"It's been such a long time
I think I should be goin', yeah
And time doesn't wait for me, it keeps on rollin'
Sail on, on a distant highway
I've got to keep on chasin' a dream
I've gotta be on my way
Wish there was something I could say..." -Boston
With me, there's always something to say.
December 30, 2013 will mark 3,964 days that I have been a resident in the State of Maryland. And while that doesn't sound overly significant, it truly is for me. Because on day 3,965, I won't be. The chapter in my life that is officially and simply named "Maryland", will blissfully come to an end. It started on a whim and is ending like the movie Princess Bride. (Sans the horses, just some horsepower).
When I moved here, I was five days short of turning 23 years-old. I had no idea what it meant to live in a city, in an apartment or wear a suit. Wine was foreign and what the heck is Old Bay? I bumbled my way through at no short of 100mph. I moved around, found a job or three more and before I knew it found myself a mother on day 919.
1,000 days later and I had another new job, a first house and a second baby. That's how I roll as most everyone knows- just pile it all on at once that way the pain is more like pulling a hair out, versus stubbing a toe.
3,113 of my days have revolved around non-profits; a career path that no one can warn you enough about. Don't take that the wrong way. I am completely fulfilled working in this challenging field. I truly feel that I have contributed to the success of others. Philanthropy has let me grow professionally and make me want to one day give back the way that I watched my donors do selflessly, humbly, gladly. I have networked and befriended some of the best people I have ever had the pleasure to meet. I have met homeless men, million dollar Annapolitans and every walk of life in between. They have all taught me a lesson.
The friends I have made in Maryland have become my family. I have a Maryland Mom, a gaggle of Chesapeake sisters, brothers and colleagues that have made me feel welcome and show me the ropes. They have been the ones that I have spent countless hours with. Without them, there would have been zero chance I would have made it this long in Maryland.
I have the pleasure to start the next chapter my life with a man who is very close to my heart. Life has a funny way of crossing paths. Ours first crossed over 15 years ago when I became best friends with his sister at a little state college in Vermont. As life moved along, so did we; both shaping and molding our lives the way we thought they should go. Like it was meant to, our lives happened to cross again. This time we knew that now, this time, was the right time to make our paths become one. He's patient, strong, funny and kind. He's willing to fight for what he knows is right. He loves my crazy. Did I mention he's patient?
So, around day 3,965 the chapter will be complete. I will load up my things, including the two most important memories of Maryland- my two precious boys, and sail off on a highway southbound to Raleigh, North Carolina to start life anew. What happens next? I'll let you know. But it will be good. Damn good.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
Crack Like Dependency on my Car
I have been on the road since birth. My grandmother, whose other name was Road Warrior, held no qualms about saddling me up in the backseat of her Buick after church on a Sunday, drive up the coast or "Down East" for those who know what I mean, and visit with friends. She'd throw in some cassette tapes of people singing hymns, or a barbershop quartet and off we'd go, in search of old people and maybe a reuben sandwich from Moody's Diner in Waldoboro. She then would turn around after a few hours of visiting, return to church and return me to my mother in the evening. And before I came along, it was my mother holding down the backseat.
Nowadays, I need my car for survival. And sanity. If the car stops, so stops the nation. I started smelling what I thought was antifreeze from my car about a month ago. Instant panic ensued. Trying to find an hour to have someone look at my car is like asking me to carve out an hour of my day to read a novel by candlelight in a bubble bath. I took my chances with my really loud spoken, guitar playing neighbor Wendell's referral of "Jimmy the mobile car mechanic". The benefit is the mobility. That was the only benefit. The problem is that "Jimmy", after finally making it over to take a look, blew me off for.....ever. Awesome. My next stop was my neighbors brother who owns a shop on the local Army base in my backyard. He at least let me take his 1991 Toyota Camry to pimp around in while he spent the day only to bring it back telling me that, virtually, I'm crazy and nothing is wrong with my car.
A sigh of relief and re-confirmation that I'm nuts.
I find some sort of calm while driving. Alone. Driving while with children prevents all rational thinking from taking place. The only problem solving going on at that point is answering the 47 questions being hurtled in my direction while simutaneously opening a snack and a bottled water for someone. I drove around the country once, solo. Dozens of folks asked me why I chose to do that 10,000 mile trip alone and my one response, which I never wavered from was, "Could you think of one person in your life that you could be in a car with for three months and not want to kill them by the end of it?" That usually shuts them up for a minute as not many folks have an answer for that one.
I am at that critical point with my SUV that I truly fear a hard rain or a car wash will surely make it fall apart. If there is a clean spot anywhere inside the car, it's an anomoly; especially with two boys and me driving over 300 miles on a normal week inside the beast. I'd vacuum it, but it's about as high on the totem pole as that bath thing...
But what does one do without a car and your livelihood, motherhood, etc., depends on it and you can't trade cars with your mechanic? That is a situation I hope to not be in anytime soon; and for now, no car washes, just to be safe.
Follow my blog. Ok, please follow my blog. It'll encourage me to try to make you smile, even if I can't see you, more often.
Nowadays, I need my car for survival. And sanity. If the car stops, so stops the nation. I started smelling what I thought was antifreeze from my car about a month ago. Instant panic ensued. Trying to find an hour to have someone look at my car is like asking me to carve out an hour of my day to read a novel by candlelight in a bubble bath. I took my chances with my really loud spoken, guitar playing neighbor Wendell's referral of "Jimmy the mobile car mechanic". The benefit is the mobility. That was the only benefit. The problem is that "Jimmy", after finally making it over to take a look, blew me off for.....ever. Awesome. My next stop was my neighbors brother who owns a shop on the local Army base in my backyard. He at least let me take his 1991 Toyota Camry to pimp around in while he spent the day only to bring it back telling me that, virtually, I'm crazy and nothing is wrong with my car.
A sigh of relief and re-confirmation that I'm nuts.
I find some sort of calm while driving. Alone. Driving while with children prevents all rational thinking from taking place. The only problem solving going on at that point is answering the 47 questions being hurtled in my direction while simutaneously opening a snack and a bottled water for someone. I drove around the country once, solo. Dozens of folks asked me why I chose to do that 10,000 mile trip alone and my one response, which I never wavered from was, "Could you think of one person in your life that you could be in a car with for three months and not want to kill them by the end of it?" That usually shuts them up for a minute as not many folks have an answer for that one.
I am at that critical point with my SUV that I truly fear a hard rain or a car wash will surely make it fall apart. If there is a clean spot anywhere inside the car, it's an anomoly; especially with two boys and me driving over 300 miles on a normal week inside the beast. I'd vacuum it, but it's about as high on the totem pole as that bath thing...
