Time To Fight

I want to yell.  I want to scream.  I am so very angry.  This just isn't fair.  Instead, I sit here calmly, waiting for the next chapter of my life, this drama, my career to unfold. 

 

I knowingly chose to return to work part-time.  I was and am fully aware of how part-time attorneys are viewed in my office: we are less than others, we are not committed to the work, we are no longer team-players.  I know the attitude.  I know the views.  But those attitudes, those views?  They are wrong.  My commitment does not wane because my desk is now adorned with pictures of a beautiful son, and I choose to spend Fridays at home with him.  My commitment and willingness to work is not less because it is easier to breastfeed an actual living, breathing baby than to hook myself up to a machine. 

 

But because I became pregnant, took the maternity leave offered and am now utilizing the Firm's part-time policy, I am less of an attorney.

 

The liason from the home office called me yesterday.  She had already spoken to the Partner in my office.  She spoke with trepedation in her voice.  She asked whether I was ready to return to the office on the fourth day, perhaps I was ready to come back full-time?  No, I am not.  According to the partner, my return on the fourth day was not up for discussion, but it was "fine" for me to stay part-time for a little longer.  His statement, his attitude, his belief is not in accord with Firm policy.  He will not follow Firm policy.  According to him, I already "agreed" to return.  No.  I did not.  I will not. 

 

And now I am faced with this:  Do I fight?  Do I try and stand up?  Do I say:  "The Firm has a policy.  The policy is designed to help attract and retain women and mothers.  You will follow the policy."  Do I yell: "I am not less because I am a mother.  I am not less because I 'only' work 40 hours per week."  

 

I know that if I stand, if I fight, I am burning bridges. 

 

And that pisses me off.  I should not have to fight for what the Firm has already agreed to, what the Firm acknowledges is good policy.  I should not have to defend that women are not less because we are mothers. 

 

But. 

 

I refuse to stand on the sidelines any longer.  I refuse to allow the powers-that-be in my office to continue to hold their antiquated views over every woman's head, an ever-present and silent threat to our careers.

 

Maybe I will burn this bridge.  I do not want to.  I want to be treated fairly.  I want to be judged by the quality of my work and not my anatomy. 

 

I will fight.  It is time for me to move on anyway.  And if I do not fight, who will?

It happened. And I am forever grossed out.

Our nanny keeps a log of what she and the little man do every day: how much he eats, when he sleeps, that today they were playing and she was making animal noises and he cried when she mooed like a cow.  But only that noise.  We may have a vegetarian on our hands.  Anyway, she noted that she gave him prunes for lunch as he was clearly having trouble in the morning and did not have his usual morning constitutional.  Fast forward to dinner tonight:  I was feeding LM when I noticed that he was clearly trying to poop.  I gave the kid a few minutes and we finished dinner.  

We have a routine down for bathtime.  I jump in the bath.  J strips the kid down to his diaper and brings him into the bathroom.  He takes off the diaper and hands LM to me in the bathtub.  We have added a step for when the kid has pooped.  J is supposed to take the diaper off before he comes in the bathroom and clean the kid.  Otherwise, we have the scene from a few nights ago where I precariously hold LM above the water with his butt to J while J attempts to clean the kid with toilet paper.  There is a reason that baby wipes are stronger than toilet paper -- toilet paper doesn't work on baby poop.  At all.  It also sticks to baby butts and ends up floating in the water.  Tonight J skipped the step of cleaning the kid before he came into the bathroom, which led to LM being cleaned with toilet paper.  As J was leaving he said, "Wow. I hope he's done.  Oh wait, LM poop on mommy that would be funny."  Famous last words.

Did I mention that I filled the bath extra full tonight?  With lots of bubbles.  Bubbles make it hard to see what is in the water.  LM and I were enjoying our bath when I felt something in the water.  At first I thought it was just a piece of left over toilet paper.  Oh no.  The kid had let it rip, big time.  I squelled.  J came running.  LM cried.  We tried to clean it up.  Just at the point where we started letting the water drain, he let another one rip.  I squelled more.  We got that cleaned up.  I was sitting in a messy, gross tub, getting ready to hand LM to John, when the kid, yet again, let one rip.  on my thigh.  At that point, I just handed LM to John, got toilet paper and cleaned myself up.  And then I disinfected the tub.

The bath, round 2 of the evening was much less eventful.  I took a long shower after.  Will may have missed his bedtime tonight.  I think I'm going to go shower again.