Everyone has a story. Magazines will run contests: tell us about what you have overcome. Radio stations will have contests: tell us who your hero is and will send him/her on a spa vacation.
The truth is every one of us has been there, done that, or knows someone who has. We have all had our moments of depression, hair pulling anxiety, never ending tears, feelings of hopelessness. So maybe we all haven't had a cocaine addiction, or had to live on the streets, or been in an abusive relationship, but we all have something. We all have that thing or things that have defined our lives, defined who we have become, or who we are trying to be, or maybe just who we were.
I don't know one person who has never lost a loved one, who has never had a broken heart, who hasn't struggled financially at one time or another. I can't think of a single person who seems to have a cake walk life. Everyone has something. That one thing you take for granted could be the exact same thing someone else is losing sleep over.
The other day, I was thinking about what I would write if asked about my defining moment, my victory over an obstacle, my moment of hair pulling anxiety and never ending tears. While in deep thought regarding this, it occurred to me that I could not write about just one thing. My story would be multiple events, a rolling history of me, if you will. Some may call this simply: life.
Isn't that what life is after all? Isn't it a series of ups and downs, joys and sorrows, sunshine and rain, yin and yang, Optimus vs. Megatron? A journey.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Gobble, Gobble; No, No; Well Maybe
In an effort to be healthier, G and I decided to try some turkey bacon. You see, if you ask the child what mommy loves more than bacon, he will respond "pretty much just me". He's kinda right.
We purchased two different brands of turkey bacon and quickly went to work. We pan cooked it, we broiled it, and we baked it. This was new territory for both of us, so we followed the cooking instructions.
The fact that I could bake it did not sit well with me, you are not supossed to bake bacon...although I will say it was the easiest way. I did not like the pan cooking method. The lack of shrivel made me feel like I wasn't cooking it correctly. It didn't shrivel up with a ton of grease oozing out showing its crispy fattiness, and extra yumminess. There was not a greasy sizzle saying "pay attention to me", it was more a heat sizzle that said "whatever, I'm bored".
The dog didn't even come into the kitchen when we were cooking.
I fixed a small plate for each of us making sure to put some of each cooking type on each plate. G is a very finicky eater at times, so I was slightly worried about the money I just wasted on this healthier choice. I brought him his plate and tried my share in a different room, so I wouldn't influence his taste buds.
I did not care for this gobble gobble bacon. I felt like I was eating thinly sliced cooked ham, not turkey, and definitely not bacon. My taste buds said "whatever, I'm bored". I did what any 5 year old would do, I gave mine to the dog.
G, on the other wing, asked for a second plate. I guess I will continue to purchase this gobble bacon as G will eat it, and I want him to eat healthy. However, I will not be eating it again. I like my bacon with all the fat and all the grease. I like the sizzle.
We purchased two different brands of turkey bacon and quickly went to work. We pan cooked it, we broiled it, and we baked it. This was new territory for both of us, so we followed the cooking instructions.
The fact that I could bake it did not sit well with me, you are not supossed to bake bacon...although I will say it was the easiest way. I did not like the pan cooking method. The lack of shrivel made me feel like I wasn't cooking it correctly. It didn't shrivel up with a ton of grease oozing out showing its crispy fattiness, and extra yumminess. There was not a greasy sizzle saying "pay attention to me", it was more a heat sizzle that said "whatever, I'm bored".
The dog didn't even come into the kitchen when we were cooking.
I fixed a small plate for each of us making sure to put some of each cooking type on each plate. G is a very finicky eater at times, so I was slightly worried about the money I just wasted on this healthier choice. I brought him his plate and tried my share in a different room, so I wouldn't influence his taste buds.
I did not care for this gobble gobble bacon. I felt like I was eating thinly sliced cooked ham, not turkey, and definitely not bacon. My taste buds said "whatever, I'm bored". I did what any 5 year old would do, I gave mine to the dog.
