What My Parents Did Right

When I was a kid in school, my parents' biggest concern (at least until I started driving) was that they would get a call from the principal's office informing of them of some kind of trouble I'd gotten myself into.  I might come home with a black eye or a busted lip.  Now, as I drop Progeny off at Pre-K each morning, I have real fear that seeing his backpack light up as he bounces down the walkway might be the last time I see my sweet boy.

Ever since hearing about the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School last week, I have spent a lot of time wondering.  Wondering why this happened.  Wondering how it happened.  Wondering what is wrong with the world today.  Wondering where we, as a society, went wrong.  And I haven't been able to determine what the answer is.  What I do know is all the ways my parents went right when I was a kid.

My parents gave me an abundance of motivation to do the right thing.  And my motivation was this:  If I got in trouble at school, if I earned subpar grades, if I spoke disrespectfully to my elders, if I (insert any other show of bad behavior you wish here), I got my ass beat.  My dad wore a leather belt every single day of his life and although I don't ever remember a belt whippin', just the possibility that it might one day happen was enough to keep me in line most of the time.  I grew up with a weeping willow tree in my back yard (willow switches make excellent motivational devices, for those who don't know).  My mom kept a yellow flyswatter on the top of the refrigerator for the sole purpose of making sure I behaved.  There were spans of my childhood when I know I got more than one spanking a day - and you know what?  I'm okay with that.  More thank okay, even.  I'm thankful that my parents loved me enough and cared enough about my development as a human being to make sure I didn't make the same dumb mistakes twice.  And for as much trouble as I stayed in, my mom and dad spent twice that amount of time letting me know that I was loved.  I don't ever remember a punishment without a talk at the end wherein my parents told me exactly what I'd done wrong, that they hoped it never happened again, and that they loved me.  

My parents taught me very early on that in most every situation in life, there is a winner and there is a loser.  And that it was okay if I wasn't the winner every time, just as long as I gave it my best.  There was no such thing as non-competition soccer (basketball, baseball, football, etc.) when I was growing up.  We showed up wearing matching t-shirts with the names of our team sponsors on the front (usually local banks, the lone car dealership in town, or the local Kiwanis club).  We played hard.  We listened to our coaches and did what they told us to.  One team won and one team lost.  And we shook hands with the opposing team at the end of every game.  If I whined and complained about not getting to play enough or play a certain position, my parents didn't have a come to Jesus chat with my coach.  My parents suggested that I practice more.  My parents came home from work, worn out from a hard day paving roads or serving meals in the school cafeteria, and they got out in the yard with me and hit grounders and fly balls and pitched overhand to me.  They knew my coach wasn't responsible for my success at my sport of choice; and they didn't blame him or her when I didn't get my way.  With that, they taught me that I'm the one responsible for my successes and failures - not my coach.  Not my teachers.  Not my bosses, neighbors, friends, or enemies.  

I wasn't allowed to dress however I wanted to, to do whatever I wanted to my hair or my body.  My parents didn't treat me like a grown up.  They treated me like a child.  They paid for those clothes and hairdos and if they didn't approve, then it didn't get bought or done.  I believe we focus far too much on treating our children like little adults and not enough on treating them like children.  Children need direction, guidance, and training.  They need a routine and discipline and motivation to make the right choices.  And they need to be told no.  That doesn't happen a lot these days.  If little Joey wants to wear his hair all swooped around and down in his eyes because that's how all his friends are wearing their hair, then that's fine because he's expressing his individuality.  I wasn't allowed to express my individuality until I could afford to pay for those expressions on my own.  And an allowance for making my bed and sweeping the kitchen floor?  Think again.  Those were chores.  Those were things I was expected to do because I slept in that bed and I helped to dirty that floor.  My parents taught me that everyone needs to earn his or her own keep in this world.  

I grew up during a time when I wasn't connected to all 500 of my "friends" and to the world at large 24 hours a day, seven days a week.  If I wanted to know what my friends were doing/eating/watching/thinking/listening to, I called them from a landline telephone with a cord running between the receiver and the cradle (if they were allowed to talk on the phone on school nights).  Otherwise, I waited until I saw them at school.  And since I was motivated to not get in trouble for socializing during class time, I had to wait until lunchtime to chit chat (at an acceptable volume) with my pals.  All of this gave me a LOT of time to do my homework, read, or spend time with my mom and dad.  To talk to them about school and friends and family or learning to shoot a gun, string a bow, or change a flat tire.  My parents knew what was going on in my life because we talked to one another all the time.  There are days now that when I go to bed, I know that I have interacted more with my Facebook timeline than I have with my husband and son.  And that makes me sad.  The world was a much bigger, more spread out place when I was a kid.  And I will do everything in my power to make sure that the world seems just as big to my son.  

So, as I continue to pray for those parents who lost children and for those people who lost loved ones last Friday, I also continue to try to come up with a way to protect my boy from the evils of this world.  I know I have to let him grow up - that I can't keep him in a bubble forever, no matter how badly I want to do just that.  But I can remember all that my parents did right and try my best to do many of the same things for my little man.  I think it's time to unplug - to shut off our phones and open our ears.  To live more simply and at a slower pace than we have been.  To always remind our children and ourselves that people matter more than things.  And to never, ever let a day pass without letting those who mean the most to us know exactly how important they are.

The Unofficial Resume

I admit:  I think the idea of reducing a life full of education and experience and personality to one itty bitty sheet of paper is insane.  But, apparently a resume is just one of those things that people can't survive without.  So, instead of the standard canned personal history lesson, I've decided my next official resume will actually be a list of things I like and things I don't like.  Here's what I have so far:

Things I like:
-My family
-Reading
-Writing
-Making people laugh
-Watching TV
-Making shit (not actually breaking food down and making waste in the potty, but creating stuff, like wreaths)
-Flexibility
-Equality
-Jokes, both corny and dirty
-Music
-Movies


Things I don't like and/or am incapable of doing:
-Schmoozing - That's a biggie.  I am a HORRIBLE schmoozer.  I just don't have it in me to be nice to others only to help me out in some way.  I would rather do without than to have to schmooze.  Because of this, anything sales-related is not feasible.
-Being told what to do (this is different than advice - I LOVE good advice.  It's also different than guidance offered by those who are more intelligent and more experienced than I am.  I always appreciate heartfelt guidance.  I cannot stand being told to be here and do this at this particular time for this long).
-Dishonesty
-Bad grammar
-Rudeness
-Ignorance
-Mornings
-Monotony
-Ambiguity


So, here's my idea of the perfect job - First and foremost, one that doesn't require or expect me to be an absentee parent to my small child.  In other words, flexibility is a MUST.  Must offer decent pay (and if it doesn't offer health insurance, it has to pay even more) and allow me to utilize my talents/abilities to the fullest.  Preference will be given to companies that enforce a strict No Asshole Rule (seriously, read the book and thank me later).

