When my oldest child, Rowan, was born, I remember experiencing, like many new moms have, the interactions with family, friends, and strangers that were now solely about and focused on my newborn baby. Before becoming a parent, the topic of conversation you engage in is always something you have firsthand experience in, naturally, since you don’t commonly engage in conversation with someone about something you’re not directly related to.

​So having a newborn baby in my arms or pushing him around in a stroller, and having other people start a conversation with me about him, and only him, was a new experience in and of itself. “Oh he’s precious, how old is he?” “How much did he weigh at birth?” “Was he delivered via C-section or naturally?” “Did he latch on okay and is he still breastfeeding?” 

Yet there was a particular comment that was consistently made about him, especially from the older generation of Cuban and Hispanic women that surround us living here in South Florida. The comment was always a variation of this: “He is so white!”, or “he’s [as white as] a bottle of milk!” (“es un pomo de leche!”).

I remember feeling confused at these comments. I thought “What an ODD thing to say about someone’s baby?” As a new mom, everything already seemed foreign to me and at the time, I was still learning how to navigate the waters of polite questioning from strangers, family and friends, and the unsolicited advice I received from so many of them on how to feed, change, bathe, and raise my baby. So, I did what any sensible, Hispanic girl would do and I asked my mom. I asked her whether this kind of commentary, on my baby’s skin color, was normal in the realm of babies and motherhood. She couldn’t give me a straight answer. Instead, I recall her dismissing it as nothing out of the ordinary and she simply said, “well, he is very white and people can’t help but compliment him on it”.                

That’s when I realized the truth of what she said to me. These comments people made about my baby’s skin color weren’t meant as observations or mere side comments, they were being given to me as ​compliments. As in, it was a “good thing” that his skin was so light. In fact, they thought it was such a good thing, that it was worthy of mentioning, out loud to me, his mother, a woman they barely knew, that his skin was so milky white because they regarded it as a positive, as if on par with factors like being a great sleeper and having good health. 
 
The notion that my son deserved praise because he was SO WHITE unsettled me. 
                                        
It was a moment in my life that made me stop and assess my surroundings, the people that I interact with on a daily basis, and the community I was living in. How could they still value something as arbitrary as skin color this much? How could they comment on it, so frequently, and fail to realize the impact of their words? How could they throw around comments like that, praising the whitest baby in the room without listening to the damage their words were causing to the smallest and most sensitive ears those words fall on?  
                                        
All of these comments came from Hispanic or Cuban women, and typically all of an older generation. I understand that there is an entire cultural divide between myself and these women that will never be bridged. While I don’t expect to undo decades worth of unconscious (and conscience) racism, resentment, and hate that has been taught and built into these women, it’s frustrating to realize  how subliminal their prejudice is. It runs so deep that they don’t even realize that they’re saying something negative about an entire race when, in their minds, they’re just trying to be nice and pay me a “compliment” on my newborn baby. Hence how dismissive my mom was of the comments when I pressed her on it.

What is scarier even still about all of this subliminal and institutionalized racism is the lasting effect their words are making on the younger generation, not only their children but their grandchildren as well. What kind of example are these women setting for the youngest ears they’re likely spoiling, cooking for, and helping to raise in many households?  

Personally, this experience made me hyper alert of the kind of comments I make to people, including and especially around my children. I know I have to be extremely careful of the thoughts that come into my head that then turn into the words that come out of my mouth and ultimately become the actions I take. My kids are watching me and it’s my job to make sure I do better for them, so that they can do better for their kids, and each generation continues doing better than the last.

It’s obvious that this chain of negativity, racism, and hate continues to bind one generation after another. It’s all over the media, it’s on our streets, and it’s in our schools, businesses, and neighborhoods. People are hurt and upset, and rightfully so. But if you don’t stop to recognize the things you are saying to others, to your friends, to your family, and to your own neighbor, in your everyday life, and ask yourself, “WHY? Why would I think that? Why would I associate white skin with something that is good?”, then how will any of this change? How will we ever set better examples for our kids if we don’t correct our own actions and reverse those unconscious thoughts, that become seemingly harmless comments, and inevitably, conscious racist actions?

