Clearly, I need a nap.

Taken last Friday, October 8th as part of my 365 photo project.

So -- there's this field by my house that I drive by every day. Don't ask my what the heck was growing there, because while I know it wasn't corn or soybeans or wheat, it just looked like some grassy-type substance.

It doesn't really matter what it was...cuz now its gone.

In place of that lovely whatevertheheck that shouted to me

"Grab a big ol' blanket, traipse to my center and lie down, hidden to the world where no one can see you to scream "MOM! HE'S LICKING ME!!!" and just look up at the sky...at the trees. Feel the sun and the gentle breeze on your face, close your eyes and let your mind wander and think all the thoughts you normally don't have time to think and just...BE."

there is now a huge patch of bald earth covered with sporadic bales of hay.

Or some grassy-type substance.

Because sometimes you need ME to make YOU feel better.

I wasn't originally going to post this story. Telling it felt, to me, like a "boo hoo oh poor me I just want someone to tell me I'm a good mother" story. There are lots of people who are single parents or who have spouses who work out of town or who have spouses that just work crazy shifts like mine, and many who cope with it much better than I do. But the other morning at work, I told this story to a friend who's also a working Mom, and it made her feel better to know that she's not the only one who feels tired and overwhelmed sometimes. So I'm hitting "publish", hoping that while this story is not really very funny and is just one more in my growing repertoire of "oh brother!" stories, that you'll feel a little better after reading it as well. And knowing that you might? Makes me feel better, too.

Life's been rough lately. Not rough in the "I have a terminal illness and three weeks to live" sort of way, but the "Wow -- THAT day sucked" every day for like two weeks straight sort of way.

I'm not even sure when The Suckiness started, but possibly as far back as that day when Nick nearly drown himself in the tub. After that, there was the day the kid got hit in the face with a golf club and just a general lot of by-myself-with-two-crabby-kids-suckitude.

I took the kids out last week to shop for a bridal shower gift for my cousin. (Yes, another wedding. We're just full of the love around here, apparently.) A big group of us ladies from my extended family and I had pooled our money to buy a gift and I had volunteered to pick up the last few items. Only this cousin didn't have a whole lot on her registry, leaving us to actually have to think about what to buy her.

After much debate, another cousin and I had gone out and bought towels and luggage (and His-n-Hers Snuggies). There was money left over, and we decided it would be a nice idea to buy an under-bed tote and fill it with gift wrapping supplies. (OK, I fully realize how dorky that sounds after writing it here, but trust me - I've seen it done before at showers and people like having boat loads of wrap stuffs all in once place. Or chicks pretend they do anyway.)

Anyway, I volunteered to go buy it.

That? Was a dumb idea.

I always swore I wouldn't be the person who stopped living their life when they had kids. I swore I'd be the Mom that would still go out with friends (albeit much less often), have her own interests and generally still be an adult.

I also hate being the person who says "no". Its almost like I think saying "no" is a weakness. I like to shop for gifts - I like to be involved - I like to be helpful. But sometimes I should just not volunteer myself. Last week was key #1 example of a time I shouldn't have.

Cuz you see I had seen my husband for a total of three hours that week. Not figuratively three hours - literally three hours. Total. And not a single moment of it was alone together. During all of that time I was working, picking up kids from the sitters', making out upcoming hourly school/sitter/work schedules and feeding/caring for/entertaining two kids by myself. We're talking hour drives to work, 9 hours in the office, and hour drives home only to pick up cranky kids who were hungry from the sitters' and begging and pleading with them not to pummel each other to smithereens while I whipped together some utterly crap-tastic dinner.

The picking up of the gift wrap shower gift was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

This Momma nearly lost it.

Sunday we hit Wal-Mart first, buying a few items for the gift but spending more time looking at new clothes for school and other household items we needed. There is a party supply place in the strip mall next door, and I assumed their prices for gift wrappy things would be better that Wally World's. After an hour in the store (and let's be honest - probably $100) I put our bags in the car and trekked across the parking lot with the kiddos in tow. Turns out the party supply place closes at 5 on Sundays.

No problem! We'll just head to Kohl's for more back-to-school shopping goodness! And the shopping did commence.

Monday rolls around and I go to work, the kids are home with The Hubster until he goes to work in the afternoon. I pick them up around 5:30 and decide that right off the bat -- we're going to finish our shopping!

Why in God's name did I think this was a good idea?!? Shopping with small children two days in a row?

I IS BAD.

We hit the party supply place first. The kids were all over the place - roaming the isles, Greco-Roman wrestling over who got to try on the last "Over-the-hill" party hat on the shelf and just generally not listening to a word I said. Meanwhile, I was staring at the wall that used to contain inexpensively priced gift bags and am trying to remember how much I saw gift bags for at Wally World. Cuz those? Were uggo. And pricey. I made a few selections and decided that we were going back to Wally World, after all.

I bribed my children with the promise of candy and went to the register to pay. While standing there, listening to the pot head high school kid working the register tell me "Yeaaaahhhh...we're like, under new management and stuff? We don't have, like, as much STUUUUHHHHFFFF as we used to?" I was swatting at my children like they were gnats, trying to keep their hands off all the crap hanging on hooks below the counter. When the stoner kid starts to say, "Yeaaahhhh...we just, like, ordered a bunch of stuff, you know?" I was trying to separate my children from each other using my body and failing. Finally I gave up on the kids, figuring that if they were "so low on inventory" and had a moron like that at the counter then they could put up with the bickering and fighting while I fished out my debit card.

Then -- SNAP!

And "Uh oh Mom! I'm sorry!"

Nick had grabbed one of the display hooks holding pre-paid long distance cards (or some such crap) that was hanging at five-year-old monkey business level and had begun to shake it. (Don't ask why. Please. I have no fracking idea. He claimed he didn't know.) It had broken off in his hand.

I apologized profusely - probably WAY more than I should have - but finally we got out of that store and we went on to the next. Wal-Mart had tons more gift wrap-a-dos, but the gift wrap isle is RIGHT next to the massively insane school supply isles. My children were nearly killing each other at this point and touching everything on the shelves. I was trying to make sound purchase decisions while not going over budget and not freaking out that my children were LYING ON THE FLOOR while school supply isle overflow was making its way down our isle.

Finally they found the musical cards and I got five minutes to grab some rolls of wrapping paper and scotch tape. I, of course, went WAY over budget.

But finally it was time to leave, and we checked out. We have a rule - each kid must hold on to a side of the cart when we're leaving the store. They often do it in the store as well, but this way A) they're not near each other (one goes on each side) B) they're holding on to something while we're in the parking lot and C) they're not touching all of the candy and crap toys stores like to put near the checkout lanes.

Only on that day? My head was turned to my right when I suddenly heard a SHRIEK! and a WHAAAA! and I'm like, WHAT THE--?!?

I turned to my left to see my sweet little three-year-old son following my directions - my explicit instructions that he not let go of the cart under any circumstances or so help me GOD I'm taking away TV! - and find that he has tripped, fallen into the wheel of the cart and IS BEING DRAGGED BEHIND IT.

I don't know that I've ever felt so horrible.

Will had a huge gash on his knee and his face was like 2" from the cart wheel and he was still desperately trying to hold on to the side of the cart.