G, on the other wing, asked for a second plate. I guess I will continue to purchase this gobble bacon as G will eat it, and I want him to eat healthy. However, I will not be eating it again. I like my bacon with all the fat and all the grease. I like the sizzle.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Stuff, Stuff, and the postcard
I am one of those annoyingly organized people who not only Spring cleans, but also Summer cleans, Fall cleans, and Winter cleans. My holiday decorations are stored in plastic totes with a color scheme matching the holiday (pastel pinks and purple hold Easter, red and green hold Christmas, etc. etc.). No one gets more excited than me when I get a postcard in the mail asking for donations to be put out--hello, an excuse to purge my house! Woohoo! *happy dance*. Those of you who have been camping with me no the happy dance in all it's glory (and sometimes after several beers...).
One of these postcards came last week and I put it on the fridge, so I'd remember the day. Yes, I sickingly had things already purged in anticipation of the next postcard. But then I got to thinking...
How is it that every time one of these postcards come, I have things to donate? How did I accumulate so many items that I don't need or use? Of course, clothes fade, children outgrow them along with shoes, parts become missing for toys, or just lose the interest of the child. But what about the rest? Do we really need 33 coffee mugs when we only use the same 5 over and over? How do I have body lotions from Bath and Body works that are not even made anymore? Where the heck did all these tupperware and rubbermaid containers come from? Well, some may actually be my mom's and just never made it back over there....enough with the excuses!
I recycle, my garage and shed are filled with empty yankee candle and pickle jars that now hold screws, nuts, bolts, and other items, I re-use foil and sandwich bags for heaven's sake! But yet, I have 33 coffee mugs. My husband doesn't even say anything anymore when Winter comes and blankets mysteriously disappear from our house. He knows I have given them to some man sleeping on a downtown bench, or the guy who sleeps in his car in the metroparks. But yet, I still have a closet full of nothing but blankets? Let's not talk about my shoes...
Maybe it's time to simplify. Does anyone need coffee mugs?
One of these postcards came last week and I put it on the fridge, so I'd remember the day. Yes, I sickingly had things already purged in anticipation of the next postcard. But then I got to thinking...
How is it that every time one of these postcards come, I have things to donate? How did I accumulate so many items that I don't need or use? Of course, clothes fade, children outgrow them along with shoes, parts become missing for toys, or just lose the interest of the child. But what about the rest? Do we really need 33 coffee mugs when we only use the same 5 over and over? How do I have body lotions from Bath and Body works that are not even made anymore? Where the heck did all these tupperware and rubbermaid containers come from? Well, some may actually be my mom's and just never made it back over there....enough with the excuses!
I recycle, my garage and shed are filled with empty yankee candle and pickle jars that now hold screws, nuts, bolts, and other items, I re-use foil and sandwich bags for heaven's sake! But yet, I have 33 coffee mugs. My husband doesn't even say anything anymore when Winter comes and blankets mysteriously disappear from our house. He knows I have given them to some man sleeping on a downtown bench, or the guy who sleeps in his car in the metroparks. But yet, I still have a closet full of nothing but blankets? Let's not talk about my shoes...
Maybe it's time to simplify. Does anyone need coffee mugs?
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
White Flag of Surrender
In my head, I had all these ideas as to where my life would be at this point in time (damn type A, planner, list maker in me). Life has thrown more curve balls at me in the last 2 years than Koufax threw in his career. I was never a very good hitter, my timing is normally off. It appears my timing is now off in life too.
When I went back to work after being home a year, it wasn't the ideal location or the ideal pay, but I was happy to be working again. The job duties/responsibilities were ideal for the career path I wanted. Perhaps, my husband didn't need to pick up so many shifts and we could take our son to Kalahari (he's been asking to go for 2 years). Of course, I promptly came up with a new financial plan to include my salary once again and started daydreaming about finally finishing some of the cosmetic changes I've been waiting to do in the house.
When I was once again laid off (my first full time paycheck was my severance check), I was hopeful that I wouldn't be home another year again, the market had really changed, I had earned a new certification. My first week home, I fielded at least 3 calls a day regarding my resume. Of course, some where headhunters without actual jobs, but you can never have too many people helping you in your job search. I was very positive. (OK so I missed the little rugrats too).
