I’m self-employed now. I’ve probably mentioned that along the way — I lose track — but yes, I am my own boss. And I’m co-founding a company! More on that later (if I remember and have time to write it down). It’s all very exciting.
These audacious professional moves have coincided with the collapse of our after-school childcare infrastructure in the wake of LittleMan changing schools. So basically there’s good news, and there’s bad news, and the bad news is that my house is a mess and my kids are quickly becoming notorious in Safeway for their after-school shenanigans and I don’t blog much anymore. But that’s a story for another night. It’s 11:30 on Monday and I’ve been lying awake for an hour. So let’s talk about something lighter, shall we?
Let’s talk about shoes.
I still go to my old office twice a week (or so). My employer very graciously consented to become my client, and I like this arrangement for a number of reasons, the most frivolous of which being that I enjoy dressing up for work, and going to an office twice a week gives me a chance to do that. Remember earlier this year when I broke my foot and I went on a little flats-buying pity party? Well, now that I only go to the office ten hours a week, and the rest of the time I work from my dining room table in the company of KFOG and 4,000 Legos, I make those office hours count in some serious shoes. Like, back to my twenty-something, stiletto-rocking, glory-days shoes.
You can walk in anything for ten hours a week, is what I’m trying to say here.
There are, however, a vast number of things you should not or cannot do in your glory-days stilettos. And most of the activities that fall under the category of “full-time-mom” would make that list. For example, experts would advise that when wearing your glory-days stilettos you should probably avoid:
- attending soccer practice in the fall damp…
- carrying four bags of groceries, two backpacks, one defiant toddler, and a purse…
- running after said toddler when she gets too close to the crosswalk…
- walking four blocks uphill to the ice cream place on Russian Hill…
- standing in the playground sand…
- and so on.
For the record, it is also inadvisable to attempt the above in suede skirts, silk blouses, white blazers, any kind of dry-clean-only trousers, or overly-elaborate earrings. And what this all adds up to is that in simultaneously pretending to be a company-launching career woman and keeping up the illusion that it’s easy to be standing outside the school for pick-up at 1:45pm every single day, I change my clothes a lot. In fact, in the 10-plus weeks since Kindergarten began, no one at the new school has ever seen me in work clothes. As far as anyone there knows, I live in my track pants or my boyfriend jeans with last night’s mascara still smudged on and a to-go coffee cup glued to my hand. And sunglasses. ALWAYS.
I was pondering this double life the other day as I changed my shoes at a stoplight in Pacific Heights. (Come to think of it, pondering might be a strong word to use in this context, as it implies slow and careful contemplation. A more accurate thing to say is probably that the realization flashed before my eyes at a stoplight in Pacific Heights.)
You see, my car is Command Central for shape-shifting, and I keep stashed in the back a beat-up pair of denim Tom’s and an enormous knit coat. I have my commute timed down to the red lights, and it is not unusual for me to sit at the intersection pulling my hair into a ponytail, struggling out of my jacket, untucking my shirt, and throwing my heels into a reusable grocery bag in the passenger seat. In the seven minutes it takes to get from my office to the tree in front of the school where LittleMan waits for me, I do a head-to-toe make-under.
It’s a like a reverse-Clark-Kent thing. He goes into a phone booth in a ho-hum suit and glasses, and emerges as SUPERMAN! He’s so dazzlingly heroic that he is literally unrecognizable! I get in the car all working-gal-glammy-glam and emerge as MOMMY! I am heroic in my own right, I think (do you know how much I’ve accomplished today??) but my kiddos don’t give me a ton of credit for that. That’s kids.
Anyway, because I’ve been so totally lame on the blog and I find myself with this midnight urge to ramble on a bit, I thought I’d once again share some links to Jess’ blog where I’ve been moonlighting a bit.
I’m also in love with my denim jumpsuit. (My husband doesn’t get it.)
What to do when it’s summer in SF and you don’t know what to wear.
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