I'm thinking about posting this to monster.com just to see what happens.

Buzzwords that Make Me Want to Stab Myself

This blog has been a-brewin' for a while, ladies and gents.  And following today (aka The Day From the Depths of Hell), I'm feeling the need to get some stuff off my chest.  I'm sure there will be some profanity somewhere along the way, so if you are easily offended or have Puritan-like tendencies, stop reading now.

I've been mentally composing a list of buzz words and catch phrases that make me want to stab myself. Here's what I've come up with so far, along with examples of how they are (over)used nowadays and what they make me think about when I hear them (stabbing myself notwithstanding).

1.  Reach out
Used in a sentence:  "I just wanted to reach out and see how things are going."

This shit has GOT to stop.  There are so many ways to convey what you mean without going there.  For example, say "check in" instead of "reach out."  Or how about avoiding the very cliche phrase issue altogether and just say, "I just wanted to see how things are going."  Every time I hear or read the phrase "reach out," I immediately think of this:

That's right, folks.  your attempt at proving how with the times you are by using the coolest jargon makes me think of the dead alligator's hand (paw? claw?) from the opening credits of Swamp People.  Nothing says "current" like a dead reptile's mitt.  Take Penny from Dirty Dancing's advice:  "You gotta stop it.  Now."


2.  Buy-in
Used in a sentence:  "I'm going to run this fabulous new idea of how to reinvent the wheel to you and when I get done, I'm going to ask for your buy-in."

What?  With the economy in the proverbial sewer, you're going to ask me to buy something?  One moment, please, while I laugh in your face.

Whatever happened to saying support or help?  For some reason, when people ask me for my buy-in, I always imagine they're trying to talk me into signing up to sell Amway.


3.  At the end of the day
Used in a sentence:  "At the end of the day, that's all that matters."

At the end of the day, the sun goes down and I start dreading tomorrow.  End of discussion.


4.  Low-hanging fruit
Used in a sentence:  "We've got to pick the low-hanging fruit."

Always makes me think about rotting, worm-filled apples lying on the ground.  Gag a maggot.


5.  Tweak
Used in a sentence:  "I need you to tweak this before you send it out."

Dear Lord Baby Jesus!  What, is change or revise no longer cool enough?  Now I have to find a way to get my work high on meth before I send it out?  Because that's what the word "tweak" makes me think about.  Pock-faced, toothless, paranoid, sore-covered meth addicts.  Nice visual.  Whoever thought of that one should have to spend a week dragging around a pillow case full of Blow Pops and quarters in a crack house full of meth addicts.


6.  Going forward
Used in a sentence:  "Going forward, I can be reached at this number."

Fabulous.  Like that's somehow better than "from now on," or "in the future," or "from here on out."  It sounds very elitist to me.  Like, "Dahling, going forward, we shan't drink wine from a screw top bottle."  Side note:  I think it's time to start enjoying a glass of wine each night.  And, in extreme cases, at lunch each day.


There are many, many more which I will add at a later date.  Trust me, this post has just scratched the surface.  I have only started to pick the low-hanging fruit, if you will.  I will continue to tweak it going forward.  I just wanted to take a moment to reach out to you all and see if I could get your buy-in toward never again using these phrases.  Because, at the end of the day, eliminating these awful phrases begins with you and me.

Memorial Day Mountain Spotted Fever

Our little family enjoyed a long holiday weekend at the camper.  You know, the home-on-wheels that I vowed to never again refer to as the "house trailer," because doing so will get us kicked out of The Association.  Apparently that is written somewhere in the by-laws, which I still haven't seen.  But whatevs.

A few weeks ago, our camper neighbors had their bug man come out and spray for creepy-crawlies.  Of course, they offered to send him on down to our camper for a small, nominal fee, but being the cheapskate I am, I declined in favor of having our regular bug man spray for us.  I figured maybe we could get a multiple structure discount or something like that.  Warning:  This was NOT a good idea.  When everyone around you sprays their campers for bugs, you must have your camper sprayed, too.  At the exact same time.  Guess where everything that gets shooed away from the treated campers goes?  Based on my experience this past weekend, I can now answer that.  Every single creature will come to the nearest untreated camper, which will be your camper if you do what I did and decline pest control services to save yourself a few bucks.

I didn't think about that Friday evening when we arrived at our home away from home.  Sure, I noticed a few spider webs in our shelves, but I thought they were probably just created by those teeny tiny little house spiders that crop up from time to time.  We had three whole glorious nights to camp, hang out with the greatest people in the world, eat, swim, rest, and relax.  I was STOKED.  We were all worn out by the time we got there, unpacked, and visited for a few minutes, so we went straight to bed and the night passed without incident.

Saturday was spent swimming, playing, and chit-chatting.  Husband and Progeny went to bed and I stayed up to hang out with the neighbors.  Normally, our sleeping arrangements at the camper are like this:  Hubs and Progeny take the bed and I sleep in the living room area, either on the couch or on an air mattress that I put in the middle of the floor.  When I got back down to our camper to go nighty-night, I snuck into the bedroom area to get my jammies (in the dark, I might add), and retreated to the living area to take out my contacts and change clothes.  I couldn't find my contact case so I had to turn on the light in order to search for it in the abyss-also-known-as-my-purse.  And that's when I saw this.  In the middle of the floor.  No more than 10 feet from where I was planning on sleeping.

                         *Please excuse the poor quality of this photo.  My hands were shaking*  

Zoe, being the curious (read: nosey) dog that she is, decided she would investigate matters for me.  She trotted over to the tarantula (it WAS a tarantula, y'all, just not the kind with hair) and decided to sniff it that way she could lead the police to its den after Adam found my lifeless corpse in the floor and called 911.  Every time she would get close, the spider would buck up on its hind legs and run around in circles.  Kind of like it was popping a wheelie.  This lasted for a good 5 minutes - or maybe 15 seconds - before I hurdled to the sink and got a bowl to trap the beast with.