No matter if you’re white, black, Hispanic, or Asian, everyone wants a better tomorrow for their kids. EVERYONE. We all share that in common and always will. Yet to build that better tomorrow, the change needs to start today and with every one of us making the conscious choice to stop these small prejudices and discriminatory thoughts from becoming the unjust decisions of tomorrow.

For reference, here is a picture of my newborn baby boy, AKA my "Milk Bottle White" Baby

​So what if I’ve been using this pandemic as an excuse to spend more time with my kids and not work as much? 

So what if I’ve used the quarantine as an excuse to spend my mornings running outside, walking with my kids in the afternoons, or walking my dog 6 times a day instead of sitting in front of my computer in a cold office for 7 hours straight? 

So what if I’ve spent 45 minutes searching online for the perfect baked cinnamon apple recipe, and then actually made it, randomly, on a Thursday afternoon, instead of spending an hour doing research or additional work for a client who probably doesn’t want to pay for my time anyways?

My point is: SO WHAT? I have enjoyed my time at home during the last couple of months in this pandemic in ways I never expected.

Stretching outside with my 3 year old & 9 month old

I have always loved working and as a lawyer, I feel a genuine thrill when I accomplish a great result for a client in a case. After all, its the #1 reason law students cite to when you ask them, “why do you want to become a lawyer?” - “To help people”. When that wish is actually fulfilled, its extremely gratifying and rewarding, and reassures me that I made the right decision in my career choice. 

The reality, though, is that the practice of law can become as tedious and debilitating as any other profession. We face all kinds of hurdles and they vary depending on what kind of law firm we work in. The “Big Law” attorneys struggle with billing an exorbitant amount of minimum hours per month (or else), the state attorneys/“DA”s are overworked and underpaid, and the solo practitioner and small law firm owners (like myself) face constant issues in navigating the unknown territories of administrative, billing, and collections, client management, and marketing. We won’t even get into the differences we face depending on what kind of law we practice.

Those genuine moments of “I helped someone today” become few and far between, and the haze of the daily struggles we face blurs our actual successes from the otherwise failed attempts to succeed. 

So yes, I have enjoyed taking a minor “break” from all of that. Whether we realize it or not, the incessant arguing, adversarial nature to our profession, and overall bad attitude most attorneys have, for no reason and without cause, by the way, takes a toll on the mind, body, and soul. Instead of recognizing how these interactions are negatively impacting us, and inevitably trickling down into our personal lives, social lives, and to our families, we continue working and billing and taking on another toxic client or daunting case because we say “Well, this is what a lawyer is supposed to do so I guess this is my life”. 

Until a global pandemic hits that literally FORCES you to stay at home with your family and put work on the back burner for a bit. Guess what? Your work is still there, your boss is still probably complaining about something, and your clients haven’t gone anywhere. I hope you, like me, took advantage of this time to go outside, enjoy the sunlight, discover a new hobby, and played with your kids. Really, truly played with them. I hope you made robots out of cardboard boxes, danced barefoot in the kitchen, and built gigantic lego castles with them. I hope you had an outdoor picnic outside with your spouse, took long walks with your kids in the middle of the day, and rubbed your dog’s belly on the couch. I hope you re-discovered your love for running, biking, rollerblading, or hula-hooping, and that you reminded your body what it felt like to move and sweat.  However you spent your extra time during this lockdown, I hope you spent it doing something that nourished your mind, body, and soul, because lord knows, we needed it. 

I don’t feel bad or ashamed about choosing my kids over my work - and you shouldn’t either.  If this quarantine has taught me anything, it’s that I never want to choose work over my kids again. What has this quarantine taught you?

