Sometimes, Being a Mom Just Is

Sometimes, being a mom is feeling miserable, but still getting up, making lunches, and getting kids to school before starting a full day of work.

Sometimes, being a mom is waiting until everyone is in bed and driving away in the minivan to work, because coffee is expensive and it's too late to drink it anyway.

Sometimes, being a mom is being sick but, having promised your kids you'd go to a picnic, you muster up the smiles to go.

Sometimes, being a mom is thinking "Why did I do this? Can I just go back?" and not feeling guilty because being a mom is the hardest job in the world.

Sometimes, being a mom is making banana bread while holding a baby in one hand and cracking an egg in the other.

Sometimes, being a mom is being exhausted, defeated, and still having to function at full capacity for family, for work, for everyone except yourself.

Sometimes, being a mom is ignoring a screaming baby because you really want to post a picture of the lunch you packed because you're proud you're so put together sometimes.

Sometimes, being a mom is feeling fat, ugly, tired, bloated, lonely, exhausted, fed up, and utterly alone, even when you're surrounded by friends and family.

Sometimes, being a mom is feeling gorgeous and with it, even if you're "faking it" until you "make it."

Sometimes, being a mom is knowing that there are people relying on you every moment of every day, so you must. keep. going.

Sometimes, being a mom is smiles and giggles and moments of bliss.

Sometimes, being a mom is screaming and crying.

Sometimes, being a mom is winning.

Sometimes, being a mom is losing.

Sometimes, being a mom just is.

Gary Vaynerchuk, Expectations, and the Year of Chavi

I have about a million topics I'd love to write about, and, at some point, I will. It probably won't be any time soon because I'm essentially taking the next month off for family, travel, and more family. But after that? I'm hoping to have a completely clear picture of what I want.

Basically, here's what's happening:

• I'm pulling both kids out of daycare for the rest of the summer. They're home with me until August 21st full time. (I'm nuts!)
• When the kids go back to school, they're only in Monday, Wednesday, Friday, so they'll be home with me on Tuesday/Thursday, and I'm officially going to be a SAHM.
• I'm refocusing my professional world on writing, so I'll be submitting pitches, articles, and hoping to revitalize this blog to the glory it once was ... except it'll probably be a lot of "Holy Crap What Have I Done?" posts. 
• I'm giving up 90 percent of my social media jobs in order to focus on all the above items. Also? I'm pretty much over social media for business. It's a moving target with zero satisfaction 99 percent of the time. 
• I'm shutting my LuLaRoe business down in early August (unless some magical epiphany changes my mind). I've been doing it for a year now, and it hasn't made any money and I've fallen out of love with the business model and the hustle. I love a good hustle, but not this one, because it feels like I'm drowning most of the time. When I'm 100 percent in the thick of it, I am happy, but I can't be 100 percent in 100 percent of the time, and that's what the job requires.  So join the Facebook group and stay tuned for the GOOB sale. 
• We're going to turn the LuLaShed into a She Shed/Guest House, so come visit!

Whew. 

The small jobs I'm holding onto on a consistent basis are going to be a test on my nerves, but I'm holding onto them for good reason. Financially, we still need me to have a consistent monthly income of some variety, because even PT daycare is crazy, unbelievably, unnecessarily expensive. And I'm trying to really focus on the following to get through it all (and yes, I made this graphic):

You see, my problem, even as a contractor, is that I'm constantly disappointed in everyone around me. I have major expectations for everyone, except probably my kids. Oddly enough, my children are the two people in my life who I sort of look at and say, "Nah, they're good." Mr. T was trying to teach Asher how to catch a ball and he wasn't grasping it and I was like, "Whatever. He wants to just play and be goofy, let him." I don't expect Asher to be anything. I know he'll be something, and whatever that is will be awesome because he's such a uniquely unique kid. 

But my husband? I have a million expectations of him. I expect him to clean the dishes in the sink when they pile up because, come on, common sense, right? I expect him to throw laundry in when it's overflowing. I expect him to not leave clothes laying around on the floor. I expect him to put down his phone when the kids are whining and need attention. I expect a lot from him, and I'm always disappointed. This means tension and a lot of unhappy grumpy moments. 

My clients, too. I'm always disappointed in my clients. I have crazy and often ridiculous expectations of everyone. It's not because I'm a snob or holier-than-thou, it's because I believe in a hardcore work ethic and quality. I believe so hard in the hustle and producing amazing, quality work that is practically perfect. That's just how I'm wired. But because of this, I'm disappointed by everyone all the time, and it's probably why some people think I'm a jerk or a snob. Honestly, it's me, not you. 

