Number 1:
I have a really great life, and a perfect kid (that does the usual kid stuff). But don't think for one second I don't work my ass off at it.
Number 2:
I'm really glad the kid is an only child. I couldn't have said great life if I had two. I wouldn't even know HOW to juggle all of that. Kudos to anyone with more than one kid.
1.31.2011
Yup, I'm gonna bitch....
Warning...language ahead that is not for the faint of heart. I like F-bombs. They like me. It's probably the only 50-50 give and take relationship I have with anything.
I'm fucking exhausted. Maybe because it's Monday (and I hate Mondays with a damn passion), or maybe it's because I really am hitting my wall. But damnit, I'm fucking tired. TIRED. Tired of people thinking that I have it so easy, because I'm a "Work at Home Mom". You know what WAHM really means? You're busting your ass day in and day out to balance a home, preschooler, and a business that is essentially being rebuilt from the ground up every few years. (and I'm in month 3 of the rebuilding process. Bear in mind, it took me 2 years to even get a footing last time.)
Wanna know what my average day is like? Sleep like shit. Get up a million times with dogs and/or child in the night. Wake up really early. Stumble to coffee pots (yes, we have 2) and hope that something comes out of them that can help me shake off the "wanna go back to bed" feeling. Listen to the kid whine. Listen to the dog whine. Respond to about 20 work emails, while kid is whining because she, too, is tired. Get the kid set up with a TV show and some breakfast while I (GASP) check out Facebook and check in on my message board for 10 minutes. Breakfast is over, so I clean up the syrup that is all over the floor, table, dog and kid. Oatmeal is a bitch to get out of dog fur. It's now about 9:30.
Play with the kid. Kid gets tired of me, so she goes and does something alone. Great, now I have time to do some marketing, or maybe client work. Kid gets bored of being alone, so we read/color/do school stuff. Or alternately get out of the house for an educational field trip. Kid starts whining again, so we go back home. Kid refuses to eat lunch and throws it ON the dog. AGAIN. Somewhere in here, I need to find time to work in some professional development. It's now noon.
Kid is tired, so she's vegging on the couch watching something on Nick Jr. while I pick up more messes. Phone has rung about 10 times by now. I have an urgent project to work on, so I sneak in 30 minutes while she becomes a turnip on the couch. Shit, I realize I haven't showered yet. Oh well. Keep working. Kid gets whiny, AGAIN. Give her milk and turn on a movie while she drifts off to nap. Hopefully. She naps about 60% of the time. Maybe for an hour or two. Which is my chance to shower, put sweatpants back on, deal with the dogs, and get about 5 minutes into another work issue before she wakes up. Kid wants to know about dinosaurs. I don't know a damn thing about dinosaurs. Google. It's now about 4:30.
Fuck, what's for dinner? Have I eaten today? No, but there are about 3-4 coffee cups littered across my desk. Damnit, kid threw her dolls and their shoes everywhere, and the dogs are now chewing on them. She wants a lollipop. The doorbell rings, its UPS. Remember that I have a shipment that HAS to go out today, and pick up is in about 15 minutes. SHIT. Urgent client email coming into the cellphone. Batteries die in kid's favorite toy. Change batteries. Kid sets up camp in my office where we practice writing her letters. I blog, before I lose my sanity. Whether for work or play. Floor needs to be mopped, but the damn mop does a shitty job. It can wait for tomorrow. DAMNIT. I still haven't defrosted anything for dinner. It's now about 6:30.
Husband comes home, drops his gear and disappears into my office. I get frustrated because it's not really MY office any more. Office accumulates more shit as the kid drags her entire bedroom in. Dinner still isn't started. Guess we're eating out of a box. I'm a shitty cook anyway. Eat. Kid needs a bath. I need to place an order for a client ASAP. I have a fucking headache. Need to do laundry so kid has clean underwear and socks for tomorrow. Wait, do I have clean underwear and socks? Email a client about a meeting. Email another client about their product. Snuggle my dog, because we both need it. Finally get the kid in the tub. Let her play while I squeak in some more marketing stuff. It's now about 9:30.
