SS: First job & Worst Job

#80 - First Job, Worst Job, Dream Job

Let's hear em! What was your first job, and what was your worst job, and any others you care to tell about. How about your dream job? Give us your "realistic" dream job, that which you are pursuing and hope to attain, and your total fantasy dream job, which may not even exist, but would be perfect for you.

This is from the fantastic team over at Sunday Scribblings. Figured it was a fun post to blog about and give me a chance to reminisce.

It is hard to remember what my very first job was. I started working before I can even remember - doing odd jobs for extra spending money. I worked in my Mom's school organizing cabinets, grading papers, and updating bulletin boards. I loved doing that as I earned money and got some extra time with my Mom.

Those are the same reasons that I loved my first 'official' paying job. This was working with my Dad doing reception work. I got to have time traveling with my Dad (even though it was early in the morning) and then during lunch. My Dad is an incredibly hard worker and was almost always awake and gone before we were awake, and then home late. Of course I loved being a receptionist. Within weeks I had learned vendors voices and they were always thrilled when I knew who they were before they said their names. This is the first experience I had in the work world where I started to understand how interpersonal relationships work, how to make a customer happy, and how to feel pride in what I do. A lot of this came from the job, but a lot of it also came from the expectations my Dad had of me in letting me work at the same company.

From that point I've had a myriad of other jobs, including (in no particular order):

~ customer service for a dry cleaner
~ a teacher of geriatric aerobics
~ days-long and weeks-long stints at Macy's and Mervyns (retail clothing is NOT my thing).
~ a hostess, then cashier, then server for Pinnacle Peak (yes, I LOVED cutting off ties!).
My best friend and my boyfriend also worked there at various times.
~ Special Sales and Ordering for the U of U Health Sciences Bookstore
~ a hostess for a Denny-esque restaurant
~ a student advisor, manager, teacher-trainer, Marketing & Academic Manager,
and Area Director at Kaplan
~ SAHM to a precocious three year-old and an obstinate two year-old
~ a Client Account Manager for an employment agency
~ a Client Education Coordinator for People Helping People

Really, it is quite hard to tell you what the worst job is. There are bits and pieces of mediocrity and embarassment at each job. The jobs I am drawn to and that I love the most are those that involve counseling people (be it careers, education, life), team construction and management, and overall business management. For those reasons, plus the chance to travel, I especially loved my job as Area Director for Kaplan. However that job came with high stress, unbelievable amounts of time at work, and a dramatic feeling of loss when I quit to become at SAHM.

Working for PHP was the last job that I did before staying home full-time. I had stopped working for Kaplan and needed a little bit of a break. The actual job at PHP was fulfilling but not challenging. The hardest part for me there was that I really couldn't commit myself - and stuggeled with feeling like I shortchanged both the job and my boys. That was harder than I can even express or want to remember.

In the future I know I'll be back at work. Every once and a while I get itchy to get out of the house and back in the workplace. Being a SAHM has challenged me more than I expected and more than I have encountered any where else. With every job there is a steep learning curve, but with being a SAHM your job duties, and therefore your learning curve, change JUST as you think you are getting the hang of it.

My personal job right now is to find contentment being 'just a mom', to provide them with a fun and educational home environment, and to take advantage of the time I have to do this. Not everyone has (or wants) this luxury.

When I do go back to work I'm not sure what I'll do. I loved the corporate world - but only until I got introduced to the non-profit. It will be hard to see what I feel compelled to do. It will be lots of fun, however, to interview and prove to employers that just because I off-ramped. Being a SAHM has given me incredible experience and education that I'm not sure I could learn anywhere else.

And now, I hear my bosses calling me!

Living your truth...

My nap-time treat is to walk on the treadmill and watch Oprah. I take a book with me in case Oprah is boring or at least for commercials.

Today's show was about transgender parents. A few weeks ago she did a show on young adults and teens who are transgender.

If you are unfamiliar with the term transgender here is the definition from the APA. This definition is not always accepted but I feel the best about posting it over some others I found:

Transgender is an umbrella term used to describe people whose gender identity (sense of themselves as male or female) or gender expression differs from that usually associated with their birth sex. Many transgender people live part-time or full-time as members of the other gender. Broadly speaking, anyone whose identity, appearance, or behavior falls outside of conventional gender norms can be described as transgender. However, not everyone whose appearance or behavior is gender-atypical will identify as a transgender person.

Transgenderism is one of those subjects that is taboo for many people. I'll be honest. I don't know much about it myself. My first encounter with a transgender person was in college. In fact for a couple of years I rudely called her he/she or it. She worked at a restaurant that my friends and I would visit. In fact, we called the restaurant T-Dees, adding the 't' for transgender.

I'm not ashamed of my behavior then. Honestly, I think most people react poorly when they know little about a situation that they feel uncomfortable with.

She tried the entire show to understand what it must be like to live in a body that you don't feel is really yours. One of the women (former man) said, after being asked to explain why she wasn't just gay, 'Sex in in-between your legs, gender is in your head'.

Fascinating stuff! I sure don't understand it all - and I'm really not sure how I feel about it.

Still, what really moved me about the show is that here are these people, who believe something SO firmly about themselves and are willing to risk everything they have and believe in order to be themselves.

One of the things that Oprah said, which I guess is one of her catch phrases, is 'Live your truth'. She told one of the guests that she was so proud of them for living their truth.

It made me think. Am I living my truth? No this doesn't mean I think I'm a man. I don't. But your truth can be a million things.

So much to think about...both about others and myself. Never knew that Oprah could be so eye opening.

Music Memory Monday #3

Oh how I have the spirit of a Gypsy in my body. Recently we went on a small road trip. I love road trips. Love the time you get to spend thinking, the time you get to spend listening to music, the scenery that displays through the window, and the chance you get to experience, even for a moment, a new place.

On our trip this time I experienced a full-circle Music Memory Monday.

I've been road tripping for as long as I can remember. My parents liked to camp and visit family - and growing up where we did meant that we had to travel to do either. I distinctly remember singing this song while traveling in our brown station wagon, Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang! For years, all of mine to be exact, I thought my Mom made up this song.

It wasn't until this recent trip that I realized the song wasn't my Mom's. It came on the CD that I got from the library - and it almost broke my heart when I heard it. The minute it came on both of the boys said 'It's Grandma KK's song!'.

Well it might not be her song, but it will always be her song in my memory. Here now, with no music (but I know you'll know it!), and with pictures of images from our trip, it is:

(Pine Valley Mountain)

I love the mountains, I love the rolling hills.

(Temple Square flowers)

I love the flowers, I love the daffodils.

(Downtown Salt Lake when the lights are low)

I love the fireside, when the lights are low.

Boom-de-ya-da
Boom-de-ya-da
Boom-de-ya-da
Boom-de-yeah

Boom-boom-boom!

So much to say...

I have SO much to say and SO little time.

We just got home from Utah where I got to spend time with my grandparents. My grandpa has been in the ICU for 39 days...and it was amazing to have some time with him as he is healing.

More to come from all the things I've been thinking, reading about, and feeling.

Music Memory Monday #2

So you know how one of the fantasies of women (and men too I suppose) is to have a song written about you. Well for most of my life I thought the words to the Beatles' song went 'Rochelle ma belle' and not 'Michelle ma belle'. BIG difference.

Well, a few years ago I was listened to another song that I was sure I knew the lyrics to when WHAM, the carpet was pulled out from under me.

Let me start at the beginning. One day back in the late eighties, my Dad, my cousin Leslie, and I were in the car. I honestly cannot remember what spurred on the conversation, but my Dad mentioned the song (by the name I knew it) 'Rochelle ma belle'. Leslie then remarked that there would never be a song with her name. If I remember correctly she was going through a phase (one most of us do) where she wasn't thrilled with the name her parents had given her.

