days gone by

I went to my old office last week. My old boss, a guy I just LOVE, is retiring. I haven't been back in almost 10 years. There are times when it feels like I just left. And other times where I can barely remember that part of my life.

But I remembered how much I loved my job. I had a lot of different ones over the years, but my last one... it was the best. I was surrounded by brilliant people. (Not to say that brilliant and quirky don't go hand in hand. We ARE talking about librarians here.) I had really interesting work. I don't mean to brag, but I was good at it - it was a great fit for me.

Lots of my old co-workers are still there and many of the ones who have left came back for the retirement luncheon. I had nice clothes on, no kids with me, I ate fancy food and talked about travel, fashion, politics, law, the economy and business with these amazingly smart, well-read, informed people.*

Gosh how I miss that life sometimes.

But right now, there's just no way I could have that life and still have my four kids, and there's no way I would trade my life with them for that. But I do still miss it.

Of course, it doesn't help that I left the party and went straight to the carpool line to pick up my kids and they were fighting and complaining and being generally annoying as they are EVERYDAY when they are hungry and tired and have been in school all day.

The rewards in this job are so intangible. And so distant sometimes. The rewards in my old job were so much more immediate. My paycheck. People thanking me for a job well done. My boss was STILL talking about some of the projects I worked on and how well I did them.

I made a really good dinner last night and the kids treated it like it was rat poison. You can bet there was no thank you. And 10 years from now, they certainly won't say, "Hey... remember that one time, you spent ALL AFTERNOON in the kitchen and made that huge dinner from the Martha Stewart cookbook? Yeah. Now THAT was fabulous."

I can only hope they pick out a really great nursing home for me.

*Not to say that I don't have good conversations with really smart people now, because I am fortunate to know a lot of really interesting people, BUT it's just not the same conversation when you are interrupted every 32 seconds by breaking up a kid fight, or wiping a butt, or cleaning up a spill, or chasing a 2-year old down the block. Kids are pretty much the antidote to conversation.

hope floats

This clown is kinda creepy. But it was the best picture I could find.
We have a long and sordid history with balloons in this house. I've come to the conclusion that there is NO WAY to bring a balloon in here without a WHOLE LOT OF DRAMA or at least some blood drawing, dogpiling smackdowns.

Why is it that the international symbol of childhood makes my kids go certifiably insane?

There's the free balloons at Trader Joes, ONE of which always gets accidentally released in the parking lot. Leaving one kid screaming and at least one taunting "Hahahahaha. I still have MY bawooon and YOU don't." (How many people do you think go BACK into Trader Joes for ANOTHER balloon? Please tell me I'm not the only one.)

If by chance, all balloons make it safely into the car (I can honestly only think of like 3 times that has ever happened), Cheer has some sort of genetic translocation that causes him to OPEN THE WINDOW of the speeding car as we are driving home (down New Hampshire Avenue, for those of you who know what I am talking about), which causes balloons to get SUCKED OUT THE WINDOW. (The most dramatic event is here, which was not a Trader Joes balloon and was not on New Hampshire Avenue, but holy hell, I'm still trying to recover from that episode.)

Then there's the balloons that accidentally get released between the car and the door of the house. Which is a space of about 24 inches.

Or the balloons that make it in the house and are popped, stolen, hidden, sat on, written on and otherwise tortured, which causes great wailing and gnashing of teeth. (And even, the Great Balloon Incident which caused blue permanent marker to be applied to my bathroom ceiling. There's just not enough time to even GO INTO that one.)

So, after all these years, you'd think I'd know better than to go out and get a GIANT HAPPY BIRTHDAY balloon for Tide's birthday the other day. (Seriously, this thing was GIANT. Think MINI Cooper.)

But I was by myself when I bought it so I knew I could get it safely home, and then I firmly tied it to his chair in the dining room so its use a weapon of mass destruction would be severely limited.

So WHAT, pray tell, does Bounce do right AFTER we sing "Happy Birthday" but right BEFORE we dig into the cake?