I'm such an ass.

I picked up my crying boy and it was all I could do not to cry with him. We finally made it to the car where I cleaned the wound with a baby wipe and hugged him, rubbing his back until the tears ceased. I had to call The Hubster -- I just had to. I just had to share that particular moment of over-whelmed, over-worked, over-EVERYTHINGED with someone, and who better than my husband?

Actually getting to talk to him while he's working is hit or miss. There are only so many times he'll actually be in the squad car to answer. Some days I leave him messages, filling him in on what we're doing - how our lives are going - what we're doing without him. Other days I get his voice mail and its simply too depressing to leave him a message AGAIN. On this craptasitc day of all days?

He couldn't talk cuz he had someone in the car doing a ride-along.

Somehow, that was much, much worse than getting his voice mail. It was like, how can I possibly give up any more? The few minutes that I might get of his time in my long LONG day were being given to someone else. It was bad enough that our schedules were so opposite lately, and that he'd been working lots of over time, and 'at the last minute unplanned' over time at that.

I just hung up. It was horrible.

The boys and I went home and had sandwiches for dinner (or cereal, I can't remember now). Later, when they were in bed, I had myself a nice long cry.

I know I need to slow things down a bit - I've been saying it for awhile - but I just can't imagine what I'd give up to make things balance better, you know? I just know that I'm going to make a concerted effort to work the "fun" back into my life. A little time for lunch with a friend, or a workout at the Y, or...I don't know. Something.

There are some days when my children are cherubic little angels...

...and other days I need to look at pictures of them being civil human beings to prove to myself that they're not always so ridiculously crabby and whiny.

I love my children...I love my children...I love my children...

Some days its a good thing they're cute!

The job.

So, I post about how randomly I've posted, then make an effort to post three times in one week, and now its been, um, how long has it been since I posted here last?!?

My life has absolutely been topsy-turvy lately, and every time I talk to a friend I get the "Wait, you're doing..." or "But I thought you were..." comments. These won't be the most thought-provoking posts, but rather a way for me to just catch-up. Today, about my job. I don't feel completely comfortable sharing all of the details, but here are the cliff's notes.

Roughly a year ago, I was approached by a recruiter and offered a job at a time when others at the company I worked for were getting laid off. Hell, everyone was laying off, and here was this job offer - on a silver platter - with a red bow and a side of a raise. The description of the job was exactly what I thought I needed - the same things I'd been doing at the old job, but with a bit of a challenge.

Only I quickly realized that "environmentally" it wasn't a good fit. My office was a cramped closet with a printer and a copy machine that ran (and squeaked) all day long just outside the door. I had a loooong laundry list of tasks to accomplish, and very few resources at my disposal. And some of the people I worked with were, um, challenging. I ended up going home in tears more than a few times. I'm NOT a crier.

I was miserable.

I knew I had made a mistake, leaving a job where I fit so well. I had been working for a great company, with great benefits, and a boss that was nothing but easy to work with. But it had been my choice to leave. I had no regrets about the decision - I knew, going into it, that it might not work out, but felt that I needed to take a chance.

So in November, after only six months with this company, the Hubster and I decided that we were in a position where I could quit my hellish job and stay home with our boys while they were still little. We were probably going to end up poor, but so be it. 'Tis better to be poor and happy, right?

I put in my notice and they begged me to stay. I turned down two counter-offers before they I accepted their third. I was to work 20-25 hours per week from my home office, and make a trip downtown when needed. It was great to wake up without an alarm in the morning, and to have breakfast with my kids before padding downstairs in my slippers and sweats to do a few hours of work.

Given my previous experience with this company, I had no misconceptions about how well the arrangement would work out. I made the most of my time off. I caught up on more than a few TV shows and movies, and did something fun with the kids on the days when Hubster worked his double shifts.

As perfect as this arrangement might seem, it was a really tough juggling act. I spent the darkest days of winter alone, with no one but my children to keep my company. Hubster was working long shifts as usual, and I no longer had friends and co-workers with whom to chat or share a lunch. There was no one to share job-related victories with, and our arrangement as far as balancing work and child-care didn't work the way I'd wanted it to. I spent many days trying to keep my kids entertained and quiet while I was on a conference call.

I knew, that as much as I'd always wanted my chance to be at home with my kids, that personally it just didn't work for me. I needed a much clearer separation of work and home. I needed to dress like an adult again, do a job I was good at doing, and get back into a healthy environment where I knew I was appreciated. I made a mental decision that I would start looking for out-of-the-house work again at the end of the summer.

In March, an opportunity presented itself (again) and was worth jumping into sooner.

A job back at the company I left (the really good one, remember?) working for the same boss (who's still great) doing something slightly different in that it presents a learning curve for me that isn't unachievable.

Oh, and I get my seven years of seniority back.

HEAVEN.

For the past two weeks, I've put on heels and earrings and driven the long 45-minute drive every day, except the two days I had to go to Chicago.

And I couldn't be happier.

Slacker.

You can easily scroll down this page and find that I don't regularly post here anymore.

I had someone ask me the other day if I'd been writing more, now that I'm home more. That'd be a big NO.

Its not that I don't want to, its just that I'm not sure if this is the right forum for me anymore.

This isn't a "Good-bye blog!" type of post. Its a "here's why I haven't been posting" type of post.

In the two years I've been writing here at this lovely little spot on the Web, I've gained quite a following. (And don't let that lonely little feed counter chicklet fool you - it may show only 180-some subscribers, but I know, from comments I regularly get both in real life and online, that many people who don't subscribe in a feed reader read what I write here.) That following includes family and friends...people I've known my entire life...and co-workers, old and new.

Its easier for me to bare my soul and just write what I feel when I think no one I know is listening.

Maybe that's weird, or maybe that's what binds those of us in the blogging community. I don't know.

But the truth is, a lot has changed in my life in the past few months. I knew it would throw me for a loop, and GOD has it ever. I went from being on the verge of a freakin' break down only to add more to it while working, packing and moving.

And sometime just after we moved? We decided it was finally time to just let some things go.

I put in my notice to leave my full-time job.

It was a HUGE relief. No more hour-long drives to get downtown, no traffic to fight, no clothes if I didn't feel like getting out of my PJs.

Only they weren't willing to accept my resignation. Cuz it turns out? There aren't that many people in the entire state who do what I do. Huh. You don't say.

So we worked out a deal where I would work part-time, from home. Sounds like a dream, right? They were going to hire someone to replace the old full-time me, and hopefully keep me on PT hours to do some of the more mediocre (yet important) things that can get overlooked in light of all the busy-ness of the work day.

But that was more than three months ago.

So, yes. Its been nice to be able to dilly-dally over breakfast in the morning, and to close up shop at 3:30 in the afternoon if I so choose. But this new lifestyle brings with it different challenges. Like, oh, if you have a hubby who sometimes works overnight shifts, well that means that you may just have to juggle taking care of the kids AND work so he can sleep. And that? SUCKS.

We've discussed sending the kids to the sitter's on some of those "Daddy Sleep Days", but that would mean getting them up and dressed and fed and out the door by a certain time and dammit that sucks too.