My Dad remarked that there was a song with her name in it! All of a sudden Groovin' by the Young Rascals came on. My Dad told us both to listen...and we sat and concentrated. I can remember this part so vividly. We were both silent (a miracle in itself), waiting and hoping for her name to appear.

And there it was:

"Life could be ecstasy...you and me and Leslie"

Every time this song comes on now I still can't believe that it's not 'Leslie' that they say. Though I will admit now how clear the word 'endlessly' is heard...I still want to say Leslie.

This whole incident remains such a magical moment in my mind, that I really am not sure how it happened. How the song came on at the right time or how my Dad remembered that 'endlessly' was part of it or knew to convert it to Leslie so easily.

Nor do I want to probe too deeply because it made my Dad such a rock star in my mind and I don't want to take that away from him.

(PS - this is the only clip I could find with the music. Skip to 0:30 to hear the line I'm referring to)

Music Memory Monday #1

Every culture has it's own traditions. I grew up Mormon and as late night TV will attest, Mormons have a lot of unique traditions. Jell-O, 'secret underwear', multiple-wives, etc.

However there is one tradition of Mormonism that goes untouched by the outside jokes. And while it is prime for humor it is one tradition that is adored - especially by me. Some may mock it, but sure enough, when they turned 14 they too were dying to participate. In fact, when my best friend TJ was here I was so tempted to try and find one just so that we could go.

Dances!!

Oh my friends. These are not your ordinary dance experiences like a prom or a college homecoming. The first difference between the two would be the people. At a prom or college homecoming you expect the same group of people to go to each one. At an LDS Church dance the crowd is as varied as a flurry of winter snowflakes. Economical, sociological, improvisational, and even theological differences all blend in to form one body, movin' and groovin' to the same, often 80's era, music.

I loved LDS dances. I was so excited to turn 14 so that I could go. Thrilled to find the first one in college. And even more thrilled to drag my friends weekly to the myriad of dances all over the valley throughout college. Especially when they were at Saltair. That meant hundreds of bodies crammed together for the joy of dance.

So it is fitting that my first Music Memory Monday begins with a memory from a dance in high school.

It must of been my sophomore year of high school - I'm not really sure. What I am sure of is that all through the night a certain young man, we'll call him Dan, kept asking me to dance. Now, I wasn't a snob in high school (at least not that I remember) but I did have my moments. I did NOT want to dance with Dan. Multiple times he asked...and multiple times I found an excuse to say decline.

Towards the end of a song (and the night) TJ, Amber and I saw Dan moving towards us. We attempted to move but couldn't get through the people. Dan came up and asked me again to dance, just as a new song came on...

If You Leave by OMD.

This is one of those strange songs that is neither slow nor fast. I told Dan we couldn't dance because it wasn't a slow song. His response "We can make it slow." No joke! I was stuck. I had no way to get out.

So we danced.

And every time they said 'I touched you once' he touched me once, and every time they said 'I touched you twice' he touched me twice. And of course, every time they said 'I won't let go at any price' he'd pull me close.

It was hilarious! I tried so hard not to laugh but the minute the song was over, I admit I all-but-ran to my friends to spill.

Even now, I cannot help but giggle like a girl with the memory of it.

Now you too can take yourself back to whatever memories you find with this song:

Music Memory Monday Intro

I figured that a great way to help me blog consistently would be to have some 'themes'. I think in the blog world they are sometimes called 'memes' but since I am not tagging anyone else to do them, we're just going to stick with 'theme'.

In preparation for the road trip I was going to take with my best-friend TJ (which never happened, sniff, sniff) I gathered up a collection of my music for us to groove to in the car. It is quite an eclectic collection - one that I am quite proud of. In compiling songs to listen to in the car packed with our four kids I had moments of flashback where the world around me seemed to sink into the past. Bright, vivid memories flashed before me as I listened to song after song after song. This isn't unique.

Many of us recall our memories through music. Either we attach the memory to the song or the song triggers a thought which triggers the memory. Plenty of studies have been done confirming this link. Still, I barely remember anything so when a song comes on and my mind hits the rewind time button, I am giddy. I figured, what better way to capture my memories than sharing my walks down the lane with you!!

I'll admit to being less-versed in music than others but that doesn't mean I'm completely in the dark. I'm sure some of you will laugh at the music I choose each week for Music Memory Monday but that's ok too. Hopefully you will laugh at my stories as well - and be prompted to recall your own music memories.

The deep prodding and poking into my hippocampi starts tomorrow!

Enjoy!

What do you pack?

This seems so trivial...but I am so consumed by emotion that this seems like the one thing I can focus on. What do you pack when you are headed to what might be the last week of someone's life? My grandpa is 84. He's been aging quickly this past year. Until this year you would have thought he was in his 70's. Wednesday found him in the ER, and then in the hospital, and today he took a turn for the worse. Now my whole family, including us, are on our way to see him. It might be the end for him. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready to let him go. I'm not ready to say goodbye. I am so angry. This isn't how life should work.

And I keep going back to my suitcase wondering what the hell I'm supposed to pack.

Lunch with Old McDonald

Wi & Wa think that the man who owns Old McDonald's farm also owns McDonalds. Granted the Kroc family has tons of moola and might just own a farm, but it's funny when they ask if we can go to Old McDonalds.

Actually it is not funny. My Mom made a comment a few weeks ago that my boys had been to more fast food places in their short three years than we (her own children) did during our whole time at her house. She did not mean it as an attack, nor does she think of it as a negative. They had less money and less access than we do now.

Still, I never wanted to be one of those parents. And yet lack of planning on my part means that I am swinging through a drive-thru grabbing grub.

A few months ago E and I made the decision to cut back on our fast food. This isn't the first time we have revamped our eating habits. Partly because eating out wastes money and partly because eating out adds pounds really quickly. This time we added a new reason, and it has me viewing eating in a different light. The reason started when Wa tried to get a drink of my Diet Coke. And I refused, causing him to through a gigantic fit. Then I realized, I was drinking something that I wouldn't let my kid drink. Why? Shouldn't I feel comfy that the things I am giving myself are things I can give my kids?

So the other day when the boys asked if we could go to Old McDonalds I immediately said no. Here's the thing, they did not want to go there to eat, but rather to play in the playland. I'll refrain from a tangent on the massive marketing ploys that are directed at kids, but since I gave into going this time, I cannot.

I packed PB&Hs, juice boxes, and treats and headed to the golden arches. I went knowing that I was going to buy apples there, since we didn't have any fresh fruit at home. I figured I would still be a 'paying customer' but on my terms but then allowing us to use the playland.

It worked. The staff at McDonalds said nothing to me. The boys at their food and played on the playland. In fact they ate their sandwiches better than they have ever eaten their chicken nuggets.

Then again, it didn't work. The revolt that I was expecting from the staff came from a place I wasn't expecting. The other moms. I say moms not because I am sexist but because on this day at this time, it was only moms. I was absolutely surprised by how many moms, having said nothing to me during our other outings to McDonalds, spoke to me. And there was only one subject 'Are those peanut butter sandwiches?'. To be fair, I'm not sure if the comments stemmed from the moms wondering why they'd never hatched such a plan or if they were judging me. It felt like the latter. Especially when one mom, who was clearly judging me, picked up her food from our table and said that she was moving tables because she 'did not want to make my kids jealous'.

At some point I'll blog on the 'mommy world' which is sometimes worse than high school. But for now I think I'll need to say is:

What?!?!

