Most of our management team was at an out of town conference week before last. On one drizzly cold morning I decided to sneak into my office wearing a glorified jogging suit and tennis shoes. I work for a small company with a business casual dress code. You can wear jeans, you can wear shorts in the summer (provided they aren’t Daisy Dukes), you can wear tennis shoes. Pretty much anything flies as long as it’s within tasteful boundaries (i.e. not something you’d wear makeup-less and pony-tailed to Pilates class or trying out for a job at Coyote Ugly.)

I don’t meet with clients or executives face to face. All my work is done via e-mail or phone. And when I worked from home last year, let’s just say there were days I kept my pjs on and never showered. This is a far cry from when I landed my first job after college. I worked in a university news and public affairs office where wore suits and pantyhose were expected. I budgeted for dry cleaning. Since joining my current company five years ago the only times I’ve wrestled pantyhose has been to tie up tomato plants in the garden or to wear to a wedding or funeral.

Last week I realized just how far my fashionista apple had fallen from the tree. One of my single friends at work is the Imelda Marcos of our office. (I point out that she is single because, well, she has time to shop regularly for herself…no children toting along, children who need shoes and diapers and soccer uniforms and lots of string cheese and apple juice.) My shoe diva friend comes in wearing these incredible shoes on a weekly basis. Last week’s shoe du jour was a pair of extreme spike heel pointy toe pumps covered in a faux brown and white fur. It was all I could do to not drool on them although I realized I would break my leg if I tried them on. I was complimenting her when I realized I had on a pair of geriatric black loafers that looked like dress code standard for working a fast food drive thru or maybe the housekeeping staff at a Motel 6. I had a flashback to college. I dated a guy my senior year of college who made fun of my favorite chunky heeled pair of brown loafers. He thought it was hilarious to call them my lesbian shoes. Needless to say we never made it past the three-month mark. I hear he’s bald now, too.

Last night when I picked the girls up from daycare I remembered that today is Caitlin’s Thanksgiving party. There was a sign-up sheet posted on the classroom bulletin board and it looked like I was one of the last parents to sign up to bring in the usual turkey or dressing. The assistant director, a young single woman, heard me bitching discussing this and rechecked the date as she thought it was scheduled for next week.

I felt bad for not expressing my early Turkey Day throwdown love, but she said, “Sign up for chips! No one’s volunteered to bring in a bag of chips!” I told her that I would love to bring in chips, but Caitlin’s teacher had asked us to bring in a Thanksgiving family recipe to share with the class and our child was actually supposed to help prepare said recipe.

“Ohhhh. Well, you know what kind of mom I’ll be! I’ll be the one bringing in chips,!” she laughed. Really I could have grabbed her and kissed her right then.

Just then another mom walked in and I reminded her about the party. “Great…I’m going to have to go to the grocery now!,” was pretty much her response. Obviously the week before Thanksgiving party is going over like a jumbo container of Tums. I told her I’d also forgotten and that I’d be stopping by the grocery, too. I told her she could always go the Charlie Brown menu route and sign up to bring in popcorn or toast, to which she replied…”You know, our family likes to eat cereal on Thanksgiving. And sometimes? We fast.”

I’m going to cheat pick up a pumpkin pie at the grocery this morning and bring in a simple pumpkin pie recipe and not worry that it’s not homemade. Besides, if her teacher asks how she helped make the pie, Caitlin can say, “I helped mommy ring it up at Publix!”

For some insane reason I volunteered to bring chili Tuesday for our office Halloween party. What was I thinking? I may back out and sign up for break and bake cookies if the casserole nazi doesn’t hunt me down in the ladies restroom, which is apparently my only hiding place at work. We are also having a costume contest at the office. Quite honestly I’ll be doing good to remember to dress the girls in Halloween colors that morning (no costumes at daycare as the teachers are doing face painting), send candy and face paint to daycare, possibly attend the girls’ parties that afternoon and then, of course, there is neighborhood trick or treating that night.

My office is pretty small but do we know how to party ad nauseum. Any and every holiday is a reason to bring in your mama’s favorite casserole and jumbo bags of Doritos. I’m not a scrooge, really, but sometimes it is a bit much. And if we had had just one more mandatory activity during our recent big charity fundraiser week honest to God I would have spontaneously combusted. What, you’ve never had to apologize to a client on the phone when the go ahead to play bingo is blasted over the company intercom system?

And am I supposed to actually work on Halloween? Surely they don’t expect us to be productive. If so, you will probably find me snorting Pixie Stix powder on my desk.

There is major roofing work going on at my building and they are two floors DIRECTLY ABOVE MY OFFICE. It’s a combination of drilling and hammering.

I forgot to bring my iPod.

I have no headphones.

It’s going to be a long day if this continues.

Here’s a funny story I heard on the radio this morning…because I need something to take my mind off THIS EVER LOVING NOISE.

OK, I’ll share another funny I just read on Blogging Baby about how to make tampon ghosts. I’m trying to think of a panty liner Halloween craft project…maybe a raft?

p.s. one good thing about the construction noise…excellent excuse for a long lunch at Pei Wei

I just ran down to a little deli/bagel type restaurant (OK, OK…I drove) and I ordered my usual salad to go. The girl working behind the counter (who was giving off I AM NEW EMPLOYEE vibes like crazy) starts assembling my salad, grabs a handful of diced chicken, and then looks at the other guy behind the counter and asks, “This is chicken, right?”