Kid fights us about bedtime. Either I lay down with her and risk falling asleep with undone tasks on my list, or I let her play with her iXL until she passes out. More work. Then bed. I lay in bed for at least an hour trying to fall asleep. Then the dog wakes me up to go outside. Come back to bed. Kid gets in bed with us, then proceeds to lie sideways pushing me out. I get up and sleep with my 100 lb dog in her bed. Sleep like shit. It's now about 2:30 a.m.
Working from home isn't nearly the cakewalk anyone thinks it is. At least if my rugrat was in preschool, her messes through the day wouldn't be my problem. The constant interruptions wouldn't mean I have to stop mid-email or tell a client I have to call them back later. I would never run out of milk/frozen waffles/beer/fruit snacks. (Diet essentials. At least I am never, ever, ever out of coffee. Thank you, Amazon.) My home rarely is "perfect". I hate clutter and chaos, but I've learned that some is just unavoidable. If you visit my home, most likely there will be dog hair on the couch and milk rings on the coffee table. I'm currently seeking a method to remove Bendaroo wax from the TV screen. Suggestions appreciated in the comments, but please keep your "time management" techniques & parenting suggestions to yourself, especially if you don't have kids. Thanks.
Dear Monday, F YOU, TOO!
I'm fucking exhausted. Maybe because it's Monday (and I hate Mondays with a damn passion), or maybe it's because I really am hitting my wall. But damnit, I'm fucking tired. TIRED. Tired of people thinking that I have it so easy, because I'm a "Work at Home Mom". You know what WAHM really means? You're busting your ass day in and day out to balance a home, preschooler, and a business that is essentially being rebuilt from the ground up every few years. (and I'm in month 3 of the rebuilding process. Bear in mind, it took me 2 years to even get a footing last time.)
Wanna know what my average day is like? Sleep like shit. Get up a million times with dogs and/or child in the night. Wake up really early. Stumble to coffee pots (yes, we have 2) and hope that something comes out of them that can help me shake off the "wanna go back to bed" feeling. Listen to the kid whine. Listen to the dog whine. Respond to about 20 work emails, while kid is whining because she, too, is tired. Get the kid set up with a TV show and some breakfast while I (GASP) check out Facebook and check in on my message board for 10 minutes. Breakfast is over, so I clean up the syrup that is all over the floor, table, dog and kid. Oatmeal is a bitch to get out of dog fur. It's now about 9:30.
Play with the kid. Kid gets tired of me, so she goes and does something alone. Great, now I have time to do some marketing, or maybe client work. Kid gets bored of being alone, so we read/color/do school stuff. Or alternately get out of the house for an educational field trip. Kid starts whining again, so we go back home. Kid refuses to eat lunch and throws it ON the dog. AGAIN. Somewhere in here, I need to find time to work in some professional development. It's now noon.
Kid is tired, so she's vegging on the couch watching something on Nick Jr. while I pick up more messes. Phone has rung about 10 times by now. I have an urgent project to work on, so I sneak in 30 minutes while she becomes a turnip on the couch. Shit, I realize I haven't showered yet. Oh well. Keep working. Kid gets whiny, AGAIN. Give her milk and turn on a movie while she drifts off to nap. Hopefully. She naps about 60% of the time. Maybe for an hour or two. Which is my chance to shower, put sweatpants back on, deal with the dogs, and get about 5 minutes into another work issue before she wakes up. Kid wants to know about dinosaurs. I don't know a damn thing about dinosaurs. Google. It's now about 4:30.
