Let the Memory Live Again

We all have them. No matter how much you try to escape, run, or hide, they don't go away. Some make us smile, some make us cry, some make us wistful and some just make us wince. No, I am not talking about Mothers, I am talking about memories.

The other day, my Dad brought over a box of books. The Disney series with read along record. Of course, there were more, but the Disney series made me pause--take the needle off the record. I have so many memories of these books. I had no idea my Dad still had them. I am now hoping to find a record player (hey, I still have Thriller on vinyl, back off, it's a good purchase...like you don't have your 8 track tapes...).

The nostalgia that books from my childhood could instantly cause, got me thinking. What other memories do I have that are instantly brought back...just a few from the last few days...

• The Florescent Light over my Kitchen Counter: Tati (my Dad's Father), who would watch tv and have a snack over the counter, with a florescent counter light on. Perhaps he only did this when my brother and I were visiting, so he could watch us in the other room, but I remember it none-the-less.
  
• Waffle Irons: Nana (my Mom's Grandma) used to make the best waffles using an old waffle iron. Coincidentally a waffle iron was one of the first things I asked for when I had my first apartment. I still have the one my Grandma (Nana's daughter) bought me.
• Matilda: a good friend from college and all our fun times together, I wish we still lived down the hall from one another many times each day. There are so many other things that cause me to think of her as well (Friends, Marlboro Lights, The Go-Gos, Dawson Creek, the list goes on and on)

Of course, there are numerous memories that we all have that will instantly bring a smile to our face, make us laugh, or make us pick up the phone (ok, now-a-days text) a good friend. But there are many that will make us sad or make us angry.

• I can't pass a certain rapid station on the West Side without remembering a student I read to in my early 20s. I often wonder where that little 2nd grader is today. I wonder what the me of today would have said to her drunk mother on the rapid had I been there instead of the 22 year old me.
• After a bad break up, it was a few years before I could return to my college without sadness or a sickening memory. Now, this seems ludicrous to me.

It occurs to me as I type this, that memories are both wonderful and dangerous. They are what makes us who we are and what can tear us apart.

IF we let them...This reminds me of a religion lesson in school regarding freewill. Freewill was how good and evil was explained, how we can love a God, who isn't always nice. Plagues anyone? I can let memories cause me to smile or I can let them cause me to cry. The choice is mine. What I chose will determine not only my mood for that minute, hour, day, but how I move forward or how I stay stagnant.

Staying still is boring...I chose to move forward.

Do Your Pearls Ever Get in the Way of Your Corporate Ladder Climb?

While traveling last week for work, I went to dinner with a colleague from our Manhattan office. Over dinner, we spoke about how we ended up in Human Resources, our field, our industry. We both remained very politically correct, after all we aren't friends, just co-workers. HR co-workers at that. After we both had a glass of wine with our dinner, we looked at one another as if thinking I'd like one more, but what if they don't...My colleague, senior to me, asked the waiter for one more glass of wine, and I, of course, was happy to do the same. No one should drink alone (except George Thorogood).

We continued our conversation and after awhile, my colleague said, is it hard, what you do? I was a little confused thinking our jobs are not that different. Being a good HR professional, she read my confusion and said: In front of me, I see a 1950s housewife battling with a take charge corporate climber in a fitted suit. The only similarity is a strand of pearls.

In this corner wearing an A line skirt, lovely pearls, and fitted sweater we have 1950s Janine holding a baked apple pie...In this corner, wait... how does she climb that ladder with those 4 inch heels on...I think her arm is stuck in the strand of pearls...she's not going to make it...no, no wait she's using the strand of pearls as a lasso to pull herself up. Ladies and gentleman, an amazing show of talent! What's that in her hand? An apple pie?

The first thing that struck me regarding this statement is I have described myself in a very similar way--I am very self aware -- even if I sometimes ignore this awareness.

How do I do this? I have asked myself that question numerous times over the last several weeks. I know I did it, but it seemed more streamlined then. Not as difficult. It's like I am out of shape and practice.

