Back when I was working full time I would constantly find reminders on my clothing that I wasn’t just an employee, but a mother. My babies made sure they left their mark somewhere. I remember a paci in my blazer pocket, a princess sticker on my leg or spit-up on my blouse. Being the sloppy klutz I am, these were usually after I had already spilled coffee on myself.

I got to thinking about Emily. Emily is my former co-worker on maternity leave after the birth of her first baby. She is soft spoken, kind-hearted and fiercely witty. Emily is an incredibly talented writer and I always enjoyed working with her.

Emily holding Henry when he was just 3 mos. old. I was only back at work a week when I realized my new calling. This was during that week.

One morning in the kitchen we were brewing coffee. She was being very polite when she said, “Amy, I was just going to tell you that you have something on your chest right there.” She pointed to my collar bone. I touched something hard but sticky and pulled it off my skin. I looked at my fingers in horror. I held a half-dried, smeared booger. Yep, that’s about right.

I recalled earlier that morning my snot-nosed little girl had smashed her face into me in some traumatic, tearful fit.

Now that I’m part of a yoga pants-clad army of stay-at-home moms, the smears and stains on my clothes are less of a big deal. I think babies want everyone to know, no matter their mama’s job, she’s a mama first. They leave their boogers to prove it. Please tell me I’m not the only one with dried boogers on them.

The news that former American Idol runner-up and Raleigh native, Clay Aiken was running for congress in North Carolina brought a smile to my face yesterday. I watched him in numerous TV interviews during his media blitz. His red hair, familiar native twang and sparkly eyes reminded me of another time. A quirky phase I went through in my life.

I have already voted for Clay Aiken. Oh, yes. I was one of millions who voted for him back in 2003. My roommate and one of my dearest friends, Sara and I shared an apartment near campus. I was 21. I turned 22 that summer. We were college seniors who were just a summer semester away from graduating when we watched every episode of American Idol. Okay, I made Sara watch every week because I was captivated by this kid from my home city.

He had a nice singing voice. We were just two years apart in age. I knew some people he knew and he just seemed like a really nice guy. I loved seeing a hometown kid succeed on the nation’s most popular show. I joined the message boards and encouraged Clay support with my AIM icon. I bought the Rolling Stone magazine with his picture on the front and made Sara go to a Kelly Clarkson/Clay Aiken concert with me where I may or may not have bought a t-shirt. I understood why girls were all about him. He was non-threatening and charming. Unlike some of the “Claymates” however, I was not surprised when he came out a few years later after his fame from the show had faded. I was happy for him that he felt like he could say that he was gay and be who he was.

Am I a little embarrassed of my silly infatuation in 2003? Of course. I was a little too old for that. But, I think the reason I had a summer fling with Clay Aiken was that subconsciously I was clinging to my last bit of lighthearted, teenage fun. Voting for a contestant on a reality show was a welcome distraction from my first real-world scary, frustrating job search. That was the summer I ended my internship, finished my final classes of undergrad and had interviews for a real jobs at TV stations. That was the summer I said goodbye to my college friends and moved back home with my parents because that’s where the job was and I had no choice but to face the startling, adult reality that I had no money and no where to go. Little did I know, when summer turned to fall I would fall in love with the man who would eventually become my husband. I quickly left the room at my parents house for an apartment I shared with him. Stashed in that girlish closet were old prom dresses, sorority photos and even a Clay poster taped to the inside of the door where no one would see the evidence of my fandom.

Me and my husband in Oct. 2003

Yesterday, the 32-year-old woman that I am now rocked the baby and wiped the nose of the three-year-old I have with that same man I met the year Clay Aiken became famous. I reminded my husband that he went with me to see Clay at the NC State Fair and the Raleigh Christmas Parade back then. He laughed and rolled his eyes telling me that he must have really been in love to have done all of that. We watched one of his interviews  last night and listened to his views on issues he wants to address as a potential congressman.

I can’t vote for or against Clay this time. I live one district away, but I wish him luck and thank him for bringing back memories of a funny, fleeting time in my life. I wondered how his political career would pan out and wondered if I would remember the day he announced he would run for office. I think this may be a funny, fleeting time in my life too. It is the first week of my life as a stay-at-home mom. I’m sure I’ll look back fondly.

