Post Christmas Run Down

If you read my previous blog about Christmas, you have some insight to my thoughts on the holiday and what’s really important. Don’t let that fool you, however. I do have a keen affection for gifts (who doesn’t…just a little bit?) Seeing a box with my name on it transforms me into a giggling little girl! The excitement of a new widget just for me is exhilarating! I will shake it, measure it, look for any gaps in the pretty wrapping paper, and when I was younger, I was known to actually unwrap a gift and rewrap it! I’m not good with surprises – I have to know – everything!

My husband says I am terrible to shop for – and he’s right. I have very specific (and few) wants. Several weeks ago, I sent him a picture of the Blackberry Curve, telling him I wanted it for Christmas. He said OK. Woo-Hoo! So that Friday, I went to the store and bought one. I loved it. It was so cute and functional! That was my gift from hubby – no surprise (that’s good in the beginning, but a let down come Christmas morning.) That story is to be continued…

This year, hubs and I took A-Cat shopping. She needed to get me a gift with hubs and I had some last minute things to grab. I had told hubs I needed new cookie sheets the day before. That afternoon at lunch (pre-shopping), I made mention to how much I miss my Uggs. I even went on to tell the two of them what size I wore in everything from sweaters to jeans to bras to boots (I added in the sweaters, jeans and bras so I wasn’t too obvious). Well, my not-so-subtle hint went unheard. They bought me the cookie sheets. Not bad – very nice, but now I’m expected to make more cookies. Here’s the kicker: That night after A-Cat went to bed, I spent hours locked in the bedroom wrapping all the Christmas gifts. Hubs came in and asked… here it comes… he asked me to wrap the cookie sheets that were to be my gift. Let’s just say it was a Christmas miracle that there was not an impression of his dear little face in those cookie sheets when I opened them Christmas Morning. I must be fair and mention that after all the gifts were opened that morning, hubs said, “Wait! There’s one more – over there!” A-Cat grabbed a small box and with gleaming eyes handed it to me. I immediately recognized the unwrapped box as one from a local jewelry store. It was finally there – the excitement of being a kid again! I opened the box and inside was a beautiful heart-shaped silver locket. Yea for me! What’s better than a gift – one that you love and was actually picked out by your kid!

A-Cat was thrilled that Santa brought her a Cabbage Patch Kid – one with red hair and blue eyes none the less. We were just thrilled that Santa didn’t bring anything that needed to be assembled! She wasn’t thrilled, however with the name – Inell. She quickly changed Inell to Jessica. I was thrilled to once again smell that baby-powder scent those cute things give off!

Later that morning we went to my Dad’s and spent a couple hours there. We left with some very nice gifts (including a trip to Disney World!!!) and a few Wii injuries. On the way home we realized we had no food at home and of course there wasn’t a store open (I did mention we could go to a movie and eat there, but hubs wasn’t up for it!). Luckily, our handy-dandy standby of Walgreen's was open and stocked with frozen pizzas!

Overall, we had a very nice Christmas, but I must admit, I am so glad it is over. Now, the chore is getting the tree down and ornaments put away. Once again, my post-Christmas resolution is that I will plan better and start earlier next year!

Sorry for the ever-so-boring run-down of my ever-so-boring Christmas. Maybe next year with all my early planning and preparations, the post-Christmas blog will be a bit more exciting. But then again, I doubt it!

A-Cat fell asleep amidst the chaos of 20+ people Christmas Eve! She was makin' sure Santa was comin'!

A Christmas Wish

I've been on a bit of a hiatus. Sorry if you (Lindsey) missed me. Today is Christmas Eve and I am sitting at work. Bah-Humbug! I am a nice boss and will be letting my peeps head home early so they can enjoy some eggnog and dream of sugar plums as they wait to see which of Santa’s list they fell on this year. I’m sure it’s a toss-up for me at this point (hence letting the peeps go home early!)

Christmas is a double-edged sword for many of us. Memories of the holiday when we were children and all the magic it entailed; the time we spent with siblings and cousins in the freezing snow making forts and snowmen and drinking hot cocoa flood our minds. I really have no memory of when that magic transitioned into a frenzy of gift buying, budgeting, debt-inducing, free-for-all with family feuds and a general unpleasantness. I do, however, remember writing a column at the newspaper in college titled “Merry Frickin’ Christmas”. But really, the magic was still there for me – that was just an observation (maybe my first) of the commercial madness that ensued each year during the holiday. Maybe not being able to pinpoint that moment of transition is a good thing – maybe it means some of the magic is still there! Or maybe, my moment was little less traumatic than the rest.