​Is it bad that I don’t feel bad about NOT working as much as I should be during this pandemic? Does this mean I was secretly meant to be a STAY AT HOME mom?! **gasps** (Spoiler alert: NO). 

Like the rest of the world, we’re currently quarantined at home for what feels like an eternity and our work-from-home/virtual-learning schedule had to be changed for the 17th time after my 5-year-old started talking back to me and instead, began responding much better to my husband's  homeschooling methods. This change means my daily responsibility is to handle our very active and hyper 3 year old and our 10 month old baby who just kinda roams about the house, checking in on her brothers between snacks and naps.  While I find myself enjoying my time with my little ones, and we are doing things I never had time for before like, practicing counting with gold fish, painting on cardboard, and going on scavenger hunts outside together as a family (woah, who even are we right now?!), the flip side of all of this is that I’m not getting as much work done as I should be. Then the feelings of anxiety and guilt start to creep in.  

Do any other working moms feel this? Am I a weird oddity in the trademark personality of over-achievers and Type-A moms in the legal profession because I was secretly meant to be a SAHM?  I think the answer to this question is a resounding "no". While there is nothing wrong with being a SAHM and I feel the utmost respect for those moms who do it day in and day out, I have always wanted to have a career. I have always strived to maintain a steady work schedule that I committed myself to 100% and showed up to put my best foot forward. This was true when I worked part-time clerical jobs during my the summer breaks in high school, and it was true when I went on my own as a solo practitioner lawyer a few years ago when my first son was born.

Yet the interesting thing about mom guilt is that before this pandemic hit and I was working a normal 40 hour work week schedule and was away from the kids, I still felt anxious and guilty about NOT spending enough time with them as well. So I think the lesson to be learned here is that THERE IS NO WINNING in this situation.  You’re a working mom and you’re going feel some kind of guilt - one way or another. That doesn't mean we have to let it consume us though.

How can you deal with mom guilt so that it doesn’t absorb your previous time? How can you recognize and confront these emotions so you can continue living in the moment and enjoy your time with your families, especially now? Here are my tricks.

1. Forget perfection
Think about where the idea of perfection comes from. Who defines what is a perfect mom? Who defines what is a perfect lawyer, or a perfect worker or professional?  While you might have some say in that, chances are these are all ideals defined by SOMEONE ELSE, and  "someone else" doesn’t matter. The only person who should be defining anything for your life is YOU so forget what your boss considers perfect, forget what your friends think is a perfect mom or what you see on social media as portrayed as the perfect working woman - what do YOU think will make you HAPPY?  Have an honest conversation with yourself, you and only you, and decide, what will make me happy (remember, not perfect), but happy. Then strive to do exactly THAT.  

2. Be Nice to Yourself 
When was the last time you took the time to acknowledge what you’ve done so far? Have you worked your way up in your law firm? Have you billed an extraordinary amount of hours in a certain month? Did you win a jury trial? Did your kid eat their broccoli tonight (3/4 of it? Half?) Hey, a win is a WIN and it is all relative. But if you don’t stop to recognize it and give that win, however small, the value it deserves, you’re doing yourself an injustice. You deserve recognition and praise for all that you do and if it's you that has to pat your own shoulder, that’s fine, but make time to actually praise yourself and accept that you have done a lot already. Remember that you are doing a great job and you’ve already accomplished so much, especially in this legal career where receiving praise from superiors or colleagues is not a common occurrence. Don’t forget to treat yourself (with compliments). 

