20 Years

This weekend is my 20-year college reunion. Twenty freakin' years.

I remember being a senior in college when all of the 5-year alums crashed our fraternity parties. We thought they were ancient. Couldn't understand why in the hell they showed up at our parties and pretended they still fit in. We could spot them from a mile away.

A bunch of my classmates are meeting up at reunion this weekend. This past six months of no secretary, 6 temps, 2 maternity leaves, 1 maternity leave replacement, 2 trips, a pediatric ER visit, many sleepless nights and my computer crashing this week and permanently losing my inbox has really kicked my ass. I couldn't get it together to pack up baby and hoof it 3 hours to rally for reunion this weekend.

So instead I'm sitting at home thinking about those days with those people and what we all thought life would be like. It makes me look forward 20 years and wonder what the next two decades will bring, and if they'll flash by even more quickly.

Old Dog, New Trick?

When I dated my high school boyfriend my biggest long-term question was: am I going to take him to prom? It wasn't until I hit about 30 that I started weighing whether every guy I dated had 'serious potential'. I blame this frankly embarrassing phenomenon on survival of the fittest, evolutionary biology, and my eggs' primal urges and hormonal output.

That was my thirties. Now I'm in my forties, I have a baby, and it's time for a new trick. My latest dog-and-pony show is, 'Can I date someone, enjoy the moment, have fun and not worry about the future.' So far, I have to say, so good.

I've been dating a guy I first met about a year and a half ago. We dated for 2 months, it didn't work out, and we didn't correspond for almost 6 months. He texted me out of the blue this past fall to say he was moving and wanted to take me to coffee before leaving. We got together a few months later for dinner and then started speaking by phone. He has now come to visit twice and is coming again in a few weeks.

Is this the guy I've always dreamed of dating? On paper, absolutely not. Is he really good to me and my daughter? Absolutely. Does he have his life completely together in every possible way. No, work in progress. Is he Mr. Right? No idea. Is he Mr. Right Now? It's really working for me at the moment. Can I truly pull off the 'casual dating' gig? That is the million dollar question. Stay tuned.

Dicks Vs. Dictations

I have two vacancies: Boyfriend and Executive Secretary.

The first position has been vacant for almost a year now. Applications have been scant, interviews unimpressive, and skill sets lacking. The second position has been vacant for about 6 weeks. One applicant chewed gum through her interview, another looked like the 'before' picture in the before/after professional makeover, and I've fired two temps in the past 4 weeks.

Yesterday was a banner day in the search process for both positions. I spent 2 hours interviewing applicants, reviewing 4 new resumes, and checking references. And then I rushed home from work to spend a few hours with Lucy before putting her to bed, slapping on make up and a sexy shirt, and dashing to a speed dating event.

What's that, you say? Am I masochist?

I've never done speed dating before and had no idea what to expect. Half of the men - and half of the women - had ... let's just say, issues. The phrase that comes to mind is 'severe social awkwardness'. The other half were very nice ... just not a match in sight for me. (Favorite question of the night: "Do you mind if I ask why you waited so long to have a baby?" Thank you, 50-year old Revenge of the Nerds look alike).

As I sat at Table 11 interviewing each prospective applicant over and over and over again, I thought, "If I could choose a match today, would I pick a top boyfriend or a top secretary?". Certainly, it would be nice to have both. But at this point in time, I'd pick good dictation over good dick.

The Things People Say

Isn't it funny how relative strangers feel comfortable asking questions that would make your own sister blush? I guess there is comfort in anonymity.

On Sunday a guy I barely know asked me if I'm married.

"No."

And then he asked if Lucy's father is involved.

"No, it's just the two of us."

To which he responded,

"How sad ..."

before the next words rolled off his tongue, I had a million thoughts about what he'd say next. How sad that she doesn't have a Dad. How sad that she won't have a father figure to teach her to play baseball. How said that she won't have a father on Father's Day, how sad that ...

"How sad for him that he is missing out on her. She is incredible!!"

Happy Valentine's Day to me.

From the Outside Looking In

Today Lucy and I were doing our early Sunday morning routine in the coffee shop and she was hanging out with the regulars, who have become her weekend uncles. I overheard one of them saying that they are Lucy's uncles because, "the kid has to have a family".

Shock. The look on my face must have been priceless. I then put 2 + 2 together. Single mom here with a baby every weekend. No wedding ring. No husband, no father. These two must have no family.

I didn't mention the doting grandparents, the aunt and her family 3 hours away, the handful of great aunts and uncles, or the scores of friends-who-are-like-family we are blessed to have in our lives. I didn't mention the neighbors who think Lucy is half theirs or our loving nanny. But it did make me remember, once again, how different the world looks when you are the outsider looking in.

Lessons in Starbucks

It's another snowy day here in the Northeast and I'm sitting in Starbucks trying to work on a project deadline. One of my Starbucks friends (don't even know his name) asked how my daughter is doing, and I replied that she is doing well and getting big. This prompted him to share the following story:

"About 13 years ago I dated a woman with a beautiful 4 year old daughter. It was the 'perfect set-up' because I loved the daughter and if it worked out I knew I'd have an 'instant family'. The three of us did everything together -- shopping, sailing, playing at the park -- and I loved it. Unfortunately, the relationship with the mom didn't work out after we dated for two years and I hadn't seen her or her daughter in many years. The other day I was in the grocery store and a beautiful young woman walked by. She looked so familiar and I couldn't stop staring at her, and finally said, "Lilly?". She turned around and sure enough it was the little girl - now 17 years old! She remembered me too and we caught up for a few minutes. What a wonderful memory."

I didn't get much work done on my project this morning, but I learned a lot.

Brave New World

The metamorphosis is a bit more painful than anticipated.

My office manager of 7 years had her last day on Friday. She was just my office manager, right? A colleague. We worked together. She didn't die, or move to Siberia, she just took a new job. Employees come and go. Change is good. Things happen for a reason. No sweat.

So why in the hell did I find myself crying in the bathroom stall at work at 4:15 on Friday afternoon?

I've given this a lot of thought over the weekend. Granted, I'm under a lot of stress. One employee is on maternity leave, another is going out, the maternity leave replacement wears fishnets and stillettos, I've got a major deadline this week, we've had more snow days than Frosty, and my temp secretary has a color hair not found in nature. Yes, I'm under a lot of stress.

But why am I so upset about my office manager, Staci, leaving? I thought back to 7 years ago when she started. Soon after her arrival, my cat from college died - a huge life event for me. We were in a much smaller office and one of my two other employees was just moving away. Staci helped me coordinate the move to a much bigger office and a new phase of my career. I hired 2 new employees who have now been with me for six years. I met Glenn, dated Glenn, planned to marry Glenn, and then broke up with Glenn. Staci saw the whole thing go down and covered for me when I'd go home to lie on the couch and cry. Staci was the only one who knew about my attempts to get pregnant, my miscarriages, and my attempted corrected surgeries. She was one of the first to know I was pregnant via a gestational carrier and she was my right hand woman during my maternity leave and subsequent return to the office. She came to my house and held my newborn daughter. She told me I looked great when I actually looked like I hadn't slept in 47 years and had a formula stain on my shirt. We talked about working together until we were ready to retire. That is why I'm so upset.

So tomorrow is the brave new world with the temp, who has already stored an entire case of soda in our refrigerator without invitation. I hope we make it through at least a six-pack.