Nine Years ago on Friday I embarked on a journey that I certainly didn’t anticipate would sustain me financially, emotionally, academically, and professionally for 9 years. Nine Years ago I started my career at Nike.
There are so many things I love about my job (and probably just as many things that I dislike) but I have to say that I am very, very blessed to have a career that I genuinely enjoy. I love my morning and evening walks to and from daycare. The grounds are kept impeccably groomed. I love the smell the rosemary bushes, the freshly cut grass and the newly tossed soil. I love the early sightings of the baby ducks in the spring and the occasional appearance of the blue heron wading through the water. I even get a kick out of the nutria that wonder across the trails despite their rodent appearances.
I love how close by my two youngest children are. I love how I was able to visit Hope religiously, two times a day until she was nearly three years old. I love how I was able to make the short trek 3-4 times a day to cuddle and feed baby Nico until he was a year old. I love how I can stop in unannounced at daycare when I’m feeling lonely or just simply missing my babies. I love that I occasionally run into my children playing outside – either strolling through the luxurious landscape or tottering around the playground. Those mid-day surprise reunions are always such a treat that make the day so much more enjoyable.
I realize that this is not typical and I appreciate that this is all fairly unique. I can grasp that these are huge benefits and I know that I am incredibly blessed to really feel like I have the best of all worlds… A career I love where I work surrounded each day by beautiful, lush gardens. Children who spend their days close by – close enough for occasional visits. The flexibility to come and go within a schedule that accommodates my family. Nine years made wonderful by all these perks.
You know what the best part about nine years entails? I now get 6 weeks of vacation a year!!
But I have to admit, the idea of returning to all this wonder is not all that enticing after spending a week on vacation…
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Good Old Days
I spent two nights this weekend with Sarah - a treat I haven’t made enough time for since the good old days when we practically lived together. This got me thinking… (I know, scary!) about the good old days.
The good old days when we lived ¼ mile apart. When we spent every waking (and often sleeping) moment outside of work and school together. Back when we had our youth and the desperation of a meager paycheck to get out of bed at 4:00 a.m. to catch a train downtown together for our 5:30 a.m. jobs.
I shared my first glass (ok, bottle) of wine with Sarah after much deliberation and a conscious decision that we were grown up enough to start drinking like classy women. We were smart enough not to buy wine from a box but we were thrifty enough to realize that you could get much more wine for the same price out of a jug. Hence, our introduction to the world of red wine began with Red Rose. We were so proud of our new found drink of choice and the “grown-up” status that this symbolic drink brought us (or so we thought). We had a long way to go but being naïve we thoroughly enjoyed every last drop of hundreds of bottles of Red Rose. I have no idea when or where we gave up Red Rose and moved on to “real” wine – but those Red Rose days were some of the best - even if the wine was less than mediocre.
And then Sarah moved downtown but the time we spent together didn’t at all diminish. I had a key to her place. I spent every free moment between (and sometimes during) classes at her apartment. Her place was my first stop every morning for a cup of coffee and my last stop each day before I left for home. We stayed weekends at her small apartment and never fell out of touch for more than an 8 hour stretch to sleep during the week. After the Christmas tree episode of 2007 I knew exactly where to go when I just had to leave – straight to Sarah’s for some Red Rose. I was there when she broke her finger. Sarah’s house was the first place we went to show off my shiny ring after we got engaged. Every holiday was a sleepover and we were simply an extension of each other’s day to day lives.
And then we graduated… and got real jobs. And real life began… our time together was minimal. We were busy. We lived far apart. But I think we both wished we were back in school just so we could relive those many shared moments all over again.
So, this last weekend I was lucky enough to be Warren’s stand-in for the Friday night Blazer game. I met Sarah after work downtown for some red wine, an exciting Blazer game and plenty of time to catch up on our busy lives. We both immediately decided it was a red wine night and promptly made our way to the bar. Last month when I was Warren's stand-in at a Blazer game we had beer night so we thought we’d shake it up a bit. We spent the first half of the game yelling updates on our lives over noise of the cheering crowd. The second half of the game got intensely exciting so we clapped until our hands were numb and cheered until our voices were hoarse. I dropped Sarah off at home after the game and proceeded to spend the next two hours continuing our catch-up dialogue.