3. Right your Wrongs 
After you’ve acknowledged all of the great things you’ve done both in your career and as a mom now its time to identify where you have room for improvement. Be honest with yourself and single out what changes need to be made. If you feel that you can get more work done for certain clients or cases, then dedicate a block of time in the morning to get those items done before the day really starts with the kids, homeschooling, and your other work tasks. Maybe you feel you should be dedicating an additional hour everyday as 1-on-1 time with your younger kid who is having more trouble at school - block out time during your lunch to help him review his letters (and then squeeze in more work while he’s napping).  Whatever the issues are that you identify, don’t overwhelm yourself with trying to correct ALL of them at once. Try to tackle one per week and make small adjustments in your schedule to address each of them. Be cognizant and mindful of your time invested in those adjustments. Acknowledge that you’re changing your morning routine so you can spend more quality time with your kids or that you’re staying up a bit later at night so you can squeeze in a couple more hours of work that you didn’t get to during the day. By mindfully tackling these issues that are making you feel guilty it will give you that instant gratification of knowing “Hey, I’m working now so that later, when I'm building a robot out of old Amazon boxes with the kids, I will be 100% present and enjoying making memories with my family" and you won't have to think twice about pending workload guilt.  

At the end of the day, everything we do as working moms is really and truly for our families and especially, for our kids. But if you spend too much time feeling guilty or stressed about your work, you may miss out on enjoying these precious, fleeting moments we have with them, and there is no amount of money or paycheck worth that. So let go of the working mom guilt and let yourself be happy. 

Every night, when I give my infant baby girl her last bottle and I’m about to lay her down to sleep for the night, I hold her bald, fuzzy haired head close to mine and inhale deeply. I breathe in as much as I can, and I feel the wispy little hairs on her head dance as the edge of my nose sniffs her scalp. I try to memorize exactly how she smells and hold on to it, though we all know there is no way to adequately describe how a 3 month old baby smells. I just know I want to sniff and smell her all night if I could (and somehow forego my body’s need for sleep) because I know that she won’t smell like this forever.

Thanks to her two older brothers, a 5 year old and 3 year old, and how they're getting bigger (and smellier) by the second, it’s hard to remember a time when I sat and cuddled and sniffed their heads when they were only a few months old. That’s the worst part about this: the fleetingness of it all.

Those first few months when babies need us so much because they can’t do anything for themselves, yet they’re so fragile, tiny, and perfect throughout. While we as parents are so clueless as to how to get through the sleepless nights, vaccinations, first colds, introducing solids, colic, spit up, 42 weekly trips to the pediatrician's office, and if they're the baby of the house, like my baby girl is, we also throw in helping the older siblings with homework, stopping fights between them, giving them their own one on one time, and desperately trying to keep up with whatever else they need to grow and thrive as tiny human beings, on a daily basis.

Then one day? It’s all gone.

These first few months when your babies are literally that, babies, fly by so quickly that it’s hard to remember what they smelled like, what they looked like, how they laughed at a silly game of peekaboo, the sound of their cries, how they smiled while they slept - it all fades in our memory and is somehow replaced by other memories of our kids as they are now or just a few months ago. Maybe our brains are so wrecked as exhausted, overworked, and stressed-out parents, trying to handle so much at once, that we can only retain a few random moments that especially stick out in our memories for some reason (perhaps because it was particularly funny or particular unpleasant). I only remember the boys being this small (as small as my baby girl is right now) from the pictures I look at NOW of them as infants but independent of those pictures, I can’t remember seeing them with my own eyes when they were that small. And that breaks my heart.

And maybe, in a couple of years, I won’t remember my baby girl being this small, and I will have to look at pictures of her at this stage to jog my memory and force myself to remember some random moment of her laughing in the bathtub with me - I hope I’m lucky enough to remember even that!

That might be the most heartbreaking part of it all. If our memory is so fleeting and careless of such precious moments like smelling our tiny babies while we rock them to sleep, despite how special those memories are, then how will we remember these moments when our babies are fully grown adults who don’t need us anymore, not even to help with their homework or ask for our input about the really BIG decisions.

Will they ever know how much we savored these tiny moments of their childhood? I don’t think they will.

At least not until they have children of their own and then they can sit in a rocking chair in the middle of the night, sniff their tiny baby’s head, and think, "did my mom ever do this with me when I was a baby?"

Well, I really hope they know that I did.