She reaches over and STICKS HER FORK INTO THE GIANT FIFTEEN DOLLAR AND 99 CENT BALLOON. (Yes. Can you believe I paid $15.99 for a balloon. Neither can I.)

Oh yes she did.

And in years past, Tide would have burst into tears and I would have had to immediately get up and go get ANOTHER balloon which would NEVER be as good as the first balloon and the whole day would have ended in tears and drama.

So you know what happened?

Everyone laughed.

Except Bounce who had to go to her room and miss cake.

And me who couldn't BELIEVE I ONCE AGAIN got suckered into a Norman Rockwell-esque balloon moment with my very un-Norman Rockwell family.

lights will guide you home and ignite your bones

Do you ever have those days where you are your own worst enemy? Where you just want to GIVE UP? Because you just CANNOT DO what you want to do? (And by give up, I actually mean lowercase give up, not uppercase GIVE UP. Catch what I'm saying?)

For example, supposed you decided to run a 5K and you are chugging along doing your little training runs, and one day, you are out there running and you JUST. CAN'T. DO. IT.

Your legs feel like they weigh 800 lbs each. You are sucking wind like an 80 year-old chain smoker. All the fluid in your body has moved to your bladder and your tongue is parched like the desert sand.

And you think, "What are you trying to prove? YOU CAN'T DO THIS. It's too HARD. You SUCK at it."

And you keep chugging along with your 800 lb. legs and your bursting bladder and your dried up tongue hanging out of your mouth, but you can't help but listen to that little voice inside. The one telling you to go back to folding laundry and leave the serious exercise to serious athletes.

Or suppose you decide to go back to school and learn an entirely new career. And you are sitting on your little study perch at midnight. And then 1am. And then 2am. And that voice asks you, "What ARE you DOING? You CAN'T do this. This is TOO HARD. It's TOO EXPENSIVE. It will take FOREVER. Your kids NEED YOU."

And you keep plowing through your work, but you can't help but wonder if that little voice isn't on to something. Maybe this IS a crazy idea. Maybe there is something else out there for me that won't take so much away.

I'm not wallowing in self-doubt... I'm a fretter not a dweller. I don't usually have big doubts about decisions once I make them. (I spend far too much time worrying about them in advance.) But sometimes days like these come along because it's time for some adjustments. My goals can never be absolute. They affect far too many people.

Maybe it's time to re-evaluate my path. For example, I'm not only trying to pick up running, I'm also trying to lose weight, so I am eating very tiny amounts of calories. Maybe it's unrealistic to try to accomplish those two goals at the same time. Or maybe I need to invest in some protein bars. And some Depends. And gum.

I also tend to be a sprinter not a marathoner. (THIS is an analogy... not ACTUALLY... if you saw me run you would know that I am neither sprinter NOR marathoner, but more like the tortoise.) But I make a goal and I want it accomplished... NOW. This pound a week crap sucks. And I'm tired of building up my endurance. I just want to be able to run. But I can't. And I just want to be done with school already, but I have YEARS and YEARS ahead of me. I'm impatient. I need results. And when I don't get them, I start to doubt myself.

And then, I realize, there's nothing wrong with re-evaluating and adjusting. But there is something wrong with not doing SOMETHING. As my friend, Nicole, of BananaBlueberry commented yesterday on DC Metro Moms:

DO or NOT DO. There is no TRY. -- Yoda (Thanks, Nicole! You had no idea how much I needed a little Yoda.)

(On that note, I'm compiling a playlist of running songs. Anyone have a Must Have on their list? Never underestimate the power of music that motivates.)

photo credit

is there a more professional word for SQUEEEE??? - a giveaway

UPDATE: EXTENDING THIS UNTIL MARCH 31 AT MIDNIGHT!


Did you see the movie, Mean Girls? Of course you did. And if you didn't, you most likely lived it, at some point in your life. Mine was middle school. I honestly don't even think I can write about how horrible it was. I was lucky that high school was much better.

As I've mentioned, Bounce has been having a pretty horrible school year herself. I am counting down the days until it's over. I know we will ALL be relieved. (Yes - me! Counting down the days. It's that bad.)