Inspired by our splendid time together we decided to do it all over again on Saturday night. And Sarah is not one to disappoint, so when Jenny called needing a last minute babysitter Sarah packed up Ruby and Trey and make the trek to my house to continue our celebratory weekend – what are two more kids when you already have three?
Hope bossed Ruby around – telling her what she could and couldn’t play with. Ruby so politely obliged and we let the girls run through the house in their dress up gear with the boys always trailing behind in a constant effort to keep up – all while Sarah and I resumed our conversation and shared some cabernet (yes, we no longer drink Red Rose).
The kids all played so well together (except for the time when we found Nico sitting on top of Trey prying the sippy cup from his hands – but Trey must be used to the abuse from Ruby because he simply acted as if it was all par for the course). The time flew by and before we knew it, it was 10:00 p.m. and not one child had had a breakdown. We had great conversation along with some smooth red wine and the children genuinely had a blast. We ended the evening declaring that we should do this more often – I mean, after all it would give Jenny and Jason a night out every so often and with the kids pre-occupied with friends their age our conversations are unlimited and usually uninterrupted – giving us plenty of time to catch up and re-live the good old days.
As it turns out, the good old days with Sarah are not gone. They are just fewer and far between but they always bring me just as much happiness and have us sharing our dreams, our frustrations, our daily joys, inspirational stories… and our time together is always guaranteed to result in some belly wrenching, tear producing, cheek cramping laughter.
And just so you all can catch a glimpse into our evening this is Sarah preparing to change a poopy diaper…
The good old days when we lived ¼ mile apart. When we spent every waking (and often sleeping) moment outside of work and school together. Back when we had our youth and the desperation of a meager paycheck to get out of bed at 4:00 a.m. to catch a train downtown together for our 5:30 a.m. jobs.
I shared my first glass (ok, bottle) of wine with Sarah after much deliberation and a conscious decision that we were grown up enough to start drinking like classy women. We were smart enough not to buy wine from a box but we were thrifty enough to realize that you could get much more wine for the same price out of a jug. Hence, our introduction to the world of red wine began with Red Rose. We were so proud of our new found drink of choice and the “grown-up” status that this symbolic drink brought us (or so we thought). We had a long way to go but being naïve we thoroughly enjoyed every last drop of hundreds of bottles of Red Rose. I have no idea when or where we gave up Red Rose and moved on to “real” wine – but those Red Rose days were some of the best - even if the wine was less than mediocre.
And then Sarah moved downtown but the time we spent together didn’t at all diminish. I had a key to her place. I spent every free moment between (and sometimes during) classes at her apartment. Her place was my first stop every morning for a cup of coffee and my last stop each day before I left for home. We stayed weekends at her small apartment and never fell out of touch for more than an 8 hour stretch to sleep during the week. After the Christmas tree episode of 2007 I knew exactly where to go when I just had to leave – straight to Sarah’s for some Red Rose. I was there when she broke her finger. Sarah’s house was the first place we went to show off my shiny ring after we got engaged. Every holiday was a sleepover and we were simply an extension of each other’s day to day lives.
And then we graduated… and got real jobs. And real life began… our time together was minimal. We were busy. We lived far apart. But I think we both wished we were back in school just so we could relive those many shared moments all over again.
So, this last weekend I was lucky enough to be Warren’s stand-in for the Friday night Blazer game. I met Sarah after work downtown for some red wine, an exciting Blazer game and plenty of time to catch up on our busy lives. We both immediately decided it was a red wine night and promptly made our way to the bar. Last month when I was Warren's stand-in at a Blazer game we had beer night so we thought we’d shake it up a bit. We spent the first half of the game yelling updates on our lives over noise of the cheering crowd. The second half of the game got intensely exciting so we clapped until our hands were numb and cheered until our voices were hoarse. I dropped Sarah off at home after the game and proceeded to spend the next two hours continuing our catch-up dialogue.