Above and beyond that? Its just plain LONELY being a cop's wife. For five years now we've worked shifts opposite each other and its really wearing on me. Its exacerbated by the fact that we now live out in the boonies and I no longer actually see any of my co-workers. Our kids are very young yet and they need more attention than I seem to be able to give.

I swear, as God is my witness, I will one day eat my dinner again before its cold.

Just sayin'.

I go days without really seeing my Hubby except for maybe a few hours while we eat or run an errand or two. When he is off, I want to cram as much fun into life as possible. Because, let's face it, being by yourself with two kids, no matter how great they are, isn't usually much fun. Adult fun, anyway.

So, yeah. Without going into it further, my life just isn't what I thought it would be, you know? I realize that makes me a freakin' cliche...that hundreds of thousands of other people the world over feel the same way. I mean, that's been the basis of how many movies and books?

Instead of writing what I really feel about it all, I just keep cleaning my three bathrooms, keep picking up toys, and play one more game of Solitaire.

Cuz that's apparently the type of slacker I am.

Waylaid

First we were packing.

Then we moved.

Then got swine flu.

And I quit my job.

And all of a sudden I looked up and it was November.

I'll be back...I promise. Til then, check out the view we regularly enjoy from our new front windows. ;-)

"The Method", part 2

So...I've been spilling all the thoughts that are flip-flopping around inside my crazy head, and generally over-sharing about my family's plans to re-write the rat race, but while my last post was called "There's a method to my madness", there's a lot that wasn't said.*

I fully realize that while I SAY I want to be at home with my kids, a few facts are evident:

1) On day 4 of my "early retirement" I will most likely go half out of my mind with the task of having to entertain small, logic-defying people all day long. I will also most likely smell really bad due to lack of showerage and having worn the same pair of yoga pants for more than half a week.

B) By day 10, I will most likely forget how to converse with adults and begin trying to be witty at parties with jokes such as "Knock knock!" "Who's there?" "Pickle." "Pickle who?" "Pickle rides on a bicycle!!!" after which I will laugh at my own joke so hard that I'll make others question if maybe that wasn't the funniest joke on the face of the planet and they just don't get it.

iii) By day 37, I will most likely lose my self-identity altogether when I order business cards that say "Nick & Will's Mommy!" on them. I may also engage the check-out girls at the grocery store with what I think are interesting anecdotes about my life.**

D) My home will quickly become, quite literally, the poor house. Or the loony bin. Or both.

So I've realized that even though I won't have an "away from home" job, I can (and will need to) keep working. There are a lot of things that I really like to do and hope others will see I have talent for them. So as to be completely ready and actually making some money by the time I leave my 9-5, I've started some of these now:

1) Start another site/blog that has a clearly identifiable audience, on which I can sell ad space.

2) Begin offering Web design services for bloggers. Check, check and check. (NOTE: I can do work for BOTH Blogger and Wordpress. Aha - I am so flexible! Design on this 3rd site is still in progress. Its a "shoemaker's children" type of thing.)

3) Become a real writer. THIS I can do. Even if both of the above fail miserably, I can write. I just need to get to know some other real writers. Check, check and check.

Others, I haven't started on, but can resort to if worse comes to worse.

There's always Tupperware.




*Yeah, I know...how is that POSSIBLE?!?
**Oh wait. I do that now.



And you can totally hire me now. ;-)

The early bird gets the "I don't want to work" special.

Operators are standing by.

And by operators, I mean me.

Miss Cleo: "CAWL ME NOW!"

There's a method to my madness

So. I'm obviously stressed. This is the post where I tell you just what I intend to do about it.

Cuz, see, there's a benefit to being the type of people who are always planning for the future.

We're always planning for the future.

Genius, no?

Let me explain.

Like most Moms, after Nicholas was born in 2004 I didn't want to go back to work. But as I mentioned yesterday, at the time Hubs had gone back to school and had taken a job that paid far less than he had been making so that he could do so. I was (and continue to be) the main bread-winner in our household. (Every time Hubs gets a boost in pay I seem to shout, "OH YEAH?!?! TAKE THAT!" and trump him.)

At the time, we just weren't in a place where we could financially afford for me to do so.

Let me be clear - I give mad props, yo, to Moms that make it work, whatever the cost - financial or otherwise - to be at home with their kids. While my brain knows that kids will grow up and function just fine if they attend day care and have two parents who work full time, my heart and my gut and that little part at the back of my brain that just won't leave me alone feel otherwise.

I want to be at home with my kids.

I remember crying my eyes out a few days before having to return to work. There was this teeny little person who relied on me for everything that was just starting to develop the buds of a personality. He was no longer a newborn that got up every two hours to eat...he was becoming more fun...I could see the light at the end of the sleep-deprived tunnel...and like hell did I want to miss any of the GOOD stuff. (Cuz up until three or four months old newborns pretty much suck. God makes 'em cute for good reason.)

I called my HR department and asked as to whether maternity leave had to be repaid if I didn't come back. (It doesn't - its a benefit you earn through your months/years of employment beforehand.) I hadn't researched day care AT ALL. Hubby had started looking for a job that would allow him to work nights, but as of the day I made that phone call I had no plan what-so-ever to return to work.

I'm sad that I lost the strength of that conviction.

Hubby did get that second-shift job, and we were lucky to find a friend of a good friend who watched children out of her home. The fact that she cared for 'Baby Nicholas' just a few hours every afternoon helped somewhat, but I still cried when I came to pick him up one afternoon to be told, "HE CUT HIS FIRST TOOTH!!!"

Straight to the heart on that one. Ow.

Somewhere in there, Hubby and I had a heart-to-heart. We both wanted me to be able to stay home and were working toward making that a reality. Once he was done with school and had a better paying job it just might work.

"Maybe after the next baby," he said.

Welcome Will, February 2007. Three months later I went back to work.

I didn't cry that spring, heading back to the office. I still believed in my gut that it was just a matter of time until I could leave the 9-5 altogether. That we were being rational about all of this - that we didn't want our kids to grow up poor like we did - and so we must 'keep on keepin' on'.

I'm more than a little sad that I didn't cry about going back to work the second time.

But throughout all of these years, working our tails off, going to school, literally switching shifts with our children (and hardly seeing each other), we were also paying down our mortgage - we happened to be smart enough to refi to a 15-year fixed back in 2003. We're some of the very few that actually LIKE to get statements from our credit union, because we can SEE the balance we owe on our home going down.

We also made other decisions about lifestyle. Neither Hubs nor I own a flashy car. We both drive used Chevy Blazers. We don't have a monthly payment for either.

We don't carry a balance on our credit cards.

We don't have new furniture or electronics, or $100/month cell phone bills.

We don't buy $4 coffees or $12 take-out lunches or take big fancy vacations.*

We could, but we don't.

I'm not saying that having any of these things is bad, I'm just saying that these are some of the choices we've made because we've taken our goal very seriously.

When we move this fall, we will move into a much larger home and the mortgage payment we make will be nearly identical to the one we make now.**

We originally intended to set aside a big chunk of money from the sale of our existing house to buy new furniture (because let's face it, there will be a lot of EMPTY SPACE in that house, wherever it is) but with things the way they are now we probably won't.

And then? Once we get settled?

I will wave buh-bye to the old day job.

And I won't look back.

Let the count-down clock start....NOW.