Good luck Clay. While you campaign to get voters to mark your name on a ballot, I will always remember when Ryan Seacrest campaigned for you and I called a 1-866 number over and over, just to be a silly girl for just a few months longer.

When I went back to work after Charlotte was born it was at 2:00am. I dragged myself out of bed and away from my baby to report the news. That was January, 2011. For another year I left my infant each day to go to work. It was hard, but she had great care at a great school. I changed careers a year later in February, 2012 and started at a PR agency. It was a good move for me. I love my coworkers. I love working with clients. I like having my weekends off and not being a slave to the news cycle. Life at a PR agency can be hectic, but rewarding.

For three years I prided myself on being a do-it-all working mother. I was proud of how much my daughter was learning at her school. That made the steep monthly payments more justifiable. I went to all the class events I could. My house was often messy. We could only have playdates on the weekends. I used the hashtag #workingmother. Most of all, we were an insanely busy family, but life was good.

This month I went back to work when Henry was 9 weeks old. We found a great sitter for him with a better price than Charlotte’s daycare. She is a wonderful teacher and caretaker for my baby. She helped soothe the harsh wound of leaving him.

But, this time going back to work was different. Yes, I felt the same stress of having two working parents trying to get a baby out the door and I longed for my children, but it was worse. I was missing it. Missing everything. The first time I went back it was always with the thought in the back of my mind, “Well, I could always stay at home with the next one.” Plus, most of my salary goes to childcare.

I never pictured myself as a stay-at-home mom. Don’t get me wrong, they are fascinating! I would be in my suit on my lunch break and see them in line at Panera or Chipotle. They would be in yoga pants and have their tots in jogging strollers. I would push aside the pacifiers in my purse to get to my wallet. I would see them with their babies and my heart ached for my own. That’s when I would do a quick countdown to the number of hours left in my work day. Except, I knew that likely wouldn’t be the end as I would surely be on the laptop answering emails after bedtime. I would look at these women and wonder, “What do they DO all day?” as my phone buzzed in my pocket with backed up emails.

Well, I’m about to find out what they do all day.

After coming back it hit me like a ton of bricks. I stared at the computer in my office and I knew it wasn’t right. My shoulders were tense and there was a weight on my chest. It was just all wrong. I think I had to go back to work after maternity leave to know that my heart was calling me home.

But, what about my resume? What about the 8 years of my life I poured into a career in TV news, dragging myself into work at all hours of the night and day to keep pushing to be promoted?  What about my 2 years at a PR agency, learning so much about the different industries of our clients and offering my news expertise? Would it all be for nothing? I worked hard and I’m proud of what I accomplished.

A fellow working mom said it best, “What’s a year gap in your resume? You wouldn’t be the first mother to do that.” True. I told Greyson, “If I don’t do it now, when would I? When they’re older and don’t want to hang out with their mom?” No, it’s now or never.

So, a week-and-a-half after maternity leave I told them I was leaving. Get this. I swear it’s a freakin’ dream come true, ya’ll. They want me to still work in a freelance/consultant capacity. I’m still an employee. My first gig is in March. Seriously? Is this real life? How awesome is that?! I’m feeling so, so blessed.

We are sad we’ll have to take Charlotte out of her daycare. She has been with those kids since she was 3 months old. Her teachers are wonderful. But, blessings continue as I found a part-time preschool that can take her in March after she finishes her last month at her current daycare in February.

Sometimes everything comes together and all things point to a certain decision. Yeah, it’s still a risk. What if it’s not what I think it will be? How long will I do this? Do I have to use the hashtag #SAHM?

Friday is my last day. Here goes nothing…or something.

I share an office at work with two girls ages 22 and 24. I love it. They are wonderfully sweet and kind, like all my coworkers. They are very hard working women and are learning so much. I joke with them that my pregnancy symptoms are catching whenever they talk about “craving” a food or “feeling tired.” They are more than kind when I am carrying a bunch of stuff or complain of being hot in the office. They look out for the pregnant woman.