Inspired by our splendid time together we decided to do it all over again on Saturday night. And Sarah is not one to disappoint, so when Jenny called needing a last minute babysitter Sarah packed up Ruby and Trey and make the trek to my house to continue our celebratory weekend – what are two more kids when you already have three?
Hope bossed Ruby around – telling her what she could and couldn’t play with. Ruby so politely obliged and we let the girls run through the house in their dress up gear with the boys always trailing behind in a constant effort to keep up – all while Sarah and I resumed our conversation and shared some cabernet (yes, we no longer drink Red Rose).
The kids all played so well together (except for the time when we found Nico sitting on top of Trey prying the sippy cup from his hands – but Trey must be used to the abuse from Ruby because he simply acted as if it was all par for the course). The time flew by and before we knew it, it was 10:00 p.m. and not one child had had a breakdown. We had great conversation along with some smooth red wine and the children genuinely had a blast. We ended the evening declaring that we should do this more often – I mean, after all it would give Jenny and Jason a night out every so often and with the kids pre-occupied with friends their age our conversations are unlimited and usually uninterrupted – giving us plenty of time to catch up and re-live the good old days.
As it turns out, the good old days with Sarah are not gone. They are just fewer and far between but they always bring me just as much happiness and have us sharing our dreams, our frustrations, our daily joys, inspirational stories… and our time together is always guaranteed to result in some belly wrenching, tear producing, cheek cramping laughter.
And just so you all can catch a glimpse into our evening this is Sarah preparing to change a poopy diaper…
And this is how we kept the kids entertained…
Sarah was itching all night to brush Trey’s curls just to see what would happen… I wish I had a picture of the afro! It reminded me of my 2nd grade school picture… when Mom was “experimenting” with my hair.
Jenny, you’ve been forewarned that whenever Sarah babysits my children always end up with Mohawks or shark hair – Sarah has a fascination with creating random hair dos on unsuspecting children. I think this obsession was bestowed upon Sarah by my mother who continually insisted on home perming my already coarse, frizzy hair. My childhood pictures are all seriously lacking in the hair style department. The curls were just too tempting for Sarah to stand by idly. But I grew up as the recipient of Sarah’s hair obsession (including some bangs the she trimmed within ¼ of my scalp) and my mother’s home perms - and I’m no worse for the wear so there will hopefully be no long term damage :)
Does life get any better than this?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Can You Hear Me?
Nico went for his hearing and speech screening today – all in an effort to expand his speech beyond “Ba” , “Bu” and “Bo”. Believe me, Nico’s limited vocabulary is not something that I worry about in the slightest as none of my children have been early talkers. Why would you need to talk when pointing and blabbering gets you everything you could possibly need or want?
However, upon insistence from my oh-so-wise pediatrician I took him in so they could officially check his hearing to rule out any inner ear trouble that could be causing him to be oh so unbalanced… and all the while it wouldn’t hurt to have him use words like “serious”. So, I relented…
As it turns out his left ear showed no activity. Further examination showed the lack of hearing is probably related to fluid. Well this information made the most sense to me thus far on our journey to “balance” our clumsy child.
So we will wait… and hope the fluid clears up shortly on it’s own so he can regain his hearing in that ear and take off running in a straight line with fewer bumps and bruises. For now we will just keep teaching him how to say “serious” – whispering it over and over in his right ear, of course!
I think his clumsiness is cute…
Do I have neck rolls?
On another note Nico put on quite a stoic show for the hearing and speech therapists. He showed them that he knew exactly what they wanted him to do… he would look at the door when they asked him to close it and he would stare at the cup when they asked him to pick it up. But he was not about to give in to any of their requests. So he got an average grade in comprehension and an A+ in stubbornness. Where does he get that from?
However, upon insistence from my oh-so-wise pediatrician I took him in so they could officially check his hearing to rule out any inner ear trouble that could be causing him to be oh so unbalanced… and all the while it wouldn’t hurt to have him use words like “serious”. So, I relented…
As it turns out his left ear showed no activity. Further examination showed the lack of hearing is probably related to fluid. Well this information made the most sense to me thus far on our journey to “balance” our clumsy child.