Anyway, I was strolling around the internet looking for advice, or answers or something to figure out how to help her through this, and I came across this interview with Katie Couric (famous for being a NYC Moms Blog contributor, as well as a few other things) and Rosalind Wiseman, the woman who wrote Queen Bees & Wannabes: Helping Your Daughter Survive Cliques, Gossip, Boyfriends, and the New Realities of Girl World, the book that inspired Mean Girls. Katie asked the Silicon Valley Moms Group (that's all of us on all affiliated blogs) for questions for the interview, and although mine wasn't used, I found the answers I was looking for from watching the interview and then exploring Rosalind's website. (The interview is long but well-worth it if you have the time. There are other, shorter ones here.)



Rosalind is like the friend that you wish was sitting at your kitchen table every afternoon when your kids get home from school and tell you about their day. Or who you wish was sitting in the passenger seat of your carpool (when your mouth is hanging open in surprise at some of what you are hearing from the back of the car). Or standing behind you as you are putting your weeping daughter to bed after a long, hard day. She helps make sense out of these formerly adorable toddlers who have now turned into emotional, explosive, surly, confusing preteens.

Her advice is practical, common sense, but extremely concrete. And I need concrete. (And she's funny!) In fact, I can't think of a single thing I have read or heard her say that I disagree with. (And coming from me, that is an AMAZING endorsement because I am generally pretty disagreeable. Ask Laundry Dad.) You cannot imagine how many times a day I ask myself WWRD? (And one day, I even said something that sounded EXACTLY LIKE what she would have said. I was so proud! Now if I could just be that good every day.)

So in case you can't tell, I've become a Rosalind Wiseman groupie. I am currently reading Queen Bees (she also just came out with another book, this time young adult fiction, Boys, Girls, and Other Hazardous Materials -- I don't have that one yet), I follow her on Twitter and I became her fan on Facebook. When I saw she was having a Girl World 2010 Book Tour mother-daughter event in DC (to promote the updated version of Queen Bees and the release of Boys, Girls and Other Hazardous Materials) I think I was the first caller for tickets. They weren't actually even available yet.

So imagine the SQUEEEE I let loose the other day when I got an email asking if I would do a giveaway of tickets to the DC stop of the Girl World 2010 Tour ON MY BLOG!! (No, it wasn't from Rosalind herself, but close enough... I think we are fast on our way to becoming besties.)

So here is what Rosalind says about the event:

[T]his isn’t just your average book tour! I wanted to create an event where moms and daughters could enjoy each other’s company while opening the door to a better understanding of each other’s worlds.

So, I’ve teamed up with our sponsors Dove Go Fresh Deodorant and Family Circle Magazine to put together the Girl World Tour, a series of fun-filled evenings of bonding for mothers and daughters (ages 8-14).

Here’s the plan: mothers and daughters will receive a copy of Boys, Girls & Other Hazardous Materials and the latest edition of Queen Bees & Wannabes, Dove go fresh gift bags, and one-year subscription to Family Circle.

They’ll also participate in a 90-minute interactive discussion about confidence, friendships, sweat-inducing moments, and mother-daughter challenges. We’ll wrap it up a Q&A and book signing.

And please remember, though this is billed for mothers and daughters, any adult with a young girl (ages 8-14) in his or her life is welcome and will greatly benefit from this night of laughing, talking, and connecting.

And here are the deets:



Tuesday, April 6, 2010 from 7-9pm at Georgetown Day School (4200 Davenport Street NW)

To win, just leave a comment on this post by next Friday, March 26th at midnight. Please feel free to email or tweet this info because I know not all of my readers have daughters of a certain age, or are in the DC area.

I seriously can't WAIT for this event and now it will be even more fun that I get to meet one of you!

slainte!

re-posting part of my last year's St. Paddy's Day post... because this recipe is that good



Kate Kilbane's (God rest her soul) Irish Soda Bread

Ingredients:

2 cups flour
4 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda (make sure it's a fairly fresh box)
1 cup sugar
1 cup raisins
1/2 cup buttermilk
2 eggs

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 and spray a 9-inch round cake pan with non-stick spray.