You call this dinner? Traffic, traffic, traffic. This is the Office of Weed Control, have you noticed your backyard? What's for breakfast? Tuck in your shirt for school. Can you review the RFP? Check written for field trip, buzz of Blackberry. Picture package picked out. Executive 0ffer letter drafted. Termination, exit interview. Follow up with employee, Blackberry buzz...breathe...and again...

This week I mixed up my son's soccer practice days. Granted they changed these days the same week I was traveling, but I would have never made that mishap before.

I am not as far in organizing the stewardship binders for my son's school as I would like.

I really wish dinners were planned better. This is a huge heartbreak.

I can drink coffee and 5pm and still sleep at night.

I haven"t been on my treadmill for awhile, but it's okay because my caloric intake is low due to lack of time to eat.

Is it hard?

Yes.

I am still adjusting, still trying to earn that platinum medal for pole vaulting in 4 inch heels while baking an apple pie as a child yells mom in the background and someone else says do you have a minute?

Would I change it?

No.

The 1950s Me and the Corporate Climber Me are friends. They have a lot of work to do, that 1970s me is constantly doing something nuts.

I Gave Him Life But He Gave Me Life Too

This week I have been reflecting on motherhood. I have thought about everything from finding out I was pregnant, to the hospital trip, the never ending labor and delivery (arrived at hospital at 11pm on August 17th, Gabriel graced us with his presence at 7:01pm on August 18th).

When I found out I was pregnant, I had no concrete life plan. I had a plan and then one day I decided that plan wasn't what I wanted, but I didn't know what I wanted. So, I did the only logical thing one can do ---I just stopped making decisions. Around me, my friends were continuing careers they had been in for a few years, returning to school to start a new career or further the one they had, starting to get married, moving to new cities and new states. Life was happening around me.

Then, as EPT told me, life was growing inside me. I was nervous, but I was not afraid. I was stressed, but I wasn't losing sleep. I repeated over and over again "I am going to be a mom." I'd look thoughtfully in the mirror as I said this, as if somehow the mirror would show me what that meant. Hey, it shows who is the fairest of them all! I did the only logical thing one can do --- I started making decisions -- my child needed me to. I may have been failing at my own life, but I was not going to fail his. I never have failed him and I never will.

Gabriel is the reason I became not only the person I had stopped being, but better than she ever was. Do I have days where I am exhausted? Hello, it's Wednesday and I have already worked 4o hours. Am I ever unsure that what I decided Gabriel could or could not do was the right decision? Of course. Do I suddenly cry at Hallmark commercials and shake my head at teenagers? Yes, but really some of those commercials are sad and have you seen how teens act today? The bottom line is, I am a great mom, who is raising a great son. Time is happening around me and I am treasuring every second.

I brought my son into the world (ok, so there was some help from my doctor) but my son showed me the world.

The Seasons of My Life, Thoughts Provoked by Stevie Nicks

Years ago I watched a movie with Gwenyth Paltrow: Sliding Doors. The movie follows her life when she makes the train and when she doesn't. SPOILER ALERT: even though it's years old: when she makes the train she discovers cheating. When she doesn't, she still discovers cheating, it just takes a bit longer. The ending to side A and side B is the same. It gets you thinking: is final jeopardy already decided?

Having attended (subjected to, survived) 12 years of Catholic school this movie stuck with me. We were taught free will. Without it, how do you explain good vs evil, yin and yang, the Browns and the Steelers, the Yankees vs the Free World...

I have always been one to believe (yes, I do believe in some things, Virginia), that the person I am today is a result of my life experiences. (You take the good, you take the bad and there you have the fact of life...) The child within me has risen above...but what if none of these things occurred? Would I still be me?

Sailing through the changing ocean tides:

Visiting my baby brother in the hospital looking at a room of babies through a window seeing which one he was. I still remember sitting in the corner of a gray plaid couch when he came home so I could hold him (the corner so the arm could assist me in supporting his new born head, I later fed him spaghetti). To this day, I treat him like a child and a friend. He's my blood, he's my baby brother. He now prefers steak.

My parents divorce. I grew up. I looked out. I learned. I learned more than either of my parents would probably be comfortable in me sharing. Time makes you bolder, children get older.