But what does one do without a car and your livelihood, motherhood, etc., depends on it and you can't trade cars with your mechanic? That is a situation I hope to not be in anytime soon; and for now, no car washes, just to be safe.
Follow my blog. Ok, please follow my blog. It'll encourage me to try to make you smile, even if I can't see you, more often.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Life in Wonderland
Being a single mother of two boys and working full time is what some people refer to as insane. Me, well, it's just another day in Wonderland. Think Alice in Wonderland, where there is only a smidge of reality. Yes, there are bunnies in real life, but none that pop out of a hole in the ground and tell you to hurry and find the singing yellow spotted toad.
While some people "just don't know how I do it all", I haven't a clue how mothers stay at home and stay sane simutaneously. Seriously. I'm home for two days in a row with my kids and I'm willing the neighbors to come outside so I can "happen to take the trash out at that very moment" just to interact with someone above the height of 48".
I'm still relatively new at this gig; as far as time goes; the "honeymoon" period of single motherhood, so to speak- so under a year. Therefore, I am allowed to have nothing to eat in the fridge at a moments notice, simutaneously lose a kid and my car keys and forget to call someone back for three months (which just happened last week). While there is no written rule, I am maintaining this "honeymoon" period until at least June to get my shit in order. I'm almost there.
There are some things that I am anal about to make my weeks go by without me wanting to drown myself in the bathtub in gin.
For starters, I try to organize meals for weeks at a time so I don't come home and have to get two boys who can't find their shoes they just had on for an entire day back on so we can hit a greasy dive four nights a week. Some nights it's pork tenderloin with veggies my kids won't eat, other nights its Spaghettios. But at least it's on the list and in the house. Somewhere.
I pack their bag for their father's house when I'm doing laundry on the weekend prior so they are ready to have fun in Testoterone Land- five days in advance. I find great joy in getting that bag ready sometimes (see paragraph two).
There is a routine the boys follow. Every day. This keeps us all from not losing our shit and wondering what day it is. Homework, dinner, play, bed, bath and beyond. You get the idea.
Finally, everything goes on my work calendar. Everything. If it's not on my calendar, it doesn't exist. Want to chat with my best friend in Texas on a Wednesday night ten days from now and oh, add in the time difference and a collective of four kids (between the two of us) getting to bed and sleep on time so we can pop corks simutaneously 2,000 miles apart? It has to be on the calendar- if not, I forget to charge my cell phone, don't see the calendar reminder to call and decide to have my neighbor over for Mommy Time instead. And putting everything on my work calendar also exposes all the crap I have to remember to the rest of my office (unless I choose to make my 47 reminders "private appointments") making me look like I don't have two short term memory brain cells to rub together. Oh well, I say. My kids are dressed, my house isn't on fire and I still have time for work.
More to come from this career mom on the go. Next stops- crack like dependency on my SUV, apples and how far they fall from the proverbial tree, 1,000 questions, Evening Mommy Time (EMT), and a special guest appearance by Wendell my middle aged, guitar playing, really loud speaking, grease monkey neighbor. Stay tuned.
While some people "just don't know how I do it all", I haven't a clue how mothers stay at home and stay sane simutaneously. Seriously. I'm home for two days in a row with my kids and I'm willing the neighbors to come outside so I can "happen to take the trash out at that very moment" just to interact with someone above the height of 48".
I'm still relatively new at this gig; as far as time goes; the "honeymoon" period of single motherhood, so to speak- so under a year. Therefore, I am allowed to have nothing to eat in the fridge at a moments notice, simutaneously lose a kid and my car keys and forget to call someone back for three months (which just happened last week). While there is no written rule, I am maintaining this "honeymoon" period until at least June to get my shit in order. I'm almost there.
There are some things that I am anal about to make my weeks go by without me wanting to drown myself in the bathtub in gin.
For starters, I try to organize meals for weeks at a time so I don't come home and have to get two boys who can't find their shoes they just had on for an entire day back on so we can hit a greasy dive four nights a week. Some nights it's pork tenderloin with veggies my kids won't eat, other nights its Spaghettios. But at least it's on the list and in the house. Somewhere.
I pack their bag for their father's house when I'm doing laundry on the weekend prior so they are ready to have fun in Testoterone Land- five days in advance. I find great joy in getting that bag ready sometimes (see paragraph two).
There is a routine the boys follow. Every day. This keeps us all from not losing our shit and wondering what day it is. Homework, dinner, play, bed, bath and beyond. You get the idea.
Finally, everything goes on my work calendar. Everything. If it's not on my calendar, it doesn't exist. Want to chat with my best friend in Texas on a Wednesday night ten days from now and oh, add in the time difference and a collective of four kids (between the two of us) getting to bed and sleep on time so we can pop corks simutaneously 2,000 miles apart? It has to be on the calendar- if not, I forget to charge my cell phone, don't see the calendar reminder to call and decide to have my neighbor over for Mommy Time instead. And putting everything on my work calendar also exposes all the crap I have to remember to the rest of my office (unless I choose to make my 47 reminders "private appointments") making me look like I don't have two short term memory brain cells to rub together. Oh well, I say. My kids are dressed, my house isn't on fire and I still have time for work.
More to come from this career mom on the go. Next stops- crack like dependency on my SUV, apples and how far they fall from the proverbial tree, 1,000 questions, Evening Mommy Time (EMT), and a special guest appearance by Wendell my middle aged, guitar playing, really loud speaking, grease monkey neighbor. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Ten Years Ago Today
On October 3, 2002, I started a new volume in my life's collections of books and chapters. After packing up my 1998 Jeep Cherokee with three seasons of clothes, a battery charger, mace, maps and a cell phone, I started on my 10,000 mile, 33 state trek across the United States.
I drove across the Humming Bridge in Georgetown with Kid Rock's latest album cranking in my CD player and headed north to party like a college kid in Orono. Then south a bit to play horseshoes in the back yard of my best friend's family's home in Farmington, Maine. Then I was off and running westbound.
In my journey, I learned so much about our country and myself in those days and weeks on the road. I learned how to drink wine in New York. I felt the mist of Niagara Falls on my face in Canada. I went on my first blind date and to a NHL hockey game on the same day in Detroit. I ate buffalo, met my first buffalo in person (not one in the same, I assure you) and saw the magintude of what men can accomplish on a mountain side at Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse in South Dakota. I found the Pacific Ocean in Seattle and watched the sun set over an ocean for the first time in San Diego and walked along the Hollywood stars. I learned what 7,000 feet above sea level looks while looking into the Grand Canyon and how magnificent the plateaus are in Santa Fe. I stood in the basement of the building, now memorial, of the Oklahoma City bombing and was served cornbread stuffing for the first time by Big Mama and her boys while on a pitstop for an oil change and photo developing in Alexandria, Louisana. And just as I found the elevation at the Canyon, I drove below sea level and ate crawfish in New Orleans. I looked out at where the first shot was fired on the coast of Charleston and mosied my way up to Laurel, Maryland in time to watch a little football with some guys who's mancave and bar rivaled any spot in town.