Sometimes it's hard to be positive. I've only been home 3 weeks, but I feel like it's been at least 3 months. My car needs some pricey repairs, the mail man still brings me bills, and I still need to pay them, the phone calls regarding my resume have died down. I am still looking at ugly wallpaper in two rooms. Unemployment will be a very, very small amount per week (my monthly payout won't even cover my son's school tuition), and I have yet to actually receive any of it.
I can deal with all kinds of stress: car accidents, broken arms, bloody noses, my mother, my dog thinking squirrels are trying to take over our yard, but I am not good with financial stress. I do not like it when things are not at a zero balance. You hear people who grew up in the Great Depression talk about what they still do to this day because of their experience. I paid off major debt once in my life, it was a life learning experience of frugal living and smart choices. I vowed to never have that issue again. To be faced with the possibility of doing that again, when the cause was out of my hands, makes me wonder if drinking at 9am is acceptable.
People always say: work hard-- it will pay off; if you want something go after it; all things happen for a reason. What people never say is that sometimes it doesn't matter how hard you work -- shit happens; that going after something doesn't always mean you will get it; and that often reasons and off timing don't turn out alright in the end for a long time.
I am no longer sure how much positive thinking I have left in me. I wonder if I can return my MBA, I don't seem to be using it and it wasn't cheap.
When I went back to work after being home a year, it wasn't the ideal location or the ideal pay, but I was happy to be working again. The job duties/responsibilities were ideal for the career path I wanted. Perhaps, my husband didn't need to pick up so many shifts and we could take our son to Kalahari (he's been asking to go for 2 years). Of course, I promptly came up with a new financial plan to include my salary once again and started daydreaming about finally finishing some of the cosmetic changes I've been waiting to do in the house.
When I was once again laid off (my first full time paycheck was my severance check), I was hopeful that I wouldn't be home another year again, the market had really changed, I had earned a new certification. My first week home, I fielded at least 3 calls a day regarding my resume. Of course, some where headhunters without actual jobs, but you can never have too many people helping you in your job search. I was very positive. (OK so I missed the little rugrats too).
Sometimes it's hard to be positive. I've only been home 3 weeks, but I feel like it's been at least 3 months. My car needs some pricey repairs, the mail man still brings me bills, and I still need to pay them, the phone calls regarding my resume have died down. I am still looking at ugly wallpaper in two rooms. Unemployment will be a very, very small amount per week (my monthly payout won't even cover my son's school tuition), and I have yet to actually receive any of it.
I can deal with all kinds of stress: car accidents, broken arms, bloody noses, my mother, my dog thinking squirrels are trying to take over our yard, but I am not good with financial stress. I do not like it when things are not at a zero balance. You hear people who grew up in the Great Depression talk about what they still do to this day because of their experience. I paid off major debt once in my life, it was a life learning experience of frugal living and smart choices. I vowed to never have that issue again. To be faced with the possibility of doing that again, when the cause was out of my hands, makes me wonder if drinking at 9am is acceptable.
People always say: work hard-- it will pay off; if you want something go after it; all things happen for a reason. What people never say is that sometimes it doesn't matter how hard you work -- shit happens; that going after something doesn't always mean you will get it; and that often reasons and off timing don't turn out alright in the end for a long time.
I am no longer sure how much positive thinking I have left in me. I wonder if I can return my MBA, I don't seem to be using it and it wasn't cheap.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Don't Forget to Live
I never gave my parents any real trouble until I was in my 20s. Then I really made up for being such a perfect child. I am sure my parents had daily heart attacks for at least 3 years as I had an early midlife crisis (hey, I always do everything ahead of schedule).
For the first time in my life, I was lost. I was almost done with a degree in an area I no longer wanted to follow. I found my classes boring, the assignments were not challenging, my brain was not being exercised. I stopped attending classes. I existed, but I wasn't living. I pushed friends away, I slept all the time. I became a shell of the person I really was. I had never had such confusion before, I had always had a plan, a schedule, an idea. Now I knew nothing.
As the saying goes, you have to hit rock bottom before you can climb to the top. I hit rock bottom, in a non Charlie Sheen way. Perhaps, the Charlie way would have been more fun, but I have never seen the point in substance abuse, needles are not my favorite thing, and I like my skin and nose exactly as they are (I have a little bump in my nose, my mom has it too. It's really not even that noticeable. A lady once argued with me that I must have broken it once. No, sorry to disappoint you, nose guru).