I usually don't verbalize my disappointment because I know that other human beings are not like Chaviva the human being, so I truck along and often do more work or faster work or internalize all the anger/frustration/disappointment until I melt from the inside out. I take on all the things in order to do them right and in the best way possible, because I get to a point where I think, "No one can do this the way I know it should be done so that the world can accept, love, internalize, and be changed by it." 

Over the past several years, I've gotten better, slowly, but surely, at letting things go. At holding the "Not my circus, not my monkeys" philosophy. I've gotten better about stepping back from things and letting other people man the ticket booth and clean up the messes. It's hard, but I do it. I swallow my thoughts and disappointment and frustration and let it happen. It's hard. It's really, really hard for me. It's why I often work for free or for less than I should, because I know I can do it right, and I can do it quickly. 

But it's also resulted in people undervaluing my work, or not wanting to work with me at all. 

So I read this article by Gary Vaynerchuk, who I consider G-d's gift to people like me. He's at a point in his career where he can say quite literally anything with as many expletives as humanly possible and it's a punch to the gut and people love it. They want more of it. I see a lot of myself in him, but I'm a million years away from Gary Vee is, so I just borrow and internalize his wisdom. Relevant now:

It’s not about being disappointed that people can’t deliver. It’s not a cynical and negative point of view. I actually think it’s a very optimistic point of view. It speaks to my internal confidence and internal gratitude and empathy. Having zero expectations is a cognitive trait that has lead me to become more independent. I don’t need anything from anyone else. I’m not expecting anything. It’s just the way it’s always been. As I get into my early forties I can clearly see it’s been one of the reasons that I’ve been successful in life, let alone business. When you have zero expectations, everything else is just a pleasant surprise.

This is beautiful, because it's better. It's the best. When you have expectations, people will always disappoint you. When you have no expectations, you'll always be surprised, and being surprised is a positive, fun thing. Who doesn't love coming home to a clean house or a giant cake with sprinkles and balloons and all the good and happy things? Nobody, that's who.

So life is changing for me right now. I'm going to write my heart out, I'm going to stop expecting things from people, and I'm going to love my life and stop drowning in stress, disappointment, and anxiety.

It's the year of Chaviva.

I Quit My Job, and I Feel Great

Those of you who have been following this blog for the past 11 years of its existence know that I've gone through a bajillion life changes, and they often happen in quick spurts of anxiety and chaos all at once.

Well, welcome to another installment of "What did Chaviva do now?" I keep wavering between "This is going to be awesome" and "This is going to make me vomit." It's an epic place to be.

I'm happy to say that every job I've ever left, with the exception of two, I've left on my own free will and at my own time. The two jobs that this didn't happen with were soft "letting go" situations and both happened after I moved to Israel and the two Denver companies I was working for decided they needed people closer to home to make things work (thanks Marissa Meyer). Every other job I've ever had I left. I quit. I walked away Most of the time, I leave a job because I grow impatient or bored.

This time? I left a job because I was stressed, depressed, and felt terribly devalued. No job is worth those feelings.

So what now? Well, I've got three part-time gigs I'm juggling, and thanks to a close friend who lit a fire under me, I'm going to start developing my own company. And this time, for one in my life, I'm going to start charging what I'm worth. I have this problem where I just want to make brands amazing, so I'll take whatever they pay me to get the chance to make them awesome. No more, folks. I'm a pro, I've been doing this for a very long time, and I'm really, really good at what I do. If I continue to devalue myself, my clients will, too. If I say it's $100 or $150/hour, you better bet I'm going to work my tuches off during that hour and you're going to shine because of it.

Onward. Upward. It's time for me to take the reins of my destiny instead of someone else's. I'm ready to get back to where I was all those years ago where Chaviva was the brand, where my expertise was sought after, where I was the pro on panels. That's the person I am.

Stay tuned for a website geared toward my marketing prowess, a new logo and name, and more. Exciting times ahead, folks!

Doing All the Things and More

Asher's upsherin was a success! He's a super handsome kid with short hair.

Ah where to begin. Here are some random things that I'm dealing with/coping with/going through.