Ten years later, the world has changed. My universe has swelled with a plethora of great individuals and experiences that, when sitting in the drivers seat of my Jeep ten years ago today, I didn't know existed nor could fathom how they would change my life. I am confident that every single one of my stops along the road don't look anything like the way I have them postcarded in my brain. But that's alright. Change is good. I wouldn't trade away a minute of that trip, because without it, I wouldn't be who I am, where I am, what I am today.
I drove across the Humming Bridge in Georgetown with Kid Rock's latest album cranking in my CD player and headed north to party like a college kid in Orono. Then south a bit to play horseshoes in the back yard of my best friend's family's home in Farmington, Maine. Then I was off and running westbound.
In my journey, I learned so much about our country and myself in those days and weeks on the road. I learned how to drink wine in New York. I felt the mist of Niagara Falls on my face in Canada. I went on my first blind date and to a NHL hockey game on the same day in Detroit. I ate buffalo, met my first buffalo in person (not one in the same, I assure you) and saw the magintude of what men can accomplish on a mountain side at Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse in South Dakota. I found the Pacific Ocean in Seattle and watched the sun set over an ocean for the first time in San Diego and walked along the Hollywood stars. I learned what 7,000 feet above sea level looks while looking into the Grand Canyon and how magnificent the plateaus are in Santa Fe. I stood in the basement of the building, now memorial, of the Oklahoma City bombing and was served cornbread stuffing for the first time by Big Mama and her boys while on a pitstop for an oil change and photo developing in Alexandria, Louisana. And just as I found the elevation at the Canyon, I drove below sea level and ate crawfish in New Orleans. I looked out at where the first shot was fired on the coast of Charleston and mosied my way up to Laurel, Maryland in time to watch a little football with some guys who's mancave and bar rivaled any spot in town.
Ten years later, the world has changed. My universe has swelled with a plethora of great individuals and experiences that, when sitting in the drivers seat of my Jeep ten years ago today, I didn't know existed nor could fathom how they would change my life. I am confident that every single one of my stops along the road don't look anything like the way I have them postcarded in my brain. But that's alright. Change is good. I wouldn't trade away a minute of that trip, because without it, I wouldn't be who I am, where I am, what I am today.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
I Really Suck at This Game..
It seems like I am averaging about a blog post every six months. And every time I say, "Oh, I'll get better at posting,"- Yeh, okay. I suck at this game.
There has been a bit of change going on in my life over the last six or seven months. I can thankfully say that things have changed for the positive and it has been a long time since I have truly been this happy. With work, life, health and family all in a good place, what negative there is left doesn't have too much space to roam or annoy me.
I am learning how to re-balance my life; which hasn't been quite as difficult as I thought. I have been reconnecting with some very special people in my life lately and realizing how great, and patient, they are with me-and not to mention how much they love who I am. "It feels so great to hear you giggle on the phone again," my best friend said to me the other day. I like to hear myself giggle too- it feels great.
As I start on the next chapter, page by page, of my life, I look forward to laughing early and often, being around people that love me unconditionally, never compromising or settling for what isn't what I really want and just being me. Happy, chatty me.
There has been a bit of change going on in my life over the last six or seven months. I can thankfully say that things have changed for the positive and it has been a long time since I have truly been this happy. With work, life, health and family all in a good place, what negative there is left doesn't have too much space to roam or annoy me.
I am learning how to re-balance my life; which hasn't been quite as difficult as I thought. I have been reconnecting with some very special people in my life lately and realizing how great, and patient, they are with me-and not to mention how much they love who I am. "It feels so great to hear you giggle on the phone again," my best friend said to me the other day. I like to hear myself giggle too- it feels great.
As I start on the next chapter, page by page, of my life, I look forward to laughing early and often, being around people that love me unconditionally, never compromising or settling for what isn't what I really want and just being me. Happy, chatty me.
Friday, December 2, 2011
He Was A Simple Man
The song, "Simple Man," by Lynyrd Skynyrd, resonates deep with me this week. Once upon a time, I went and saw what was then the remnants of Lynyrd Skynyrd, three, yes, three times, in concert. Leon was the only surviving, original member of the band. I met him once- in Bangor, Maine. He put his arm around me and escorted me to the bar, where my friends awaited me, including my boyfriend, Sam. I bought Leon a drink (while my friends agreed he should have bought one for me). It was a moment I will never forget.
I will also never forget that night hearing my hotel room door being virtually banged down by an irate, sleepy and embarrassed Sam, who, in his sleeping stupor, had walked out of our room, and found himself in nothing but his boxers, at the front desk trying to figure out what room were were in, at about four in the morning.
Leon died about two weeks later while on tour with the band, in Miami. It was a true end of an era. I felt fortunate that I had the opportunity to tell him how much I appreciated the band, their lyrics and that nearly every song could still be rocked out to twenty years after they had penned them all.
Sam was an only child, born to hippies who taught him the way of the earth. They taught him that being simple and true to one's self was best. Life was not about how much you had, but how much you appreciated everything around you. After his parents split, his taste for relationships were not pleasant, or at least the thought of marriage. "All marriages fail," he would tell me on many an occasion- usually when the topic of "what's next" would come up. "Why can't we just be simple and live together and love each other?"
And so we did. For a long time. He was my simple man.
Time passed. And so did our relationship- the way of the tide- a tide that never did come back in. After a long time of questioning, late night phone calls, tears and then healing- we became friends again. I was happy and away from the environment we called our home. He had conquered his demons and had moved on to the other coast to start anew.
"It's so nice to have a civil conversation with you, Lisa. I am glad we are friends."
"Me too. I am so proud of you, Sam. I never lost faith in you. You are the most driven man I know. You work so hard. Keep setting your mind to the next mountain to conquer and you'll be happy. You are my friend and always will be. Call me whenever you don't think you can conquer what ever it is. I am here for you. I know you better than anyone else on this earth."
He never called.
After I received the news this week that he had passed away, I was devastated.
I found my pictures of him. Pictures when we were living and loving together. Camping, canoeing in Northern Maine. On his boat. Playing with our dog, Micah. I thought of Sam in his happy places in life. That is where my memories of him will remain.
It is my hope to all that knew him- through the good, the bad, the ugly and the goofy, find that time in your life that you loved him most. And keep those memories vivid.