Fuck, what's for dinner? Have I eaten today? No, but there are about 3-4 coffee cups littered across my desk. Damnit, kid threw her dolls and their shoes everywhere, and the dogs are now chewing on them. She wants a lollipop. The doorbell rings, its UPS. Remember that I have a shipment that HAS to go out today, and pick up is in about 15 minutes. SHIT. Urgent client email coming into the cellphone. Batteries die in kid's favorite toy. Change batteries. Kid sets up camp in my office where we practice writing her letters. I blog, before I lose my sanity. Whether for work or play. Floor needs to be mopped, but the damn mop does a shitty job. It can wait for tomorrow. DAMNIT. I still haven't defrosted anything for dinner. It's now about 6:30.
Husband comes home, drops his gear and disappears into my office. I get frustrated because it's not really MY office any more. Office accumulates more shit as the kid drags her entire bedroom in. Dinner still isn't started. Guess we're eating out of a box. I'm a shitty cook anyway. Eat. Kid needs a bath. I need to place an order for a client ASAP. I have a fucking headache. Need to do laundry so kid has clean underwear and socks for tomorrow. Wait, do I have clean underwear and socks? Email a client about a meeting. Email another client about their product. Snuggle my dog, because we both need it. Finally get the kid in the tub. Let her play while I squeak in some more marketing stuff. It's now about 9:30.
Kid fights us about bedtime. Either I lay down with her and risk falling asleep with undone tasks on my list, or I let her play with her iXL until she passes out. More work. Then bed. I lay in bed for at least an hour trying to fall asleep. Then the dog wakes me up to go outside. Come back to bed. Kid gets in bed with us, then proceeds to lie sideways pushing me out. I get up and sleep with my 100 lb dog in her bed. Sleep like shit. It's now about 2:30 a.m.
Working from home isn't nearly the cakewalk anyone thinks it is. At least if my rugrat was in preschool, her messes through the day wouldn't be my problem. The constant interruptions wouldn't mean I have to stop mid-email or tell a client I have to call them back later. I would never run out of milk/frozen waffles/beer/fruit snacks. (Diet essentials. At least I am never, ever, ever out of coffee. Thank you, Amazon.) My home rarely is "perfect". I hate clutter and chaos, but I've learned that some is just unavoidable. If you visit my home, most likely there will be dog hair on the couch and milk rings on the coffee table. I'm currently seeking a method to remove Bendaroo wax from the TV screen. Suggestions appreciated in the comments, but please keep your "time management" techniques & parenting suggestions to yourself, especially if you don't have kids. Thanks.
Dear Monday, F YOU, TOO!
1.25.2011
Little Pearls of Wisdom - more or less
I couldn't sleep last night. I had (have) a very sick furchild on my hands, and anyone who truly knows me is aware of the fact that I absolutely love this dog and would do anything for him. Including potty trips outside every 20-30 minutes all night long. (and other gross things I will not go into detail over.) So, what happens when you can't sleep? You think. And when you are that tired, the things rambling through your head can be genius or incoherent, or somewhere in the middle.
I'm still chewing some of the more intelligent thoughts over, or I'd go into detail here. My mind was truly all over the place. It's amazing what happens when you are just past the point of no return.
I'm still chewing some of the more intelligent thoughts over, or I'd go into detail here. My mind was truly all over the place. It's amazing what happens when you are just past the point of no return.
1.15.2011
Feeling Human
I admit, I haven't been feeling much like a human lately. More like a slug, on the path to a goal, but largely unaware of what that goal is. Just making slow progress each day. It doesn't help that I've been sick, as has the rest of the family. The metaphorical fog I was living in was only complicated by the literal fog I was trying to see/breathe through. Add in the complications and dangers of actually being human, and I didn't feel much like one.
Today, I am somewhat on the mend. The sinuses and sore throat are starting to abide, though I'm not running at my usual capacity. My husband did something wonderful and much needed for me, and sent me off to get a little bit of pampering. I'm not one to put myself first ever, at least not since becoming a wife and mother, so today was a nice little unexpected indulgence. I treated myself to a very cliche trip to the nail spa, for a deluxe manicure and pedicure. I'm still slightly surprised at how much better those small little things can make me feel.