That's ok. If she doesn't want my kids to be jealous of her kids' death meals that's fine by me. I will say that in my head I wanted to walk up to her and tell her kids that Ronald McDonald killed Old McDonald's chicken and cows in order to make their food.

E-I-E-I-O!!!

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Now playing: Chicago Public Radio - #339: Break-Up
via FoxyTunes

Oh the places I'll go...

I'm feeling overly wanderlusty today. Not sure what the reason is. Maybe it is because we've traveled a lot in the past few months. Nothing far but travel nonetheless. For my high school graduation my Mom gave me this book:




The reason for the gift had more to do with the adventures that I would have and the life experiences I was about to encounter than actual places to visit. Regardless my parents have always done a good job of providing us with adventures of exploring new places and peoples. That foundation has led each of us to have a hunger for travel and exploration. Some of us kids do it more than others...





Looking at this map of all of the states that I have been makes me realize how much more there is to see. It's funny though because my desire is not just to 'travel' to the various places I haven't been, but to really experience the places I go. That was the best part of Chicago this last trip. My sister and I were in no rush to do the touristy things...but rather to breathe in the city itself. For a moment there I felt like I belonged. That is how I prefer to travel. Not a quest to see the things that others have deemed important, but rather to find myself in the places that others have built and sustained.

Unfortunately my next trip, via Megabus will only fuel my desire to be moving...not my desire to explore.

Time to start planning a trip!

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Now playing: Priscilla Ahn - I Don't Think So
via FoxyTunes

Dream

This song captures so much for me. The music video is like the song, simple and innocent.

I'm ready now....to fly.

Intestinal Fortitude

Being a Mom has introduced me, even just in three short years, to many experiences and subjects that I'd rather have died without knowing. And this summer has involved my most hated of subjects:

Poop.

I hate poop.

I hate talking about poop.

I hate knowing that people have to go poop.

I even lied to my husband the first year of our marriage by telling him I never did. I wish that were true. I'd be first in line for the surgery if there was one.

So when you are a coprophobe or a rhypophobe (who knew there were actual poop-phobes!), potty training your child is not a easy thing to do. You have to talk about poop A LOT! And you have to deal with poop A LOT! On the floor, on their clothes, on their bodies, and sometimes, in the toilet.

'Sweetie do you need to go poo-poo?'
'Oh what a big boy! You did a poo-poo in the potty'
'Honey, we do not poop on the kitchen floor'

I know, I know. I am strange. You probably come from the Taro Gomi school of bodily functions. The land where everyone poops and gas is something we pass. In fact, I know one friend of mine, in his college days, even had a poster, something like this. He thought it was hilarious and asked my opinion once...how is one even supposed to respond? My sister-in-law will go on and on about the importance of regular bowel movements in order to have overall good health. Or you at least realize it happens, accept it, and do your thing without much thought or consternation (or is it constipation!).

This is not my world!

However, today something magical happened. It is impetus for this post and for my overall happy demeanor.

Wi, my oldest, pooped in the potty. I wasn't sitting there with him, hoping it would happen, reading stories. He walked into the bathroom, put his potty chair on, and did his thing. I went in and he was standing, looking into the potty. His face lit up with glee! We stood, the two of us, staring at the offering he had given the porcelain God.

And I haven't talked about anything else all day.

My Many Colored Days

I think it is the nature of being human that we have days that range in emotion and mood. I tend to be more emotional than the average Jane. I realize that and accept it. Dr. Seuss hit it right on the head when he wrote "You'd be surprised how many ways you change on different colored days".

Lei has a really good blog called 'my many colored days' - and it helps to remind me that I am not alone in my emotions in this world of ours. Not to mention that most of my friends, especially those that are moms or dads, share stories from the days they label with all colors of the rainbow.

Today though, at least at this moment, feels very blue. In fact, I feel much like this:



Now I know we all prefer it when our friends, loved ones, or bloggers are 'pretty and witty and gay' - and on most days sunshine yellow is the crayon I'd color my day with.

Today started out optimistically enough. E and I awoke early. E headed to work and I got the boys ready for a visit to their Aunt P's. E and I were meeting later at the DMV. Now right there you can probably guess why my day went from a blank canvas to a blue day. However, despite the long line to get into the building, my initial two hours at the DMV went really well. We had our two vehicles inspected - not at the same time but by the same wonderful employee*. E and I both got our personal license plates ordered. (At one point in time I would have thought personalized plates were for rich folks...but they are only $8 more than the standard)

It really wasn't until I was informed, by the incredibly nice desk worker*, that we would need to pay the state 'use tax'. Granted this was posted on the website, right on the checklist I was working from (though I am loathe to admit it) and I should have realized this.

Needless to say after a move, a summer of trips, expenses we did not plan for (life!), and the purchase of a was-at-one-point-new car...the $1300 'use tax' was not in our plans. Now, since they know we are here and need to register we are between a rock and a hard place. If we register late, we incur a fine.

ROCK - US - HARD PLACE



This, combined with the potty training we are attempting at home, has made me reach into Crayola land. The only real question is whether the day will be cornflower, aquamarine, denim, or midnight.

Capone, Monet, and me...

Oh all things holy and good, I am tired!

My sister and I arrived back into LA at 9:00am from our adventures in Chicago. My cousin lives in the Edgewater/Andersonville district of Chicago (see the picture below) and she was the hostess for the trip.

This is Edgewater, and yes I have walked down this street and know my way around...sort of...


There is so much to tell and so many hilarious stories to share. Still, given that my sister and I decided to try and sleep at the airport rather than at my cousin's, you can imagine that I am a little pooped. Plus the boys both have colds and I think mine is right around the corner.

However, I know you are all dying to hear some news so I'll share with you a few highlights:

- Being propositioned (yes, that kind of proposition) by a crazy sixty-year-old crackhead on the way to the airport.

- Standing in the amazing spaces that Frank Lloyd Wright imagined and created.

- Watching the fireworks and decorated boats during the Venetian Night celebration.

- Trying to sleep in the airport with a towel as a blanket because it was freezing!

- Taking the time to just sit and experience the energy of the city.

- Having enough time to stare intently at each version of Haystacks by Claude Monet and being able to finally decide which was my favorite.

- Realizing the simple truth that people raise their children everywhere, finding adventures for their family, the same way I do, in wherever they may be.

- Riding down the Chicago River, wind in my hair, sun in my face, and the spirit and brilliance of great minds who built the city around me.

- Drinks and jazz at the Green Mill (Al Capone's joint) with Patricia Barber & Quartet.

- Time with my sister that was never boring, bothersome, or stressful. It was time that we gave each other to continue strengthening our relationship.

I could easily put Chicago, cold weather and all, on my list of places to call home at some point. If you have not been there, I highly suggest it as a place you spend some time in.

And now it's time for a nap...

I'm looking for Abe Froman!

In about three hours my sister and I leave for our trip to Chicago! I have not been all that excited - probably because I've had company all this week and haven't been able to organize :)

Now that I am packed and my sister is here, the countdown has begun!

While this trip will be tons of fun, especially since Noonie has never been there before, I am glad for the time I will get to spend being quiet. Noonie is an introvert and by nature will need some solitude which will afford me with my own.

And in typical me form, I have created some goals for myself for my quiet time:

1) Just sit. No iPod. No book. No phone. No conversation.
2) Think about bio vs. adoption for baby #3. Why do I feel such a need to have another bio baby....
3) What's next for me? School? Work? And why...

Phew - now that I've done my goals I think I can actually get on the plane!

Chicago - here we come!

Oh, please!

Yesterday morning I opened my email. I check my email as often as I can but it is always full of messages - mostly junk that make it into my inbox or emails that come from mailing lists I subscribe to.