I will also never forget that night hearing my hotel room door being virtually banged down by an irate, sleepy and embarrassed Sam, who, in his sleeping stupor, had walked out of our room, and found himself in nothing but his boxers, at the front desk trying to figure out what room were were in, at about four in the morning.
Leon died about two weeks later while on tour with the band, in Miami. It was a true end of an era. I felt fortunate that I had the opportunity to tell him how much I appreciated the band, their lyrics and that nearly every song could still be rocked out to twenty years after they had penned them all.
Sam was an only child, born to hippies who taught him the way of the earth. They taught him that being simple and true to one's self was best. Life was not about how much you had, but how much you appreciated everything around you. After his parents split, his taste for relationships were not pleasant, or at least the thought of marriage. "All marriages fail," he would tell me on many an occasion- usually when the topic of "what's next" would come up. "Why can't we just be simple and live together and love each other?"
And so we did. For a long time. He was my simple man.
Time passed. And so did our relationship- the way of the tide- a tide that never did come back in. After a long time of questioning, late night phone calls, tears and then healing- we became friends again. I was happy and away from the environment we called our home. He had conquered his demons and had moved on to the other coast to start anew.
"It's so nice to have a civil conversation with you, Lisa. I am glad we are friends."
"Me too. I am so proud of you, Sam. I never lost faith in you. You are the most driven man I know. You work so hard. Keep setting your mind to the next mountain to conquer and you'll be happy. You are my friend and always will be. Call me whenever you don't think you can conquer what ever it is. I am here for you. I know you better than anyone else on this earth."
He never called.
After I received the news this week that he had passed away, I was devastated.
I found my pictures of him. Pictures when we were living and loving together. Camping, canoeing in Northern Maine. On his boat. Playing with our dog, Micah. I thought of Sam in his happy places in life. That is where my memories of him will remain.
It is my hope to all that knew him- through the good, the bad, the ugly and the goofy, find that time in your life that you loved him most. And keep those memories vivid.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Orange, Tombstone and Vodka- Who are You?
As expected, I survived the Gala. And made some great new friends in the process, and became closer with a few more. That, is what got me through it all, I do believe.
I had a reality check today when someone said to me, "So, what do you like? Tell me about yourself." I was stumped. Of course, things came to my mind, but not without prodding by the one asking. I walked away from that situation, thinking to myself- "Shit, what do I like? Who am I? What is there to tell outside of "working mother of two, from Maine, enjoy fundraising, ... blah-blah - blah- bleck!!!"
Of course, this caused pause for me all afternoon with great jolts of "who I am" coming to me long after that conversation- on top of feeling like a complete idiot for not being able to articulate like an adult at the appropriate time. For that, I owe a few people this monologue:
I love musicals- Evita is my favorite. I have only seen it once, but it makes me cry and I sound damn good as Eva Peron. One day I will play her on stage- even if it's a puppet stage.
My eyes and that smile of mine are my best features.
I love laughing until I cry and then giggling about what made me laugh until I cried for a few days after that.
I like walking in the woods and taking photos. I used to have my own dark room and a camera that never left my side.
Tombstone is one of my favorite movies of all time- next to Ya Ya Sisterhood, and Fletch. Val when he looked good, Sandra as the defiant daughter and Chevy because he reminds me of my Dad because he introduced me to that movie over and over and over again.
I could go on any floating vessel and be content- all day long.
I am addicted to bagels and cream cheese. I don't care if the doc says I can't have gluten, I will suffer the consequences for that round piece of toasted heaven.
My favorite place on Earth is Sagadahoc Bay, in Georgetown, Maine. Not because it's home, but it's my place of sanctity, sanity, and peace.
My favorite color is orange. It reminds me of a sunset, or a...
sunflower which is my favorite flower- paired with any flower that has hues of red, orange and yellow.
To me, sea shanty/folk music ranks nearly as high as Alternative when alternative was cool.
My favorite holiday is Halloween. I don't have to wrap presents, barbecue or bake and I can be someone not myself for an entire day.
I have a girl crush on Adele and Alanis Morrisette.
I'm not big into shopping- unless it's for shoes.
I'm not a girly-girl, unless you make me be. Much preferred to be in flip-flops, t shirt and jeans.
I firmly believe that everyone should be entitled to have a drink and a smoke whenever they feel like it without criticism.
I also believe that everyone should freely be able to have a child of their own and everyone should be able to choose whether to have a child or not, freely.
Coffee, wine and vodka are my beverages of choice.
I despise water but I still drink it.
I could eat Mexican three to six meals per day uninterrupted for an indefinite amount of time.
I believe that children should tune to your schedule and go to bed early. Everyone needs their rest.
I would rather give away everything I have if it makes me, and someone else, a happier people on the planet.
More to come...
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
The Job and Frozen Waffles
The school year has begun. Not just for my kids, but for life at work as well. The parking lots on campus are filled with kids clearly not recollecting anything they learned in driver's ed just a few short years prior. There is an unspoken five minute grace period for anyone attending a meeting on the opposite side of campus due to no parking and, best of all, the non-profit event world is in full swing.
When we are not worrying about making it out of our own events still standing, there are invitations for nights out to support the community. I have dodged the bullets this fall as we are allocating less money for us to go network (read: poach donors) in our backyard with our business cards as spotlights after the sun goes down.
And at home, I have been working on juggling getting both the boys, myself and my coffee out of the house by 7ish everyday. If I drop them both off, it gives me two more minutes with my oldest that I, and he, will appreciate one day. No more morning gym workouts for me- cancelled those so I can make frozen waffles and hunt for the reclusive sneaker in the closet.
Back to that event business. I, once I committed about 150+ people and their checkbooks to this event, which is now at a head count of 460, decided to volunteer to take on the game that we love to hate- seating. It has consumed me. I have inherited the name "Twitchy" amongst my colleagues because every time I receive an email, call or message that "Jack Smith is now coming, but Joe Blow isn't, but he's given his tickets to Mary Jane and her tribe of four", I start having a small Turret's session as I realize that our hard work has to be re-done, my spreadsheet is no longer perfect, and my post-it note table circles pinned up on the Gala War Room wall, need to be moved. Again.
But, it'll all be over at midnight on Saturday. Then what?
My chocolate brown velvet dress and heels gets replaced with my Pats t-shirt, some skinny jeans and flip flops, and I'll be off to the next project. But not until Monday morning. When I have to get up and do it all over again. Frozen waffles and all.
When we are not worrying about making it out of our own events still standing, there are invitations for nights out to support the community. I have dodged the bullets this fall as we are allocating less money for us to go network (read: poach donors) in our backyard with our business cards as spotlights after the sun goes down.