Both my girls attend a state licensed day care in our neighborhood four, sometimes five, days a week. Julie at MotherGooseMouse has a great post about the Do’s and Don’ts of working productively with your childcare provider. She’s been a sub at her daughters’ daycare and has great insight into what it’s like to not only being a daycare parent, but a daycare teacher.

Caitlin is in the preschool class and I can’t say enough good things about it. I am amazed at the thought, planning and creativity her two teachers put into the curriculum. Each week they have a theme (this week’s theme is emotions). Their storytime book as well as artwork coincides with the theme. These teachers get more creative bang for their buck out of construction paper, crayons, footprints, and handprints then I would ever be able to muster. One child is chosen each week to be the special classroom helper and they study a featured letter and number weekly. They also have special assignments from time to time. For the next month or so a child is chosen to take home the “favorites tote” and fill it with a favorite snack to share with their classmates, a favorite book, and two favorite family photos. Today was Caitlin’s day to bring in the tote and she was so excited. They have show and tell on Thursdays and in the summer Caitlin also had outdoor water play.

Caitlin and Amelia’s teachers give them hugs and reassurance and praise. Both my girls have learned to play with children their own age, follow directions, and learn to wait their turn. Caitlin has had teachers and classmates from different cultures and ethnicities. One of her all-time favorite teachers (she still makes a point to say goodbye to her every evening) is from Iran. I have no doubt that she will be prepared for kindergarten next year.

Amelia just moved to the Toddler I room at “school.” Even at 17 months she has structured indoor play, story time, outdoor play, and art time. Although the benefits of daycare are not as yet evident with her, I know in the long run she will be as prepared for real school as her sister in a few years.

Daycare is not for everyone. But in our situation (I work 4 days a week and the hubby runs his own business), it’s been the best solution for our family.

So do you have any praise for the childcare provider in your child’s life, be it a daycare center, a Mother’s Day Out church program, babysitter, nanny, or just good ole grandma?

I’m a bit stressed because I have to do a telephone interview for a work project tomorrow at 8. As in 8 a.m. The funny thing is I work 8 to 5 so technically I’m supposed to be at work at 8. The brilliant thing is I’ve know for over a week these two gentlemen were saying 9 a.m. EST in their e-mail correspondence and it only hit me today that that translates into 8 a.m. CST, which is my time here in Nashville. I could actually do the phone interview from home, but between two small children and two dogs (one who is completely unpredictable about barking insanely at any given moment), I’ll be more at ease if I just get going and head on in to the office. So if you work with me, tomorrow is definitely a “skip the shampoo” day, although I will have on fresh deodorant.

Surely it’s no big deal to get to work at 8 a.m., right? We have a 15 minute grace period more or less so usually I roll in about 8:20ish. I mean I do have to drop the girls off at daycare and then drive the 8 miles or so to the office. But I used to be punctual. I used to consider tardiness right alongside other ills of society, like not opening doors for struggling pregnant women or running over little old ladies while they cross the grocery store parking lot. But now that I’m a mom I’m consistently 15 minutes late. For everything. I was talking to my neighbor last night and her 5-year-old daughter starts kindergarten in less than a month. The thing she’s worried the most about as far as the transition to kindergarten from attending Mother’s Day Out a few days a week? Getting her daughter to school by 8 a.m. So at least I’m not the only one struggling with the 8 o’clock hour.

Maybe if I practice getting to work at 8 starting now, we’ll be prepared for Caitlin to make it to kindergarten on time in a little over a year. Or maybe I’ll continue to live on MST (Mommy Standard Time) for as long as I can get away with it!

Yesterday I felt compelled to be super productive at work after missing most of the afternoon on Monday and I didn’t leave the office for lunch. That was mistake number one. I decided to nuke a frozen Lean Cuisine for lunch. That was mistake number two. By 3 o’clock the three morsels of grilled chicken that I cut into tiny pieces in an effort to savor each and every bite and the twelve Asian style noodles I had devoured had worn off and I was so hungry that I started digging through loose change in the bottom of my purse and debating whether or not I should hit the downstairs vending machine. I opted to drive down to the corner McDonald’s and get a dollar caramel sundae. By 5:30 I was so hungry and irritable with the kids and the dogs that I smashed my knee into our kitchen table while trying to nudge our 70-pound dog out of my way as I was trying to buckle a very squirmy Amelia into her high chair.

There is nothing worse than being hungry during rush hour and pickup from daycare. Because if your children are whining and hungry, it’s best to deal with them on a full stomach. I tend to get the shakes and have borderline low blood sugar when I am hungry any way. Translation, mama is one irritable beotch if she doesn’t eat enough. So if you ever see me in the break room at work heating up a Lean Cuisine, you’ll probably want to avoid me the rest of the day. And if you spot me on the highway, you’d better head the opposite direction because I’ll be one crazed with hunger woman scavenging the floorboard for abandoned Cheez-Its and Cheerios or maybe a tasty Altoid.