I work in retail, so Christmas is the time of year when days-off are few and eight hour days are simply unheard of. I leave for work when it is dark and leave for home at the end of the day when it is once again dark. If it weren’t for the few smoke breaks in between, I would go several months without seeing daylight. I am lucky to have a great team that works hard to make the impossible possible in our business, so the hours are worth it - professionally. I’m unlucky that by the time I get home, I am so exhausted it is a true effort to get a decent dinner on the table and read a bed-time story to A-Cat (good thing she is now a fluent reader and very self-sufficient). The complete frenzy of my professional life during this time of year is difficult to balance with my desire to be Super-Mom and Uber-Wife (my super hero capes are currently collecting dust in the closet…sad, I know.) Not a gift was wrapped until late last night. The tree has only been up for a week. Work is my magic killer.

Trying to revive the magic is a difficult feat, but it’s time to dust off my capes and make it happen. This year it is just may be easier than I think…thanks to one small, but might red-head. In the past I have cursed television commercial filled with whorish dolls and ridiculous toys that are nothing but crap that plead to my young daughter’s natural sense of desire. Last year, the big toy was Buttercup the horse. Have you seen this thing? It is a giant stuffed animal that moves and neighs. And it can be under your tree for a few hundred dollars! Oh how A-Cat wanted it; she dreamed of it. Then one day, in my not-so-subtle approach, I told her those parents who buy Buttercup just don’t love their kids as much I love her. I love her so much that I don’t need to spend a bunch of money to prove it to her – she gets small meaningful gifts that are tokens of my love and it is the hugs and time together that prove my love. (Sorry if you bought this horse for your kids and are now offended that I somehow think you don’t love your kids…get over it, it was an explanation to a five year old.) She was satisfied with that answer and was pleased as punch to see that Santa delivered an art desk that year (Hey Santa – next time, please deliver only assembled items tonight. I don’t have it in me to assemble 4000 small plastic pieces 10 screws and holes that don’t line up tonight. There’s an extra cookie in for you!)

This year A-Cat came and asked, “Mommy, do you know what I want for Christmas this year?” “Hmmm…what god-awful toy was just advertised on TV,” I thought with annoyance. “I want my family to have the best Christmas ever,” she said in a small whisper. My heart melted. Here I saw a little kid who dreams of getting stuff, stuff, stuff, and more stuff. When really, all she wanted was the magic, and not for herself, but for her whole family. Here a six year old gets it – she really gets it. Now don’t be fooled, she also wants the occasional toy she sees, but the requests are few and quite.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

They are biting for toys, throwing fits in the store and manipulating those they love just to come out ahead (oh and these are the adults). Me, me, me – ‘tis the theme of the season. Frankly, I’m tired of it. I have one message for those of you that just won’t have a Merry Christmas if you don’t get your Coach bag or your 42 inch flat screen television or the big diamond you’ve been waiting for: Christmas isn’t about you. Christmas is about family and friends and good food and stories and togetherness. It isn’t about the gifts you receive, or even the gifts you give. Christmas isn't about what ends up in your stocking (my husband grew up getting fruit in his – no wonder he hates Christmas!) Christmas is the time for us grown-ups to create the magic for the children and maybe, just maybe believe in it again ourselves.

So, in joining the magical spirit of my A-Cat, my Christmas wish is that all of us and our families have the best Christmas ever! Merry Christmas!

A-Cat telling Santa her Christmas wish

The Ugly Side of Black Friday

I'm not a big shopper. I get light-headed, flushed and clammy whenever I go. I know, I know, I must be missing some chromosome that allows women to shop endlessly. I don't typically do the Black Friday shop-a-thon, but this year, I gave it a try.

I didn't have a three page list of things I wanted. There were only two. The 25th Anniversary Cabbage Patch Doll and a Leapfrog Leapster. Last night I headed to Walmart to do a little recon. You see, Walmart is open 24 hours a day, so I wasn't sure how they would do this 5AM sale thing. I perused the aisles and located an employee. Nonchalantly, I asked, "Hey, how are you guys going to coordinate the sale tomorrow morning, being that you're open all night?" Very nicely, but with a bit of annoyance, he said, "We'll bring the pallets out wrapped in black plastic. We won't unwrap them until 5AM." That was good enough for me; so off I went to get a few hours of sleep before I would have to return to claim my treasure.