Sift together flour, baking powder and baking soda.

Add sugar, raisins, buttermilk and eggs and mix.

Pour mixture into pan and bake for 40 minutes.



When done, the top should be golden brown and a toothpick should come cleanly out of the center.



While the bread is still warm, melt about 1 Tbsp. of butter and brush on top of the loaf. Sprinkle sugar in the butter.



To eat, slather with butter! It's really delicious that way! Especially with a hot cup of tea. Or even a margarita! Ole! And erin go braugh!

pole dancing is NOT as easy as it looks

No bloggers were injured in the making of this post.

Sunday afternoon, I put on my heels and stepped out. And gave pole dancing a whirl. Who can't use some extra cash in this economy, am I right?

Actually, I went to a book party for Kristen Chase's new book, The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex. If you don't know Kristen, you totally should.



She writes Motherhood Uncensored, the Mominatrix column on The Imperfect Parent and she is the founder and one of the writers of Shredheads. (And she is HAWT. Seriously. I will totally shred every day for the next 2 years if I could end up looking like that. But there's no altering genetics. Not yet anyway.)

The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex is a no-holds-barred (seriously NO HOLDS) look at getting your GROOVE back. And by GROOVE... I mean, you know. I love the message of the book. Moms spend all their time taking care of everybody else. We have to remember to take care of ourselves and keep in touch with the women we were before diapers and sleepless nights. And tuition payments and drivers ed.

It is NOT hard to get lost. I sure have. I'm slowly starting to carve out a little bit of life that is about me and the person I am inside the yoga pants and sweatshirt.

(That I wore yesterday too.)

(And slept in.)

(And have ketchup on.)

(And wiped Shout's nose with this morning.)

(I promise, I will wash them tonight.)

This book is meant to put you back in touch with your sensual side. And? Your partner. Remember him? The guy you had sex with that got you all those diapers and sleepless nights? The one who doesn't HEAR the kids waking up all. night. long? Yes, that him. He will LOVE this book.

Two quotes:

Just because you've got diapers stashed in your glove box and the Wiggles in your CD player doesn't mean you don't have your own needs. Considering the challenges and pressures that come with being parents, letting off a little steam and reminding yourselves what it's like to be human again can make the difference between barely surviving and living your life to the fullest. (Can I get an AMEN?)

So stop making excuses. You'd do anything for your children, so why not add sex to the list? Happier moms make better moms. And good, hot sex can make you very, very happy.

So after the mingling, excellent wine, chocolate fountain from the Chocolate Fountain Fairy Godmother (YUM! and yes, I am the one who dripped chocolate on my clothes... perhaps I should have just daintily dipped strawberries in the fountain like everyone else instead of leaning in for a slurp) we had a little pole dancing lesson.

(The event was held at Jordins Paradise, a fitness studio that offers pole dancing classes. The windows are frosted, so no one can see in. Which is very good.)

People who are really good at pole dancing?


Kristen


The Cake Lady. (She's not just about baking!)


Kimberly.

People who are UNFREAKINGBELIEVEABLY GOOD at pole dancing?



Kristen, from Mommy Needs a Cocktail and Baby Brewing.

People who are not good at pole dancing?

Me. (I'm praying there are no photos, but there probably are.)

Like most blogger gatherings, there were also some fabulous shoes in attendance.


Laurie and Jodi


The Cake Lady


PunditMom and Kimberly


The Lovely Jessica


Kristen

Lots of cameras.



A good bit of tweeting.



And excellent conversation.



(Did you notice no one else has chocolate on them?)

Thank you, Kristen for writing what most people are afraid to say, but everyone needs to hear!