So we will wait… and hope the fluid clears up shortly on it’s own so he can regain his hearing in that ear and take off running in a straight line with fewer bumps and bruises. For now we will just keep teaching him how to say “serious” – whispering it over and over in his right ear, of course!
I think his clumsiness is cute…
Do I have neck rolls? 
On another note Nico put on quite a stoic show for the hearing and speech therapists. He showed them that he knew exactly what they wanted him to do… he would look at the door when they asked him to close it and he would stare at the cup when they asked him to pick it up. But he was not about to give in to any of their requests. So he got an average grade in comprehension and an A+ in stubbornness. Where does he get that from?
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Thank You for the Magical Leprechaun Day
I am feeling overwhelming gratitude toward the Dolphin Teachers for the truly magical Leprechaun Day they created.
The children arrived to trails of glitter and sparkles that led to an enticing pot of gold wrapped chocolate coins. Leni the Leprechaun had visited – just as promised. Leni was very thankful for all the beautiful pictures the children left for him the night before and left the children a thank you note to show his appreciation for all their hard work, thoughtfulness, and colorful creations.
Leni hid gold coins throughout the class and left the children clues – the treasure hunt was on! The kids ran screaming and laughing to the next destination after slowly sounding out each clue. The teachers left the kids in complete control of this treasure hunt. They used teamwork, they sounded out each word together, they jumped for joy in unison and ran as a group to gather the coins and search for their next treasure. What an adventure!
Sharing time was all about displaying a number of personal green treasures to commemorate the day. (No boogers, just green bears and garbage trucks and the like).
In Spanish they each received 5 green jelly beans and learned a quaint little number song to count each of their celebratory treasures.
Lunch consisted of corned beef and hash to compliment the festivities. Believe it or not this was a delightful treat for all the children because it’s just not St. Patty’s day unless you celebrate it according to the legend.
Snack time produced yet another treat of muffins dressed in something (?) green.
Every child was dressed in green from head to toe (mismatching green mind you).
Here are my little leprechauns!
The Dolphin Teachers put on a spectacular show for the kids, creating wonderful memories. These are the kinds of magical memories I would want to create if I were at home with them each day. But I am so thankful that my daycare goes to such extremes to create these festive days because 1) I am not a stay at home mom and 2) I’m afraid I am lacking in the creative department and would not have been able to produce such a memorable event with all the gusto that the Dolphin Teacher created. Hope ended the day exclaiming: “I just love Carrie and Sarah and I hope I can spend every St. Patrick’s Day with them”. And then she asked if they could do it all over again tomorrow. Thank you to the wonderful Dolphin Teachers for making this St. Patrick’s Day such a memorable one for Hope.
The children arrived to trails of glitter and sparkles that led to an enticing pot of gold wrapped chocolate coins. Leni the Leprechaun had visited – just as promised. Leni was very thankful for all the beautiful pictures the children left for him the night before and left the children a thank you note to show his appreciation for all their hard work, thoughtfulness, and colorful creations.
Leni hid gold coins throughout the class and left the children clues – the treasure hunt was on! The kids ran screaming and laughing to the next destination after slowly sounding out each clue. The teachers left the kids in complete control of this treasure hunt. They used teamwork, they sounded out each word together, they jumped for joy in unison and ran as a group to gather the coins and search for their next treasure. What an adventure!
Sharing time was all about displaying a number of personal green treasures to commemorate the day. (No boogers, just green bears and garbage trucks and the like).
In Spanish they each received 5 green jelly beans and learned a quaint little number song to count each of their celebratory treasures.
Lunch consisted of corned beef and hash to compliment the festivities. Believe it or not this was a delightful treat for all the children because it’s just not St. Patty’s day unless you celebrate it according to the legend.
Snack time produced yet another treat of muffins dressed in something (?) green.
Every child was dressed in green from head to toe (mismatching green mind you).
Here are my little leprechauns!