And at home, I have been working on juggling getting both the boys, myself and my coffee out of the house by 7ish everyday. If I drop them both off, it gives me two more minutes with my oldest that I, and he, will appreciate one day. No more morning gym workouts for me- cancelled those so I can make frozen waffles and hunt for the reclusive sneaker in the closet.
Back to that event business. I, once I committed about 150+ people and their checkbooks to this event, which is now at a head count of 460, decided to volunteer to take on the game that we love to hate- seating. It has consumed me. I have inherited the name "Twitchy" amongst my colleagues because every time I receive an email, call or message that "Jack Smith is now coming, but Joe Blow isn't, but he's given his tickets to Mary Jane and her tribe of four", I start having a small Turret's session as I realize that our hard work has to be re-done, my spreadsheet is no longer perfect, and my post-it note table circles pinned up on the Gala War Room wall, need to be moved. Again.
But, it'll all be over at midnight on Saturday. Then what?
My chocolate brown velvet dress and heels gets replaced with my Pats t-shirt, some skinny jeans and flip flops, and I'll be off to the next project. But not until Monday morning. When I have to get up and do it all over again. Frozen waffles and all.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
"Full Time Working Mother of Two Whose Carb Addiction Turned Nearly Deadly"
Alright- a little dramatic title, but bonus points for getting you here.
I have been suffering with upper abdominal pain for the last four months, topped with unexplained weight gain, intestinal issues and no energy. Looking back in hindsight, my symptoms started well before that- more like about 18 months ago when I plateaued on my weight loss, regardless of what I ate, did, lifted, ran, walked or slept.
Thinking the upper ab pain was from a pulled muscle, then perhaps an ulcer, I underwent a Molotov cocktail of IBS and GERD inhibitors, pain medicine, a sonogram, endoscopy and a good round of blood work- all of which proved that I was a severe hypochondriac with a huge self esteem issue. Not the diagnosis I had anticipated.
I was at wits end. I contacted a natural healing specialist on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, who, after five minutes and one glance at my blood work, determined what I never wanted to be diagnosed with. "You have a gluten intolerance. Your body has been fighting against itself so long to digest the gluten that now certain parts are exhibiting pain, or malfunction."
Great, I'm thinking. How in the hell am I going to become gluten free with everything I have going on- you know, life?!
She continued. "You are going to get better. Don't go GF cold turkey. Take a day or so to digest, ha ha, this information, start to go through your cupboards, hit a good grocery store this weekend and off we go! You are going to heal. I promise you. You can do it."
So, with a handwritten note by the doc of good brands to look for, things to avoid, books to read and tote bag full of supplements to get my body back in good working order, I was back in the car.
I immediately came home and dove into a box of Wheat Thins like they were my last supper before my early-dawn execution. But, after dinner, I sat down, organized my supplements for the next ten days, started to think about what I would need to substitute and tried to keep it simple. You go out to eat, you get a salad- you go to a commercial restaurant, you look on their menu (like you already do anyway) and just find the GF stuff. It'll be okay.
It's been about two days since I've been given the news and today is my first full on Gluten Free day. I haven't broken out into withdrawal shakes, hives or started speaking in tongues. And I'm already starting to feel better. Tomorrow's mission is to track down some GF bagels with some hormone free cream cheese and I'll be in heaven- like the good old days!
Check in on my progress, my failures and successes. And if you have symptoms that seem unexplainable, seek medical advice. Don't make any assumptions or jump on some diet bandwagon because it works for someone else. And if you feel like how I felt, deflated and knowing there MUST be an explanation for your symptoms, remember the natural specialists out there, too!
I have been suffering with upper abdominal pain for the last four months, topped with unexplained weight gain, intestinal issues and no energy. Looking back in hindsight, my symptoms started well before that- more like about 18 months ago when I plateaued on my weight loss, regardless of what I ate, did, lifted, ran, walked or slept.
Thinking the upper ab pain was from a pulled muscle, then perhaps an ulcer, I underwent a Molotov cocktail of IBS and GERD inhibitors, pain medicine, a sonogram, endoscopy and a good round of blood work- all of which proved that I was a severe hypochondriac with a huge self esteem issue. Not the diagnosis I had anticipated.
I was at wits end. I contacted a natural healing specialist on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, who, after five minutes and one glance at my blood work, determined what I never wanted to be diagnosed with. "You have a gluten intolerance. Your body has been fighting against itself so long to digest the gluten that now certain parts are exhibiting pain, or malfunction."
Great, I'm thinking. How in the hell am I going to become gluten free with everything I have going on- you know, life?!
She continued. "You are going to get better. Don't go GF cold turkey. Take a day or so to digest, ha ha, this information, start to go through your cupboards, hit a good grocery store this weekend and off we go! You are going to heal. I promise you. You can do it."
So, with a handwritten note by the doc of good brands to look for, things to avoid, books to read and tote bag full of supplements to get my body back in good working order, I was back in the car.
I immediately came home and dove into a box of Wheat Thins like they were my last supper before my early-dawn execution. But, after dinner, I sat down, organized my supplements for the next ten days, started to think about what I would need to substitute and tried to keep it simple. You go out to eat, you get a salad- you go to a commercial restaurant, you look on their menu (like you already do anyway) and just find the GF stuff. It'll be okay.
It's been about two days since I've been given the news and today is my first full on Gluten Free day. I haven't broken out into withdrawal shakes, hives or started speaking in tongues. And I'm already starting to feel better. Tomorrow's mission is to track down some GF bagels with some hormone free cream cheese and I'll be in heaven- like the good old days!
Check in on my progress, my failures and successes. And if you have symptoms that seem unexplainable, seek medical advice. Don't make any assumptions or jump on some diet bandwagon because it works for someone else. And if you feel like how I felt, deflated and knowing there MUST be an explanation for your symptoms, remember the natural specialists out there, too!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
A Little Late- But In a Good Way
So, as promised, I was going to post right after retrieval. We all accept the fact THAT didn't happen. My apologies. I became wrapped up into life as I came out of the cloud of needle pricks and mid-afternoon phonecalls with script changes and anticipations of travel dates to Rockville.
All in all, the egg donation process was a great thing. What?! you say? (Read the previous posts to catch up). I feel like I am at a point now where I can realistically look back into weight loss (just ten pounds, c'mon!- not that much to ask!) and not feel like I have something fighting against me besides the obvious- me.
Despite January being calm at work-besides a new friend and co-worker (same person, don't be confused) joining the normal chaos, me giving eggs to a stranger and my kids being only on antibiotics once- February is proving itself to be a bear of sorts. To begin with, it's the shortest month we've got to deal with- there is some fashion of false promises as far as weather goes. 50 one day- kids off for two days the next due to 1/10" of ice accumulation on one roadway in one county. At work, there is a culmination of emotions in the office where we're starting to feel the annual pull- and the request to really push hard the last 90 days of our fiscal year to get our shit together and bring in the dollars; after we've spent the last nine months enduring the work to accomplish the very same thing.