*OK, I break the unwritten "coffee rule" some days. But I really love plain old joe with flavored creamer and bring it to work from home nearly every day.
**Granted, we'll be starting the mortgage clock over again and paying over 30 years, but I'm cool with that.

A peek inside my stress addled brain.

I've been a horrible blogger lately.

I've come to the point where I can admit that I'm stressed past the point where its safe for me to be operating heavy machinery, consuming more than three alcoholic drinks or 'breastfeeding, pregnant or may become pregnant'.

I can no longer STAND to hear my own thoughts -- inside my own head -- about work and stress and, well...my non-existent social life. Just writing this now makes me cringe.

But some part of me, the part that has always used writing as a form of therapy, needs to write it down. I no longer have any recollection of what I've written here and what I haven't, and I can't be bothered to go back and look. I mean, this is like a whole BLOG and stuff.

So here's a recap of my crazy-hectic overwhelming life. I fully realize I've said a lot of this before, that others have it worse, and that phthalates are bad, mmmkay?

Maybe I can get that voice inside my head to just SHUT.UP. about it all.*

---

In one of our stress-induced arguments, I shouted at my husband that the cause (in large part) of my stress problem is that for some unknown reason we're both the kind of people who never can just BE. We're always working toward the future - the next stage - what we could have. Which is great and all - this country was built by people who refused to settle for what they had - but is super-duper tiring.

I mean, 8 1/2 years ago we got engaged and began planning our wedding. Not having ultra-rich parents, or even parents of mediocre means, we knew we'd be footing the bill ourselves**. Never mind that I was already working full time and completing my bachelor's degree at night, I took on a second job to try and pay for our wedding. (Which, I'll proudly tell you, was paid for in full the day after. BOO YA!)

After the wedding? Well, we had a few months in there of trying to get pregnant (because conceiving apparently isn't my strong suit) during which we hung out with friends and took vacations and did normal people things.

I should mention around this time was when Hubs decided he didn't want to be a retail manager forever (for an electronics store that went flat out BELLY UP) and decided he wanted to go back to school. So he took a job with a schedule that would allow him to do so, and a-schoolin' he did go. Therefore, my era of 15-hour days of work then school had ended but his were just beginning.

OK...so then we had a baby AND were both working full time AND Hubs was going to school. (Do we sound nuts yet? We should.) Repeat this schedule for a few years until baby #2. Then it becomes "we had two small children AND were both working full time AND Hubs was going to school".

'Til he gradumacated. Then we did the happy dance of joy, and it was good.

'Til he started to apply for jobs. Then it was the "we had two small children AND were both working full time AND Hubs was gallivanting around the state, applying for, taking physical tests for, taking written tests for, taking MORE written tests for, going to interviews for, being questioned and polygraphed and providing 10+ years of written documentation of his entire life and livelihood...{*gasp*}...all in the name of getting this job he always dreamed of having which was really like a second full time job" era.

'Til he got the job. And then we did the "OHMYGODYOUGOTAJOB!!!" dance. And it was even gooder than it was before.

'Til the new employer said, "Hey new employee! You have to live in this county - why don't you pack up everything you and your family owns, sell a house in this craptastic economy and move here? NOW!"

And then we wrung our hands and freaked the hell out.

And started packing.

'Til the Union stepped in and delivered a horse's head in someone's bed and the new employer said, "Heh...just kidding! You can live wherever you want! But your wife, who's been waiting for you to get this job for WHAT FEELS LIKE FOREVER and has been living in a too-small, very old house making due as best she can MIGHT JUST LOSE HER EVER-LOVIN' MIND if you don't. 'kay? Thanksbye."

So we each took a deep breath and decided that instead of listing our house for $50 just to sell it before the next ice age, we'd fix up the little parts that needed fixing, paint up the parts that needed painting and clean up the parts that needed cleaning and just move as soon as we could, hoping to retain more of our blood-sweat-and-tears-earned equity.

Fast forward to FOUR MONTHS LATER.

Its no wonder why people keep emailing me, asking me, "What's the deal with the house, yo?"

BUT. I am happy to report that we have FINALLY hired professionals *cough*cough*my 22-year-old brother*cough*and my other brother's pot head friend*cough*cough to come in and do some of the work that we just don't have the time to do.

Its just taking some time, what with all of the "coffee breaks" they need to take.

What can I do? They're Union.

OK, so...where the heck was I? Oh yeah. My husband and I are nuts. We are now in the "we have two small children AND we're both working full time AND have people working on stupid-ass projects (like sanding and re-painting basement windows that have 90+ years of paint on them cuz we're not replacing them at this point) that take more time than we have" stage.

And it sucks.

And I might just be losing my mind.

Cuz...footnote in there somewhere? Is the fact that through all of this I had a GREAT job with a GREAT boss and flexible hours that saved my sanity. And then, just after we found out we'd have more time to move, I got an offer for a job that was exactly the same as what I had been doing except it PAID A WHOLE CRAPLOAD MORE MONEY. Only I work later in the afternoons. And um, how can I say this tactfully so as to not be fired later because of something I wrote on the Internet? Uh..."Its a completely different atmosphere and I'm having a hard time reverting back to my days of NOT being completely self-reliant and -efficient."

Iiiiinnn....oooooouuuuutttt. In with the good air - out with the bad. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

So...to sum it all up.
1) No, we haven't moved yet.
2) We're still overly busy people and I don't want to be overly busy any more.
3) How'm I liking the new job? "Meh. It's OK."

*Probably not.
**Except you, my dearest "up north" in laws. You did step in and pay for things, and for that we are STILL truly grateful. In fact, so grateful that I will never use the term "in laws" when referring to you ever again, cuz those words just sound ugly. Instead, you will be referred to as "The Awesomes".

A step closer to insanity

Why yes, I'm over-worked. What's a girl to do? Why, launch a new Web site, of course!

Introducing Milwaukee Mama Reviews!

Welcome to my kitchen table. Pull up a chair, have a cup of coffee and let's chat while the kids are playing. I'll tell you about all the good local stuff I've found...

I hope you'll stop by and check it out, even if you're not a Milwaukeean. You just might find something that applies to your neck of the woods...or even make you want to visit. ;-)

Rollercoaster ride

These last few days have been even tougher than the ones I last wrote about.

Let me back up a bit. My hubby? Is a cop. That's the job he worked forever to get and knew he always wanted to do. In his 6th grade yearbook each kid got a half-page dot-matrix photo followed by a blurb about what they wanted to be when they grew up and where they'd go if they could go anywhere on vacation. Hubs said outer space, but he also said he'd like to be a police officer.

I think there's something different about men and women who have jobs who's sole purpose is to save other people. There's a genetic difference...something hard-wired in their brains that allows them to run toward danger while everyone else is running away.

My hubby had that long before he actually got his badge.

I've never actually mentioned here what he does for a living cuz even before he was a cop he had dangerous jobs dealing with dangerous people and this site is, well, public.

But Wednesday afternoon there was a tragedy in the city we live in and love. Two police officers approached a suspicious person on a bicycle. The man struggled with the officers, and without provocation, drew a gun and shot one officer in the face twice, the other three times.