I then patted myself on my back for my quick thinking and for not screaming like a little girl.  I also threw a couple of canned goods (Bush's baked beans and Del Monte corn, to be precise) on top of the bowl, just in case the spider were to go all The Bride on me and Kung Fu kick the bowl in an attempt to free itself and attack my face.  I contemplated whether or not I would be safe to go to bed.  I decided that wasn't an option, so I woke Adam up.  Here's how the conversation went:

Me:  Smith, Smith, SMITH!!!! Wake up!  There's a situation I need you to handle down here.

Adam:  What? What is it?

Me:  There's a man-eating spider trapped in the kitchen and I need you to come kill it, pretty please, you handsome, strong, fearless, man you.

Adam:  Well, since you asked so nicely.... (gets out of bed and comes into the kitchen).

*He then looked at my makeshift spider Alcatraz, but couldn't see the spider.  It was hidden under the Bush's beans.*

Adam:  I don't believe you.

Me:  I swear!  I took a picture before I woke you up!

Adam:  Let me see.  (Looking at the picture) HOLEY MOLEY!  (Grabs a shoe, then freezes)  I've never killed a spider this big.

Me:  I just pray it doesn't have babies on its back or inside its belly.  I don't think I can do this whole camping thing anymore.  I'm ready to never camp again.  We should sell the camper.  Better yet, we should burn it to the ground.

Adam:  (Kicks bowl over and drops a Nike anvil on the spider).  Okay.  It's dead.

Me:  Are you sure?  Did you hear and feel it crunch?  You should hit it again just in case.

Adam:  (Hits spider again)  I'm sure.

I heard the spider crunch that time and was convinced it was dead, so I handed Adam a paper towel and he disposed of the spider.

The next morning, Adam woke me up to tell me that everyone in the entire campground (or at least 5 of our neighbors) were on their way down to work out on our porch and I should at least get up and put a bra on, just in case one of them decided to say hello or needed a bottle of water.  I obeyed his instructions, because he literally saved my life from an entire nest of gigantic camel spiders the night before.  I walked outside to grant the mob of fitness-crazed people.

Neighbor:  Mornin'.  I hear you woke Adam up to kill a spider about this big (holds up fingers in the a-ok symbol, about the size of a quarter).

Me:  It was NOT a small spider like that.  It was a giant spider.  As big as my face.  And now I have a rash.  I think I have Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.  Or malaria.  Or flesh-eating bacteria.  And I'm sure Adam didn't bother to tell you that he broke out in hives and began to sweat when he saw the spider, which was the size of half of our kitchen floor!

I slept with the TV on the next night.  I hoped that would confuse the spider's companions into staying in their lairs.  I got three hours' sleep.  Tops.  And I killed 3 more (tiny) spiders.  And I vowed not to go back to the camper without sticky pads and some heavy duty spider repellant.

How to Succeed in the Corporate World - Lesson #4

If you are to be a successful Kool-Aid guzzler, you MUST be sterilized.

I recommend that you have your tubes tied as soon as you declare your major, and no later than spring break of your senior year.  One might think that tubal ligation surgery would be a sweet graduation gift.  One would be wrong.  Remember Lesson #2?  Having abdominal surgery at the same time you should be running away from everyone you know and love is like texting after a couple of bottles of wine.  It's a bad idea.

You might be thinking, now why in the world can't I just go on the pill or get a NuvaRing?  Let me tell you why.  Because one day, there will be a little voice in the back of your head telling you how fantastic it would be to give birth to your very own cute and cuddly spawn.  You might even decide to stop popping your nightly BCP or fisting yourself each month (the concept of NuvaRing insertion freaks me way out) in order to become impregnated with yourveryown wittle bitty bambino.  However, if you've followed my advice and had those tubes snipped, then you will realize that pregnancy is impossible and you will quickly move on from such absurdity.

Never having kids is the only way to go if you want to climb the greasy pole of corporate success.  The act of childbirth alone requires that you miss at least 2 days of work; and some people are so wrapped up in being a new mom that they take MONTHS off from work.  This is just not acceptable for a budding CEO.

And it's not just calving that will require you to be away from the office (unless a water birth in the company fitness center appeals to you).  Kids get sick.  And who do kids want when they get sick?  Well,  that's a trick question.  If you've been a good little company sheep, then your kids will want Daddy.  But Daddy can't be missing work every single time that the kiddos fall ill.  Which means that you will have to stay home and change out DVD's every couple of hours and maybe even *gasp* cuddle and comfort your little one.  And in addition to the occasional (or not so occasional in those first couple of years at day care) sick day, there is also an endless tidal wave of sporting events, school functions, and special occasions that any decent parent is expected to attend.

So take my advice.  Let Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar carry your contribution to planetary overpopulation.  Have yourself spayed. If you want to succeed, don't breed.

How to Succeed in the Corporate World - Lesson #3 (On Marriage)

Basically, this entire post can be summed up in three words:  Never get married.  Unless, of course, you need a green card in order to prolong your time in the United States so you can continue to climb up the ladder and suck down the Kool-Aid.  

Citizenship notwithstanding, the only - and I do mean ONLY - time that marriage is appropriate for a corporate minion is when said corporate minion decides she (or he) is tired of the rat race and would like to spend her (or his) days doing something besides kissing asses and stroking egos.  If this is the case, you MUST marry up the social chain.  Not laterally; and for God's sake, not down.  And NEVER for love.  

If you wish to be CEO of the company one day, you might as well kiss your dreams of one day walking down the aisle a big fat goodbye.  While it is expected that a successful corporate person will have abandoned her family and not have any real friends, having a spouse seems to fall more into a gray area.  After all, lots of CEO's have spouses who bear children for their nannies to raise, decorate their homes, and sip drinks poolside, right?  Well, in case I haven't made myself clear already, marriage is a NO-NO!!!! 