The Dolphin Teachers put on a spectacular show for the kids, creating wonderful memories. These are the kinds of magical memories I would want to create if I were at home with them each day. But I am so thankful that my daycare goes to such extremes to create these festive days because 1) I am not a stay at home mom and 2) I’m afraid I am lacking in the creative department and would not have been able to produce such a memorable event with all the gusto that the Dolphin Teacher created. Hope ended the day exclaiming: “I just love Carrie and Sarah and I hope I can spend every St. Patrick’s Day with them”. And then she asked if they could do it all over again tomorrow. Thank you to the wonderful Dolphin Teachers for making this St. Patrick’s Day such a memorable one for Hope.
Reserving a Good Lecture
I have the most wonderful teenager who is incredibly sweet natured and rides through life rolling with the waves without much resistance. The teenager temperament flares up occasionally but I can hardly complain… I can usually give him a questioning (aka threatening) look of “Do you really want to go there?” which will stop him dead in his tracks.
The remainder of the teenage annoyances are simplistic…
The lackadaisical attitude, the glimpses of real anger when I have unfairly judged or blamed him, the intolerance he demonstrates toward his witty sister (calling her a baby and putting his foot down which is occasionally required when dealing with Hope), or the willingness to trade his family time so easily for a last minute invitation to a friend's house…
Riley is so laid back and generally very well behaved. His demands are simple, his frustrations are usually justified and he has really never given us anything to be truly concerned about (yet!). I should be (and am) continually thankful for this, especially given the complicated world Riley has to grow up in.
But teenagers are complex and I often find myself in the position of questioning how to react to even the most minor teenage annoyances. Each instance offers me a choice… I can either lay into him with a serious lecture - a moralistic conversation that usually just results in a lot of confusion and a questionable moral of the story, or I can make a simple decision to let the moment play out without my influence. The last option being the most difficult but always plays out with the most satisfaction. I think that every moment has something to teach us and I find it increasingly difficult for me not to reiterate this over and over to a teenager who is certainly old enough to learn life’s lessons through the use of a good lecture but who has so successfully managed to convince himself that my speeches have nothing to do with real life and have everything to do with that boring role that each parent ultimately finds themselves swallowed up in. The role of teaching right and wrong.
But what is right and wrong when you are a teenager? It’s not black and white. It always comes back to their choices… A choice that may not necessarily be “wrong” but a choice that has potential long term consequences. A choice that often brings me to my boiling point but ultimately a choice that I must respect as it not in my power to change. Most of the choices that teenagers are faced with are Riley’s to make and our children are their own people. Children do make their own choices – we provide them with the foundation, the support, the unconditional love and still, they will make choices that occasionally go against what our long lived life experiences tell us are dangerous or have lasting consequences. Life lesions that wish we could expel upon our children with words so they do not have to be heartbroken or disappointed by the difficult experiences themselves. But these are experiences that do words little justice. These are simple lessons that can only be learned through experience. The experience of heartaches, the result of skipping homework, the wrath of not checking in at the appointed hour…the consequences of each little choice…
But I am a parent and I find it very difficult not to jump in and demand behavior from him the “meets my expectations”. It’s a constant battle…but in the end it is the love and patience Riley shows his brother and sister that reminds me to stay out of their arguments; it’s the fact that Riley (a very private teenager) still tells me he loves me and gives me hugs that shows me where his heart really is – despite the moodiness; the times when Riley opens up to me that remind me what it’s like to be a teenager and I don’t have all the answers… all these are reminders to allow Riley to make the simpler decisions on his own and reap the benefits and suffer the consequences so he can learn what I cannot express in words.
Oh don’t get me wrong – there are plenty of lectures in my house but I tend to reserve those for the simple things, like dishes or homework. But when it comes to most other things I try (and I mean TRY – I can conjure up the best of lectures in my head for each and every episode) to leave the lectures these days in my head and try to allow Riley to make choices on his own -instead reserving the conversation for the results where Riley owns the decision and can come to his own conclusions with some subtle reminders or guidance from me.
I know Riley won’t always make the right choices. And there will be many more times where I simply have to step in. But I also have to occasionally step back and let him make his own choices – in hopes that when the choices become more difficult he is well prepared to understand the consequences. All with the ultimate hope that my Riley will eventually learn from his experiences and remember that he owns his choices and happiness is a choice and his alone to make.