Anyway, what I'm getting to, in my rambling way, is that I can't recall what exactly triggered the change, but at some point, I stopped taking care of myself. OK, I still bathe, color my hair (gasp), buy new clothes when needed, take care of my teeth, etc., but I'm talking about really taking care of myself. The occasional attention paid to my soul and rejuvenation. Almost anyone who finds themselves in the position of being the primary caretaker of a household/family/loved one can probably identify with the feeling that they just don't get the attention that they used to, from themselves.
What I should be doing, is making time for myself. And whatever form that time takes: a trip to the spa, shopping, a day at the beach, a drive, or even a 20 minute solo trip to the coffee shop, I need to make it count. I think this means setting aside all the other bullshit I am working on, dealing with, listening to, and just going and doing it. Hell, it doesn't even mean I have to leave the house, though I will admit that I probably get a little bit more benefit of my time if I step out of my "element".
I promise myself to try to do this a little more. It doesn't have to cost me anything. I can even drive five minutes from home and find myself up in the mountains, seemingly thousands of miles from civilization. It would be nice if that 5 minute drive included a massage and facial, but hey, I'll take what I can get.
Today, I am somewhat on the mend. The sinuses and sore throat are starting to abide, though I'm not running at my usual capacity. My husband did something wonderful and much needed for me, and sent me off to get a little bit of pampering. I'm not one to put myself first ever, at least not since becoming a wife and mother, so today was a nice little unexpected indulgence. I treated myself to a very cliche trip to the nail spa, for a deluxe manicure and pedicure. I'm still slightly surprised at how much better those small little things can make me feel.
Anyway, what I'm getting to, in my rambling way, is that I can't recall what exactly triggered the change, but at some point, I stopped taking care of myself. OK, I still bathe, color my hair (gasp), buy new clothes when needed, take care of my teeth, etc., but I'm talking about really taking care of myself. The occasional attention paid to my soul and rejuvenation. Almost anyone who finds themselves in the position of being the primary caretaker of a household/family/loved one can probably identify with the feeling that they just don't get the attention that they used to, from themselves.
What I should be doing, is making time for myself. And whatever form that time takes: a trip to the spa, shopping, a day at the beach, a drive, or even a 20 minute solo trip to the coffee shop, I need to make it count. I think this means setting aside all the other bullshit I am working on, dealing with, listening to, and just going and doing it. Hell, it doesn't even mean I have to leave the house, though I will admit that I probably get a little bit more benefit of my time if I step out of my "element".
I promise myself to try to do this a little more. It doesn't have to cost me anything. I can even drive five minutes from home and find myself up in the mountains, seemingly thousands of miles from civilization. It would be nice if that 5 minute drive included a massage and facial, but hey, I'll take what I can get.
1.14.2011
Why are we here?
Wow. What a way to lead in, right? Well first off, let's get the housekeeping out of the way. On your way to this link, you had to click the little box that advised you of adult content ahead. Now, I'm not going to be writing things that you might think should be censored, but I will be typing out honest, occasionally sensitive, thoughts. And we all know my language can get a little dicey when I'm emotional. So you've been duly warned that it probably isn't all rainbows and unicorns ahead. But then again, that's why we are here. Honesty, reclaiming ourselves, looking at the good and the changeable. Don't worry, this isn't going to be some gloom and doom type boo-hooing. It won't be some uber-inspired self-help endeavor, either. Just me, catching up with me.
So, why are we here? Recently, I've been struggling with the thought that I've lost my identity. Caught up in all of this that we call life, I've forgotten who I was. No, who I am. I still have to remind myself of that spunky, vibrant person I used to be. Still am. The writer, the dreamer, the girl who could party until the sun came up, take a nap, and do it all over again the next day. I think a lot of people in my life are missing that person. I know I am. And damnit, it's time that I did something for myself.