To add to this, my sister has a birthday. Nothing traumatic there, but since she's 13 years younger than I and I have a clear memory of her birth, it makes me feel incredibly older than I should. And not that that's enough- I have a birthday this month. February 29th. Yes, Leap Year. The answer is no (not this year), yes (I celebrate in February when I can), every presidential election (when I have a birthday and finally 7 3/4 (the age I turn in 2011).
I have had many of my friends, partners in my Leadership Anne Arundel class, donors, etc. asking me how I balance it all. I really think that day time happiness plays a huge role in my life. As I reflected with one of my donors recently when asked about me working outside the home, away from my kids, I said that knowing that I have to work and being miserable in my job would make me a miserable person. But, having the opportunity to do what I love doing (making people happy) makes knowing that I have to work much more tolerable. And isn't that the way everyone is? Do I miss my kids? Of course I do. But, do I love what I do outside the house? Damn straight. Will my kids respect that decision and have more respect for me when it's time for them to, will they? I can only hope.
All in all, the egg donation process was a great thing. What?! you say? (Read the previous posts to catch up). I feel like I am at a point now where I can realistically look back into weight loss (just ten pounds, c'mon!- not that much to ask!) and not feel like I have something fighting against me besides the obvious- me.
Despite January being calm at work-besides a new friend and co-worker (same person, don't be confused) joining the normal chaos, me giving eggs to a stranger and my kids being only on antibiotics once- February is proving itself to be a bear of sorts. To begin with, it's the shortest month we've got to deal with- there is some fashion of false promises as far as weather goes. 50 one day- kids off for two days the next due to 1/10" of ice accumulation on one roadway in one county. At work, there is a culmination of emotions in the office where we're starting to feel the annual pull- and the request to really push hard the last 90 days of our fiscal year to get our shit together and bring in the dollars; after we've spent the last nine months enduring the work to accomplish the very same thing.
To add to this, my sister has a birthday. Nothing traumatic there, but since she's 13 years younger than I and I have a clear memory of her birth, it makes me feel incredibly older than I should. And not that that's enough- I have a birthday this month. February 29th. Yes, Leap Year. The answer is no (not this year), yes (I celebrate in February when I can), every presidential election (when I have a birthday and finally 7 3/4 (the age I turn in 2011).
I have had many of my friends, partners in my Leadership Anne Arundel class, donors, etc. asking me how I balance it all. I really think that day time happiness plays a huge role in my life. As I reflected with one of my donors recently when asked about me working outside the home, away from my kids, I said that knowing that I have to work and being miserable in my job would make me a miserable person. But, having the opportunity to do what I love doing (making people happy) makes knowing that I have to work much more tolerable. And isn't that the way everyone is? Do I miss my kids? Of course I do. But, do I love what I do outside the house? Damn straight. Will my kids respect that decision and have more respect for me when it's time for them to, will they? I can only hope.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
A Hen and A Scale Walk into a Bar...
I am on day eight of stimulation for the egg donor process. They have a new protocol so things are going a bit faster than before- which just fine by me. It truly is very exciting for me to be a part of this and hopefully by this time next week, a very deserving couple will be on their way to parenthood.
I have also started a Biggest Loser contest with some parents and friends at my youngest son's school. Granted I lost 2.4 lbs last week, the fact I am on hormone stimulating drugs, prenatal vitamins and am growing around the middle slightly makes the first two weeks of the contest a bit of a pre-training session, rather than real competition. And if you know me for five minutes, you realize that I am as far from competitive as it gets. I am using this contest as a motivator! Alice Anne! A motivator!
The last, oh, six months, have been a bit of a stress physically and emotionally, so I am hoping for a relaxing spring- so I can get in primo shape for the beach season.
At last count there were 14 follicles growing. For those who don't know, that is potentially 14 eggs. They actually won't know how many eggs they will get until I go in for retrieval. Even with the best technology, some things remain a mystery. I am at the point where I am feeling mildly uncomfortable, but am still able to move around and be productive.
The doc comes in this morning during my exam, takes one look at the screen and noted the plethoria of images and makes the uber obvious comment that I am very fertile. I smile, nod, and say (inside my head), "No shit. That's why I have two kids and you've picked me twice to do this." He says, "You may want to consider doing this again."
Otherwise, I am adjusting well to my new digs and role at work. My goals are focusing more on the planned giving for the Foundation. There is still a bit of transition going on at work, all positive of course.
I'll post again after I go for retrieval. Or if something needs to be shared.
I have also started a Biggest Loser contest with some parents and friends at my youngest son's school. Granted I lost 2.4 lbs last week, the fact I am on hormone stimulating drugs, prenatal vitamins and am growing around the middle slightly makes the first two weeks of the contest a bit of a pre-training session, rather than real competition. And if you know me for five minutes, you realize that I am as far from competitive as it gets. I am using this contest as a motivator! Alice Anne! A motivator!
The last, oh, six months, have been a bit of a stress physically and emotionally, so I am hoping for a relaxing spring- so I can get in primo shape for the beach season.
At last count there were 14 follicles growing. For those who don't know, that is potentially 14 eggs. They actually won't know how many eggs they will get until I go in for retrieval. Even with the best technology, some things remain a mystery. I am at the point where I am feeling mildly uncomfortable, but am still able to move around and be productive.
The doc comes in this morning during my exam, takes one look at the screen and noted the plethoria of images and makes the uber obvious comment that I am very fertile. I smile, nod, and say (inside my head), "No shit. That's why I have two kids and you've picked me twice to do this." He says, "You may want to consider doing this again."
Otherwise, I am adjusting well to my new digs and role at work. My goals are focusing more on the planned giving for the Foundation. There is still a bit of transition going on at work, all positive of course.
I'll post again after I go for retrieval. Or if something needs to be shared.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
A Donor Discussion and A Lesson on Giving
For the growing number of folks I have told that I have become an egg donor, it's almost comical to hear their reactions to it. Most people don't think it's a good thing to do- their decision made mostly out of ignorance on the subject.
I'm not calling you ignorant. Read on.
Why did I really start to do this? Okay kids, story time.
Once upon a time in a far away land one of my dearest friends married her sweetheart. She wanted to start the family within a few years. Once settled in their first home, they decided to start trying for a baby. And they tried. And tried. And tried. No baby.
I never wanted children. Not any time soon anyway. I had a career which needed grooming, life settling that needed to be done- and children were not a part of that plan. But life had a different itinerary. In a few quick moves found myself married and a mother of one. All before my best friend had her first. What agony.