It‘s all par for the course when raising a teenager but nobody said it would be easy. And should I feel the need to give one of my know-it-all lectures I still have two very young children that “require” lots of guidance when it comes to right and wrong so for now I must remember to save my grand lectures for the unsuspecting young offenders.
The remainder of the teenage annoyances are simplistic…
The lackadaisical attitude, the glimpses of real anger when I have unfairly judged or blamed him, the intolerance he demonstrates toward his witty sister (calling her a baby and putting his foot down which is occasionally required when dealing with Hope), or the willingness to trade his family time so easily for a last minute invitation to a friend's house…
Riley is so laid back and generally very well behaved. His demands are simple, his frustrations are usually justified and he has really never given us anything to be truly concerned about (yet!). I should be (and am) continually thankful for this, especially given the complicated world Riley has to grow up in.
But teenagers are complex and I often find myself in the position of questioning how to react to even the most minor teenage annoyances. Each instance offers me a choice… I can either lay into him with a serious lecture - a moralistic conversation that usually just results in a lot of confusion and a questionable moral of the story, or I can make a simple decision to let the moment play out without my influence. The last option being the most difficult but always plays out with the most satisfaction. I think that every moment has something to teach us and I find it increasingly difficult for me not to reiterate this over and over to a teenager who is certainly old enough to learn life’s lessons through the use of a good lecture but who has so successfully managed to convince himself that my speeches have nothing to do with real life and have everything to do with that boring role that each parent ultimately finds themselves swallowed up in. The role of teaching right and wrong.
But what is right and wrong when you are a teenager? It’s not black and white. It always comes back to their choices… A choice that may not necessarily be “wrong” but a choice that has potential long term consequences. A choice that often brings me to my boiling point but ultimately a choice that I must respect as it not in my power to change. Most of the choices that teenagers are faced with are Riley’s to make and our children are their own people. Children do make their own choices – we provide them with the foundation, the support, the unconditional love and still, they will make choices that occasionally go against what our long lived life experiences tell us are dangerous or have lasting consequences. Life lesions that wish we could expel upon our children with words so they do not have to be heartbroken or disappointed by the difficult experiences themselves. But these are experiences that do words little justice. These are simple lessons that can only be learned through experience. The experience of heartaches, the result of skipping homework, the wrath of not checking in at the appointed hour…the consequences of each little choice…
But I am a parent and I find it very difficult not to jump in and demand behavior from him the “meets my expectations”. It’s a constant battle…but in the end it is the love and patience Riley shows his brother and sister that reminds me to stay out of their arguments; it’s the fact that Riley (a very private teenager) still tells me he loves me and gives me hugs that shows me where his heart really is – despite the moodiness; the times when Riley opens up to me that remind me what it’s like to be a teenager and I don’t have all the answers… all these are reminders to allow Riley to make the simpler decisions on his own and reap the benefits and suffer the consequences so he can learn what I cannot express in words.
Oh don’t get me wrong – there are plenty of lectures in my house but I tend to reserve those for the simple things, like dishes or homework. But when it comes to most other things I try (and I mean TRY – I can conjure up the best of lectures in my head for each and every episode) to leave the lectures these days in my head and try to allow Riley to make choices on his own -instead reserving the conversation for the results where Riley owns the decision and can come to his own conclusions with some subtle reminders or guidance from me.
I know Riley won’t always make the right choices. And there will be many more times where I simply have to step in. But I also have to occasionally step back and let him make his own choices – in hopes that when the choices become more difficult he is well prepared to understand the consequences. All with the ultimate hope that my Riley will eventually learn from his experiences and remember that he owns his choices and happiness is a choice and his alone to make.
It‘s all par for the course when raising a teenager but nobody said it would be easy. And should I feel the need to give one of my know-it-all lectures I still have two very young children that “require” lots of guidance when it comes to right and wrong so for now I must remember to save my grand lectures for the unsuspecting young offenders.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
New Found Freedom
We have reached the stage in our lives where we have given up trying to keep everything remotely dangerous or dirty from finding their way into Nico's hands. We no longer find ourselves methodically closing the bathroom doors and the baby gate is often left open allowing Nico to roam freely. He finds this exhilarating. We find it to just be easier now that he the big 20 months old and usually finds a way around our safe guards anyway.
