There’s a Tie In our Drying Rack

I was listening to a well-known motherhood podcast the other day while driving and one celebrity mom said to the celebrity guest whom she was interviewing, “Tell them about the first time we met! It was at The Seinfelds’ house (Yes. Jerry.) and…”

I got distracted and thought to myself, “The Seinfelds are probably lovely people. But I have a feeling Jessica isn’t in the Similac Formula Coupon Swap group on Facebook and Jerry doesn’t cut his own hair in his half-bath like Mark Meyer.”

Folks, you’ve got to keep it relate-able here. Recapping weeknight dinner parties in NYC hosted by the Seinfelds doesn’t make me feel like we’re in the same game together. I work in a school where I regularly have to beg Mr. Lu, the custodian, to please refill the toilet paper in the classroom bathroom. Walking tacos are still being served at my place of employment. I do not attend weeknight dinner parties.

One of the celebrity hosts then went on to discuss how important she believes it is to take date weekends with her husband away from their four children. Right. Me too. Except we’re paying $2,000 a month in daycare costs for two children, so there aren’t too many extra cash bags laying around for Mark and I to lay poolside somewhere to reconnect on the weekends. I’m laughing just thinking about it. On the weekends, I’m inside making chili with as few ingredients as possible, directing Mark to rake the leaves so our neighbors don’t think we’re losers.

I’m not by any means trying to say that these mothers are less than.

I’m saying my experience is different.

And the people experiencing motherhood the way I am need a voice, too.

There is a tie in our drying rack. It’s Tuesday night. Mark wore the tie to a wedding on Saturday night. Full disclosure, I have no immediate plans to move it and I truly don’t care.

A few weeks ago, I attended an electric event where powerhouse mothers from all across the country came together to listen to powerful females speak of their experiences and advice for navigating the entrepreneurial and corporate worlds. One of the speakers, an entrepreneur and mother, advised the audience to pay for really great daycare. She spoke of an au pair who lives with her family and helps make everything work. I appreciated her transparency. But.

This isn’t feasible for most.

And it changes the way the game is played.

Today, we had a 5:00 meeting with our financial planner in Troy. We take an elevator in a marble-floored lobby to get to his office. His secretary buzzes us in each time and asks us if we’d like her to brew us some coffee. Yes. Brew everything you have, please, Amanda.

I know the game I’m playing here. I know Maeve Meyer does not belong in a building which has its own jewelry store on the first floor. So, I asked Miss Danielle, an employee at Maeve’s daycare, if she’d be available to babysit for an hour or two whilst Mark and I play “Student Loan Balance Bingo” and “How Old Do We Have To Be to Quit Our Jobs? Roulette.”

I asked her to show up at 4:15. At 4:30, when I sent her a text to ask her if she was close and she responded, “Yes,” I gave her a few minutes. And then, I did what everyone playing the game the way I am would have done.

I told Maeve to get her boots on.

I threw a processed cheese and pretzels snack in my purse as bait, packed Maverick in his carrier, and texted Miss Danielle that I had to be on time for our appointment and I had to leave. I took my tiny pals with me because, again, my reality is a tie in a drying rack.

I’m getting better at these situations.

The first time a sitter didn’t show up, I got flustered. My hands nervously shook as I tried to figure out what to do and cursed her generation for not caring and not having a work ethic.

But today, I’m fresh off a week of checking my own boxes and Mama isn’t letting anything get in the way of continuing to secure a healthy financial future.

Called Mark Meyer on our way, told him he’d be firing up his phone pre-meeting to let Maeve watch Blippi while she ate garbage snacks, and sent a silent apology to all the mamas I used to judge for handing their kid their cell phone and allowing them to eat canned cheese.

It worked. Our financial planner is a compassionate human being and congratulated us on having a new baby.

I fed Maverick while discussing my student loan balance.

Mark held Maeve on his lap while simultaneously reviewing our retirement accounts.

We made it work. He and I are slowly learning how to be Mom and Dad at the same time as Sarah and Mark.

Now. Any guesses as to who will move the tie out of the drying rack first?