That's when it came to me. Why is that there are people out there that desperately want children, who deserve children, but cannot have them? Cancer patients in remission have barely a chance of getting pregnant. Folks with other medical concerns are also in the same bucket. I told my friend that came hell or highwater we were going to get her a few kids, even if it took my uterus to do it!
On the day my friend was to seek more advanced medical advice to conceive, she found out she was pregnant. But the seed had already been planted (no pun intended) in my head. I wanted to help others.
So, after an application modeling that for your top secret clearance entry, genetic testing, every other testing possible, I was approved.
Even though my best friend never needed help (she now has two darling children) it has made me thrilled knowing that others can now be happy.
Painful? Not really.
Surgery? No.
Do I think there are 50% "Me's" out there? No. It takes two to tango.
Will I be able to have more children if I so choose? Absolutely.
And a message from your local fundraising professional and friend:
If you do nothing else, give. Give to something you believe in. You don't have to give body parts (really, don't go crazy), but give of your time, your knowledge, your wallet to something that you are passionate about. And if you don't know what that is, take a moment to reflect on something you couldn't do without. Then think of someone that may not have it. Education. Health. Basic services. Job assistance. Clothing. Food. It's always a great base to start your philanthropic efforts.
I'm not calling you ignorant. Read on.
Why did I really start to do this? Okay kids, story time.
Once upon a time in a far away land one of my dearest friends married her sweetheart. She wanted to start the family within a few years. Once settled in their first home, they decided to start trying for a baby. And they tried. And tried. And tried. No baby.
I never wanted children. Not any time soon anyway. I had a career which needed grooming, life settling that needed to be done- and children were not a part of that plan. But life had a different itinerary. In a few quick moves found myself married and a mother of one. All before my best friend had her first. What agony.
That's when it came to me. Why is that there are people out there that desperately want children, who deserve children, but cannot have them? Cancer patients in remission have barely a chance of getting pregnant. Folks with other medical concerns are also in the same bucket. I told my friend that came hell or highwater we were going to get her a few kids, even if it took my uterus to do it!
On the day my friend was to seek more advanced medical advice to conceive, she found out she was pregnant. But the seed had already been planted (no pun intended) in my head. I wanted to help others.
So, after an application modeling that for your top secret clearance entry, genetic testing, every other testing possible, I was approved.
Even though my best friend never needed help (she now has two darling children) it has made me thrilled knowing that others can now be happy.
Painful? Not really.
Surgery? No.
Do I think there are 50% "Me's" out there? No. It takes two to tango.
Will I be able to have more children if I so choose? Absolutely.
And a message from your local fundraising professional and friend:
If you do nothing else, give. Give to something you believe in. You don't have to give body parts (really, don't go crazy), but give of your time, your knowledge, your wallet to something that you are passionate about. And if you don't know what that is, take a moment to reflect on something you couldn't do without. Then think of someone that may not have it. Education. Health. Basic services. Job assistance. Clothing. Food. It's always a great base to start your philanthropic efforts.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Here's to 2011
So, another year has come and gone. Super. But what a dynamic year it was. My dreams of being the smallest I've ever have been did NOT come to fruition. I did not read more. I didn't follow through with drinking a gallon of water a day... but then again- don't I sound like the majority of the population when discussing past New Year's resolutions?
I say it was a bit dynamic because I did do a few things I normally don't do on a regular basis.
I started a new job- a great job at that. Tomorrow will be my one year anniversary at the College and I couldn't be happier. I do resolve to sign up for at least ONE class though (be it I work for a community college- it just makes sense, right?)
I became an egg donor for a local fertility center. And how exciting that was! To know that I helped three couples potentially to have children just rocks my inner world like there is no tomorrow. If you want to have a babe, you should be able to have one is my strong belief- just as I believe in the 180 of that sentence. If I can do something simple and temporary to help someone else accomplish that, why not? As we start 2011, I am on step to helping out another couple in January.
Are there any downsides to this? A few. My body becomes a little out of whack for a couple months in total- some weight gain, tiredness, okay- maybe moody (but that's only out of my husband's mouth). But the end result- I'm back to normal, someone else is pregnant.
In other news. I buried two grandparents in 2010. Something I would not like to repeat in 2011; which would be a bit tough since I'm running out of grandparents. Moral of the story- less death this year would be appreciated.
I turned 30. That, will never be repeated. Thank God.
I started golfing. This I have learned from this new sporting hobby: 1) I desperately need lessons and 2) I have no patience for 18 holes worth of golf.
So, maybe the class I sign up for is golf- or a workout class to achieve what I just couldn't pull off in 2010- a great game of golf and a smaller waistline.
My other loosely gathered 2011 resolution: Push my friends to get out and hang out more- whatever that means- in person, on the phone whatever to get a closer bond with that group of people you need in your life. Life is too short to spend it with just yourself.
Perhaps get on here and bitch more or let you in on how my wheels are turning.
Find the calm amongst the chaos.
Here's to my ramble of 2010. I welcome you, 2011, and all that it will become.
I say it was a bit dynamic because I did do a few things I normally don't do on a regular basis.
I started a new job- a great job at that. Tomorrow will be my one year anniversary at the College and I couldn't be happier. I do resolve to sign up for at least ONE class though (be it I work for a community college- it just makes sense, right?)
I became an egg donor for a local fertility center. And how exciting that was! To know that I helped three couples potentially to have children just rocks my inner world like there is no tomorrow. If you want to have a babe, you should be able to have one is my strong belief- just as I believe in the 180 of that sentence. If I can do something simple and temporary to help someone else accomplish that, why not? As we start 2011, I am on step to helping out another couple in January.
Are there any downsides to this? A few. My body becomes a little out of whack for a couple months in total- some weight gain, tiredness, okay- maybe moody (but that's only out of my husband's mouth). But the end result- I'm back to normal, someone else is pregnant.
In other news. I buried two grandparents in 2010. Something I would not like to repeat in 2011; which would be a bit tough since I'm running out of grandparents. Moral of the story- less death this year would be appreciated.
I turned 30. That, will never be repeated. Thank God.
I started golfing. This I have learned from this new sporting hobby: 1) I desperately need lessons and 2) I have no patience for 18 holes worth of golf.
So, maybe the class I sign up for is golf- or a workout class to achieve what I just couldn't pull off in 2010- a great game of golf and a smaller waistline.
My other loosely gathered 2011 resolution: Push my friends to get out and hang out more- whatever that means- in person, on the phone whatever to get a closer bond with that group of people you need in your life. Life is too short to spend it with just yourself.
Perhaps get on here and bitch more or let you in on how my wheels are turning.
Find the calm amongst the chaos.
