Thursday, July 28, 2011

Spider Love

I heard the most romantic E.B. White poem this morning. Of course it involves spiders! Apparently he wrote it for his wife when they were newly married. Author Michael Sims was on Radio Times this morning discussing his new book, "The Story of Charlotte's Web: E.B. White's Eccentric Life in Nature and the Birth of an American Classic." Sims read the poem on the show, and it moved me profoundly as I was driving to work. I just love that last verse.

Natural History
E.B. White

The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.

And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.

Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Mommy Wars...or Mom Me Wars?

Before I had my son, I worked with a lot of working moms -- or rather, moms who worked outside the home. And they all used to talk about the war being waged between moms who worked outside the home versus those who didn't. In fact, Allison Pearson's first novel, I Don't Know How She Does It, deals with this issue.

I never really encountered that in my small part of the world. Instead, that war has been waging inside me. 

I keep a journal for my son. Below is the entry I wrote on my first day back to the corporate world after being home with him for almost two years. It captures much of the agony I felt then...and continue to feel today.

Journal Entry
Little Dude,

Today is my first day back to work. Yesterday evening I drove you to the Goddard School and showed you the school, told you that's Leo's school and that in the morning, Mommy would be gone and Daddy would be there, that you would go to school for a few hours then Daddy would pick you up -- you wouldn't be left there forever -- Daddy would be back and I'd see you tomorrow night. I was going to work.

You woke up this morning before I left. I held you, trying to get you to go back to sleep, but I finally had to put you back in your crib. You were crying and clutching me desperately. You grabbed hold of my index finger and squeezed and wouldn't let go. And you were reaching your other arm out for my neck as you wailed and sobbed and reached and grasped -- but the bars of your crib held you back as you stood in your crib 'til I finally pried your fingers open and encouraged you to go back to sleep before I slipped out the door.