• At present, I'm working one FT job and three PT jobs/projects. How do I have time for all the things? I don't. Will there be a breaking point? Probably. Do I need all the jobs? Yes. Life is expensive. Kids are expensive. My health insurance can't be beat. Am I tired? Very. Do I need a break? Yes. Do I need a vacation? Yes. And it needs to involve me not having my phone with me. 
• I discovered the only thing wrong with Colorado when I was in California for a few days for work. That thing is elevation's effect on my mommy responsibilities. You see, I manage to pump a lot more milk at lower elevations than here. We're talking triple the amount. I'm deeply annoyed by this fact and don't know how much more liquid I can possibly consume. 
• Both of my kids are uniquely spirited. I'm baffled and amazed and blown away every day at how loving, kind, and nurturing they are. Was I like that at a child? I don't know. I don't think so. But if my son says, "Mommy, you's a beautiful lady" one more time my heart will explode with Asher-shaped confetti. 
• I like working in an office with people, especially super intelligent and passionate people. But I also find it incredibly exhausting to be surrounded by people all day, which is funny, because I prefer to work from coffee shops. 
• The smell of bacon has been really, really appealing to me lately. I don't know why. I always hated bacon as a child. Thus, tonight we're making (tofu) BLTs for dinner. 
• My greatest struggle these days as a Jew is keeping kosher. Not the actual act of it, but the attraction of fast food and the food of my childhood. I think it has to do with stress, because I'm a serious stress eater. When I'm stressed, I want to eat, a lot, and the more comforting the better. So I drive past places like Chick-Fil-A and McDonalds and Taco Bell and think about all the food I used to gorge on back in the day. Most of it I couldn't eat now anyway on account of me being gluten free, but the stuff I could eat, I could. Driving past those places every day gives my heart an ache and my "what if" brain a serious think. I think it's also really hard living in a place where you really aren't jazzed with the kosher options (all two of them, unless you're counting ice cream, in which case there's like five). 
• I've been binge watching the show Justified. It's changed my language back to the language of my people (my people hailing from France and then Virginia and then Tennessee and then Missouri). 

Oh life. What's new with you? 

Ask Chaviva Anything: LuLaRoe and Being a Busy Mom

I was super shocked, but awesomely excited to see so many questions asked so quickly when I posted the Ask Chaviva Anything revival! Here are some quick fun ones y'all asked.

If you could do any job in the world, what would it be?

With everything going on lately with work, I've been thinking about this a lot. For the longest time, I thought being a copy desk chief at The New York Times would have been the most epic job. Then, when I was super happy in my digital marketing role, I wanted to be the social media go-to in the Jewish nonprofit world. I quickly learned that could happen, but not with the financial outcome I'd hoped for. So, now, most recently, my dream job has been writing and consulting on digital marketing and PR. Someday, I'll be able to commit myself to writing again and to consulting (and actually getting paid for it ... because I give out way too much free advice these days and always) and having a schedule that makes sense for me. Someday, yes someday, I'll write my book. That would be the most epic job in the world for me. (Also, stressful as it is, being a mommy is pretty amazing, too.)

How are you enjoying being a LuLaRoe Consultant?

In a word: YES! I absolutely love it. I get all warm and fuzzy when I put an outfit together or talk to other women about clothing or how to style something to feel confident. Honestly, I wish I had more time for it, because I think I could really fly with it. It's really helped me cope with my social anxiety and introversion, which, honestly, are getting more intense as I get older. I'm so great online, in text-based communications, and even Facebook Live feeds because it's just me and the vast universe out there. No social pressure, no expectations. (Find my group on Facebook here!)

Do you have a family mission statement? (We did this exercise as a family and it was a lot of fun.)

This is ... wow. This is great. We must do this. Thank you for the great question and idea!

Some more involved questions and answers forthcoming (including several on Israel, unsurprisingly)! Have a question? Click here to ask me quite literally anything.

A Day in the Life: I'm Now 33

It's 11:36 p.m. on a Thursday night and my house is quiet (save the very loudly bubbling fish tank that has desperately needed a water topoff for probably three weeks now). Little T will wake up in probably 4 hours for her mid-sleep nosh, and in 7 hours everyone will be awake to start the day. The living room light (on a timer) just popped off, and I'm pretty sure Mr. T has been asleep for at least 1.5 hours at this point. And me? Well, I'm just 22 minutes out now from turning 33, and I thought I'd share a little "day in the life" post. If I could, I'd call this "Adulting Sucks."