(PS... it is hard to finish a post on pole dancing when your kids are home from school!)

elsewhere

So I have this really great, semi-racy post I was trying to get up yesterday, but instead of writing it, I was reading about carbohydrates and I just couldn't TEAR MYSELF away from that. (ha)

So come back tomorrow for the racy post. Today I'm sending you over to DC Metro Moms where I am appearing today.

captured

Shout got her school pictures yesterday. Isn't she cute?



Oh, but wait... what IS that? Take a closer look...



Go ahead. Click to embiggen if you can't see it...

What could better memorialize preschool than a booger hanging out of your nose in your school picture?

splendid

We ran out of Splenda last week. It totally ruined my day. Actually, a couple days (because I was too busy to stop and get more). I put sugar in my coffee, but it tasted tainted to me. So I barely drank any. Can I just say, I'm not a very nice person until halfway into my third cup, so after only drinking less than a cup a day... well, let's just say, things weren't pretty around here.

I remember when the earthquake in Haiti had just happened and my very first instinct was to jump on a plane and start sorting through rubble. Like most people, I felt the need to DO SOMETHING, other than just write a check.

I'm pretty sure I would be worthless in Haiti, where not only is there no Splenda, but probably not even any coffee. Or fresh water. Or bathrooms.

I'm totally not as tough as I think I am. And? We are totally blessed.

it doesn't get any better than this

I kinda hate this couch. But it will not die. We call it the Fertility Couch. Back when we had trouble having kids, my mom told me to buy a white couch and I would get pregnant immediately. It totally worked. (Full disclosure, there WERE quite a few doctor's appointments in there too.)

I can't even count the number of times I have started a post. Ok, well, I COULD COUNT, it's not THAT high, but Blogger will not SAVE a post for me. Only publish, so I have to keep starting over. Does anyone else have this problem? Annoying.

Anyway, I never had a chance to post, but my Ladies Night was fun! My house has never been so clean. I almost wanted to slap a For Sale sign on it.



Except of course, it is still two colors on the outside and the basement has been gutted. But that night may very well be the best it ever gets here.


I cleverly disguised the GIANT rip in this couch with an afgan.
It's really more like the giant RIP that has a couch in it.
This one will be on the curb soon.

EVERYONE brought food and wine. I seriously should not have bought any because I ended up with more wine than I started with.



And a TON of food.



But there was good conversation. A bit of school griping (they were all school moms). And lots and lots of chatter. I felt a little more in touch with life outside these walls and that was nice.

My class is going pretty well. I had my first big exam yesterday and I studied for what felt like HUNDREDS of hours. (In reality, it was about 15.) And I got a B. And I am MAD about the B, but I could have studied 20 more hours and I would STILL have gotten a B.

There are many areas where I am SO. NOT. a perfectionist. Like LAUNDRY for example. But there are others where I AM. School, for example. I made it through an entire graduate program with only 1 B (and that B SHOULD HAVE been an A, and YES, I am still burned up about it 15 years later) and I will be REALLY mad if I get a B in a darn pre-req undergrad class at a community college after all this studying.

It's not healthy, but it's who I am. And I have to remember, I have 4 kids and they are my priority. So if getting a B means I can still take care of them, then a B it will have to be. (But don't expect me to refrain from complaining about it, mkay?)

Demo in our basement continues. Baseball season is about to begin. Which will make un-demo-ing the basement a challenge.


Why YES! That is a toilet. In the PLAYROOM. We're trying to carve out more space and since there ISN'T ACTUALLY any more space, we noticed that taking down the walls around the bathroom makes things seem SO! MUCH! MORE! OPEN! And everyone here walks in on you when you're in the bathroom anyway. And yes, we are violating child labor laws here. KIDDING. KIDDING. My kids have the cushiest life on the PLANET. I am quite sure of it. A whole post on this project coming soon, for you housies.

I am in week 4 of my Couch to 5K training. Still hate running. Still doing it.

Spring has sprung here this week too which has done wonders for my mental health. I just want to lay face up on the patio (next to that last pile of dirty melting snow) and let the sun shine on my cheeks. But there are bugs out there and I am out of SPF face lotion so I will just sit here next to my open window and enjoy the fresh air. (I don't pretend not to have issues.)