Right now, who am I? I truly don't know how I would summarize myself. This used to come so naturally to me, as I am sure it did to many of you. "Who are you?" "Oh, I'm a senior, business major, member of XYZ sorority, and I volunteer part-time at the ASPCA." etc. Or after college: "I'm a Marketing Director for Acme Products. I own a condo in Old Town, and have a labrador retriever. In my spare time, I enjoy mountain biking and long walks on the beach."
So why is it so hard now, at age 33, to define myself? Sure, I'm a wife and mother, and I have a career. I live in a beautiful home in Southern California, drive a nice vehicle, and enjoy my volunteer work. But none of that is who I am. What is? Someone asked me this week, "What do you enjoy doing?" and would you know, I couldn't for the life of me think of an answer? Yeah, I like to take pictures. I like to go off-roading in my SUV. I like to write. Go to the beach. Explore mexican cuisine. Watch the clouds. Lots of things. But at that moment, I couldn't answer. Why? What the hell is wrong with me? And if I could have answered, I can guarantee I would have been completely non-committal.
Before anyone jumps to the diagnosis of clinical depression, allow me to offer an alternative: We're in that "grey area" of life. (Yes, grey with an "e". I'm worldly. Deal.) So much of our life is defined by milestones and expectations, but right now (and many of my friends will surely agree), I'm at that point where the next step is unclear. College: check. Get married: check. Have a baby: check. Move across the country: check. So now what? THAT, my friends, is what I intend to find out. I'm done just living one day to get to the next, waiting for something to happen. Because when you wait for something to happen, it is never good. You have to make good for yourself, and I'm tired of bad things happening to me and those I love.
So here we go. Get ready for bumps, tears, laughs, F-bombs, and more.
-G
So, why are we here? Recently, I've been struggling with the thought that I've lost my identity. Caught up in all of this that we call life, I've forgotten who I was. No, who I am. I still have to remind myself of that spunky, vibrant person I used to be. Still am. The writer, the dreamer, the girl who could party until the sun came up, take a nap, and do it all over again the next day. I think a lot of people in my life are missing that person. I know I am. And damnit, it's time that I did something for myself.
Right now, who am I? I truly don't know how I would summarize myself. This used to come so naturally to me, as I am sure it did to many of you. "Who are you?" "Oh, I'm a senior, business major, member of XYZ sorority, and I volunteer part-time at the ASPCA." etc. Or after college: "I'm a Marketing Director for Acme Products. I own a condo in Old Town, and have a labrador retriever. In my spare time, I enjoy mountain biking and long walks on the beach."
So why is it so hard now, at age 33, to define myself? Sure, I'm a wife and mother, and I have a career. I live in a beautiful home in Southern California, drive a nice vehicle, and enjoy my volunteer work. But none of that is who I am. What is? Someone asked me this week, "What do you enjoy doing?" and would you know, I couldn't for the life of me think of an answer? Yeah, I like to take pictures. I like to go off-roading in my SUV. I like to write. Go to the beach. Explore mexican cuisine. Watch the clouds. Lots of things. But at that moment, I couldn't answer. Why? What the hell is wrong with me? And if I could have answered, I can guarantee I would have been completely non-committal.
Before anyone jumps to the diagnosis of clinical depression, allow me to offer an alternative: We're in that "grey area" of life. (Yes, grey with an "e". I'm worldly. Deal.) So much of our life is defined by milestones and expectations, but right now (and many of my friends will surely agree), I'm at that point where the next step is unclear. College: check. Get married: check. Have a baby: check. Move across the country: check. So now what? THAT, my friends, is what I intend to find out. I'm done just living one day to get to the next, waiting for something to happen. Because when you wait for something to happen, it is never good. You have to make good for yourself, and I'm tired of bad things happening to me and those I love.
So here we go. Get ready for bumps, tears, laughs, F-bombs, and more.
-G
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