July 15, 2009

It's been 21 days since my return to the blog and I've posted exactly one thing. Sounds about right. I'm slacking...and apparently cheating. I just tried posting a comment to a WordPress blog (this is what my life has come to) and it turns out that I have an account there too. And it turns out that I was as committed to WordPress as I seem to be to BlogSpot. I made exactly one post there on July 15, 2009, but it was kind of funny and I remember it as clearly as yesterday - perhaps more clearly than yesterday, which great news for my Alzheimer's that two neurologists say I don't have. I'll share the old post here, mostly because it buys me another few days before I have to type out an original. Here goes...

Here I am. Starting my own blog. What a riot. Who am I? I suppose you'd like to know but I have such a hard time describing myself. I'm a mother, a working mother, a career woman, a wife, a friend...none of those words - together or separate - none of them do me justice (if I may say so myself).  These descriptions connect me to the existence of others. Is that really how I want to be described?  Don't think so...even if my son is the most adorable child in the entire world.

Rather than trying to come up with some snazzy words that describe how fantastic I am, I might just share tiny excerpts of my life with the hope of eventually finding a description that suits me. I suppose that's my objective for this blog. To answer the question: Who am I?

Given that it's 10:57am, I haven't accomplished that much today but I suppose I have a few minor happenings that are worthy of noting.

My day should have started out just right. Wednesday is my husband's day to get our son up and fed, and its my day to get ready in peace. I'm not sure I fully realized the extent to which I would be required to multi-task once I became a parent. I'm one year in and I haven't killed anyone yet, so I guess I'm doing okay...yet my hair and make-up might disagree.

Today my alarm goes off and my husband is gone. I call for him downstairs. I peek out the windows. The bastard is no where to be found on my morning. Grrrrr! Where the hell could he be? I'm sure he's running. But it's MY morning and we talked about this last night. Seriously, GRRR! My anxiety starts to rise as I mentally squish as many of the morning rituals into as few minutes as possible before my son wakes up...and ponder how much I hate my husband, of course. Two minutes wasted. Yikes! I hit the shower, do the quick-wash and skip my hair washing, pop out of the shower and as I make my move to the hot rollers I hear "da-da? da-da?" from the monitor. My son is up...and he's calling for his dad. MEN!

I took a deep breath to rid myself of negativity before I went in to gree the little guy and his cute expression of surprise and excitement while sitting up in the corner of his crib just lit up my heart. What a doll. Luckily, he cooperated while I changed his diaper and dressed myself for the day - in unison of course. One leg out of his jammies, one leg into my suit pants. Lucky for both of us, I have great balance. My sweaty husband rolled in ten minutes later right before things got really tricky (envision: eyeliner, hot rollers, 1 yr old splashing in the toilet). Turns out that hubby was in the basement riding his bike trainer and didn't hear me calling. I guess he has a rule never to be away after 6:30am on my mornings. Who knew? And yes, he gets up early enough to be out for a run and back before 6:30am. Did I mention my husband is mentally disturbed? He is a part-time triathlete with some sick fascination with bike time, splits and transitions. He'd rather get up at 4am than skip his swim class. Don't ask. It's all foreign to me.

Let's jump ahead. I'm out of the house (without injury, insult or crying...damn, this is a good day) and I have my usual morning call with my good friend and stay at home mom.  I'm not sure how we got into the routine, but I happen to love it. I call her every day when I'm on my way to work. We skip the weekends because our husbands are around and what fun is the call if we can't bad mouth them and their mothers? Today's call started as most every call does with my friend rehashing her sleepless night. Her child doesn't have a sleep routine and is up half the night. In a very bad move, I offered some unsolicited parental advice...even though I knew she wouldn't take it. Let's just say it didn't go over well. But everyone has their problems...

Problems? What problems?  Well...work is one of my problems.  Its a good job. I really like it. I've busted my fanny for many years to get the title and the pay, but I can't seem to locate the respect I envisioned at this stage. Is it because I'm a woman? Is it because I'm a keep-your-head-down, do-your-best-job, don't-look-for-praise type? Or is it because I carry myself with insecurity for having attended state school and not Harvard like everyone else who works here? Any way you slice it, I'm smart god damn it and people like me!  So...why don't I feel like part of the leadership team on the team that I helped build?  It's been a reoccurring issue for me in this  ivy-league infested workplace.