This morning, dark and early, I arrived at Walmart fearing I would be too late. I was immediately disappointed when I saw that I would have to choose: the 25th Anniversary Cabbage Patch Doll or the Leapfrog Leapster The Leapfrog Leapster was the better value so I reluctantly said farewell to the babies wrapped in thick black plastic. Once I located the correct pallet, I was pleased to see only about 6 others were there as well. We waited patiently, each planning our strategy to get our Leapfrog Leapster. Pink or green? Top row or bottom row? That guy wants me to grab him one as well - should I be a good fellow shopper or is it save yourself? Pink, bottom and save yourself!

The clock was ticking, the adrenaline was pumping, but we were all doing our best to be patient. Then at about 4:50, some woman pushed her way to the front next to me. She feverishly starts ripping the black plastic apart. The rest of the crowd looks at her and joins in. This is where the mayhem ensued. The crazy woman is now on her hands and knees trying to get the product on the bottom shelf. I get my pink Leapfrog Leapster and then decide to help out the gentleman who asked me to grab him one. I reach down to grab a green one - he gets what he gets and beggars can't be choosers! As I grab it, the crazy woman bites me! That's right, she bites me on the wrist. I look at her in total shock and disgust and without any cooperation from my brain, my left foot quickly stomps down on her hand.

Wounded and humiliated, I hand the green Leapfrog Leapster to the gentleman and make my way to the checkout. I pay the nice lady at the register and head off into the sunrise (OK, it was 2 hours before the sunrise). At 5:05AM, I walk into my cubical at work - an Internet retailer. I have a new-found appreciation for shopping online! I encourage all of you to be safe this holiday season: shop online!

The Bacon Won't Fry Itself!

Really, almost a month since I have posted? Well, I wish I could say it was because I was stranded on an island with a cabana boy, but alas my friends, no such good news, I have merely been super busy! All of this chaos has brought me back to the original reason I started this blog - journaling my attempt to have it all and do it all. I am learning that feat is impossible!

I took on a new position at work. I am now the happy manager of sextuplets. A friend of mine recently told me she is a stay-at-home mom, "the hardest job ever!" Now, first let me say that I, too, was a SAHM for awhile. It was a tough job! (Here comes the big but...) But, a SAHM mom can tell her employees, "Because I said so! " or "Because I'm bigger than you!" or "That's it, you're going to bed without dessert!" or "Santa's watching!" I can't tell my six employees that they're going to the staff meeting without lunch for talking back, or that they need to have a report into my by noon or they can just wait until their father gets home. Granted, no one at work ever yells, "You're the meanest boss ever! I hate you!" or "Tom Michaelson's boss let's him come in 45 minutes late everyday! Why can't I?" OK, the first one happened once, but I digress!

I absolutely agree that being a SAHM is a difficult and rewarding job, and I tip my little kitty ears to those that do, or have done it. (another but is coming...) But, don't look down your noses at those of us who chose a different route. Our jobs are difficult as well, and despite what some may believe, we love our children just as much as you do. We chose to work in corporate America and then come home to cook dinner, help with homework, vacuum the floors, pay the bills and do laundry (OK, my husband does the laundry). We spend ten hours a day in meetings, running reports, dealing with to-do lists 40 miles long, and trying to be a corporate superstar. Then we come home and try to cram the rest of our lives into the few hours that remain in the day. The lady who told us all we could bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan failed to mention a few things: a) My kitchen will never be that clean, b) I'll be going through the mail and countless papers in A-Cat's backpack as I am being splattered with grease, c) Someone will complain because the bacon is too crispy, d) Someone else will complain because the bacon isn't crispy enough, e) Sometimes, there is no bacon - sorry, but it's Burger King tonight.

I think the truth is that we all choose different paths, and really there is no easy path. It isn't easy trying to juggle a full-time job in corporate America and be a mom. It certainly isn't easy to be a mom who stays home with the kids either. My question, is why do women feel the other side is the enemy? Is it a matter of envy? I absolutely have jealous tendencies when it comes to this issue. Maybe, I'm not the only one. Maybe there are others like me who secretly just want to fry the bacon, or a SAHM who secretly wants to bring it home. Regardless of how they spend their days, women are marvelous creatures and I'm sure there is some alien life-form trying to figure out how we do it. And, no matter which side you're on, that bacon ain't gettin' home on its own and it's not going to fry itself!

Who Would Play You in a Movie About Your Life?

I've heard this question posed before and I always thought it was intriguing. I've never given it much thought, only because there are 5,000 other things to ponder (will House and Cuddy really hook-up after last week's kiss? Is it cheaper to buy the 12-pack or the eight-pack? Can I get by one more week without waxing my eyebrows?)