5 a.m.: Little T decides on a 5 a.m. feeding instead of a 3:30 a.m. feeding. After she finishes eating and is back asleep, I consider staying up to get things done, but doze off instead.
6:38 Alarm goes off. Snooze.
6:52 Frantically wake up thinking I've slept much later than I have. Baby is rustling, and I'm zipping through work emails, Slack updates, Facebook notifications, and Timehop updates.
7:02 I attempt to wake Mr. T up because Asher's chatting away. (He's still in his crib after refusing a "big boy" bed, but he cannot or will not crawl out of his crib on his own.)
7:07 Little T starts to rustle away, but falls back asleep.
7:12 Me to Mr. T: "It's almost 7:15, we need to get up."
7:15 I get out of bed, get dressed quickly, inform Mr. T he's on baby duty for the morning and I go upstairs to get Asher.
7:24 After getting Asher out of bed and changed and mostly dressed, I'm in the kitchen organizing his lunch. I put Mr. T's tea on to infuse in our Teforia beta testing machine, get Little T's bottles into her backpack, finish up Asher's lunch and make him breakfast (which he doesn't eat), and get everything out into the living room to go.
7:36 Mr. T is upstairs with the baby getting her changed. Asher doesn't want his hair in ponytails so he's got a headband on. I put some "ponies" in a baggie with his name on it and stuff it in the front of his backpack.
7:45 I'm trying to get my computer, my breast pump, my water bottle, and everything else I need for a day working remotely outside the home ready while Mr. T attempts to get Asher to pick out shoes to wear.
7:54 We're slowly moving out of the house to the car to get the kids off to school. I say outlaid to no one: "I'm super mommy and did all the things this morning."
8:00 We're in the car and trying to leave, but the car won't start. "Where are the keys?" I ask. "You didn't grab them?" Mr. T asks. He runs back into the house to get the car keys.
8:05 We drop off Little T first. While Mr. T takes her inside, I get setup to pump milk on the go in the car while Asher jams out to the 90s tunes on the radio.
8:15 Asher has been dropped off, I remember that theres a room parent meeting at 9 a.m., and I'm now taking Mr. T to work.

8:20 Finally, at last, with both kids at daycare and the husband at work, I think about what to do with the next 40 minutes. So I go to the post office to get some priority shipping boxes that it turns out I already had at home and pick up a coffee before heading back to Asher's school for the parent meeting.
9:00 I'm waiting for the meeting to start, working on the shul's wifi.
10:00 Meeting over, I hop in the car and zip off to a coffee shop to hunker down and work until my noon call with my boss.

Noon I get set up in the car to pump milk while on a call with my boss, with the A/C blasting and using the wifi from the coffee shop I was just at, only to discover that the meeting has been bumped. I ask Mr. T if he'd like to have a lunch date, but he's covering for someone until 1.
12:20 I zip home to drop off my pumped milk and package up a few things to mail while holding down the fort on my phone and swap out computers.

2:00 After a fun gap in my day, I'm anticipating a call with my boss, but I need to get a few things at Target before the school day ends, so I grab my computer and headphones and head into Target to take a call before grabbing a few groceries. We can't connect, again, so I push the cart around Target with my laptop open, stopping intermittently to work and answer emails. I must look insane.
2:45 We finally connect, so I rush over to the Starbucks at Target and chat with my boss.

3:20 I'm back in my car, once again hooked up to the breast pump. I drop off something to Mr. T at work, warn him he might have to Lyft home, and head back to the house.
3:45 After having dropped off the groceries and the newly pumped milk, I'm back in the car to drop something at a friend's place, but find out she isn't there, so I opt to go pick up Little T instead.
4:10 Having picked up the princess, I text Mr. T to see if he wants me to get him before getting Asher, so I do. We then go get Asher, and Little T is really upset, so Mr. T walks them both home and I drive home and empty the car.

5-ish I'm trying to get dinner ready while Mr. T entertains the kids. I make vegetarian kefta with pita, Israeli salad, homemade hummus, and tahini. We sit down at the table to attempt a meal like a normal family, except that I'm answering work messages about pressing issues. Sorry, family.

6:30 I'm thinking about bedtime for munchkins, and Little T fell asleep while nursing, so I'm in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher and trying to get the house ready for the cleaners in the morning (they know not to do the dishes). I decide that it's a good idea to make challah (my gluten-free version and the regular, huge batch for the boys), so I get started on that.
7:15 I'm trying to nurse Little T to sleep so I can get back to the challah.
7:45 I remember that I don't have rubber gloves to braid the challah (I seriously put a ziplock bag on my hand and taped it around so it would stay in order to hand knead the dough, which worked for kneading but won't work for braiding). I text Mr. T to go out and get gloves so I can finish the challah, and he does.
8:00 I'm in the kitchen, doing dishes, braiding challah, cleaning.