Swearing off marriage is one specific example of how to distance yourself, which was discussed in Lesson #2.  I will reiterate for those of you who didn't read Lesson #2 (and shame on you if you didn't).  We distance ourselves because people are needy.  Spouses get sick.  And we can't shun our spouses when they fall ill, because that would make us look really bad.  Additionally, if you're like me, you would much rather burn in the pits of hell because of all the heads you trampled to get to the top; not for punking out on the holy vows that you swore to uphold in front of a minister and a church full of people!  

If your spouse gets sick, you have no choice whatsoever but to care for him or her and that could mean being out of the office for a few days here and there in order to transport him or her back and forth to appointments for surgeries and the like.  It might mean that you aren't able to travel.  It might even mean that you have to leave work at quitting time every evening, thus missing out on precious face time, because you are concerned about the well-being of your extremely-ill-and-not-in-a-very-good-place-mentally spouse.  Any of scenarios is bound to play out like a turd in a punchbowl for you; and it will impede your progress up the work food chain.

Medical crises aside, people expect their spouses to be there for them.  If you want to be the best little sheep you can be, you just wont have anything to give to anyone or anything else besides yourself and your job.  At some point, your spouse will probably expect you to go on vacation with him.  Or travel with him to an out of town wedding.  Or actually sleep at home a couple of nights a week instead of on the floor of your cubicle.  Marriage will only bring you grief you can't afford to deal with.  So treat marriage like it's meth.  DON'T DO IT.

Coming soon:  Lesson #4 - Sterilization.

How to Succeed in the Corporate World - Lesson #2

Distance yourself.

You heard me.  If you are to become a successful ladder-climber, distancing yourself is a MUST.  You should pull a Melanie Smooter from Sweet Home Alabama, change your last name, and relocate to a completely different area of the country.  Better yet, you should live like you were the one who tipped the feds off about Whitey Bulger's location and are now living out your years in the witness protection program.  The day of your college graduation, you should thank your parents and friends for all they've done for you, kiss them all goodbye, and hit the trail.

Why is distancing yourself such an essential element to corporate success, you may ask?  Here's why.  People are NEEDY.  The fewer people who really know you and think they can depend on you for anything, the better.  This is especially true for parents.  As they age, parents get sick and end up in hospitals.  They become unable to mow their own yards.  They try to shovel their own driveways and break a hip.  If they know how to get in touch with you and you are made aware of these unfortunate events, you will feel the need to go be with them in their times of need.  This is not acceptable behavior for a corporate puppet.  Your parents may have changed your diapers, mopped up your vomit, dried your tears, and paid your college tuition, but you are married to your job.

The same is true for friends, which is why you should never plan on having any.  Friends will reach out to you during a crisis and expect you to be a shoulder for them to cry on.  They might want to come visit and crash at your house.  Now, how in the world do you expect to entertain company when you spend 14 hours a day chained to your desk?  Of course, you should always look for an opportunity to rub elbows at the office, but only rub the elbows of those who are higher up the ladder (and salary scale) than you.  Not with those on the same level with you, and NEVER with your subordinates.

Be an island.  Buy stock in your favorite frozen dinner company and your favorite fast food joint.  In short, make like a Coyote Ugly bartender and always appear available, but never be available.

Next lesson - On Marriage.

How to Succeed in the Corporate World - Lesson #1

Have a penis and testicles.  It is best if you are born with said twig and berries, but I guess a gender reassignment would get you the same result.  That being said, this series of blogs is about those of us who were born with and decided to keep our jayjays and are trying to make it in the business world.

Now for the disclaimers:  I am NOT a bra-burning womens' libber.  I do believe that there are LOTS of jobs in this world that are better suited for men than women.  And I'm okay with that, because I also happen to believe that there are LOTS Of jobs in this world that are better suited for women than men.  I just wholeheartedly believe that, if a man wants to become a nurse (traditionally viewed as a woman's job), or a woman wants to become a mechanic (traditionally viewed as a man's job), then more power to him or her and they should each get the same fair treatment from their employers.  I will be making reference in these posts to jobs viewed as being traditionally male or female.  This doesn't make me sexist or mean I am being derogatory toward those professions.  I'm just using them as examples to illustrate the working world as I see it.

As sad as it may seem, and as jaded as it makes me sound, gender equality in a corporate environment is like Nessie.  It doesn't exist.  We live in a world where women who are well into their 40's are having children and women are allowed to serve in the military right along side their male counterparts (and excel in doing so).  I can't think of a single job that men do that women either aren't allowed to do or aren't capable of doing.  Yet, if a woman and a man - both with the same education, certifications, and experience - both apply for the same job/promotion in a corporate-type environment AND (this is a big AND) the person doing the hiring is a man, the male candidate will, 9 times out of 10, get the job/promotion.  That's isn't equality.  Equality is 5 times out of 10 (no extra charge for that little math lesson).

Women are usually seen as fragile, emotional airheads who will believe whatever they are told, so long as the voice telling it to them is attached to a man.  I cannot begin to count the number of times that something has gone wrong with my car or I've needed a repair done at my house and the man on the other end of the phone either talks to me like English is my second language or blatantly lies to me because after all, that pair of tits on the other end of the phone will believe absolutely anything, right?  Wrong.

On the other side of the perception coin is the woman who uses her intelligence and strength and shows the world what a tough bird she can be.  I'm all about being true to oneself, but that can backfire, too.  Women like that are usually seen in the corporate setting as battleaxes (think SNL's version of Janet Reno).  It is also usually assumed that this type of woman prefers the company of other women over the company of men.  So you have lots and lots of women out there who are, in fact, extremely smart and capable, yet they play the ditz card for fear of not being accepted.

So, where does that leave us?  How can we make it better?  I have no idea.

Check back soon for Lesson #2 - Distance Yourself.