There were seventeen of those type emails - not a problem since I have my handy little 'delete' button. However, there was one that caught my attention. The subject was:

'Hello from an old friend!'

Yeah, I know...most messages bearing this name are from people in foreign countries with dead relatives hoping to give me lots of money. Still I opened it.

It was from someone who wrote in a very friendly tone about how he hoped we were all doing well and that things in his life were good - including the fact that he started a new insurance business. The rest of the email was an image of his sales sheet with plans and rates for his insurance.

First, I have no idea who this person was.
I did notice that all of the other people being emailed, since he did not blind cc us, were from my high school. In fact, the list looked just like the alumni list on our high school website.

Second, I hate this type of marketing.
If I did know this person I would be happy to get an email from him with information about his life, including that he started a new business - but I don't want the sales sheet.

So, I responded:

"Dear _______,

Good luck with your new business.

I would like to be removed from your mailing list. I do not recognize your name at all, let alone as someone I would call an 'old friend'. You are violating section 3 of the CAN-SPAM email advertising laws.

Thank you,

Me"

This morning I opened my email and - VOILA! I had a response from my good 'old friend'. He said it was too bad that I did not recognize his name since we went to high school together but that he would remove me from his list. He said that he hoped his other 'old friends' would be more supportive than I was of his efforts.

OH PLEASE!!

Maybe we did go to high school together. His name does not ring any bells but I'm too lazy to actually pull out the yearbook. Still, if your marketing efforts include sitting on your butt sending out emails to a list of people that you get from your 'alumni' website than you're going to need more than good luck to be successful! Add to that the personal comment he added in his response back to me, and you've got one interesting business man. Just remove me from the list!

Life is funny.

Five things: Tag, I'm it!

My oh-so-lovely best friend tagged me to do this a few days ago- and since I am up late doing nothing else, now seems like a good time to do it!

This is called 'Five Things' but five is not the theme...guess not everyone is as Type A as I am, so here goes:

Rule #1: Remove the blog site at the top of the list below, move all the blog site names up one, and add yourself to the bottom.

LDS Writers Blogck
Tristi Pinkston
Lords of the Manor
Life as a Military Wife
The Life I Imagine

What were you doing ten years ago?
I had just turned 19! I had stayed in Utah instead of coming home for the summer. I was working for Kaplan - living with Gladyris - mourning the loss of a boyfriend - and having a blast! We spent my birthday at my friend Alan's apartment where we went swimming, danced, and ate a bunch of college-style crap. Oh, and Shelly, Liz and I did water ballet in the pool. Ha!

What were you doing one year ago?
Let's see. You know, I really can't remember. I think I had just turned 19 for the eighth time. Oh, but I do know I got some great gifts from my boys!

Five snacks you enjoy
(in no particular order)

1. Cheez-Its
2. grapes
3. edamame
4. ice
5. orange creme yogurt

Five songs you know all the lyrics to:

1. Sin, Sin, Sin by Robbie Williams
2. You Are My Sunshine
3. Defying Gravity from Wicked
4. It's Hard to Say by Sister Hazel
5. Brown-Eyed Girl, Van Morrison

Things you would do if you were a millionaire:

1. Pay off our debt
2. Start a non-profit - probably for single moms or low-income children.
3. Buy more Apple stock...and invest in some other hot stocks.
4. Finally buy a ticket to San Antonio :) Plus other tickets to the million places I'd like to go.
5. Put my boys in a fantastic private school when the time comes.

Five bad habits

1. picking scars
2. worrying too much
3. scratching my throat
4. backseat driving (oh, I am horrible at this and I HATE it!)
5. slouching

Five things you like to do

1. talk to people - though I prefer to do it in person
2. read, read, and more reading
3. watch my kids discover new things
4. play games with my hubby
5. relax in the water (pool, tub, ocean...doesn't matter)

Five things you will never wear again

1. big-frame glasses
2. denim dress
3. jelly shoes
4. a wedding dress
5. anything neon

Five favorite toys

1. iPod
2. label maker
3. my kids' imaginations
4. a deck of cards
5. my current collection of books

Where will you be in ten years?
Ideally, in another country, with several more children, a degree or two or three, a productive non-profit. Happy. With friends and with the ability to fly home frequently to see other friends and family.

Tag five friends to complete this survey for themselves:

Um...anyone who wants to! I love reading these.


You're tagged.....

Actions speak louder...

Today I was unloading and then reloading the dishwasher. This isn't anything abnormal, I do it every day, and sometimes twice a day. However today my sister-in-law is in town and was talking to me as I was unloading. I made a comment about how funny it was to me that I live with three other adults and yet no one else loads their own dishes. Let me be clear: they will load their own dishes IF the dishwasher is empty. However everyone will stack their dishes in the sink if the dishwasher is full. I realize that this is pretty common - but what is funny to me is the amount of lectures I endured as a child about chores and chore-sharing, including making sure we put our own dishes into the dishwasher every time we used it.

Somehow we got talking about things in her family. She made the comment that her mom expected them to load the dishes as well. Since my experience with the family has been very different, I commented that I never thought her mom expected them to do chores, of any kind. I remember vividly my first dinner there: my mother-in-law had worked in the kitchen all day to make a Thanksgiving-esque dinner and then afterwards cleaned it all up with the help of one child and myself. The others made no effort - even my husband. But I digress...

My sister-in-law continued by saying that even though her mom expected everyone to do chores, she never enforced it. In fact it is commonly known that my mother-in-law will take the dishes out of the dishwasher and reload them in order to get the most loaded in. So, if you do try to be helpful by loading the dishwasher, she'll undo it. Now the kids stopped doing stuff because she'll always go back and redo it.

I've known this for a long about her...but it really made me think yesterday. Here she is, desirous to have her children help, but undermining their every effort. Why would it be a surprise that her kids stop helping?

How often do we do this? We want something to happen or we expect help, yet we bite the hand that helps us? I know for myself this has been an issue. My mode of operation is quite different than my husband's and when I ask him to do something I often end up upset that it did not get done the way I wanted it to be - even though it gone done.

I heard something on NPR today after we were driving in the car. This woman was talking about how she nags - and how she came to feel that nagging is really an expression of superiority. The person nagging feels that whatever they think and/or do is better than that of the other(s).

Have you ever heard something that initially feels so dead-wrong...but the more that you think about it you realize that it feels so wrong only because it is so true of you? This was that statement for me. Yeah, I often think that however I do something makes more sense than how others might choose to do it.

Now I am looking around at all of the things that I reorganize, re-plan, redo - or the things that I undermine by not allowing the person to do what I ask...

I want people to feel that they can do their roles in life as well as I know they can - and often times better than I can do it. And I want to be able to let go and let them do their own thing.

I wanna be Lou Manahan!

So I was originally going to call this post 'I want to kill myself' but I figured that would spark a frenzy of worry that would spread like a wildfire through the three people who read this blog.

Let me be clear. This is not a cry for help. I do not want to kill myself - well not literally. Rather, I'd like to just pretend to have died and yet not have to do any of the actually suicide part.

I was on the phone with my best friend, TJ, talking about the frustration I am feeling about an upcoming trip I am making and my attempt to 'surprise' someone, which is turning more and more into a given, and not by my choice.

The complaint in a minute:
My children and I are taking a road trip. On said road trip we were hoping to surprise someone. I contacted another person in the hopes to get help with the surprise but also make sure that there were no conflicts with us visiting. This 'other person' is having trouble keeping it a secret and is asking for me to stop keeping it a secret. Bottom line is that it has become a control issue between me, the 'other person', and the person to be surprised.
Ok, my minute is over.