10:00 The challah is done, the kitchen and living room are tidied, and I realize that I have a time-sensitive work issue to deal with. I start fiddling with a spreadsheet in order to make a pie chart.
10:33 I send Mr. T a text letting him know what I'm doing, but get no response, so he's passed out for the night.
10:55 I fall down the rabbit hole of doing some other things before I get back to the work at hand.
11:13 I think back to my day and realize that it's been a bit ridiculous and maybe I should blog about it.
11:36 I finally get around to blogging about it ...

And now, just now, the clock has struck midnight here in Denver, Colorado. I'm 33, folks. Of course, on the Hebrew calendar I was born on Simchat Torah (23rd of Tishrei, 5744), so maybe I'll have the energy to celebrate in several weeks.

Five years ago: Freshly divorced.
Four years ago: A few weeks from going to Israel, to making aliyah.
Three years ago: Severely glutened while pregnant at my birthday dinner, which landed me in the "ER" for 3+ hours on fluids. 
Two years ago: Downsized at my job and unbeknownst to me Tuvia was about to leave for nine months.
One year ago: On the eve of my birthday and the holidays, I discovered I was pregnant with Little T.

As for this year, I'm just praying for a calm, cool, collected, uneventful birthday. So, with that, friends, I'm going to bed. Goodnight moon. 

Sending the Baby to Daycare: Am I a Monster?

Well, Mr. T has been out of the country since August 7, and everyone's still alive here. I still have another five days to go, so there's still a possibility that my head will explode and take both of my adorable children with it!

The truth is, over these two weeks, Ash has been in part-time day camp (9-3), instead of full-time daycare (8-4) because daycare has been out for one reason or another. Little T, of course, has been home with me, and I've been crazy overwhelmed with work. I have been working bizarre hours, staying up incredibly late to get things done, canceling and rescheduling calls because of a wiggly baby, and running myself ragged. And don't even talk to me about the dishes, the laundry, the state of the house ... I've just given up.

And now? Light at the end of the tunnel! I'm excited, super stoked, but feeling an immense amount of guilt because both kids are in full-time daycare starting Monday. Should a 2-month-old baby be in daycare? I don't know.

You see, I've got a full-time job that I love and that I wouldn't give up for anything in the world. I also have two children whom I love more than anything in the world. With all that combined, it means daycare. Now, Asher ended up in daycare at 10 months because Mr. T was out of the country and I had part-time work and was looking for full-time work. He was a pretty legit human child at that point, and I cried when I dropped him off the first day.

Over the past week and a half, I've hired a nanny a few times because I had to get things done for work. It amazed me how easily it was to leave her with someone. I didn't cry. I thought to myself, "Okay, I've got four hours to get a week's worth of work done." (It also amazed me how much money I had to throw at these nannies; they make a serious killing.)

In just a few short days, I'll be dropping Little T off at daycare for a full day. She'll be with strangers for eight straight hours while I sit, working, in my happy place. On the one hand, I'm thinking "freedom!" and on the other hand I'm thinking, "I'm leaving my little baby with strangers."

Is it a second child thing? Is it a daughter thing? Is it a "being a stay-at-home, full-time working mother" is something that drives all mothers to a breaking point on a daily basis? I actually screamed at my crying 2-month-old in the car the other day. Screamed to the point where my throat ached for hours. And I cried. A lot. Several times that day.

So. Am I a terrible human being for being super ready and prepared to drop both of my kids off at daycare first thing Monday morning? I've got a 9:30 a.m. call and a 2:30 p.m. call, and all I can think is "I'm going to get SO much done with a solid eight hours of work. It's going to be awesome."

Sigh.

I'm terrible, right? How do women do this without guilt? I love my kids. I just can't be with them 24/7. I'm not cut out for it. I feel about full-time, stay-at-home mothers like I do about pediatric oncologists and military personnel. I'm glad someone feels good and passionate and capable about doing those jobs because I simply don't.

I'm a good mom. When I'm well-worked, well-rested, and can cook dinner on my own terms, everyone is happier because mommy is happier. And that's the rule, right? When mommy is happy everyone's happy?

Right?

Oh Come On! The Blob is Breech

Well, this has truly been a pregnancy for the books, and we're in a state of breech, still. The Blob doesn't seem to want to turn, so we've begun with the segulot. 