This new found freedom means that I often find myself wandering through each room dreading the disaster that Nico will undoubtably be entertained by each time the house gets eerily quiet.
Many times this week this is where I have found him. Naked and ALL...
He does not actually use the toilet but he knows enough to strip off his diaper and sit (even if he is literally sitting IN the toilet)...
Obviously some of us use the restroom in our house without closing the door.
I wish I had a rear end this cute!!
Straight Hair on Riley?
Who is this handsome young man?
This is how Riley came home the other night. Hair straightened!!
Doesn't he look simply dashing?? He will probably kill me for this post but I think he already wants to kill me for bestowing his curly hair upon him these days...
Nico stared at him all night wondering who this stranger was. Even when he realized it was Riley he continued to curiously stare wondering where his curls had gone?
Hope and I ran our fingers through his silky hair until he got thoroughly annoyed and made us stop.
I love Riley's curls but I have to say he also looks smashing with straight hair so I had to share.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Windy City
I have been delinquent when it comes to posting on my blog! I have many blog sessions pent up in my head from my travels and subsequent reunion with family – I now just have to find the time to write them all down. I am only now digging my way out of the many chores that awaited me upon my return home but have no fear… I am back!
I spent most of last week in the Windy City staying right in the middle of the Magnificent Mile. The Windy City may have demanded my presence last week but my heart stayed back with my family.
Once again, I packed my bags and began the chaotic preparations that allowed me to leave my family behind for a few short days. I think this is becoming a bit too routine for us all… 6 trips, 5 cities, all in 4 short months.
But it seems I left more than my heart behind on this trip… I left my wits behind as well. I suffered from a bout of self inflicted anxiety on the airplane to Chicago (which left me permanently scarred – both physically and emotionally).
Settled into my middle seat in economy (how did I get such bad luck today?) I began counting the hours until my arrival in Chicago. How in the world will I fill up all this time when my anxiety level is resulting in menopausal hot flashes? I have white knuckles from gripping the arm rests so tightly in a useless effort to still the plane that feels like it is tossing around like a little boat on the swells of a stormy sea -- and I’m conjuring up worst case scenario thoughts regarding airplane crashes because I am not on the sea… I am 30,000 miles above it.
Finally, the stewardess arrives with the drink cart and I order the only thing that will get me through this 4 hour flight that is sending my heart all the way down into my stomach with each bump.
As if the bumpy flight wasn’t enough, things only got worse. My $6 bottle of King Fish Shiraz would not open. I twisted and turned. And squeezed. I broke two fingernails and gouged a third. The screw top was stripped. My anti-anxiety medication was trapped within the confines of this cheap plastic bottle with an inadequate screw top. A screw top that has screwed me over.
I used my teeth. I got out my pen to break the safety seal. I pressed my thumb up against the seal – which simply penetrated the soft skin on my fingertip causing blood to ooze. I’m on an airplane – middle seat! No first class today… and I am bleeding profusely. The passengers on each side of me began to get restless. It’s always those small wounds that bleed to horribly. No napkin leaves with only choice. I must suck on my thumb and endure the metallic taste of my blood without throwing up.
I began sweating.
My ears turned bright red and started burning.
My cheeks were seriously flushed. And my wine was still not open.
A glance to my right threw me into another panic as I realized the entire row was laughing at me. I laughed with them to hide my panic. I’m bleeding. I’m panicking. My wine will not open. I paid $6 for this simple luxury. I should have stuck with the snack box but there’s little therapy relief in that.
And finally, the girl across the aisle offers her assistance and the safety seal breaks free. I am so relieved. I want to hug her. But I’m not offering to share my wine with her! I will finally be able to endure this 4 hour flight in economy class after all.