So I was telling TJ about the problem and how it would be great if we could just not have to deal with stuff like this and the other stuff she and I were talking about. TJ mentioned that in a show she'd watched, a character, Lou Manahan, had faked his own suicide as a method of escaping his life.

That sounds wonderful to me! I'd let a select few, my kids, maybe a couple of family members plus one friend, know that I'm really ok. Then I'd have a funeral, hear all the nice things people had to say about me, let them say goodbye, and it would be done.

Of course that isn't fair...making people grieve as a way for me to escape relationships, but still. And suicide is a serious issue - and I've lost friends unnecessarily to it. But if you for one moment forget that, there is something calming about never having to answer the phone calls from the people you don't want to talk to, to escape the bills, the expectations, etc.

In reality, just like Lou Manahan, I'd get to my own memorial service, break out in tears, and revel the truth to everyone. Then I'd have to live with the guilt that I feel about the whole thing.

Still...

Words and Deeds

I did something today that I rarely do. I flipped through the blogs here on Blogger. Quite the variety I must say. As I was flipping I kept thinking about the need I had to update my own blog as well as the one I keep for the boys. And I even knew what subject I needed to blog about - but did not know where to start. Then I happened upon a blog, that I didn't even read, but I saw this quote:

Watch your thoughts, they become your words. Watch your words, they become your actions Watch your actions, they become your habits Watch our habits, they become your character Watch your character, it becomes your destiny.

I've been thinking about this very subject a lot lately. I've been listening, or replaying, the conversations that I've had with people lately...and I'm not all the impressed with myself. Even I haven't said things out loud, the things I've been thinking, the judgments I've made, the labels I've placed --- are really not me.

Really not me at all. One of my all-time-favorite quotes is from Mother Theresa. She says, 'If you judge people you have no time to love them'. The opposite is true as well that if you love someone you have no time to judge them.

And I'm wasting time not loving people and make judgments about them instead. I'm not sure why I am in this phase of my life. The difficult part about it is that I am in a place where I really want people to be wholly accepting of me - yet I find myself saying things that I don't believe or even agree with. Sometimes just to please the people that I am talking with who believe what they are saying...

Part of it is because of the recent move. I find myself in the middle of a lot of people. I'm in between Eric and my parents. I field questions from my parents about him, I listen to their concerns about us and then have to talk about them with Eric later. I watch my parents, who are also opposites socially, step on each others' toes and feel as though I should mediate. Or I get pulled between them when it comes to events and activities.

I am also in the middle of who I was before I moved from CA and who I am now. That is probably the toughest part of the move. People just expect that I am the same person they knew from back when. In many respects I am, and in others I couldn't be more different.

My original goal when we moved back was to get settled, get into some good routines, and help the boys make a good adjustment. Now that I have done that and feel as though we are in a good place - it is my turn to self-reflect and make some changes.

It is vitally important to me to be respectful of other people. This means that their choices are theirs alone and not mine to correct, critique, or condemn. It means that I need to honor them by returning phone calls, sharing my time with them like they do with me, and being honest with them. Honest about who I am, what kind of time I have, what kind of energy I have, and what kind of friend I can be to them.

If someone were keeping record of me, I wouldn't want to be labled by the things I've done and said as of late. Rather, I'd like to try and take the time to say what I mean, mean what I say, and keep my mouth quiet and my spirit calm, the rest of the time.

My greatest fear....

Ok - so this really isn't my greatest fear. Not by a long shot.

But I have no idea why potty training my children, or even just the notion of undertaking the training, is testing every nerve I've ever had. We have attempted to potty train Will before, only to be met with severe resistance over it. Of course all Doctors say not to force the issue...so we backed off.

Well he's been showing signs that he is ready - but I am not showing any signs that I am ready to do this! In fact, as I type this he is sitting here watching his potty movie that he picked out. This movie sure isn't inspiring me...it's basically a bathroom musical with songs like:

'Doin The Potty Dance'
'Me Potty Wotty'
'I'm a Hottie for the Potty'
'I've Gotta Go'

And what is most humorous about it to me is that it really doesn't show potty time, but rather a group of kids (all WAY past potty training age) dancing to the potty songs. Hilarious! I'd like to know if the person who choreographed this actually put it down on his/her resume.

At least it is taking the edge off my nerves...I just don't want to start this and have him back out of it. We have such a busy summer and then he starts preschool in the fall - so it just feels like this would be the best time.

It's so funny - I have done many things in my life that have pushed me out of my comfort zone, emotionally, intellectually, personally...but I haven't felt this apprehensive about something for a long time!

This is the kind of stuff that makes me long for the days when I worked sixty to seventy hours a week...at least in that crazy world my apprehension didn't involve pee-pee and poo-poo and a three year-old's emotions!

Well, wish us luck!

Loathing...

I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with the popular musical Wicked, but it is one of my all-time favorites.

Shortly after our move to CA I was fortunate to hop in the car with friends and family (a total of 50 of us saw it!) and head to the famous Pantages Theatre for the event. Once there my senses, as they had the two times I saw it before, were flooded and my emotions overwhelmed by the voices, powered by heart-hitting lyrics.

One the way home I rode with my Mom, and two of our mutual friends. The car was abuzz with the post-theatre conversation, each of us trying to maintain small talk while also thinking back to moments from the evening, and of course reliving the drug-like highs and lows the music led us to.

At some point my Mom and her friend S starting talking about whether the musical had cheered S for her upcoming surgery. I was lost in my own world (imagining myself on stage probably) and wasn't paying too much attention. Then I heard it...

Cancer. Breast cancer.

The music in my head stopped, and so did my heart. I felt myself staring at S intently as if trying to read her own thoughts - or staring as if the cancer was going to jump out and say boo to me. I was, am, shocked, scared, freaked out, sad...

You see, this is my very first encounter with cancer - of any form. I haven't known anyone else that has been diagnosed, I know no survivors, and I have lost no one to it. I have heard the statistics every year of my life: 1 out of 8 women will get it. 1 out of 33 will loose their life to it. 40,000+ women will die in 2007 from it. I've walked in the Susan G. Komen walk. I've donated my time and my money - to a cause that I felt was valid but foreign.

But I have never sat in the same car as someone with it. I have never watched someone's eyes as they try to explain how they feel, the fear they have, what they worry about. S is about the strongest person that I know. And humorous, in a blunt way. In fact, when I was younger she pulled me and a friend aside and told us that if we straightened our posture our boobs would look bigger. I reminded her of the story, and then feeling like an idiot for mentioning bigger boobs to someone about to lose one, muttered apologies.

S had her surgery last week. This week she met with her oncologist to talk about her chemo/radiation regime. My Mom spoke with her the morning of the surgery - and relayed this story. Like anyone, S had a hard time sleeping. Not knowing how she would feel, what they would find, kept her up most of the night.

And what kept running through her head...the song 'Loathing' from Wicked. It gave her a strange sense of peace and put a smile on her face to sing it to her cancer.

With simple utter loathing,
There's a strange exhilaration,
In such total detestation,
It's so pure and strong.

I wish I knew the right thing to say to S during this time. I am glad that she, like most in her position, just want to hear something, even if it's not the right thing.

I do know this. She is tougher than this. And as much as she might loathe it now, she will not be loathing it her whole life long. Those around her, just like those watching a musical, will find themselves lost in her brilliance, dancing to her music, and wanting the bravery she gained on her stage.

CA: The List

I haven't had the time I need to blog sufficiently about our move here to CA. However, in response to a friend's email I created this list, which I thought explained our first three weeks living here really well. Enjoy!