Segulah (also written segula; plural segulot) literally means a "remedy" or "protection" in Hebrew. The term is pronounced suh-goo-luh.

In Judaism, a segulah is viewed as an action that will lead to a change in one's luck, fortune, or destiny.

In Judaism, there is a segulah for just about everything under the sun. Having children, overcoming bad luck or illness, making more money, finding a job, picking out the right religious garments ... you get the idea. 

With a breech baby, there are a bunch of different things that you can do to hopefully turn the baby, the most common and prominent being the typical ones: check your mezuzot (the parchments placed on the doorposts of the home) to make sure they're still viable and not upside down and make sure your seforim (books) aren't upside down. 

The funny thing is, we should have checked our mezuzot before we even moved into the house, because after the balagan of buying the house and having some interesting challenges securing a mortgage, we came to find out that the mezuzah on the front door of the house (the guy who owned it was Jewish) was not only no longer usable, but it was also upside down. Yikes. 

So we checked the books, or at least, we thought we'd checked the books. And everything was upright and accounted for. Then, a Chabad friend mentioned to me that they did the same only to discover later that the slipcover on a book had been right-side up while the book was upside down, so I told Mr. T we needed to check them again. 

Lo and behold, he discovered that three of the machzorim (prayer book for special Jewish holidays) from his grandmother were upside down in a bookcase that is mostly filled with non-Jewish books. BAM! 

Will the baby magically turn now before my version procedure on Friday where we go to the hospital and a trained physician attempts to turn the baby from the outside? I sure hope so. Everything I've read and heard about the procedure has me on pins and needles, terrified at the outcomes (or non-outcomes) and excruciating pain. 

But after last time, I really, really really really don't want to have to go through another c-section and the recovery process. I just don't think that I can take it. 

In the meantime, I'm hauling tuches to get work in order so that when this baby does show up (and for some weird reason I keep getting the feeling that The Blob will be early and that this is going to also be a hard birth), that my coworkers are good to go and not left in the dark. It's a huge undertaking of writing, scheduling, curating ... and my brain is totally mush right now. 

Babies do weird things to your brain, your heart, your body. I can't get over how important the role of women, and mothers specifically, is, and how little I understood went into it before undertaking this journey first with Asher and now with The Blob. I also still can't get over how little respect and consideration is paid to mothers around the world, but specifically in the United States. 

Elul: Accepting That I'm Where I'm Supposed to Be

Asher conquers a Colorado peach at the Farmers Market

while mommy is busy working in California. 

[Thanks to Tatty for the picture, of course.] 

Lately, and maybe because it's the Hebrew month of Elul and the High Holidays of Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur are right around the corner, I've been thinking about where I am in life. In a few short weeks, the books of life and death will be written and sealed, so it's a heavy time.

After spending three days out in California with my (amazingly awesome, there are no words for them) coworkers in Mountain View, walking past the offices of Apple and LinkedIn and being a few doors down from Google ... man, I was fan girling in a serious way. I'm finally in the industry of my dreams. I mean, I've been working in social media for the better part of my adult life and consider myself an expert in many things (content, audience cultivation, Facebook ads, social campaigns, social virality). But for the first time in my life, I'm able to travel to the hub of the startup world, launch a brand digitally from scratch, and watch it grow, soar, succeed.

This is the career changer, the life changer. And being in California with my head down and hanging out with my coworkers as they troubleshoot and I troubleshoot and we all make amazing things happen, I was in the thick of it and it felt right.

On the other hand, my husband and son were back in Colorado, so I was able to wake up at 7 a.m., start working right away and pull a full day, not finishing up until 5:30 or 6 p.m. and feel completely and utterly accomplished. It was amazing. I could do it every day of my life and feel fulfilled. I think.

Once upon a time, I envisioned my life differently. I was going to live in NYC and work at The New York Times, and when I graduated college and ended up at The Washington Post, I was well on my way to realizing that dream -- maybe. But I was depressed and unhappy. The hours were terrible, my neshama wasn't at peace, there were many things missing. So the course of my life changed forever when I left Washington DC in early 2007. Since then, every year has been a patchwork.

Five years ago, I was playing the happy housewife. Newly married, newly moved to Teaneck, I was attempting to keep up with the Schwartzes, buying new dishes and servers and attempting to fit into the Shabbat hosting world. Things weren't good, but they were manageable.

Four years ago, I was on the verge of divorcing my first husband. I was severely depressed, medicated, and desperate for a change. On the outside, I put on the ultimate show. On the inside, I was dying.