As the officers lay on the ground bleeding, citizens stopped to help. Another followed the suspect in his UPS truck. (You can read a detailed account of the event here.) Within an hour, police had arrested the man with no further shots fired and both wounded officers were at Froedtert Hospital. We later learned they were both expected to survive.

A scary and miraculous event like this can shake any citizen - make them proud to live in a place where we aren't afraid to help each other and remind them that any call an officer responds to could potentially also be putting his or her life on the line.

But for the wives of police officers, firefighters and servicemen, well, we're proud, but we're also reminded that our husbands (and wives) may not always make it home. Its something that we have to accept...our spouses do the jobs they do and they're dangerous.

Most days you can sort of forget, or let that fact be buried in the back of your brain, next to the recipes for foods you make only at Christmas time. But its always there.

Hubs and I talked about this incident - I was actually his source of the news for him, given that he had worked an overnight shift the night before and had slept through the events of Wednesday afternoon. He didn't know the officers who'd been injured, but knew many many other officers who did. It was only a "two degrees of separation" type thing.

Wednesday night he went in for his last overnight shift as a trainee. He started around 9 p.m., meaning he'd be done around 5:30 in the morning. The areas he patrols, however, are very dark and much more rural than his city counterparts.

Thursday morning dawned and I got up to do my thing. I brewed extra coffee, knowing that Hubs was going to stay awake to see Nick's pre-school graduation rather than going to sleep right away. His sister came over, as usual, to watch the boys in case Hubby didn't make it home before I needed to leave for work.

At 7:30 a.m., I left the house. Hubs was still not home.

Another lesson you learn when your spouse works in law enforcement: They will almost never be able to "clock out" on time. Again, you just learn to accept it. If you're going to lock up the bad guys, well, there's a lot of paperwork involved. If they forget to cross a "T" or dot an "I" in that paperwork, the bad guy could get off on a technicality.

At 7:45, I called from the car.

"Hey hon, its me. Hope you had a good night! I'm headed in to work - I should be at my desk in 10 or 15 minutes, so give me a call, OK?" I wasn't exactly worried. We always talk in the morning.

At my desk a half hour later, I realized he still hadn't called. I called his cell, and then again 15 minutes after that. Still no answer. Starting to be concerned, at 8:30 I called our house, hoping maybe he'd called his sister to say he was running late. No dice.

I kept calling him every fifteen minutes until 9 a.m., when I was starting to get panicky and left this message:

"Hey hon. Are you OK? Call me, please. OK? Nick has to be at school at 10:45 and I need to figure out how we're going to get him there if you're going to still be at work. Its his last day and I don't want him to miss his little concert. You were supposed to be done with work THREE AND A HALF HOURS AGO. Call me, OK?"

Every other time he'd been more than an hour off schedule, he'd called me.

I imagined him, shot in the face, lying in a ditch off a rural highway in the dark, where there weren't any citizens driving by to call it in or save him.

Panicking at my desk, I couldn't concentrate on my work. Working at this new job, I don't yet have any PTO time to take a day off, but I was wishing I could just go home. I continued to call him, trying not to call more than every fifteen minutes.

At 9:15 there was still no answer, and I told myself that if I didn't hear from him by 9:30, I was leaving work, pay or no pay, job or no job, and was going to make sure I could get my little boy to his the preschool concert he'd practiced for for so long.

I was near tears at my desk.

I decided that at 9:30, I could call the main dispatch, non-emergency line and not sound like a complete spaz asking if my husband was still alive.

At 9:27 I'd had enough. I dialed the number with shaking fingers. The operator answered.

"Hi, um, this is -- I mean, I'm wondering if -- my husband, Officer Wins, he was supposed to be done with his shift four hours ago, and um..."

"Officer Wins? Oh yeah...he's right here."

OH MY HELL. I almost sobbed in the guy's ear.

He transferred my call and Hubby picked up, wondering why I was calling.

"Oh my God I thought you were DEAD!" I tried to keep from screaming, but I'd closed my office door when I first went into panic mode, so that was the least of my concerns.

"I told you," he replied. "If anything ever happens to me they'll call to let you know right away."

OH NO HE DI'INT.

My jaw dropped open and I tried to keep from hanging up on him. "I don't -- I can't -- WHAT?" That SO didn't put me at ease.

After that I don't recall exactly what was said, but I did slam the receiver down in his ear. And then I cried.

Big, shaking sobs -- because he was OK and because those other officers weren't. I cried because my life right now is one big uncertain mess -- and I have control over nothing. I cried because the weight of the stress I've put upon myself is more than I can handle, and I'm not sure exactly what I can do about it all.

Shortly after the tears subsided he called me again while on his way home. I let him know in no uncertain terms that NOT calling when you're four hours late is simply NOT acceptable, and that "they'll call if something happens" is NOT sufficient for communicating your well-being with your wife.

I let the issue go for the moment, simply because I was relieved I had worried about nothing, and because I had work to get done before I could leave to see Nick's little concert over the lunch hour. But later, when I called him to see where at the school I needed to go for the little show, he didn't answer.

I was going to be civil, dammit, in front of the crowd of mostly Mommies and a few Daddies who had gathered for the concert, but I was emotional all over again.

All of those Mommies? Knew each other. They saw each other twice a week for nine months when they each brought their kids for class. I was the only one in dress pants and heels and sensible jewelry. I felt like a heel for knowing that most of those families were going to go home and have a celebratory lunches for their little tykes and I was going to head back to my hole-in-the-wall office and miss out on that experience.

But I was not going to cry. My choice to work is just that - my choice. Hubby and I both work for many reasons that were discussed before Nick was even born.

Will, however, is cutting molars and was extra cuddly. He didn't want Mommy out of his sight, and insisted on being on my lap through the entire show. I think he was afraid that I'd leave again.

Out came the "graduates" wearing construction paper mortar-board hats in red or blue, complete with a black tassel and their hand print on top, sprinkled with glitter.

Iwillnotcry Iwillnotcry Iwillnotcry.
But sometime during "Ga-goon goes the little green frog", I looked down to see my sweet little two-year-old mirroring the hand movements of his brother and singing along.

The tears, they were a-flowing. I was so proud of them both, and it was just such...a day, you know?

We did celebrate that night, with a visit to Chuck E. Cheese's, but I was drained. I was so tired. I was up late the night before trying to empty the sink of dishes and make sure I had clean pants for work the next day. Add to it the fact that Nick then woke up after a bad dream and I think I may have gotten four and a half hours of sleep. It really didn't enjoy myself at all.

So, what's my point here? If nothing else, I took a chance on a job that I can do, but don't want to do any longer. All of these things suck, but have shown me where I really want to be.

I'm takin' what they're givin' cuz I'm workin' for a livin'

I obviously haven't been posting as much lately, and when I do, nothing of very good quality. My last post was probably a great indication as to why. The thought of bitching every day about work makes me half nuts, so I know none of you really want to read about it, either.

But at the end of the day my brain feels as if its made out of tofu...thick...dense...void of flavor and color.

I hesitate to write all of this, if for no other reason than my old boss reads my blog. He was the best boss I've ever had...fair, friendly, flexible. He "gets" it. If your employees are happy, you'll be happy, too, and they'll be more productive. Its the little perks that don't really cost much that will get you the most mileage.