The climb back up, took a little longer than the fall, due to a slight diversion called a horrible break up that left me shell shocked. However, the diversion ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me. I learned that year who I was again, who I wanted to be, how strong I was, who my real friends were. Just like Jay Z, I was back, but I was back stronger and more full of life than I ever had been.
I learned not to stress over the things you can't control, I learned to deal with issues one step at a time, I learned I can't control everything, I learned I didn't want to, I learned not knowing the answer is ok.
I learned that sometimes you can be so busy planning life, that you forget to live life.
I resolve to stop planning all my tomorrows and just enjoy my todays. Tomorrow will always be there, tomorrow.
For the first time in my life, I was lost. I was almost done with a degree in an area I no longer wanted to follow. I found my classes boring, the assignments were not challenging, my brain was not being exercised. I stopped attending classes. I existed, but I wasn't living. I pushed friends away, I slept all the time. I became a shell of the person I really was. I had never had such confusion before, I had always had a plan, a schedule, an idea. Now I knew nothing.
As the saying goes, you have to hit rock bottom before you can climb to the top. I hit rock bottom, in a non Charlie Sheen way. Perhaps, the Charlie way would have been more fun, but I have never seen the point in substance abuse, needles are not my favorite thing, and I like my skin and nose exactly as they are (I have a little bump in my nose, my mom has it too. It's really not even that noticeable. A lady once argued with me that I must have broken it once. No, sorry to disappoint you, nose guru).
The climb back up, took a little longer than the fall, due to a slight diversion called a horrible break up that left me shell shocked. However, the diversion ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me. I learned that year who I was again, who I wanted to be, how strong I was, who my real friends were. Just like Jay Z, I was back, but I was back stronger and more full of life than I ever had been.
I learned not to stress over the things you can't control, I learned to deal with issues one step at a time, I learned I can't control everything, I learned I didn't want to, I learned not knowing the answer is ok.
I learned that sometimes you can be so busy planning life, that you forget to live life.
I resolve to stop planning all my tomorrows and just enjoy my todays. Tomorrow will always be there, tomorrow.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Wait, you can run out of ketchup?
When I met the man who would become my husband (lucky guy), he was raising two children. I didn't even have a fish. I had pretty much changed apartments when my lease ended each year, moving condiments along with furniture, clothes, and art work. He had lived in the same house for almost a decade. As our relationship progressed, I eventually moved in with him (ok, it was only after 3 months).
My trips to the grocery store, prior to moving in with him, had pretty much amounted to an average of $50 a week. I ordered out on Friday nights. During our first month living together, I went to get the ketchup from the fridge. Where was the ketchup? Surely, there was ketchup in this fridge? I just used it last week. I moved leftover containers around, moved milk and pop bottles. No ketchup. I moved the salad bowl. No ketchup. M, I said, where is the ketchup? M replied one of the kids probably finished it, and there would be a new one in the pantry. Wait. What? Finished the ketchup? The huge bottle of ketchup was gone? How was this possible?
Fast forward, 8 years. I ran to the grocery store the other day just to pick up the basics we were out of. $45.18 the cashier said. $45.18 for a quick basic grocery store run. I went home and put the groceries away. I had to move the extra bottles of ketchup and salad dressing in the pantry, so I had more room for chicken and beef broth (Swanson, only, I have standards). Not only did I laugh at the extra bottles of condiments in the pantry, but when did chicken and beef broth become staples in my pantry? Probably about the same time I learned you can run out of ketchup.
My trips to the grocery store, prior to moving in with him, had pretty much amounted to an average of $50 a week. I ordered out on Friday nights. During our first month living together, I went to get the ketchup from the fridge. Where was the ketchup? Surely, there was ketchup in this fridge? I just used it last week. I moved leftover containers around, moved milk and pop bottles. No ketchup. I moved the salad bowl. No ketchup. M, I said, where is the ketchup? M replied one of the kids probably finished it, and there would be a new one in the pantry. Wait. What? Finished the ketchup? The huge bottle of ketchup was gone? How was this possible?