Number of times we've ridden the bus: 2
Number of times we've eaten as a family: 14 (plus weekends)
Number of times a kid has fallen into the pool: 1
Number of times a kid has escaped and run down the street: 7
Number of museums we've been to: 5
Number of times Will has told us that he hears the doves: ENDLESS
Number of story times we've been to: 4
Number of kid proof door handles we've bought: 7
Number of door handles in the house: 9
Number of friends the boys' have made: 4
Number of new teeth Walker has: 1
Number of celiac disease books I've purchased: 6
Number of celiac disease books I've read: 3/4 of 1
Number of new recipes I've tried: 5
Number of times I've seen Wicked: 1
Number of nights Will has slept with us: 7 (and counting....)
Number of times I've mowed the lawn: 3
Number of times I've moved the lawn with Walker on my shoulders: 3
Number of times we've played hide-and-seek in the backyard: 2
Number of trips to the beach: 1 (I know, we're lacking in that area)
Number of times I've been glad that we are here: every day
Number of times I wish we were somewhere else: every once in a while (usually when paying for parking or looking at smog)

Fortune

Fortune is a magnificent word. As I type today I am filled with swirling emotions that cloud my mind and tears that cloud my eyes.

This is move week. After Saturday I will no longer live in this apartment. This is the apartment that I brought my two babies home to. This is the apartment that I have rearranged a million times to feng shui, or make more inviting, or more baby friendly.

When I walk outside I am surrounded by beauty - every season. I can spy several friends houses from my front porch. I can feel memories in every space I walk in, indoors and out.

The past few weeks I have felt so self-absorbed as I have tried to pack things, play with my kids, and not loose my sanity. I've been focused on boxes, on donation trips, on what to keep and what to sell. I've been consumed with being a full-time Mom with long nights alone and little sleep. Mostly I've spent my time trying hard NOT to start saying goodbye and not to let my emotions run me over.

Yet, as I sit here finally lost in my emotions (thanks to a movie clip from my Mom), I am overwhelmed with one feeling. Fortune. What a great fortune I was given here in this town. How incredibly fortunate I, no, we, have been to be enveloped by the friends here. Some we have had for what seems like a lifetime. Others that I know I will regret not knowing a lifetime. And incredibly fortunate for the family I have - the husband who is willing to leave for a month to start a new job with 100% faith in me that I'd get things done without going completely crazy. And I am grateful, as compared to the video, that it was only a month.

There is just so much. That is how I feel. There is just so much to say goodbye to. There are so many memories to try and hold on to. There are so many people to hug one last time.

Thank you everyone. For really making this place much more than a stopping point in my life. Thank you for the education, frustration, support, energy, new lives, and library of memories.

And please forgive me if I ignored you a little too much - or didn't always have the time to spend with you - or did not return all of your phone calls. It is a complete reflection of me and my crazy world, and not my love for you at all.

I feel like our move is a little like a fortune cookie. You get it, it has this great message, but you aren't sure what to make of it. California feels a lot like that for me. I'm not sure what to expect or what to envision. A lot like when I first moved here. So maybe fortune will be on my side again....

For now, consider yourself fortunate because there will be no more posting from me until the move is officially over!

Customer Service 101

I have been accused of some interesting things in my life. Some, unfortunately true. Like the time I told someone that I'd had 'Sex on the Beach'. I was referring to a drink - which I didn't have either. Nevertheless, it was a lie. And the guy I told it too soon after called me a liar. Some, fortunately false. Like the call I got from the Better Business Bureau when I worked for K, accusing me of some unfair business practices and horrid customer service. After a nice, drawn out letter-written battle, I got a respectful apology from the BBB and from the once offended student.

Being a red/blue personality has led me to some hard predicaments. My red personality wants to be fair in all my encounters, and my blue personality wants me to take all personal situations into account. This being said, I have always struggled to do what is right for the company and also for the customer.



You see, the customer is not always right. At least not be right in terms of being correct. Someone who only gave a ten dollar bill but swears they paid with a twenty, is not right. However it is also true that one negative comment or experience will spread like wildfire. A good comment or experience will only be related occasionally. I know this from having worked for fifteen plus years in the service industry. I know this from reading business strategy and methodology books. I know this from the anecdotal data on my Mommies Forum where women get together to chant, and where one discussion board is devoted solely to 'Businesses we love or hate'. Trust me, there is more hate than love there.

So it shouldn't surprise you now that I am about to share a 'hate' story with you. I have lots of good and lots of love - and sometimes I will post about the great service I always get at my neighborhood grocers , or the incredibly warm and respectful treatment I get from Wi&Wa's Dr (she has no website), or the fresh, delicious, and highly addictive food that I adore from Costa Vida.

Today's story isn't as lovely as any of the above mentioned. In fact, it is better worded here in it's original context:

A Load of Bull

What made me even madder was reading the comments. Several people talk about how the military wife shouldn't get special treatment since her hubby is in Iraq. That is neither here nor there. The radio station was having a contest FOR family members or stationed soldiers.

One person, Lloyd, even comments that given the nature of contests and people who try to win them, that no one can be trusted. He says:
"Ok Ok Ok, any radio jock will tell you that people will do whatever they feel is necessary to get ‘free stuff.’ They will beg, they will lie, they will even make up stories to make you believe that they really won something when they didn’t."

Later, in response to another comment which stated that KBULL's customer service needed some help, he replies:
"Customers? I think we will call them listeners. The radio stations do incredible work to prepare shows, showcase new music, AND they give out free stuff."

Wow - the absurdity is just leaking all of the place in those statements.

1 - Radio station listeners are customers. Any good program manager or program director will recognize that. Given that radio stations get money from sponsors and advertisers it is in their best interest to play the music that will be attract their 'customers' as well as produce commercials that are alluring to the 'customers' who are listening.
2 - The fact (or at least statement) that radio stations do incredible work to prepare their shows and showcase new music means nothing. This is their job. Should they fail to do a good job it doesn't hurt the listeners - there will always be other radio stations. Doing this says nothing about their good work ethic and relates directly to their attempts to stay in said business.
3 - 'AND they give out free stuff'. I just don't know where to start on this one. The whole notion that we are so indebted to radio stations for their act of giving out free stuff is just mind-boggling. Since E worked for two prominent radio stations I feel factual in saying this - RADIO STATIONS RECEIVE MOST OF THEIR FREE STUFF, FOR FREE! They are not buying concert tickets and then giving them away. The get promo tickets. Those amazing coffee mugs, foam fingers, and t-shirts - promotional items, usually made available to them for free by one of their advertisers.

While the situation with Emily's friend is unfortunate - and I've already expressed my opinion to K-BULL regarding it - my real sadness comes from the lack of common sense and customer service etiquette from both K-BULL and some of the bloggers' comments.

See here is the truth - K-BULL will stay on the radio. Maybe they'll issue an apology. Maybe they won't. They will get bombarded with people who are angry about the treatment of this woman. They will loose some listeners. They will probably mock this entire incident and continue to place blame on anyone but themselves. This will always happen as long as people who get treated badly do not stand up for themselves. You see, my blog comes after reading ten other blogs on this same incident. I have sent an email with the story out to all of my friends and posted it on my mommy forum. I am fueling the fire and I am ok if the fire doesn't burn down K-BULL.

What I am not ok with is people, like Lloyd, who have their heads stuck so far up their asses that they have deluded themselves into believing that behavior like this is excusable or at the very worst, ok! This is what I really want changed. Then, by the very nature of having people change stations like K-BULL would never be survive.

So they next time you get shoddy service, express it. You don't have to get all of your friends to call the place, just talk with the manager. Express it in calm tones and an open mind.

And the next time you get amazing service - above average service - express it too! After that McDonalds drive-thru employee treats you really nice and calls you Miss instead of Ma'am, grab your cell phone and call the 1-800 number they have posted on their window.