I knew that I had a good thing at my last job. Knew it. And I hope those I worked with never thought I took it for granted. I could have stayed there for many more years, floating along, doing what was easy and comfortable and would let me go home early in the afternoons.

Above all I don't want my old boss, nice as he is, to read this and try and get me to come back. When you work somewhere for a long long time, you get this feeling of safety and security that is really hard to let go of. If ever I want to try my hand at writing for real, or go out on my own as I've talked about in my head for years, I don't know that I would ever do it had I stayed put. Now that I've let go of that place, well, I have so fewer connections to this one that it should be easier to walk away.

Besides, I wasn't being challenged. Sure, every so often we'd do a software upgrade that would make me want to tear out my hair in big huge clumps and rock back and forth while sitting under my desk, but that was so predictable as to be expected. Part of the routine.

When this job offer came my way (which, if you missed the post, quite literally dropped in my lap) the "pros" of taking this new job seemed to outweigh the minuses. I took a chance at the opportunity to be the man in charge. And after nearly a month on the job here, I've gotten exactly what I expected. Lots of challenges, lots of decisions to be made, lots of WORK.

If you ask anyone here they'll say I'm handling it like a champ. And I am. I certainly have the experience to know what I'm doing. I've been through this all before, under the guidance of that great ex-boss. In just less than four short weeks, I've taken this new place from udder chaos (in terms of the software I support, anyway) to relative calm. People trust me. There is no doubt that when I say we can do XYZ that we will be able to do XYZ and do it exactly the way I've said we can do it.

But again, I'm working until 5 pm for the first time in years. When you factor in even a short drive home from downtown at that hour, then dinner isn't had until almost 7 most nights. Which means, when you have little kids, that dessert is followed by PJs and a bedtime story and not much else.

And there's the tofu brain to contend with. I'm just out of it. I used to be able to unwind at the end of my day during the ride home in the car. Now I get home and read the mail and watch the news and load the dishwasher...all while my kids jump and prance around me begging for my attention. They miss me. And not just for the nine plus hours I'm gone every day, but for that time when I'm just not present.

And that kills me.

I've always been a firm believer that when the work day is over, you should walk away and leave it all behind. I do not have a Blackberry. I won't take a job that isn't paid hourly. If you are a co-worker who is my friend, you may call my cell phone. But you sure as hell better not bother me while I'm on vacation and ask me about some file somewhere, or I'll probably hang up on your ass.

So what the hell was I thinking, really? Didn't I start out this year with intentions to work even less than I had been? Why, then, am I working even MORE?!? Obviously I thought that the extra money would be nice, to pay down some bills or to stash a bit away before making that big decision to quit a 9-5 completely.

When it comes right down to it, there's still a part of me that is like that lonely middle school girl I once was -- one that feels the need to prove herself to others. Yes, I am smart enough. Yes, I can do it. Yes, I am capable. The thing I struggle with on a daily basis is the letting go of that ridiculous need. Getting rid of that feeling that I'm not doing enough to show my true worth.

I am my own toughest critic, I know.

So...plans are in the works, I'll just say that. I'm here to do what they are paying me to do and that's all. I will be here, I will do it well. I will fix this project and make it even better than they thought it could be.

But that's it.

Cuz I still have tiny people asking me to cuddle with them in the mornings. And no amount of money can replace that.

Calgon take me away!

Its 6:28 p.m. as I type this.

My hubby isn't home yet, my children have not been fed and I can't even begin to imagine what I'm going to feed them for dinner.




And now its two and a half hours later.

I first was interrupted by my cell, then had to run outside to meet my brother's girlfriend - she was dropping something off for me and we spent approximately four and a half minutes chatting. I said, "Well, I gotta run. I should make sure the boys aren't tearing the house apart."

I wasn't that far off.

They were both crying -- no -- wailing.

"What happened?!?"

Nick: "Mwaha-waaha-he-bwa-ha-Will-heh-huh-waaaa!"

Will (at the same time): "Boo-hoo-waa-ha-Momma!-mwa-huh-heh-heh-owie-sniff-sniff!"

"I don't speak whine. WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED?!?"

Nick, trying to stop the tears: "Momma-I-I-sniff-sniff-BWAAAAHAAAAAAA-Mommaaaaaa!"

Will, at the same time: "NO NO! Momma! I said NO NO! BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!"

Apparently World War 47 broke out because Will turned the TV off while Nick was pitching in the World Series of Wii baseball. (Or in other words, the game he just happened to be playing at that moment because they're ALL super mega important.)

Now, mind you, the GAME didn't get turned off. Just the TV.

So Nick wailed off and hit his brother on the forearm with the Wii controller.

An ice pack, a time out and 15 minutes later, Hubs was home and my patience were nearly depleted.

So we went to Sonic.

Milwaukee got its first Sonic just a few months ago. We've been teased with commercials for YEARS...but the long lines that stretched all the way to the street and down the block have prevented us from even trying it.

However, Sonic is one of those things that sounds really cool until you realize you're still feeding kids in the car.

We made the most of it...even though our server didn't wear roller skates like most of the rest of them did...we got "Super Mega Lame Guy Who Just Walks and Didn't Even Hook Our Tray On the Window". Not nearly as fun.

And we totally didn't know the proper drive-in etiquette. Like who knew you could just press the button and they'd come get your garbage? Or that they'd bring you ketchup?

So long story even longer, I'm tired. Hubby's nearly done with his three months of on-the-job training and will get his permanent placement next week. IF they decide to make out his schedule past next Wednesday, anyway. Until then its overnight shifts followed by day shifts followed by additional training that's out of town.

And me? I'm working longer hours and coming home to rowdy kids cuz their Aunties have spoiled them all day and Will's going through a language explosion that keeps him from sleeping at night. Subsequently, his brother in the top bunk as well.

This lifestyle just can't last forever...

Heart breaker

My sweet four-year-old has had the ability to bring me to tears lately.

A lot.

Last week:

Nick: MOM! Daddy took us to the park today and we hit home runs and runned around the bases!

Me: Wow, sounds like fun!

Nick: Yeah. And we had hot dogs for a picnic. You should be there with us next time.

Oooh -- my heart!

Yesterday afternoon:

Jay: Nick, tomorrow you have swimming lessons. Maybe we'll hang out and all swim together in the small pool after your lessons.

Nick: YAY! That would be really really fun. William too?

Jay: William too.

Nick: And Mommy?

Me: Sorry buddy. Mommy has to work.

Nick: Oh. But you should not work sometimes and come swimming with us instead.

Oooh - twist the knife, why dontcha?

And then last night, tucking him in before bed:

Me: Buddy, when did you get so big?

Nick: Cuz I did. And them I'm going to be five. Sometime, I'll be as big as you!

Me: Will you still love me when you're as big as me?

Nick: Yep.

Me: What will you be like when you're as big as me?

Nick: Tall. And I'll do stuff.

Me: Will you have kids?

Nick: Yep. I'ma be a Daddy.

Me: You know, that would make me their Grandma!

Nick: NOOOOOO! {wailing} I don't want you to be the Grandma!!! You be the Mommy!!!

Oh, my sweet sweet boy. I'll always be your Momma.

Some days there's just not enough coffee

Lord knows I've written my share of posts about bad mornings, bad days and bad weeks.