Between a Rock and a Bigger Rock

Remember that Talking Heads song "Once in a Lifetime?"  The one with the line, "You may ask yourself, well, 'how did I get here?'"  That's how I felt today.  Okay, to be perfectly honest, that is how I've felt for a long time - like, for the last year.  But today, for no reason I can put my finger on, it really hit me.
How did I get here?  When did I make the leap from bubbly, happy, and hyper to bitter, miserable, and perpetually exhausted?  And how do I un-leap?
I remember having a discussion with Husband right after I graduated from college and got my first "real" job.  We were talking about having kids and I told him I would get a job making big bucks and travel the world and he could stay at home.  I would come home a couple of times a year, have a baby every couple of years, and he could be Mr. Mom.  At the time, that sounded like the perfect arrangement.
But oh, how times changed.
Now all I want is to be able to enjoy (and by enjoy, I mean spend as much time as possible) with Husband and Progeny.  I want to be able to provide for them without living most of my waking hours in Strokeville.  I want to be able to cope without enough meds to keep a horse chill.  I want to NEVER have to miss one of Progeny's school functions or field trips.  I want to always be the one who stays home and comforts and cares for him when he is sick.  I want to leave my desk every evening feeling good about what I'm getting paid to do instead of feeling empty.  I want to be the kind of person who gives 100% of herself to her child and her husband - not the one who gives them whatever is left of herself at the end of an endless string of worst days ever.
This past weekend, I looked at Progeny and realized, the days of him being so sweet and cuddly are almost over.  And I feel like I've missed it all.  I've missed the most precious years of my one and only child's life.  And for what?  He's not the least bit impressed by his mom's job.  All he knows is, Mom works all the time.
I just feel like I've gotten it all wrong.  And I don't know if or how I can make it right.

Politics. Yes, I'm Going There.

Here's a little quote from Newt Gingrich regarding unemployment benefits - “Unemployment compensation should be changed, so that in order to get unemployment compensation you sign up for a business led training program, so we are modernizing our workforce. Never again should we pay somebody 99 weeks for doing nothing. In 99 weeks, you can earn an associate degree. I mean, think about the total waste of human capability when you teach people to sit at home for 99 weeks. It’s fundamentally wrong and a violation of the Declaration of Independence commitment that we have the right to pursue happiness.”

I agree with you, Newt.  I believe that if you don't have a job, then your job should be finding a job.  I don't believe that people who are too lazy/hooked on drugs/used to "working" the system/(insert social ill here) to get out and look for a job should be compensated for sitting on their asses and watching Swift Justice reruns every day.

But I dare say that those people who have been laid off by their employers aren't "doing nothing" for 99 weeks.  I would almost guarantee you that the average working-class American who suddenly finds himself or herself out of a job (because Mexican labor is cheaper than American labor and robotics are cheaper than human labor) is spending the bulk of his or her time actively seeking a new job.  Because they have NOTHING to fall back on - no savings, no investments, no wealthy relatives, and no government to bail them out.  I mean, sure, if we were all wealthy enough to live off of what our investment portfolios earn, then sitting poolside at our vacation homes for 99 weeks, while drawing a 378.00 (if we are Virginia residents and top earners) weekly check from the government wouldn't be such a bad gig.  But that's not how most of the country - you know, the country you are trying to become the next President of - lives.  Middle-class Americans make barely enough to pay their bills each month.  Middle-class Americans have to decide between taking their children to the dentist and replacing their broken refrigerators.

Now, I understand that we as a nation have fallen on hard times.  To be downright frank, the economy SUCKS.  Boy, it sucks big ones.  But I do believe that a lot of the blame for our economy's suckiness falls squarely in the laps of you and all the politicians and lobbyists like you.  Oh, yes.  I did just call you a lobbyist.  And I think that it is an absolute disgrace that the only people who can run for President of this (once) great nation are people like you.  Millionaires who are career politicians who have made a name for themselves kissing the asses of the corporations who screw the average, everyday voters in this country and by doing so, have run the USofA straight into the ground.

And don't even get me started on Rick Santorum's "snob" comment.

Ribbon Topiary

"Baby shower" seems to be the theme of the weekend.  Before I made the diaper motorcycle, I made ribbon topiaries to use as centerpieces for the same baby shower.  I found this great tutorial online.  Once again, I followed the instructions in the topiary almost exactly, so no need to post my own instructions here.  The only thing I did differently, was I used a styrofoam ball, a dowel, and a piece of florists foam instead of using a pre-made topiary.   Pretty cute, huh?  Now, if I can just find a way to make a more boy-ish version to use at Progeny's upcoming 4th birthday party...

Diaper Motorcycle

Some friends and I are planning a baby shower for one of our co-workers, and I volunteered to make a diaper cake.  So, of course I immediately went to Pinterest to look for ideas.  I found a TON of great ideas on on there for diaper cakes of the traditional variety.  And then I ran across a pin from Sweetaprils for a diaper motorcycle.  So that's what I decided I would make.  Her tutorial was so easy to follow and I didn't stray from her instructions one teeny tiny bit, so I didn't feel the need to post step-by-step instructions here.  Super easy, super cute, and it didn't take very much time at all to make. 

I think it turned out well :)  

Pink, Purple, and Green

I finished another wreath tonight!  A detailed tutorial can be found here.  I tied some tulle around the frame before I started gluing the ribbon loops on (that step isn't shown in the instructions).  It's a good thing I have a LOT of tulle, because I really like how it looks on these wreaths.  Also, I tied a bow at the top of the hanging loop.  I had to crop it out of this picture, though, because Husband's arm was in the way (he was holding the wreath up for me while I took the picture).

The Stinkeye and a Rant

Progeny has the stinkeye.  For those of you who don't live in the Southwest Virginia Coalfields, let me translate: Progeny has pinkeye.  I'm sure that, should I write a post tomorrow, it will contain the sentence, "Adam and I have the stinkeye."  I probably won't bother to add another translation so those who read it can either cruise back through my previous posts to find the translation included here or live the rest of their lives with a burning curiosity as to what exactly is ailin' me and mine.

Viral conjunctivitis notwithstanding, I am in an Earl Pitts kind of mood today (picture above - handsome feller, ain't he?)  Again, for those of you not from the Southewest Virginia Coalfields, here is a sampling of some Earl Pitts.  Familiarize yourselves.  I'll wait......

Wasn't that great?  Now, on with the rant.

You know what makes me sick?  If you don't now, you're getting ready to.  Because I'm letting 'er rip with both barrels today.  What pisses me off more than anything - ANYTHING - on this whole entire earth is when people can see something coming from a mile away, do nothing about it, and then wring their hands and cry "how did this happen" when they are finally faced with the consequences of their inaction.  Y'all know exactly what I'm talking about.  We all know people/companies/governments that are guilty of doing this.

