport backpack rip from the load only two weeks into the school year.

Praying that your sweaty feet don’t stink.

And taking off your purple jelly shoes discreetly in the corner of the locker room, just in case.

Hoping that your Hypercolor t-shirt still works after a washing.

And then letting everyone at school touch it so they can watch the hand prints appear and then fade.

Not getting the perfect jean peg or t-shirt sleeve roll.

And having to readjust your jeans and t-shirt sleeves throughout the school day as they keep coming undone, ruining your fashion statement.

Your friend not returning the Tiger Beat you loaned out during reading time.

The one with your future husband Corey Haim on the cover. Because it contained a 6-page feature on her future husband, Joey McIntyre of NKOTB.

Running out of Aqua Net on a school morning.

And having to dip into your brother’s Dep gel as a last minute attempt to adequately heighten and stiffen your curled bangs.

Not being able to find the L encyclopedia in your home collection.

The night before your report on Abraham Lincoln is due. And the sinking feeling you get when your mom confirms that she didn’t go to the grocery store the week they were selling L.

Getting “kidnapped” on your birthday.

Being awoken by friends who had arranged with your parents to show up during the wee hours of the morning – to dress you in outrageous PJs, muss up your hair, and take you to breakfast. You’d then head to school and walk around all day looking like a transient.

Being unable to perfectly align the holes on your dot matrix printer.

And then having to tear off the sides without ripping the paper itself. Hey – it was still better than having to use your old typewriter and Wite-Out.

Trying to decode messages on your pager.

Usually it would just be 14 (HI) or 07734 (HELLO), but occasionally you would receive a 911 and then have to figure out a way to get to a payphone between classes.

We Gen X students overcame nearly insurmountable obstacles to complete our education. Our kids are soft in comparison – what with their cell phones and tablets and world-at-their-fingertips technology.

But it wasn’t all bad. Today’s kids will never have the opportunity to race home and intercept report cards before their parents. Or buy Cokes from the cafeteria vending machines. Or even walk to school without chaperones.

And for that, I’d take our era any day. Immobile bangs, pegged jeans, and all.

My First Feature on Scary Mommy | Why I Kept My Maiden Name

I’m excited to have my first article featured on Scary Mommy today!

I’ve long been a fan of Scary Mommy for their blunt honesty and irreverent humor. Sometimes you just want someone to tell it like it is – and their writers don’t disappoint!

My article is a response to a question that I have been receiving for close to 12 years as a married woman:

Why didn’t you take your husband’s last name?

I’m hoping that the piece, 9 Reasons I Didn’t Take My Husband’s Last Name, clears up the confusion once and for all.

Check it out and let me know your thoughts on the topic!