I'd like to think that if I didn't have to work, I'd have more time to slow down, not spread myself so thin and avoid having so many Mommy melt down moments.

I like to imagine I'd have time to make brownies - from a box mix, let's not be completely irrational - time to take the boys to the library and more time to just play in the yard.

I'd have time to hem the curtains in my kitchen. (Cuz, see, when my dog ripped one jumping up to look out the window and I went to order a new one from JC Penny, I assumed I knew the length I had previously purchased. So I went ahead and ordered the 30" curtain, which hangs quite a bit shorter than the other that actually is 36". I like the shorter one better, and told myself I could just hem the longer one to match instead of returning the new one. That, however, was two years ago.)

I'd have time to plant some veggies and time to shop farmer's markets and time to start a compost bin. I'd be patient enough to shop second-hand stores and maybe even join a co-op. I'd make my own laundry soap and other cleaners using nothing but vinegar and water.

These days, however? When hubby's at work and I wake on a Saturday morning to find the dog had diarrhea all over the kitchen floor and that we're nearly out of paper towels? And for some God-forsaken reason after that I decide its a good idea to hit up rummage sales with two small boys and my MOTHER in tow? And then stop for lunch once we're well past nap time? And then fight with my boys when they come home overtired and then won't nap?

I'm glad for shortcuts.

Hey...whatever works.

The Workin' Mom Blues

Today was the first day at the new job.

Momma's TIRED.

I don't know if its coming off of a week of vacation, the fact that I'm working until 5:00 for the first time in years, that I'm in a completely different place with new faces to memorize, 131,000 pages of new hire paperwork that need my name and social and a office floor plan that can get me lost in 20 paces...or maybe...just maybe a combination of all of those things but today sucked the life from my very bone marrow.

Oh, and did I mention - its 10:18 pm as I write this and my boys juuust finally are quiet?

And that Hubs left for work, leaving a pan of baked beans for me to find cemented on the stove after promising he'd clean up?

If it weren't for this sweetness waiting for me when I get home at night...

...it just wouldn't be worth it at all.

The end of an era

I started my current job nearly seven years ago.

It was the first "important" job I'd ever had, working for a big law firm in a big building in the big city. (And yes, to Wisconsinites, Milwaukee is the "big city".)

Imagine my delight when I swiveled around in my desk chair that first day to see the view above, to find that *I* was in the heart of downtown. It was a Mary Tyler Moore-esque moment. "I'm gonna make it after aaaaalllll..."

In seven years, I've worked my way from a supervisor's assistant who ordered promotional items (I'm still the "Golf Ball Girl" to some attorneys) to one of the heads of technology for the entire marketing department.

I've gone from "that tall blond chick" to "Oh, call Colleen - she'll know how to fix that."

I'm no longer a twenty-something bar-hopping girl. While at this job I've gotten married, had a baby, and then another. We're no longer "Jay and I", we're a family. (Oh, and that's the actual photo they took sometime during those first weeks on the job for my building ID.)

I've come a long way, baby, and tomorrow is my last day.

A few weeks ago the unthinkable happened. Commonplace at one time, but unthinkable in this economy.

I got a call from a recruiter who actually had a clue as to what I did.

Shock, I know (heh) but that's all of it - though it certainly was a good start. She knew what I did (she found my profile on LinkedIn) and had a job that ended up being perfect for me.

I still told her point-blank that I wasn't entirely interested in switching jobs (a lot of flexibility and benefits come your way when you stay at a company as long as I have). I told her in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't even consider it unless they'd made it worth my while.

Let's just say its worth my while and then some.

But this unique situation brought with it a lot of strife. I sat for hours, feeling guilty for all the people who've searched for months only to find nothing, and here I wasn't all that excited about the opportunity that landed in my lap. On a silver platter. With cookies and juice.

I make no secret of what I'd really like to be doing with my life, but its just not in the cards right now. (Or maybe it is and I'm too freak-spaz-tastic to "let go" of my money worries and the thought of being completely destitute living off a cop's salary.)

Whatever the case, I'd really like to be working less. And the first several months/years/decades at this new place, well, I'll be "The New Girl" who will have to prove I'm actually "The Know-it-all Go-to Queen" and there will be fewer options to work from home or adjust my schedule to get out early in the afternoons.

And of course there's the "Gosh I hope I get along with all my new co-workers" worry. I can't say I've ever honestly had that problem, but you know...this is all completely NEW.

But if I'm going to be working anyway, I should work for the place that will offer me the best compensation for my time, right? I know I'm savvy enough (and nice enough, and people LIKE ME, dammit) that I'll do just fine.

But when we DO buy that new house, I'm making sure I get that office, just in case.

A perfect life

I would wake around seven to the sounds of little feet running into my room. I'd roll over, sleepy-eyed, and glance across the empty spot in the bed next to me. Jay would be at work and Will would be standing next to the bed, peering at me with Bald Baby in a headlock under his arm. I'd swing my feet over the edge of the bed, sit up, and sweep my toddler into my arms and hug him. As always, he'd giggle, tuck his chin to his chest so I can't nuzzle in his sensitive neck and he'd push his little body away from mine.

Putting Will down, we'd head out of the bedroom and find Nick in the living room with cartoons on. "Hi Mama," he'd say.

"Whatchu watching?" I'd ask.

"Super Why." Then I'd be off to make my coffee and get the day started.

Later, after dropping Nick at Kindergarten and Will at his Pre-School, I'd arrive back at home to enjoy a second cuppa joe in my office. I'd mainly write for myself, with a few paid gigs thrown in for the sake of "mixing things up" and the guaranteed pay check. (Cuz you see, some of my work would have been hugely successful; others, notsomuch but was fun to write.) Periodically I'd do a Web site project or a photo job for the switch in creativity, and the chance to work with people.

My office wouldn't be super fancy, or even that big, but it would be filled with lots of sunlight, and real plants that I wouldn't kill simply because I'd have time to care for them. (Not just water once they start to get all crispy because "OH CRAP!" I forgot about them again.)

I'd have bookshelves with real books on them - just the titles that I truly, truly loved, and sassy personalized stationary and cool pens. The radio would be on low, tuned to the local morning radio show, where the same guys I'd been listening to for - crap! more than 15 YEARS?!? - are interviewing some athlete. Just when they begin to laugh crazily at some completely asinine thing that has me nearly splitting at the seams, Zeke would walk in, rubbing up against my ankle, purring.

I'd plop that old black cat in my lap as I settled into my comfy non-standard office chair and wrote something new on my blog. Cuz as much time as the rest of my life demands, I could never leave that circle of support and friendship. So I'd write up some quick little ditty about a deep thought I had while in the shower earlier, then set to work on the day's business.

I'd so love what I was doing it wouldn't really be work at all, and my attention wouldn't wane from the task at hand. I wouldn't check my email every five minutes, then facebook, then twitter, then back again. I'd truly feel at peace with what I was doing, and not have any anxiety that I really should be doing something else. Something that mattered.

After accomplishing whatever business-related goals I'd set for myself that day, I'd stretch and do some small household chore before picking up the boys.