Three years ago, I was on the verge of making aliyah (moving to Israel), where I anticipated big life changes, finding a new mate, having children finally, fulfilling the dream of Eretz Yisrael.

Two years ago, I was a newlywed and several months pregnant. I was baffled at how I'd gotten to where I was, but elated at the challenge, despite being broke, mostly jobless, and unsure of what was in store for me and my new family.

One year ago, life was unhappy again. The adjustment back to the U.S. had been incredibly hard on everyone and things weren't going well. Asher was a happy, bouncy baby, but there was a lot going on and, little did I know, I was about to lose my job and my husband -- all on my birthday.

And today? Well, today my husband is back. He's working full time at two different jobs (construction/house flipping + the kosher pizza place while the owner receives treatment for cancer), so we see him on Shabbat and for a few hours in the middle of the day. I'm working, making sure the house runs smoothly, the laundry gets done, food gets on the table, and making sure Asher gets to daycare so all of those things can happen smoothly.

It's not perfect, but it's where we are, and despite the freedom I have when I'm knee-deep in the startup world in Mountain View, it's nice to come home to toys all over the floor and a tiny person who says, "Mommy, Mommy!"

I recently asked my Facebook friends if they were where they thought they'd be in life, and without an official count, I'd say 95% of the respondents said "no." I wasn't surprised.

Am I where I thought I'd be? Definitely not. Is it where I want to be? I'm still figuring that one out. But the truth is, for all of us, we're exactly where we're supposed to be. Ultimately, it's all about acceptance, and if we can accept and appreciate where we are, then it will always be where we want to be.

Good News, Better News

I've had a surprisingly uplifting few weeks. Even spending all day shopping and cleaning the apartment for Passover couldn't get me down. You're probably wondering why I turned my house over for Passover so early, right? Okay, let's start at the beginning. 

The Good News: I got an unexpected email last week from someone I'd been speaking with about a job opportunity back in November. The talks back then stalled and I was told they'd be hiring in mid-2015, so I took a job at The Jewish Experience and life plodded on. So the unexpected email came at a time when I needed a bit of a lift up. Finances have been really hard, life has been hard, everything has been impossible, but I've been doing it because I have no choice. In the span of a week, I talked to several people, and on Friday got the official job offer. 

I couldn't, absolutely couldn't, turn it down. 

I'll tell you all more about the job once I actually start it after Passover, but let me just say it's going to be exciting and it's going to give me the flexibility I need as a powerhouse working mother and the career boost I've been waiting for my entire career. 

The job has me trekking out to California on Sunday/Monday to meet the team and get jazzed about the awesome things coming, hence why I turned the house over for Passover today. I won't have Sunday, there's no daycare next Thursday, so ... there we are. Two weeks of matzah! Yay!

The Better News: I woke up to an email from my mother-in-law, which sent me into a tizzy searching my email inbox for ... yes ... a notice from the National Visa Center that they finally got around to looking at our paperwork, everything is in order, and Mr. T has an interview scheduled for May 15 in Jerusalem!

I'm going to pretend it was me sending an email every week for the past month reminding them that they received the revised paperwork on February 24 at 12:34 p.m. and it was signed for by ... you get the idea. I hope my nudging actually worked. Nothing else seemed to work (we were denied an expedite twice). 

So. Yay! Theoretically, from everything I've read, once the interview is complete they let him know on the spot whether he's been approved or denied. If he's approved, the process of getting the physical visa is quick. 

Please, please, please pray for a Shavuot reunion for us. On Shavuot, HaShem gave us the Torah. I pray that this year, for Shavuot, he'll give me my husband back. 

I want to thank everyone for the constant support, the kindness, the love, the understanding. The cheerleaders have gotten me through this madness, and I know you'll continue to get me through. I also want to thank the haters and the trolls for representing everything about myself that I could hate and complain about if I had the energy or time. The haters and trolls are the personal slam book that I've never had to write or open. Thank you for that. 

The Hardest Thing About Being a Working Mom?

It has to be this.

I watched this and was both so happy and so sad at the same time. Happy because my little boy is getting so big at nearly 9 months old and because his dad was around to watch him take his first unguided steps (albeit holding on to something), but sad because I missed this moment in his development and growth.

Being a working mother sucks sometimes. My baby boy is getting so big.

How do you cope?

Becoming Superwoman and Finding My Passion

Asher enjoys Garden of the Gods (and his chicken).