Empathy. The first time you serve in a soup kitchen, the first time you help a child to read (and then later see that child on the rapid with a parent who is too drunk to listen), the first time you help at a school and learn that the breakfast you are feeding him/her is the first meal they have had since lunch at school yesterday.

Motherhood: the first time you hold your baby in your arms and know that you are a mother. That no matter what, you are a mother. The first time you run every light on a main road in an effort to get your unconscious child to the ER just a little quicker. The memory of that day still makes me cry, it was the worst day of my life. I am a mother.

Anger at the world. The first time (of many) you read The Diary of Anne Frank. The first time you see a man pick up a prostitute in a pressed/ironed shirt driving an A6 with a Solon High School sticker in the window. The racial slurs out of the mouths of kids.

Saying I do. Forever. (sentences start ending with: for the rest of my life), For better, for worse. Til Death (read that again, til DEATH). Building your life around the needs and wants of another? Maybe for the Hope Diamond? UGH. Disney doesn't teach you how hard this can be after the fairy tale dress gets put away.

The first time you lose a job when you have something to lose. The landslide can take you down.

College, Alpha Xi Delta: ...but without bitterness, or defeat, you must encounter misfortune and with humility meet success. So I will.

This Thing Called Work, What a Time Sucker!

It's been almost a month since my return to full time work. Possibly because of all the hours I have been working, it seems much longer. However, due to all the unknowns, it seems much shorter.

I still don't have "the process" down. Part of me feels like I need to cut myself some slack--returning to full time work after being home over a year and working part time for 8 months is an adjustment. It would be an adjustment on its own, let alone when you have a child, a home, and a dog, who just learned the hard way squirrels are not black with a white stripe. The other part of me feels like a month is long enough and I should have this down (have I ever mentioned I have high self standards?).

So readers, perhaps your insight and suggestions can help me return to my previously perfect in every way self.

Still working on:
1. I have yet to clean my entire house at once. I know this is possible. I vaguely remember a life in which I did this and worked full time.

2. I haven't managed to fit in consistent workouts. I am starting to feel sluggish (and fat). I know I will feel better once my workout routine is in check, I just haven't gotten the system down yet.

3. I really prefer to make a weekly dinner menu, shop for said weekly menu, and prep things the night before. This saves so much time and guarantees a decent home cooked meal each night. While this may have been easier to accomplish during the winter months (hello crock pot season), I need to make this adjustment now before my son returns to school.

4. My bad long commute self is doing decently with my miles spent in a car, but I could probably use a little more work on not using words like "moron", "idiot", "seriously", and "wtf" while driving. At least not as often...it's not like I can't use my horn. Right?

Glimmers of sparkly shinning perfection are there though...seriously, break out your sunglasses people!

Got it:
1. I really need to keep my bed time consistent, I need my sleep and I don't wake up easily. My mom told me once that when I was a baby, she used to have to wake me up to eat. I am not shocked.

2. I am all around better when I have time for myself. Some days it's just 20 minutes, other days it's an hour. The point is I need it and everyone around me needs me to have it too.

3. I can drink coffee at 4:00pm and still go to sleep at night.

4. I can only do so much and sometimes things have to wait until the next day. Please return to breathing, I really have realized this. I swear I am not even looking at my blackberry.

5. Breathe. Absorb. Listen. Think. There's something to be said about being a sponge. Now if I could just figure out how to use one more consistently.

This Little Light of Mine

Last week, as I was busily working away at the table, my husband informed me I had an aura. He added, going back to work suits you well. I don't know that he saw angelic lights surrounding me while seraphims and cherubims sang, but I do know I was extremely happy. The sick part is, it was after 10 at night, I had been working from home for several hours after working at an office all day, but I was happy. Maybe it wasn't an aura he saw, maybe it was just the light of the end of the tunnel. Ya know the one, we've been waiting on for the better part of two years.

Those of you, who have read this blog before, know I was working part time, barely returned to full time and was once again laid off. I wasn't very happy with several aspects of that job, so while the end result didn't exactly bring tears to my eyes, its disappearance made finances tighter than they had been.