Once home, we'd have lunch, then a nap for Will and some TV/play time for Nick while Mommy caught up with just what her bloggie friends have been up to. I'd twitter away with a friend on the west coast until Nick asks if I'd play with him and we'd instead make brownies.

Will would wake up a short time later and the three of us would play Matchbox cars and swords and pretend that Will is, once again, the bad guy. I'd be the Sheriff and I would decide that I'd pardon the little criminal, because his offense, after all, is that he took the book that Nick was reading first.

Later, I'd start dinner just as hubby gets home, and he'd go off to wrestle with the boys while I finish up in the kitchen. We'd eat at the dining room table (which was only slightly cluttered to begin with and did not have any one's pants draped over a chair as the food was being served). We'd talk and laugh and only yell at the boys a handful of times to stop screwing around and eat their food. We'd only have to remind them twice that if they sing at the supper table they'll marry a crazy person.

Hubs would clean up dishes and put away leftovers, starting the dishwasher before leaving the room. We'd spend some family time goofin' around in front of the TV and reading books to the boys before one of us would give them a bath and tuck them in bed.

I'd actually see my husband in the evenings, and have time to just be together. On a typical night, chores would be done, lying on the couch would be enjoyed and TV would be watched. Jokes would be shared, minor squabbles would ensue, gossip would be shared.

I'd love to say there were more children in this scenario - if we are blessed with them they'd certainly have a place here, in my simple utopia. But if this is all we have, then this is all we have.

And there would be time for friends, and time for Momma/Daddy dates. And time for Mommy alone time and Daddy alone time.

I'd be a little more willing to try a new recipe, or a new decorating project, or a new crafty something. Because I'm thinking the fact that I'm always feeling bad about not doing those things means I probably want to be better at them. Or at least give them a try when I'm NOT so crunched for time and patience.

I think I'd get back into volunteering. I miss my little old lady friends from church (cuz dood, they are the most awesome mentors evah - they've done this crap already) and I haven't served lunch at St. John's in forever.

I'd chaperon field trips and help the Kindergartners with art projects.

We'd invite friends for dinner and our kids would play like wild little monkeys until said friends dragged them, red faced and happy, out the door home.

My perfect wouldn't be perfect. Just a little less crazy, a little more together.

Now...how do I do something about it?

Soon...soon...

Thoughts from an elevator

If I
were a stay at home Mom
would I
wake at 8 a.m.
and lovingly kiss my children's heads
then turn on Sesame
while I go off to make
their breakfasts?

Would I
make panckaes
or waffles
with bacon or sausage
all the while
planning in my mind
what I would teach them that day?

Or would I
flop down on the couch
frustrated
that I just can't bear
the thought
of ONE MORE DAY
making breakfast for my kids?

Forrest Humps & Letters to Santa

I'm here! I'm here - I'm so sorry my Flashback is late. Sometimes you get last-minute notice that your hubby's day off is going to be switched from Friday to Thursday AND he's asked to come in two hours early all weekend long which will ruin any chance you had for a nice weekend. And sometimes you try and salvage that weekend by going out to dinner on that day off, then get sucked into the kick-ass TV that is on. And sometimes - sometimes you realize, on your way home after Friday morning swimming lessons and running of errands that "Oh crap!" no Flashback post has yet been written.

So first things first - Mama Smurf (trust me, she has a REAL name) is running in a marathon this weekend and she asked I link up her Flashback post. Go over and give her some LOVE! Tell her she rocks just for running in a marathon - cuz Lord knows I probably never will.

And I see Marni wrote one, too. Sorry to letcha down, babe.

But let's get to it - lots to say today. First, I'm dumb. Last week, I wrote about my job waiting tables at Denny's, and alluded to posting today about my worst job ever. Only I already wrote about it. Just a little excerpt for ya, from an old(er) FF post:

[When I first moved to Green Bay,] I had no job, so I enlisted with a temp service and worked a few shifts in one of the city's famous paper mills packaging napkins before I decided I could find better work on my own.

Whether the work I found was actually better or not is questionable. First it
was a checker and customer service manager in a small Mom & Pop grocery
store. (Imagine lots of arguments with senior citizens as to whether or not they
received their 10% off the one banana they were buying. Fun.) Then it was a
clerk and shift supervisor at Family Video.

Now, I must digress from my flashback to give you the dirt on that job. Family Video. Its for Families, right? I mean, "Family" is the first word of its name.

Family Video had a porn section. A BIG porn section.

I had to inventory that porn.

I had to call customers and ask they return the porn when it wasn't returned on time.

It went a little something like this:

Ring ring!

"Hi! You're reached the Hanson residence. John, Karen, Rachel and Peter can't take your call right now. Please leave us a message and we'll get back to you!"

BEEP!

"Um, hello, Mr. Hanson. This is Colleen from Family Video calling. Forrest Humps is now five days overdue and we need you to return that to our store on Military Avenue right away to keep your account from accruing additional late fees. Thanks and have a great day!"

Ah, good times. Not the worst job, certainly. I had a cousin that worked for the DOT for a few summers - what was that we called him? Oh yeah - Chief Engineer of Aerial Burials. That's right - he would drive miles of country highway each day, looking for poor critters who'd been squished into pancakes, scoop 'em up with a shovel...and FLING! them out into the trees/field/ditch on the side of the road. (I have to imagine a slightly different procedure was used for the bigger roadkill - I'll have to ask him what they did with deer when I see him for Christmas. Ah - what good dinner conversation THAT will make!)

So - because I've already written the above, I thought I'd share with you a little letter I've been writing up in my head lately. *Ahem*

Dear Santa,

Its been roughly 24 years since my last letter. I want you to know that when I asked for a Cabbage Patch Kid and you gave me a bald preemie 'Kid named Bart Cass that it really sorta ticked me off a bit. I think I'm finally getting over that now. But seriously - I couldn't even get a girl doll?!?

I've been a really good. I eat all my veggies, and get my kids to eat theirs, too. I read to them, give them baths and brush their teeth. I ran a bunch of errands this morning and Will even came home wearing pants.

So I feel its justified to have a slightly longer than usual list this year. I would like:

• A new laptop - one with a pretty purple cover, and lots of gigs and rams and fancy stuff inside. Oh, and my own copy of CS3.


• A scanner


• A color printer (one a little faster and easier on the toner than my current BubbleJet)


• A DVD burner with lightscribe


• A DSLR camera, preferably a Nikon D-60 or D-80


• And a new pair of slippers.

That's all. As usual, please look for the plate of cookies decorated by my kids. Don't look at me if all the icing and sprinkles and chocolate chips and raisins on top give you indigestion. I tried to explain that Santa really likes Milanos and coffee, but last year they wouldn't hear of it. If you notice there are a lot of cookies again, its because Nick doesn't believe me that reindeer would really rather have carrots instead. (I'll draw the line on leaving a bowl of milk to go with the cookies for the reindeer this year as well.)

And if you'd bring a little sumthin-sumthin for my Hubby, that'd be great, too. I don't want to overdo it, but if I don't have to be waiting up for him under the tree, so much the better. If he gets a really good present from Santa he'll be just as happy with me in flannel PJs, and could care less if I'm already snoring by the time he gets home from work.

Thanks, Santa. You're the best!

~ Colleen

I know it isn't even Halloween yet, but what's on YOUR Christmas list this year?