Last night I could no longer avoid this age-old question. I somehow found myself watching a train wreck called I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant on TLC. It's one of those shows where the "real life" person tells the story as they cut to a reenactment portrayed by actors. Aside from the initial reaction (Are you freakin' kidding me? How do you not know you are playing host to an invasive parasite? Bloating only lasts so long!), I found myself bewildered by the actors they chose to portray these people. Some of the actors were very attractive (obviously, the "real lifers" asked to help in the selection), but some of them were down right odd looking. In particular, one woman was portrayed by an oddly shaped red-headed, very short woman. And by short, I mean her feet didn't touch the ground when she sat on the toilet! It was so distracting, I'm not sure I even really remember her story. I just kept wondering what the "real life" lady must have thought about her stand in.

Now, back to the question: Who would play me in a movie about my life? There are so many possibilities. Do I go for someone who resembles me (Angelina Jolie) or someone who I think most accurately represents me and my personality (Carrot Top)? And what if I'm so mentally disturbed, that those people look/think nothing like me? What if they do? Do you see my conundrum?

So I am asking for your suggestions. Who should play me in a movie about me and why? Who would you pick to play you? Trust me, it isn't as easy as you think!

SKATE or DIE on Halloween!

Halloween at work is a big deal! Here's my team the Princesses of Pain Roller Derby Team!

Delethal Weapon, Faye Tality, Rumble Kitty and Skaterella

When Your Kid is THAT Kid

Remember those blissful days pre-mommyhood or shortly into mommyhood? You know the ones I'm talking about - "My child will never behave that way! My child is an angel. My child knows (will know) right from wrong. My child will read and do long-division at age three while speaking fluent Mandarin and playing four instruments."

Admit it. You've been there. The place where only "bad" children come bad parents. The place where "good" children come from good moms; moms who read to their child en utero, never turned a t.v. on so she could shower or read the mail, never accepted a PB&J as an acceptable breakfast, moms who never put their child to bed without brushing teeth because that was five more minutes, and five more minutes means you miss the beginning of House, m.d..

So how quickly after you had a child did you get snapped out of that world? Some of us lingered in that destination paradise for a few years only to be suddenly thrown onto a row boat and made to paddle ourselves 1400 miles to reality with nothing more than fleeting hopes and dreams for our little prodigies.

We've all heard Mom or Dad say, "I hope you get one just like you." OK, not all of us, in fact I never heard that - why? Because I was the good kid (OK, the less bad kid). What happens when you do get that kid? What happens when you get a kid that the world has never seen before - or at least it feels that way?

You could spend countless hours reading books by the "experts", talking to a counselor about your failing as a mother and your child's failing as "normal 5 year old", and crying yourself to sleep wondering where you went wrong and because, damn it, it just isn't fair! Don't bother. There are too many of us in that club and we aren't recruiting any new members!

Throughout this blog, I have put quotes around the words good and bad when referring to children, but not when referring to parents. Why? There are bad parents and good parents; there are no "good" or "bad" children - good and bad is reflective of choices and until mid to late teens, children do not have the mental capacity to regularly and consistently make good choices. It is our job as parents to let them make choices and learn from the consequences of those choices. If you avoid this crucial, and on-going step as a parent, you are doing a great disservice to your child.

It all comes down to this: There are no "bad" kids, and they don't come from bad parents. We've all seen "bad" kids come from good parents (the catholic school girl who gets knocked up junior year) and "good" kids come from bad parents (the kid who was beaten who becomes a social worker).

I am the mom who heard her darling told the janitor to, "Get a job" and told the teacher, "You're not the boss of me and I don't have to if I don't want to". I'm the mom of a strong-willed, whining, "I want it my way or no way" master-manipulator. I am the mom of the child who has "behavior problems", a child who occasionally wipes poop on my bathroom wall, steals my sunglasses and bracelets, screams when she sees an automatic-flush toilet. I am the mom of a child who laughs like there's a caterpillar in her shirt and makes me laugh until my sides ache. I am the mom of the child who thinks every joke starts with "knock-knock" and ends with "get it?" I am the mom who would throw herself in front of a Mac truck just to get one more "nibble" or smooch from my no-good, rotten child.

So take my advice - you may not be an expert in children, but you are an expert in your child. I will tell you what I have learned:

Never make excuses for them or their behavior. Communicate with their school as often as possible. Discipline them with intent and love. Encourage them to be just who they are. Be patient - they may surprise you. Apologize a lot. Hug a lot, snuggle a lot. Be silly when you can and firm when you have to. And most of all, just Love them.