Here is a broad, completely figurative example: Some people (and I say "some" because common sense is not a quality held by the majority these days) who realize their roof is leaking would climb on top of their house and fix the leak before the next big rain comes.  Problem solved.  But then you have those (not so) few who don't fix their leaky roofs, then cry when they come home one rainy day to find a pond in their living rooms.  Fix your roof before it rains again = staying dry during the next storm.  Sitting on your ass and playing Farmville until the next frog strangler rolls around = a wet floor and moldy carpeting.

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, folks!  Fix the little problems before they become bigger problems.  And if you're too stupid and/or lazy to do that, then please don't expect me to feel sorry for you when your roof rots and you have a soggy floor.  There are plenty of other stupid and lazy people out there to feel sorry for you and help you out should that happen.

Rats and Child Birthin'

Last night, I dreamed about rats.  I also dreamed I delivered a baby.  Weird-oh.  I've tried all day to remember specific details about both dreams, but I can't remember anything more than one was about rodents and one was about me being a midwife.  And, of course, as soon as I woke up, I fired up the computer and Googled both.  According to Dream Semantics, rat dreams symbolize betrayal, poverty, strife, danger, illness, and the feeling that you're being scrutinized. 


Fabulous!  There's definitely no silver lining to be found in that mystic interpretation.  I should have stopped there.  But did I?  Absolutely not.  I just had to add a little more anxiety to the morning before I'd even had my shower.  So, I researched my labor & delivery dream.  According to The Experience Project, dreaming about delivering a baby means change is a-comin'.  

I should have stopped after the I found out the meaning of my rat dream.  Better yet, I never should have looked up either dream in the first place.  I can deal moderately well with betrayal, poverty, and anything else that the rats might be trying to warn me about.  But change?  Change is a different story!  I am the world's biggest change-hater.  Strife and danger?  I won't bat an eye.  But the slightest change and/or variation from my daily routine will leave me feeling unglued for days.

So, thank you, Google.  Thank you for always giving me an answer to whatever questions I may have. And thank you, intensely curious and can't leave a question unanswered personality.  I almost dread tonight's bedtime because of the two of you.  Almost, but not quite.  Because the truth is, it's been a long day and I have an extremely comfy and warm bed to go crawl into.  And the world's best kiddo to kick me in the back all night long.  (Yeah, we're a co-sleeping family.  What of it?)  

So, bring it on, change!  But if you could please wait until in the morning after I've had a good night's sleep to show your disruptive face, that would be super.

Pink, Green, and Yellow

Even though it's snowing outside, I'm still thinking spring!  The full tutorial for this wreath can be found here.  I decided this this time to play around with some tulle and I tied it around the frame in several places before I glued the ribbon loops on.

Spring Colors Ribbon Wreath

Yesterday evening at 6:00, I noticed something that made my heart smile - it was still daylight!  That can only mean that spring is right around the corner, which got me in the mood to make something springy.
This week (through today), the Hobby Lobby closest to me has a killer sale on ribbon (all spools 50% off) and Easter items (40% off), so I had gone earlier in the week to stock up on some ribbon and other miscellaneous supplies.  Oh, how I love Hobby Lobby......But, I digress.  Spring in the air + New spring ribbon in the stash = A perfect recipe for making a spring ribbon wreath.  So, that's exactly what I did.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Jen at Tater Tots and Jello (not to be confused with Jen, as in me) posted a great ribbon wreath tutorial for Halloween a couple of years ago.  I found her tutorial on Pinterest.  I followed her instructions pretty closely, but, as per usual, I did make a few minor variations.

Here's what you will need:

-5 foot long pieces of ribbon in varying colors, patterns and widths.  I like to use at least 2, but no more than 3 coordinating colors.  For this one, I (finally) decided on pink, purple, and green.  Try to use between 10 and 14 different ribbon patterns.  

-Scissors

-Ruler

-4.5 inch cardboard square

-Hot glue gun

-12-inch styrofoam wreath frame

Using your ruler, measure off 5 feet of each style of ribbon.  I always do this by wrapping my ribbon around my ruler, lengthwise, 5 times and then cutting it off from the spool.

*Pay no mind to the yellow ribbon shown in these next few pictures.  I decided against using it for this particular wreath after I measured and cut it*

*And for the love of all things good in this world, please pay no mind to my uncoordinated comfy clothes or my foot, which will also appear in the next few pictures*

After you have measured and cut each long piece of ribbon, wrap each piece around a 4.5 x 4.5 inch square of cardboard.  I just made my  square out of a Birchbox top.

When you reach the end of your ribbon, slide it off the cardboard square and cut at opposite ends.

Now it's time to make your loops.  Apply a thin line of hot glue to the one end of your ribbon (on the underside).  Leave about a quarter of an inch between your glue line and the bottom of the ribbon.  Fold the ribbon over so that you have a loop with the right side of the ribbon on top.  If you have a sewing machine, you can also sew the loops closed.  I don't have a sewing machine, so I just used my trusty hot glue gun.  Note: If you plan on using any sheer ribbon, set your glue gun to the lowest heat setting, as the glue will seep through sheer ribbon and burn your fingers!  One 5-foot piece of ribbon should make 11-15 loops, depending on how tightly you wrapped your ribbon around your cardboard.

After you've made all your loops, it's time to work on your wreath frame.  Some people paint their frames with spray paint or craft paint, others cover their frames with scrap fabric; but I like to wrap mine in a solid color ribbon that coordinates with the color loops that will be on the wreath.  It's best to leave your ribbon on the spool while you're doing this, that way you don't have to worry about trying to measure a huge length of ribbon and then not have enough to cover your frame, as happened to me once.  Glue the loose end of your ribbon to your frame and start wrapping it around and around, gluing down every so often.  Once your frame is completely covered, cut your ribbon and glue the end down.

Now, start gluing your loops to your covered frame.  Select 10 loops made from the same ribbon and put the extras aside to use for later. Fold open your loops at the bottom and apply a line of glue along the seam in the loop.  Stick the loops to your frame at all different angles and in various places around the wreath (inner edge, outer edge, smack dab in the middle).  Use your loops made from the wide ribbons first because it is much easier to fill in the gaps with your narrower ribbons.  