Then as if all the stars and planets simultaneously aligned in the House of Janine ( I believe that's the 10th house--Capricorn), I had 2 straight weeks of nothing but multiple interviews. My measly weekly unemployment payments could not cover the interview gas expense. Everything started happening at once, everyone was moving rapidly knowing that I was actively interviewing. Then, I found it.

It was like sliding on a pair of jeans and having your butt look awesome even though you didn't do squats that week and had a chocolate milkshake (yes, with whip cream, why would you even wonder).

The excitement, the opportunity, the satisfaction is probably why, even now as my blackberry vibrates, I don't mind stopping to see what is needed. It's much easier to give something all you have, when you want to as opposed to have to. I guess the same could be said for relationships.

Perhaps, what my husband actually saw was happiness, me without stress all around, me back in my element. While I know my first few paychecks will pay out larger bills than normal, I also know that I can pay my bills again. That I can eventually take Gabriel on excursions, go shopping once more, work on the house again, eventually take a real vacation. Will everything happen as rapidly as I would like? Probably not, I lack this thing called patience. But it will happen, the light is starting to shine once more.

On my way to work this morning I saw a license plate that read "i magine". I think I will.

Seriously, My Dad Can Cook and Sew

I didn't grow up in a two parent household, but I grew up with two parents. I wasn't the only child in my grade school to have divorced parents, but it wasn't until I was older that I realized some kids only had one parent. Normally, that one parent was the mom. Dads often seem to get a bad reputation in the world of parenting. This never made sense to me because I had a dad, a very present and loving dad.

There is a commercial, where the stressed dad tries to make a hotdog in the microwave because his wife isn't there and he isn't sure what to do. The hotdog is inedible. I hate this commercial and I find it insulting to mankind. My dad didn't buy microwave dinners and take us to a fast food place to eat. My dad cooked for us and we helped. Some of my best soups are ones he taught me to make. Just like my dad, I have a hard time telling others how to make these soups because a pinch of this and a dash of this, doesn't help someone who wants measurements. My brother has a special green bean recipe he created when he was 8 with my dad. My dad tried to teach me how to bake, but somethings are just not teachable in my world. If you want a cake, don't come to me.

My dad didn't look at a vacuum cleaner in a confused state of mind or at a sponge wondering what it did. He knew what these things did, even if he didn't like to use them. This is probably why we had chores!

I only know one person who can sew by hand as well as my father, and that's my husband. They can both have 5 buttons on a shirt while I'm still on the first button. The two of them probably have more in common than either would like to admit. For example, neither has really taught me to sew. Guess they will just have to keep doing it for me.

My dad and I have always been close. As I have gotten older, we have had our battles, we are both stubborn people who are always right. But despite or perhaps because of this, I will always be daddy's little girl. He taught me to pay attention to my surroundings, to not be afraid no matter where I was, to walk with my head held high. He taught me that I could be anything I wanted to be if I tried, no matter what anyone else said. My dad taught me feminism. He showed me a different part of life, the part where people don't always have everything they need, let alone everything they want. He taught me to care for others and as a result I developed an empathy for people that sometimes causes me to be very "save the world".

I never understood the fathers and the mothers who leave. I never understood the fathers and mothers that can't or don't. Yes, people I said "and mothers". Look around today and you will find that many children, who have only one parent, only have a father. Perhaps, the marketing departments of the world need to catch up on that.

Was my dad perfect? Of course, not. Does he have his faults? Of course. Like most adults I don't look at my parents with rose colored glasses, but their mistakes and their mishaps have helped shape me as a person. I had a good example as to what a man should be and shouldn't be. Perhaps, my dad wishes that he didn't teach me a lot of the shouldn'ts, but without those, I wouldn't have been able to step out into the world as a woman and take care of myself.

Now as a parent myself, I get to see my father be a grandpa. I am glad my son has the time he has with my dad. I sometimes get frustrated and wish he would do more of what I ask, but in the end I turned out pretty near perfect (stop laughing)...the time my son spends with my dad will only serve to make him a more well rounded individual. Some lessons are priceless. I wouldn't be the person I am today without the dad I have, with all his positives and negatives.