So...needless to say, my job is an issue. BUT...(note a little glimmer in my eye)...I've recently been offered a new office. It's the same size of my current office, with the same window view, but now I'll be only a few doors down from the corner office and tucked in the back, an area that automatically carries a certain cache. The people tucked in the back behind the receptionists and out of public view are always the most important and mysterious of the bunch. What are they doing? Which high-powered appointments are they with now? Yes sir eee bob, that's going to be me in just a few short days. Let's just say that I couldn't be happier. I've had my eye on the space since it was vacated a few months ago. It's about time that someone put two and two together. I mean, duh!

And your probably wondering, how does this relate to your morning? Well as usual, I was the first person to arrive in the office (because afterall, it was my morning). Before I turned on my computer. Before any else arrived. Heck, I didn't even check my voicemails yet!  I snuck down to the new space to give it a little test drive. I opened the shades and peered out the window at my new view, which is only slightly skewed from my old view which once seemed beautiful but now seems dark, dank and very, very last year. I pretend-typed at my new computer. I lounged back in the new chair (which needs an upgrade to leather). I scouted where my furniture would and books would go. It's all laid out in my brain.

Yup, I took my new office for a test drive and it erased from my memory the earlier morning annoyances. My mood was officially reset and I was ready to rock. I snuck back down to my "old" office and banged out more work in 2 hours than most in 2 days. I feel like a rock star.

So what does this minor office adjustment say about me? I guess I'm petty or materialistic. Who knows. Honestly, who cares? But it's nearly time for lunch and I brought some sausage lasagna, so I should get that heated up before tackling my afternoon.

This is a good day.

30 Months Later...

Well, well, well...  My brother's friendly ex-girlfriend reached out this week and mentioned my blog. Or was it last week? I must admit I'd semi-forgotten about the blog so I took a little peek at my last post and thought: Holy SH**! Things have changed.

Yup, quit my job. Yup, out of my 30s. Yup, had a third kid. I'm more A-Day-In-Flip-Flops now than heels. Damn that Dec 2012 blog post.

Okay, to catch you up:  I quit my job immediately after the 2 week vacation mentioned in the last post. I couldn't get back into the swing of things and it seemed it was time to cut the cord after 15 years. There may have been one or two other little factors swirling around there too, but why waste time on details. I quit and then cried about it for three solid weeks. I'm pretty sure that's not supposed to happen. Fast forward three months, two Disney trips and two Louis Vuitton bags later, and my husband was in a state of sheer panic over our finances (hmm). With no other plan or desire to create one, I started a business. When I say "started a business" I mean doctored up a quick website and printed up some business cards. Oh, and let's not forget the $500 I paid to the state to be a "business." I was already $800 in the hole and had no idea what I was planning to sell or to whom, but as far as my husband was concerned, I was consulting. It was genius. Thankfully karma owed me after 15 years in my last job and wouldn't ya know, the damn business caught on. People told me what I was selling and why and here I am consulting and it's awesome. Except for the whole working-from-the-playroom part, which brings me to the kids.

My kiddos are now 5 and 7. Ouch. Oh yea...and 11 months. Little D is tagging along with us for the ride. Despite what I said in December of 2012, D was not planned and my 40-something year old body is VERY tired, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Aside from the massive food allergies, projectile vomiting, severe eczema and no sleep, he's been great. He's got a head of shiny thick hair that any 40 year old man (and some women) would envy. As my mom says, "He's a doll baby" which I think means he's cute and even tempered. Thank god.

My daughter (5) is another story. I like to think of her as my test from God. And I'm SO failing that test.  My son (7) is 98% kind but the aforementioned female brings out his 2% awful. Let's just say I'm totally trained for my third career: WWE referee.

Now back to me. I put the breaks on my career and started up this business and it's been great...but not as easy as working-from-home-in-yoga-pants might seem. I'm trying the whole work-life-balance thing that all of us real working people know is a load of you-know-what. You're either working or your not...and trying to do both (as I'm doing now) is for the birds. It's a constant battle against the clock that sometimes involves a Hersey bar stuffed into someone's mouth so I can do a conference call. I'm doing the best I can but its not surprising that Botox is in my immediate future. The weirdest moment of my business so far: Having lunch with a potential client and stealing his left over salad and then eating it for dinner. This was an unintentional theft that only a too-old-mother of a kinda-newborn can kinda-get-away-with. Lots of kindas in there. You can imagine the awkward email apology that followed. Heaven help me.