Either one makes a difference. And though I am far too much of a realist to think that any of this will extinguish all of the rude, incompetent Lloyds out there - it will make a difference in how you feel in situations and hopefully, in how the business acts in future situations.

It's not you, it's me...

The dreaded line of 'It's not you, it's me'. Quite the staple of any relationship break up. You hate to be the one to hear it and you hate to be the one to use it, just because they might ask you to explain it more.

So here is my dilemma. I need a break-up. With my friends. No not all of them. Not even the majority of them. You know how you have those friends in your life who seem to call only to talk about themselves and always need you to wear your 'therapist' hat?

Well I seem to be surrounded by them. And I am so tired, physically, emotionally, mentally! Between the upcoming move, ending a rough semester of school, working on a convention, having two young kids, my own depression, and now finding out Wi has celiac disease - I just have a lot on my plate.

But they keep calling. One because her husband lost his job, can't seem to find another job, and they are in drama. They are always in drama. One because he just accepted that he is gay. No doubt he will need lots of love and support. One because her boyfriend dumped her and she really needs to talk.

And it's not just that - it's that every time we talk it is always about them. Like my friend just called, and I'm pooped and it is obvious. He asks how I am, I start explaining and when I am done, there is nothing. No response, no 'Gosh, that sucks' or 'How can I help' or 'That must be hard'. Instead, it turns right into the reason that he called me. How does he tell his best friend that he is gay.

And I just cannot do it. I cannot be the ones to walk them both through everything right now. I have my heart and soul and mind full. Right now I feel like I really need people to talk to.

So what do I do? I feel like ignoring their calls and their messages is mean, and just not me. Yet I feel like telling them I cannot be their friend anymore is mean too.

How do I say 'It's not you, it's me' and have it not hurt? I love these people. I really do. They have been wonderful people in my life at different times and for different reasons.

I just feel evil. Am I not trying to hurt them? Or am I not trying to hurt myself by having someone in the world that just might not like me.

6:26

6:26am - today: driving my car on the way to my future home - staring the road down, feeling keenly aware of my vulnerability having my two children in the car, watching the sunrise on the 26th day of April of this year. Driving to see my husband who has been working a new job, starting a new life, one that we will all join shortly enough. It feels so strange to leave something that has defined me for so long. Looking at my oldest child, and then my youngest, and knowing that we are doing the right thing.

6:26am - three years ago: pushing my body to it's limits to bring my oldest into the world - staring at my husband, feeling keenly away of my vulnerability being mostly naked with family in the room, watching my child's birth day rise on the 26th day of April, 2004. Feeling so strange to start something that will define me forever. Looking at my newborn child and knowing we had done something right.

Happy Birthday Sweetheart Boy.

Meez

Totally wasting time not wanting to do the dishes:



Looks close enough to me - just add SEVERAL pounds!!

You can make your own at Meez!

Arm yourself!

I just don't get it. When you go to hug someone and they reach out with only one arm. WHAT IS THAT!?!?! It's not a hug, it's like a sloppy handshake. I'm not sure what is worse, the dead-fish handshake or the one-armed hug.

Seriously, I will not be offended if you do not want to hug. I have a cousin who prefers not to hug, and ever time I see him we exchange a warm handshake. And I love it! It's him.

But if you are going to hug someone, use both of your arms. A one arm hug makes people feel awkward and misled. Not misled like 'I guess we aren't going to sleep together' but misled like 'Shoot, I just hugged them with two arms. Did I make them uncomfortable?'

Hugs don't usually last more than ten seconds - which isn't long. I realize that hugging makes some people uncomforable, but ten seconds or less will not kill you.

I'm not asking for a french kiss from everyone*, just two arms.

So if you greet me firm up that handshake or open up both arms!




*Robbie Williams IS excluded from this. From him I do ask for a french kiss.*

My Archenemy

As if I need a reason to clean my house more often - that my OCD is not enough already - my archenemy appeared today.



I hate ants. Nothing makes me more crazy than finding ants in my house. Ants outside, that's fine. That's their territory. In my house though they are invaders and need to be killed even if I must do it one teeny tiny ant at a time.

Of course this means I will get rejected from the study of Buddhism. There are Buddhists in Malaysia who are letting ants just keep building their little ant hills while the Buddhists try just blowing or flicking them off in a way to try and prevent hurt or death to the creatures. Well they are just better people than I am - and I'm ok with that. I take pleasure in getting rid of the ants in my house, whatever torturous method that takes.

Now Wikipedia tells me that ants are of particular interest because of their highly organized colonies or nests. So that tells me that if I were an insect, I would be an ant. No doubt the Queen ant. Or at least in my mind I would be. Still, this is my house and my colony!

So now my kitchen, which I scrubbed uber-clean last night, is shining once again after I sprayed bug killer like it was cheap cologne, donned my rubber gloves, grabbed a toothbrush, and scrubbed out every nook and cranny in my house!

They will not colonize this landmass!

Over hill, over dale...

There is nothing like the energy of a three year-old. If only I could muster that energy up while I was at the gym every morning. Regardless I love watching it in him, and in my equally energetic nineteen month old. After watching the boys chase each other around with their toys I decided it was time to go out and expend energy. The weather was lovely today - a nice mix of sunshine and gray rain clouds that sprinkled randomly. Wi really wanted to bring his fire truck, this model:










This of course made Wa want to bring his hippo - the one that vacuums up blocks in a hungry-hungry-hippo flashback. (child pictured is not my own!)













Figuring we would attempt a walk around the block, near our neighborhood park, I lugged both truck and hippo outside. The boys were thrilled and immediately started racing down the sidewalk. Soon our adventure took us from the small park with it's bumps and bridges to the steep street leading up to the capitol. I have no doubt that we were the hit with the rush hour drivers as our little family parade made it's way, slowly but surely, up the hill. Given the balance issues of toddlers I figured heading back down that hill wasn't the smartest of parental moves. This led us to journey down the backside of the capitol into another park.

As our adventure here in this state nears an end, an outing like this holds a lot of meaning. OF course I failed to charge the camera and take pictures - but hopefully this verbal record will jolt my memory in years to come. Standing on the grass looking down at the city, seeing our house from above, and looking at all of the colors and lights decorating our town, was mesmorizing. The moment felt unreal as the wind blew just enough to surround me, the sun was setting casting a glow on the city and a warmth on my skin, and I found myself trying to mentally capture everything my eyes did. As strange as it sounds I felt like the city was trying to pause just for me...

Fortunately the sound of the fire truck rumbling down the pavement brought me back to our current adventure and we continued on. Wi & Wa pushed their way down through the canyon, up the grass of the park, and back into the hallways of our house.

Never before have a fire truck, a hippo, two kids and their mom had so much fun.

Social Status Update

My three year-old, Wi, has been assigning people to a certain social status for the last three months. Of course he only assigns people that he personally knows so as not to make an unfair judgement call. He also only has two ratings, good and great. Here are some loose definitions:

Good: You aren't as favored as the great people.
Great: He likes you better than the good people.

One never knows exactly what category you will be in, but lately everyone has been stuck in the same categories.

Good: Mom, Wa, Goosey, Bob, Steph, V, Pop, Juanie - and most everyone else.
Great: Dad, Papa, KK, Ali, himself - and that's really it.

He's fantastic at letting you know where you stand. It started with us trying to teach him how to respond to the questions 'How are you today?' or 'How's your day been?'Originally he answered the question(s) in a normal fashion. Lately the conversation looks a little like this:

Me: "How are you doing today Wi?"
Wi: "I'm great. And you're good Mommy. And Daddy's great. And Walker's good."