As I balanced Asher on one arm and rested his bottom on the counter while he breastfed, I carefully took the plate with the baked potato out of the microwave. Mr. T was sick, I was working from home and juggling an exhausted, teething 5-month-old, incoming messages and broken websites, and an ailing spouse. I am superwoman. Hear me sigh, yawn, and move along.

Motherhood isn't what I expected. Then again, what did I expect?

Another Shabbat has come and gone and I literally said "Baruch ha'Mavdil," made sure Ash was sleeping soundly, and checked on my computer's backup while running a bath. Mr. T is at shul still, and those precious 10 minutes I just spent soaked in bath-bombed sudsy bliss are about the most relaxing moments I'll experience all week. Just me, bath water, and silence.

I'm in the middle of reading Biz Stone's bio and take on life creating and launching Twitter, one of my most favorite social networking platforms on the planet. An early adopter, I joined the network in 2008. I've been Tweeting for 6.5 years and joined before 99.9% of other current Twitter users. Oddly enough, that was almost four years after I joined Facebook, where I also was an early adopter. The thing about Biz Stone's book is that he and I are complete opposites in many ways, but the way he talks about passion, emotion, and drive for what you do pulls at my heartstrings as it has during every incarnation of the "what am I doing with my life?" internal dialogue I've experienced.

As I balance motherhood, a career, and the desire to do what I'm truly passionate about, I'm really battling internally.

In a perfect world, I've always said I'd be a writer. I've been running Just Call Me Chaviva since April 2006, and before that I spent roughly 8 years on LiveJournal. My story, the narrative that runs through my head on a daily basis, is what I've wanted to write for ages, the joke being that as soon as the book advance shows up I'll be able to put everything else on hold, move into the mountains, and devote myself to composing the work and growing all of my own food (Mr. T's on board, believe me).

I love the work I do, but I've discovered that in just about every job I work I'm taking on more and more of the other stuff that isn't what I'm either good at or passionate about.

Biz Stone talks about how he and Evan (a Nebraskan, mind you) were working on a podcasting startup when they suddenly realized that neither of them (nor anyone on their team) really cared about podcasting. They didn't listen to podcasts. It wasn't their jam. So they found a way to restart and refocus on something they were passionate about. For Biz, that was the social web.

Since I started LiveJournaling back in 1997 or 1998, my focus has always been on storytelling, on reaching out to the universe in the hopes that it would reach back to me. It's where my passion and focus in Judaism come from, the idea that I can reach out to some higher power and a network of Jews around the world -- past and present mind you -- and find some type of answer, commiseration, understanding, acceptance.

From the moment I began writing -- really writing -- I found my way through journaling (technically my first diary dates to a Precious Moments journal circa 1992), Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Flickr, YouTube, and so on. If the platform allows for narrative and storytelling, I'm there. It's my passion.

And that goes for clients, too. The power of personal storytelling is something that I've transitioned into working for brands, and that ... THAT is my passion. Using the social web to create dialogue and build a narrative. To create a story that is meaningful to the consumer and brand-altering for the client. It isn't about making money, it's about building connections, empowering your advocates and evangelists, to create an ecosystem that is larger than your own office and internal structures.

I just have to figure out how to make that what I do every day. To dig through the weeds of the "extra" stuff and focus on my passion.

Maybe someday I'll write a book. But it seems like right now isn't that time. The universe hasn't seen fit to throw some money at my feet to get started, so for now I'll stick to what I'm good at on the small scale. Humans are storytellers. It's always been our jam. It's what we do. It's how we convey emotion, understanding, innovation. It seems so simple, but it's so overlooked.

The only thing I have to do now is to remember to stop and give myself a chance to keep storytelling here on the blog. It's been weeks since I last posted. I opened Blogger so many times to sit and write. To share what's going on. To detail a typical Sunday with an English husband playing for the all-Jewish softball league, drinking tea and wearing a flat cap, listening to the umpire say, "You're going to have to be closer to the base than that." To express the pain of a changed body shape, a child who seems to scream no matter how much homeopathic Orajel and Tylenol we give him, whose gas could easily take down an army, but who is still the most beautiful, amazing, precious gift I could ever have asked for. To explain how strange it is to be back in a place where the community grew and changed without me and how I'm coping with being better accepted and invited out now that I'm married and have a child.

I'm still finding my rhythm. I'm still fleshing out what being superwoman really means. I'm still trying to figure out who I am, where I'm going, and what HaShem's plan for me is.