Once you have all your wide ribbon loops on, give your wreath a good looking over and see where you need to stick your narrow ribbon loops to fill it out.  Don't forget to use the pile of extras loops you set aside earlier.  *Note, there is a fine line between having a wreath full of gaps and a wreath with so many loops packed on it that everything looks mashed flat.*

Once you have glued all your loops to your frame, tie/glue a ribbon hanger at the top.  I usually just do a simple loop and glue the ends to the back of the frame, but this wreath is so pretty and springy, I thought it was just screaming for a pretty bow at the top.  If you choose to tie a bow, cut a little inverted "v" in the ends (called "chevroning") to help keep your ribbon from fraying.  You can also add some kind of glittery (or blingy as I like to say) embellishment if you want.  But I think this wreath looks just fine without anything like that.

*Warning: My photographer (Husband) went to bed somewhere in the middle of all the loop gluing, so I had to improvise and hang the wreath from the doorknob on the coat closet after it was finished so I could get a picture of it hanging.*

And there you have it!  A beautiful springtime ribbon wreath!  Now, did I hear somewhere that it's supposed to snow this weekend?  Oh, well.  If it does and I'm stuck inside, I'm busting out the Mod Podge, glitter, and plastic Easter eggs and working on my next creation =)

St. Patrick's Day Button Wreath

I have been wanting to make a button wreath ever since I saw this one on Craftapalooza.  And, as an aside, I absolutely LOVES me some Craftapalooza.  Nicole, the blog's author, is a crafting Jedi.  She lives in Australia, which means her choice of words is so different (and I think so much more interesting) than what someone from the Appalachian mountains is used to hearing.  But of course, I can't follow instructions worth a hoot, so I had to make a few variations.  So, without further ado, here is my foray into button wreath making, documented and posted for the whole world to read:

You will need:
Buttons.  And depending on the size of said buttons, you might need LOTS of them.  I found a huge lot of green buttons on eBay for super cheap and then I also raided my mom's button hoard and picked out all the green ones.  Sorry, Mom!
Glue - We will get more specific about this later
Cardboard - I used a cake circle because it was already round, but any kind of thick cardboard will do
Ribbon
Blingy, glittery embellishments (totally optional)

For starters, take your cake circle (I found this pack of 12-inch circles in the wedding aisle of the craft section in Wal-Mart) and flip it over so the unfinished side is facing up.

To cut out your center hole, use something round as a guide, then trace and cut.  I used a Tupperware lid and an xacto knife.  Use some sandpaper or an emery board to file down any rough edges.  And remember, the hole doesn't have to be perfectly centered.  By the time you get the buttons on, everything will look much more even.

*Note - Next time, I think I will either paint the cardboard or wrap it in ribbon, just so the gaps between the buttons won't be so obvious*

Starting with your largest buttons, place them all over your wreath just to get an idea of how far apart to place them.  Once you have them in place, start gluing.

Which brings us to the glue talk.  Nicole on Craftapalooza (see above) said NOT to use a hot glue gun. Did I listen?  No.  Do I wish I had listened?  Yes!  Next time, I will use Gorilla glue or something of the sort.  I have burns on my fingertips that I'm not sure will ever heal.  A friend of mine once said her glue gun released napalm instead of melted glue.  I believe I have the same model that she does.  Lesson learned.  Glue and glue and glue and keep on gluing.  Stack to cover the gaps in between buttons and glue some more.  Once you're done gluing, you will have a somewhat heavy wreath chock full o' buttons.  And if you don't heed my warning about using a hot glue gun, you will also have done (possible) irreparable damage to your fingertips.

Now, use some pretty ribbon or fabric to make yourself a hanger.  I found some sweet antique ribbon in my mom's stash while I was looking for her button collection.  Cut a length of ribbon long enough to go around the top of the wreath and hang down several inches.  Glue one end to the back of the wreath.

Loop the ribbon around the front of the wreath and glue the other end down.

*There my fingers are, flirting with the dangerous glue gun.*

Next, it's time to add your optional blingy and/or glittery embellishment(s).  I found this shamrock spinner at Michael's.  It already had a ribbon loop at the top, so I just glued the top of the loop to the back of the wreath - right over top of my hanger.  Who's going to see the back of the wreath, anyway?  I mean besides everyone who might read this.

Let your wreath dry on a flat surface just to be sure your it doesn't buckle, and you're done!  I had Adam hold ours up to the back of the front door just to get an idea of how it would look hanging.

So, there you go.  Cute, super easy, and super cheap to make, especially if you already have buttons on hand.
Now, I wonder if this will convince a Leprechaun to leave a pot o' gold at me front door this year?

Hopeful and Waiting

Adam's surgery went really well!  In fact, the doctor said it went great.  He (Dr. Wang) said that, even though Adam's pancreas and the lymph nodes near his pancreas are still inflamed, he didn't see anything that looked like cancer to him.  But, we have to wait on the results of the various tissue samples and biopsies that he took during surgery just to be sure.  We hope to hear something by the first of next week.  Adam and I both went back to work today and Connor is back in day care, so I feel like a bit of normalcy has finally returned to our little house.
I cannot begin to thank everyone enough for all of their prayers, encouragement, and kindness through all this.  Please continue to remember him while we wait for all of the results to come back, as we are still anxious about what we find out.  We are EXTREMELY hopeful, though!