In the end this torture doesn’t even compare to my flight home from Denver, with two small children and a bad case of food poisoning, back in September of 2007 – but that memory is post all in it’s own… one that is so unbelievable that it shall definitely be documented, all in good time.
The event on this outbound flight to Chicago was thankfully no indication of how the trip would go. I worked incredibly hard. I gave a great presentation to nearly 50 sales reps (without passing out mind you - just some mild diarrhea beforehand...) and ended up with a wonderful travel partner who gave me so much support through our long days and picked some charming restaurants for dinner (I chose the wine to accompany each delectable meal) where we recounted each presentation, prepped for the following day, had some great laughs while we got to know each other and made some fabulous memories. I learned so much and met some great people.
But it’s good to be home!
Even if it did take me two days of non-stop candle burning to remove the bachelor smell and another three days to clean and organize the house back to my liking.
I spent most of last week in the Windy City staying right in the middle of the Magnificent Mile. The Windy City may have demanded my presence last week but my heart stayed back with my family.
Once again, I packed my bags and began the chaotic preparations that allowed me to leave my family behind for a few short days. I think this is becoming a bit too routine for us all… 6 trips, 5 cities, all in 4 short months.
But it seems I left more than my heart behind on this trip… I left my wits behind as well. I suffered from a bout of self inflicted anxiety on the airplane to Chicago (which left me permanently scarred – both physically and emotionally).
Settled into my middle seat in economy (how did I get such bad luck today?) I began counting the hours until my arrival in Chicago. How in the world will I fill up all this time when my anxiety level is resulting in menopausal hot flashes? I have white knuckles from gripping the arm rests so tightly in a useless effort to still the plane that feels like it is tossing around like a little boat on the swells of a stormy sea -- and I’m conjuring up worst case scenario thoughts regarding airplane crashes because I am not on the sea… I am 30,000 miles above it.
Finally, the stewardess arrives with the drink cart and I order the only thing that will get me through this 4 hour flight that is sending my heart all the way down into my stomach with each bump.
As if the bumpy flight wasn’t enough, things only got worse. My $6 bottle of King Fish Shiraz would not open. I twisted and turned. And squeezed. I broke two fingernails and gouged a third. The screw top was stripped. My anti-anxiety medication was trapped within the confines of this cheap plastic bottle with an inadequate screw top. A screw top that has screwed me over.
I used my teeth. I got out my pen to break the safety seal. I pressed my thumb up against the seal – which simply penetrated the soft skin on my fingertip causing blood to ooze. I’m on an airplane – middle seat! No first class today… and I am bleeding profusely. The passengers on each side of me began to get restless. It’s always those small wounds that bleed to horribly. No napkin leaves with only choice. I must suck on my thumb and endure the metallic taste of my blood without throwing up.
I began sweating.
My ears turned bright red and started burning.
My cheeks were seriously flushed. And my wine was still not open.
A glance to my right threw me into another panic as I realized the entire row was laughing at me. I laughed with them to hide my panic. I’m bleeding. I’m panicking. My wine will not open. I paid $6 for this simple luxury. I should have stuck with the snack box but there’s little therapy relief in that.
And finally, the girl across the aisle offers her assistance and the safety seal breaks free. I am so relieved. I want to hug her. But I’m not offering to share my wine with her! I will finally be able to endure this 4 hour flight in economy class after all.
In the end this torture doesn’t even compare to my flight home from Denver, with two small children and a bad case of food poisoning, back in September of 2007 – but that memory is post all in it’s own… one that is so unbelievable that it shall definitely be documented, all in good time.
The event on this outbound flight to Chicago was thankfully no indication of how the trip would go. I worked incredibly hard. I gave a great presentation to nearly 50 sales reps (without passing out mind you - just some mild diarrhea beforehand...) and ended up with a wonderful travel partner who gave me so much support through our long days and picked some charming restaurants for dinner (I chose the wine to accompany each delectable meal) where we recounted each presentation, prepped for the following day, had some great laughs while we got to know each other and made some fabulous memories. I learned so much and met some great people.
But it’s good to be home!
Even if it did take me two days of non-stop candle burning to remove the bachelor smell and another three days to clean and organize the house back to my liking.
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