Now on to some recent observations:

• Why is everyone at my local Whole Foods so *&%^$#*& miserable?  It's uncanny how pissed off everyone is in that store. Perhaps the Range Rover is acting up. Maybe they're pissed about the gluten free waffles? I'm only there to feed my non-dairy-soy-wheat-rice-barley child. Perhaps they sense an outsider in their midst? I have half a mind to start a competitor chain where only happy people are allowed. Wait...that's Market Basket, isn't it?  
• I promised myself I'd start eating clean today (the recent experience with a 10-turned-7-day clean diet detox is enough fodder for its own post). But there is a burger on the grill at this very moment and I plan to devour it with reckless abandon as soon its done. Sorry clean eating. Maybe tomorrow.
• My daughter's birthday was in mid-February and I never sent thank you notes. It seems a little desperate to pass them out on the last day of school (tomorrow). I'm thinking I should just embrace the too-busy-for-thank-yous this year and move on with life.  Anyone gossiping about this has already had plenty of time to gossip. There's really no need to inconvenience myself at this point, now is there?
• Crap. Tomorrow is the last day of school.
• I've been married for eight years today. I was sensing a good gift coming my way when I totally blew it and told my husband I wouldn't choose him if I could do it all over again. No idea why I said that. Its not really true (though in some moments it is a clear choice between two fantasies: 1) Having never married him, and 2) Being the star on a 48 Hours episode, so I go with #1). What a jerk to say that out loud. Between comments like that and my outstanding culinary skills, (as evidenced by the photo below of last night's dinner), I'll be lucky to get a bouquet of grocery store carnations tonight. And I call myself a strategist...

Smart Little Mice

I nearly knocked out a woman curling her hair in the ladies room last night. I busted in there around 630pm as if I had an axe to grind with the door, only to find a woman holding a hot curling iron to her head on the other side. I've never seen the woman before and I have no idea what she was primping in my office building at night, but I used to know an old lady who lived in the bathroom of my former office building (pre-911 security), so anything is possible. Oh, and then my boot heel slipped and I wound up in splits on the bathroom floor. Awkward.

My coworker gave me a bottle of wine for the holiday. While I am certain there is a prohibition against drinking listed somewhere in my office's Managers Red Guide, I would most certainly be half in the bag right now if I'd received a corkscrew too. Let this be a lesson to people everywhere: When giving wine as office gifts, be sure to include a cheapo corkscrew. It's just the right thing to do.

That same coworker is kindly circulating a Christmas card for the nice woman who cleans our offices every night. The administrative support staff are mad at this for some unknown reason. Not just mad but hostile. I can't understand why giving a nice lady a Christmas card from the office would tick them off so much. I guess the Grinch really did steal Christmas. Or the office mice.

Speaking of mice, we had a mouse inspection last week and I am pleased to report that there was no evidence of mice in my office. That didn't stop the distribution of stick-on pads with black and white pictures of cheese all over my office floor.  Who exactly is the cheese picture trying to please? Because I'm pretty sure that the mice can't see it from their vantage point. The semi-annual inspection inevitably leads to all sorts of office gossip and speculation about who is responsible for attracting the mice, and this year was no different. The rumor mills have narrowed it down to two individuals: one who is never here but has an emergency junk food stash in their drawer in case the world comes to an end one day, and another who feeds the office home baked goodness all year round and apparently keeps a little stash for them self. I'm quite certain neither of these people are the problem, given that it's unlikely for mouse to smell food 21 floors up. Clearly there is a building-wide issue that we in the penthouse have the luxury of experiencing every now and again.

Maybe I should tell the office gossipers what I think. Hmm.  I always have a bout of brutal honesty around New Years. It's a little bit like Tourette Syndrome. I've been known to call people around this time of year to tell them exactly why I dislike them and then try to make up in time for the New Year. As you can guess, this does not work but I've never been known to give up that easily.  Last week I blurted out loud that it was too hard to speak in a meeting because everyone else was blubbering on so much..while in the meeting. Today I bought a turkey club and found it necessary to tell the new young male cafe teller that it weighed 6 lbs and had bacon on it. He had no idea how to respond. Neither did I. So we starred at each other silently for a moment before I hightailed it back to the elevator. Also today I decided to give my office nemesis a Christmas card with a note about "new beginnings in 2013." She hasn't acknowledged the contents of the note, which may mean she's not ready to start fresh...or that she's just a b**** like I originally assessed. Either way, I'm feeling a little bit like RHOBH Brandi Glanville right now, wishing I could take it all back. It's a damn good thing that I start a 2 week vacation today because its only a matter of time before my honesty sets off a firestorm around the office.

As an aside, I registered my son for kindergarten in the fall. This, on top of my daughter starting preschool in January, is making my eggs hurt. Watch out Husband. I'm coming for #3. Oh...and I'm going to quit my job and become a stay at home mom after giving birth, so you might starting thinking about a second job. Ho. Ho. Ho.