My Husband's Pesky Pancreas

Today, we leave for UVA.  Tomorrow is the day.
Without going into a long, drawn-out narrative which includes every little detail, here's a little history for those of you who might not know what's going on.
Right before Thanksgiving, Husband was diagnosed with pancreatitis and had to have his gallbladder removed.  It ruptured during surgery, so he was in the hospital for almost a week.  After he returned home, he continued to feel and look (sorry, Hun) worse every single day.  He was yellow.  He lost his appetite.  He lost 25 pounds in just a few weeks.  Finally, after weeks of bad blood test results, the NP at his primary care doctor's office (who just so happens to be one of my very best friends and one of the smartest people I know) called and told us to pack a bag and drive to Charlottesville.  So we did.
Adam was admitted to the hospital at UVA two weeks before Christmas.  His bile duct was dilated and his liver was, for lack of a better description, stopped up with old bile which had begun to thicken.  He had surgery to place a stent in his bile duct to hold it open and allow the bile to drain properly.  I watched his color return to normal in a matter of hours and we came home two days later.
About a month after his first surgery, his doctor in Charlottesville ordered an MRI of his liver to see how everything was looking.  His nurse called with the results a few days later and said that the MRI showed a  mass on his pancreas.  She said the only way to differentiate between autoimmune pancreatitis (where your immune system attacks your pancreas and bile ducts) and pancreatic cancer is a biopsy.  She had dropped the "C" bomb.  And I was scared to death.
Adam's case was reviewed by the tumor board at UVA and the board agrees that it looks like AIP.  But once again, a biopsy is the only way to be sure.  His doctor also ordered a blood test to see if his immune system is making antibodies to fight his pancreas.  Antibodies high = most likely AIP and great news.  Normal antibodies = diagnosis still unknown.  Adam's antibodies are normal.  I know that this doesn't really tell us anything more than we already knew and a biopsy was going to be necessary no matter what the results of the blood test were, but it feels like a HUGE strike against a positive outcome.
So, tomorrow Adam will be having surgery for the doctor to look at his pancreas and look at his bile ducts and draw tissue samples.  Samples which will, no doubt, take several days to analyze and report back on.  I feel like the sum total of my life will come down to what gets sucked out into that little syringe.  Adam is hopeful and we are praying.  First for good results, then second for the strength and grace to make it through whatever comes our way.

My Newest Hero

I absolutely LOVE Moms Who Drink and Swear.  Nicole (the O.G. Mom Who Drinks and Swears) is ballsy and unapologetic in her writing, which is mostly about life with her kids.  A lot of her posts are about the nitty-gritty, feces-smeared life of a mom and she shares them.  With the world.  And she is HILARIOUS!  I love her blog so much that I also "liked" the MWDAS Facebook Page, because I knew that I wouldn't get so annoyed with her blowing up my news feed that I would then turn around and un-like it.
So, today I'm scrolling through my feed and see a MWDAS post about a blog I'd never heard of, telling its author to rest in peace.  And of course, being the nosey person that I am, had to immediately go to the mystery blog and read.  And I read.  And I sobbed.
ToddlerPlanet - The Joy of Life After Cancer is a blog written by Susan Niebur, an astrophysicist and mother of two.  She was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer five years ago.  All I had to read were the words "breast cancer" and I was immediately captivated.  I have a sister who was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was the same age that I am now.  Thankfully, she survived.  It recurred 9 years later, and she survived again.  But there isn't a day that goes by now that I don't think, "Sis was first diagnosed when she was your age, when will you find 'the lump?'"
ToddlerPlanet is so much more than just an "I'm a cancer survivor" blog.  It's a courageous, faith-filled, and informative record of an extraordinary life.  Susan Niebur has been added to my list of heroes.  And I bet she will be added to yours, too, if you take a moment (or two) to read her story.

Makin' Laundry Detergent

Last night was "make laundry detergent" night at my house.  I made my first batch of homemade laundry detergent right after Christmas after seeing a recipe from Why Not Sew? on Pinterest.  Husband and I decided that, since the ingredients were so cheap, it wouldn't hurt to make a batch to try.  We agreed that if we didn't like it, we would just trash the batch and go back to buying store bought detergent.  Turns out, we like our homemade detergent!  This makes me happy because I think it's fun to make and oh, so much cheaper than buying detergent in the store.

Here's what you will need:

1 large  (at least 12 quart) stockpot - It's best to use one you don't ever plan on cooking in again

1 bar of soap - Obviously, we used Irish Spring but use whatever kind smells good to you

1 cup 20 Mule Team Borax

1 cup Arm & Hammer Washing Soda

1 large (preferably quart-sized) measuring cup

Funnel

Grater

Empty containers - I used empty gallon jugs, but you can use pretty much anything you have on hand. Just be sure to rinse the containers well before using them

To start, fill your stockpot with 2 gallons of water.  Heat on the stove over medium heat.  While your water is heating, grate your bar of soap into your stockpot.

Continue to heat until all of your soap shavings have dissolved.  

Once your soap has dissolved, add 1 cup each of Borax and Arm & Hammer Washing Soda.

*Note - I had pre-measured a cup of each and put them both into one large measuring cup that way I only had to pour once

Bring the mixture to a boil and let boil for 5-10 minutes.  Watch it carefully to make sure it doesn't boil over.  Your mixture will begin to thicken and take on a slimy consistency.

Remove from heat and (carefully!) pour the mixture into a 5-gallon bucket, then add 1 gallon of cold water. 

Cover and let sit overnight.  Your mixture will cool and thicken considerably.  The next morning, it should look like this:

Stir your mixture well.  I mean really stir the heck out of it.  If you have a stick blender or a drill that has a paint stirrer attachment, use it.  I don't have either, so I just used a spoon with a long handle and some muscle.

Dip your detergent mixture from your bucket and funnel it into your container.  Use 3 parts detergent and 1 part water to fill your containers.  This is why I like using gallon jugs and a quart-sized measuring cup - it makes the 3:1 part very easy!

This batch actually used a little more than 3 and a half gallons, but the water bottles I used to hold the overflow didn't look very nice in the picture so I left them out.

And that's it!  Just shake well before each use and use 1/2 - 3/4 cup of detergent per load, depending on load size.

A few things to remember:  

-This detergent will not create very many (if any) suds.  But my clothes are just as clean using this as they are when we used store bought detergent.  And they come out of the washer feeling much softer!

-For tough stains, pre-treat.  This was not something I had to get used to doing, because having a toddler in the house means pre-treating his clothes regularly, even when we used store bought detergent. 

-Don't pour the detergent directly onto your clothes.  I did that once and noticed some white spots on the laundry (which washed right out the next time around).  

-Everything I have read online says this detergent is safe for HE washers.  I still use an old-fashioned top-loader, though, so I can't speak from experience on that one.

-If anyone in your household has sensitive skin, you can try using a half a cup of Borax instead of a whole cup, or just leave it out altogether.  Stains might be a little tougher to get out without the Borax, but it isn't an absolutely essential ingredient.

-Speaking of Borax, there has been a lot of controversy lately surrounding Borax and its safety and link to potential fertility problems.  I have done a LOT of research on the topic and found this article by Crunchy Betty to be the most informative.  Besides, the Duggars use Borax and I'm pretty sure there aren't ANY fertility problems in that family.

Good luck!  I hope you enjoy your homemade detergent (and your savings) as much as I enjoy  mine!