Fast forward, 8 years. I ran to the grocery store the other day just to pick up the basics we were out of. $45.18 the cashier said. $45.18 for a quick basic grocery store run. I went home and put the groceries away. I had to move the extra bottles of ketchup and salad dressing in the pantry, so I had more room for chicken and beef broth (Swanson, only, I have standards). Not only did I laugh at the extra bottles of condiments in the pantry, but when did chicken and beef broth become staples in my pantry? Probably about the same time I learned you can run out of ketchup.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Can You Be Struck By Lightning Twice?
The other day a friend and I were having a conversation about choosing to be happy. She thought about a friend of hers, who really has a hard life, beyond what any of us can imagine. But yet, this friend is always smiling, upbeat, happy. She makes a choice to be happy.
Today, when I woke up later than I wanted to, had to fight with my 7 year old about getting up (my name is now Meanie Mommy), and barely had time to wash my hair (it needed it in that cancel a date because I need to wash my hair way), I chose to be happy. When my windshield wipers wouldn't shut off, I thought: well, as annoying as this is, it's better to have ones that won't shut off than ones that won't come on. When I was stuck in traffic for 20 minutes for unknown reasons, I turned up the radio and had a dance party (the guy in the Audi next to me laughed). When I got to work and didn't even know where to start, I thought well at least I will be busy. When I realized I forgot my lunch, I remembered I had a can of soup in my desk. Happy. Happy. Joy. Joy.
When my bosses asked me to come into a conference room and told me my job was being eliminated along with 35 others, I smiled and said this must be hard for you. I could tell there was something going on all morning. The higher level boss said: I fought so hard to get you on board full time, I didn't want this. Your performance was superior, I am so sorry. My direct boss looked like she may be sick. I felt bad for them. I had to sit through this once, they had to do it 35 times. I know they didn't see it coming either (not to be a HR professional here, but had they seen it coming, they'd have never converted me to their payroll. I am now a liability on their unemployment costs).
Somehow over the course of 6 months, I managed to have enough stuff in my office to fill 3 boxes. I loaded my car in 2 trips. I smiled the entire time. I said hi to people in the hallway, congratulated one person on their recent wedding, wished people good luck. The wipers wiped the entire way home, the sun was shining.
I chose to be happy. I've been through this before, not even 2 years ago. I didn't see it coming this time, but I was far more prepared. I hated my long commute and I did leave my lunch at home. I wasn't much in the mood for soup anyway.
Today, when I woke up later than I wanted to, had to fight with my 7 year old about getting up (my name is now Meanie Mommy), and barely had time to wash my hair (it needed it in that cancel a date because I need to wash my hair way), I chose to be happy. When my windshield wipers wouldn't shut off, I thought: well, as annoying as this is, it's better to have ones that won't shut off than ones that won't come on. When I was stuck in traffic for 20 minutes for unknown reasons, I turned up the radio and had a dance party (the guy in the Audi next to me laughed). When I got to work and didn't even know where to start, I thought well at least I will be busy. When I realized I forgot my lunch, I remembered I had a can of soup in my desk. Happy. Happy. Joy. Joy.
When my bosses asked me to come into a conference room and told me my job was being eliminated along with 35 others, I smiled and said this must be hard for you. I could tell there was something going on all morning. The higher level boss said: I fought so hard to get you on board full time, I didn't want this. Your performance was superior, I am so sorry. My direct boss looked like she may be sick. I felt bad for them. I had to sit through this once, they had to do it 35 times. I know they didn't see it coming either (not to be a HR professional here, but had they seen it coming, they'd have never converted me to their payroll. I am now a liability on their unemployment costs).
Somehow over the course of 6 months, I managed to have enough stuff in my office to fill 3 boxes. I loaded my car in 2 trips. I smiled the entire time. I said hi to people in the hallway, congratulated one person on their recent wedding, wished people good luck. The wipers wiped the entire way home, the sun was shining.
I chose to be happy. I've been through this before, not even 2 years ago. I didn't see it coming this time, but I was far more prepared. I hated my long commute and I did leave my lunch at home. I wasn't much in the mood for soup anyway.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)