Most of the time I don’t even think about how I am 8 to 10 years older than they are. You know how it is when you get to be an adult, you don’t even notice age difference that much anymore. That is, unless you and your fellow 30-something friends are PSYCHED about the New Kids on the Block/Boys II Men concert and they look at you like you have five heads.

Leaving them on Friday after a discussion made me all reflective about life. Ashley is 22 and just finished college. I love hearing about her leaving her sorority sisters and starting a career. I know that unsure, exhilarating feeling. I was so focused on making it in my chosen profession while learning what it meant to be an adult. There is no other time like it.

I realized this May that I graduated college ten years ago. Ten years! I’ll be 32 next month. Sometimes the last ten years feels like an instant. Sometimes age 22 feels like a lifetime ago. I was telling Ashely how I wouldn’t go back to being 22, that 32 was better.  No, I wouldn’t go back. I love my life now. I have so much more than I ever thought I would. My husband, my family, our house and my career. In the last ten years I married my husband, accomplished my life dream of being a television news reporter and started my family.

Senior year sorority formal, just before graduation in 2003. I was still 21.

No, I wouldn’t go back, but I wouldn’t trade being 22 for anything in the world. I’m starting to think that even though my bank account was always overdrawn, I got too much sun exposure and drank too many cosmopolitans, 22 may be the smartest I ever was.

It was age 22 that I met the sports anchor at the news station and allowed myself to fall unabashedly in love and dive into a life with a man because I just felt like it was right. I knew that we were meant to be together. I didn’t give a second thought to the fact that we had only known each other 7 months when he asked me to be his wife. I instantly said yes.

2004. We were engaged. I think I was 22 or 23.

I was telling Ashley how hard it was starting my career in news and being the youngest person in a newsroom with older, hardened and seasoned professionals. I frequently kept 1 Timothy 4:12 in my head. “Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.”

Even though my focus has changed and I have typical 30-something worries about toddler TV-time and a mortgage, my early 20’s will forever be precious in my mind. Those were the times that I made all the decisions that led me to the happiness I have now. Ashley and Kelsie serve as that daily reminder for me and they are a blessing.

Kathleen, Ashley and Kelsie. We are in good hands if they are the future of PR and communications.

Dear Governor Bryant,

I bet you’ve had a weird day, today.  Were your PR and Communications team running around like mad men? I bet their mouths dropped open and they whipped out their Blackberries during that Washington Post Live event. They hoped their calls, texts and Tweets were the extinguisher to put out the firestorm you started.  How many reporters have called your office for comment and response since then? I would wager to guess at least some of your staff are still at the office in crisis mode tonight.  The local news media in Jackson is probably swamped covering this story and getting reaction for the evening and night news.  I wonder how busy they are at the Mississippi Republican Party headquarters?

You knew what you were doing when you said it.  You knew it!  The event was focused on improving children’s literacy by the third grade.  The moderator asked you how American education had “become so mediocre.”

Your response? “I think both parents started working. And the mom is in the work place.”

Your backpedaling began immediately.  You went on to recognize you would get a ton of emails about this, knowing it was a controversial statement and would likely offend millions of working mothers and their families.  In your defense, during the backpedaling you did say that US students were behind other countries because they invest more in education.  Okay, I agree with you there.  That could be a good explanation.

Your statement meant journalists and fact checkers went into overdrive today too.  This ABC News report cites statistics from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development and the National Center for Education Statistics.  The OECD finds 67% of US mothers with children under 15 work outside the home.  The NCES states that 77% of Finnish mothers work outside the home, but Finland ranks higher in reading than American students.
Sounds like you were right with your backpedaling, Governor.  I also heard your wife worked outside the home for decades, even while raising your kids.  I think I speak for everyone when I say, “Huh?”

Governor, my heart is with all the working PR, communications, news media and political advisors that are working overtime tonight because you said something so ridiculous.  I have to imagine a number of them are working mothers and not able to be home tonight with their children.

Sounds like you are contributing to the mediocrity of those children because their mothers aren’t at home.  Way to go.

For the record, I wrote this after my child went to bed.  Fingers crossed, my working after hours won’t make her fall further behind the Finnish.

Sincerely,

Amy