He will continue this social status assignment until he has noted everyone in the room. Basically everyone is good, unless you are one of the elite mentioned above. There really isn't any rhyme or reason to why someone is good and why someone is great. Daddy can be totally mean that day, and he's still nice. I can be Mother Theresa to him, and I'm still good. I've tried introducing new adjectives like excellent and superb with no luck. My poor grandma keeps trying to get 'great' status, but for three months none of us have changed...

...until today! While helping him put his clothes on for the day, I asked how he was. I got the usual 'I'm great.' Then something magical happened, he said 'And you're great Mom.'

I'll take this as a sign, much like a fortune cookie or horoscope, that my social status is on the rise! Then again, I don't dare ask him again for fear that I've already been demoted back to 'good'.

Happiness is....

As I sit here typing the potent smell of bleach from my hands keeps filling my nose. I spent yesterday scrubbing the grout on my Grandma's tile kitchen counters. Oh, spending time doing projects like that is as close to heaven as I can get.

If it were heaven, here are five of the cleaning projects that would be there with me:


Oh yes, the yellow Rubbermaid gloves. I'd prefer it if they came in purple or flower-print. Regardless they allow me to scrub places and things that I really want to shine, without making me question what the heck I'm touching.

Strong, sturdy, and willing to go where no one else can go. It's not just for teeth anymore!

Every cleaning kit deserves one (or two) of these hard workers.

Swiffer. Any swiffer. Enough said. Ok that's not enough to say. Seriously! I would kiss all of the people who invented these! Use one with for your floor - use one to dust - use it to clean the console in your car! Angles in heaven have wings of Swiffers.


We bought one of these little babies last year, after I finally go sick of pulling out the big vacuum to suck out the food from Wi and Wa's chairs. I love this thing - LOVE LOVE LOVE. And yes that does mean I would marry it. The little quick flip lid hits those really hard spots.


And finally, my little friends in the campaign against germs:

These bubbles find themselves right at home in the tub, toilet, sink, high chairs, and many other places. I do suggest you check the instructions before spraying it all over.

Golly...I'm not sure if I'm ready to pack this computer up and get cleaning or hide my embarrassment for being so enamoured with cleaning! Oh I am so domesticated!

I'll take E7

Someone once said that change is inevitable, except from a vending machine. So true. I've put many a dollar into a vending machine and not received the difference. I guess when you are already paying 85 cents for a Snickers who cares about that extra 15 cents that never returns.

Anyway. I spent some good time in the car today driving back and forth to visit my grandparents. Wi & Wa (commonly referred to as WiWa) are wonderful passengers after I've cranked up Raffi, or Hap Palmer, or Anne Murray. Today Wi said he preferred the Dr. Seuss music and he sang along with Suessical. With their attention diverted and no traffic my mind started racing with all the things I need to do before this big change of ours.

Then, I started thinking about all of the upcoming changes. Wi turning three. E starting his new job. Me in my hometown again. Siblings graduating college. And so much more. Given my disposition for worry you can imagine what came next. A fast heartbeat, tapping fingers, shortness of breath, and the inevitable tears. I stared out at the mountains around me and thought to myself "I don't need to leave, I could live here forever". If you know me at all, you know that isn't true. I need to get out of here. It's just that the idea of change, well it's not that it's just scary, it's overdue. The combination of the fear of change plus the feeling that this is what I have needed for so long, is indescribable.

I cannot blame who I am right now on the fact that I've been here for almost eleven years. I cannot blame my weight on my zip code or my anxiety on the street that I live on. I can say that my resistance to change these past few years have led me to where I am. Now after having being so hungry for change I find myself at the proverbial vending machine, with a full pocketbook, ready to select all of my options.

W2W: Difficult Personalities

I was linked into this great idea on another blog from TJ. Since I am always in need of information, advice, and inspiration in regards to my children, I figured it would make for great self-analyzing and blogging.

Today's Woman to Woman topic is: Parenting children with difficult personalities

In her blog Lei mentions her preference for babies any day - and the same is true for me. Not so much because 2-5 years old aren't fun - but more because children one and under seem to have better schedules. I am one for schedules!

Will & Walker couldn't be any more different. Even when they were under one. While neither of them would be labeled as 'difficult personalities' I think what has been hardest for me is parenting children with polar-opposite personalities. Will came out with a built-in day planner, one that had been magically synced with my own. He slept through the night early on, pooped on schedule, ate on schedule, and was mellow as could be. Walker came out with his own wonderful agenda...one that has taken me his whole eighteen-months to just understand! I should have known, given his hyperactivity in the womb, his incredible response to sounds and touches while in there, and his quick birth!

As they've grown I've struggled to understand both of them and parent both of them well. Walker is a total textbook baby. Each email I get from the baby center about his growth mirrors exactly what he is going through and feels like a nice cold drink as I realize it's normal. Will is not so textbook: knew his letters and numbers to 20 before he was 2, knows 30 of the 50 states by name, shape, location, etc.

Now at almost three and nineteen months, I am realizing something. Dealing with their different personalities has really nothing to do with their personalities, but rather with my own personality. This has been a harsh realization for me. Initially there was a lot of blame placed from me to them on their mood swings, and their issues, and their behavior. In reality it was my behavior, issues, and mood swings that made them 'difficult'. Don't get me wrong - sometimes they are plain in the wrong! However, they are also little kids experiencing an enormous amount of learning and change.

One of my cousins has these incredible mood swings. She's my age - and she's wonderful. Yet if she has to pee - get her to a bathroom now or you risk cranky. If she's hungry, don't force her to go without food or you'll wish you were dying. Too much social interaction and her introverted personality is overloaded with stimulation, and you don't want to be around should she explode! Somehow I understand her moods and make excuses or arrangements for them all the time. Yet a 3 year old who is tired and skipped his nap, UGH!

Kids at this age are just trying to learn that there are rules, let alone what the rules are. Part of their identity process is to understand and push boundaries, to explore yes and no, and to learn what the reaction is to their actions! My goal is to continue to challenge myself to parent better. And not to compare the two kids - there is no way for fair comparison. When behavioral challenges present themselves it is up to me - not the 3 year old or 18 mo. old - to identify the issue, address it, and find a solution to it.

Wimpy day....

It's a Wimpy day. No it isn't because I'd gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today. I'm just having a 'blah' day. A wimpy day. There is so much to do and so many things to take care of with the upcoming move, and I just feel like sitting on my wimpy butt, reading books, and watching movies all day. E took the boys to his Mom's for the morning - so that I could have some me time. That's all nice and good - but somehow that makes me feel even more like a wimp. Fortunately the boys were thrilled about the notion of spending time with their grandma, and it's raining outside which would have made our adventures harder to do.

Some days are just better than others for productivity. I spent the day yesterday cleaning out the closets in the boys' room, took the boys to the Dr, reorganized my grandma's kitchen drawers, loaded up my parents' car with stuff from our storage unit, did the dishes, bathed the kids, and then managed to squeeze in a pedicure after bedtime. Now that is production. And usually I prefer productivity.

I think part of my mood is that E is leaving on Sunday. This is the official mark of all the upcoming changes in our life. He'll move down there and then we'll follow in May. Maybe my wanting to lounge around all day isn't really from being wimpy, but more from wanting to just make time stand still. It's moving too fast. My oldest child will be three soon - where did all that time go!?!?! We will soon be living in another state, one that has always been more my home than this one, and let's face it, I'm turning 29 soon and that is closer to the big 3-0 than I ever wanted to be :)

Ok, so now that I've complained about it a little bit it feels better. Doesn't mean that I'm going to get off my wimpy butt today and do anything - oh WHO am I kidding! You all know I'll have my Rubbermaid gloves on, grooving to my iPod, and scrubbing tile with a toothbrush before lunch.