Here's to my ramble of 2010. I welcome you, 2011, and all that it will become.
Friday, August 20, 2010
It's Friday- Crap!
I've had one of those weeks that didn't want me to leave work for the weekend. After being engrossed in a few very promising and strategic meetings this week, (and a few that weren't- don't we all?), it left me with loose ends not tied up prior to leaving the office today. That drives me nuts. Now, many people would have one of two answers to Friday afternoon dilemma. First would be to say, "Well, you know what you have waiting for you when you get into work on Monday." The second would say, "Well, hell, throw it in the briefcase, you'll draft it up over the weekend so you don't have to worry about it come next week."
Eeyah.. I am not a "first responder". It kills me to "leave it hangin'" on the desktop over the weekend; probably because I will think of about 30 new concepts to add to that project/proposal/draft, and I know myself well enough to know that I certainly will not remember all of these absolutely brilliant ideas come Monday.
However, I can't easily be the "second responder", and here is why. From the moment I get in my car on my way home, my mindset changes from cultivation and solicitation appointments (and that briefcase full of great work to do) to "Did I grab an extra two granola bars this morning for the boys for afternoon snack on their way home? Is Mason's blankie in the car? Did I pull chicken to defrost for dinner tonight? Where is my bluetooth? When did my oil change light come on? Is someone's birthday this weekend?"
You get the point.
So, what is a full-time employed, full-time mother of two preschool aged children, barely insane, yet functioning wife, to do on a regular basis when faced with these dilemmas? Well, I've seen many people be the "first responder" and many be the "second responder"- to both success and failure.
Some, (albeit few in our niche), have the ability to mentally remember all of those great, fabulous thoughts over the weekend, file them, focus on life outside of work and resume as normal on Monday. Fantastic. Kudos to you .00002 percent of the population.
I've also seen others that just say, "Oh, I'll deal with it on Monday." And then Monday becomes Tuesday, to Wednesday and by Thursday when you remember a glimmer of that fantastic idea from last week (what day did I think of that anyway?) just went from a tropical storm to a summer breeze.
When your life loves your job and you love your life because your job reflects your life, you can justifibly take (some) moments to work on that uber-important proposal on a Saturday night after the kids are in bed (but before Weekend Update of SNL) and your husband is watching his 4th college ball replay game of the day. You can also justifibly take those weekends to focus on more important things- like kicking the ball in the backyard, bringing the kids to that cool festival downtown, or potty training (or cleaning up from potty training). You will return to work either way knowing that you made the right decision this weekend. It's not work to live, it's not live to work- it's love work that loves you and lets you live- weekend work or not.
And what did I do this afternoon to plan for the weekend? Well, I filled the briefcase- it's still in the car, or maybe it's in the house next to the macaroni T-Rex creation... plus, I can't forget to add.. what was it.. to that proposal for Monday- oh, it'll come to me!
Eeyah.. I am not a "first responder". It kills me to "leave it hangin'" on the desktop over the weekend; probably because I will think of about 30 new concepts to add to that project/proposal/draft, and I know myself well enough to know that I certainly will not remember all of these absolutely brilliant ideas come Monday.
However, I can't easily be the "second responder", and here is why. From the moment I get in my car on my way home, my mindset changes from cultivation and solicitation appointments (and that briefcase full of great work to do) to "Did I grab an extra two granola bars this morning for the boys for afternoon snack on their way home? Is Mason's blankie in the car? Did I pull chicken to defrost for dinner tonight? Where is my bluetooth? When did my oil change light come on? Is someone's birthday this weekend?"
You get the point.
So, what is a full-time employed, full-time mother of two preschool aged children, barely insane, yet functioning wife, to do on a regular basis when faced with these dilemmas? Well, I've seen many people be the "first responder" and many be the "second responder"- to both success and failure.
Some, (albeit few in our niche), have the ability to mentally remember all of those great, fabulous thoughts over the weekend, file them, focus on life outside of work and resume as normal on Monday. Fantastic. Kudos to you .00002 percent of the population.
I've also seen others that just say, "Oh, I'll deal with it on Monday." And then Monday becomes Tuesday, to Wednesday and by Thursday when you remember a glimmer of that fantastic idea from last week (what day did I think of that anyway?) just went from a tropical storm to a summer breeze.
When your life loves your job and you love your life because your job reflects your life, you can justifibly take (some) moments to work on that uber-important proposal on a Saturday night after the kids are in bed (but before Weekend Update of SNL) and your husband is watching his 4th college ball replay game of the day. You can also justifibly take those weekends to focus on more important things- like kicking the ball in the backyard, bringing the kids to that cool festival downtown, or potty training (or cleaning up from potty training). You will return to work either way knowing that you made the right decision this weekend. It's not work to live, it's not live to work- it's love work that loves you and lets you live- weekend work or not.
And what did I do this afternoon to plan for the weekend? Well, I filled the briefcase- it's still in the car, or maybe it's in the house next to the macaroni T-Rex creation... plus, I can't forget to add.. what was it.. to that proposal for Monday- oh, it'll come to me!
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Sidetracking Dreams or Just Giving It A Rest?
There are moments when we all think we know what we want to do for the rest of our lives. Right now, I think I will be in Fundaising and Non-Profit for the rest of my life. And that probably will be the case. Unless, I get the opportunity to open another restaurant, or go to law school, or win the lottery and stay home with my kids, or be a consultant, or...
You get the point.
I was talking with a friend of mine today who is nearing the end of current job in education. I asked her for a job update this morning and she told me she had an offer at a great (non-educational) company in the area. But she started to cry. "I'm leaving my lifelong dream. But I have to think about what my family needs right now. And how do I know that I can even do this job?"
I explained to her that when I got the offer at the College, it was the greatest, scariest day I ever had. College level fundraising. With one of the biggest organizations in the county. The Big Show. I thought for sure they had made a mistake and I was going to fall flat on my face.
"Now how do you feel?" she asked.
"Taking that job was the best decision I could have made. I know that it prevents me from tucking my kids in every single night, or picking them up from school sometimes. But I hope they see that my success is their benefit in the long run and have more respect for me because of it. And at that place, falling on your face is simply not an option. There is always a safety net of support beneath you."
One often forgets that an average human has a multitude of different dreams- in the same night. I believe that carries into our waking hours, too. So, try something different, or get stuck in a great dream for a while- either way, you'll be glad you did.
You get the point.
I was talking with a friend of mine today who is nearing the end of current job in education. I asked her for a job update this morning and she told me she had an offer at a great (non-educational) company in the area. But she started to cry. "I'm leaving my lifelong dream. But I have to think about what my family needs right now. And how do I know that I can even do this job?"
I explained to her that when I got the offer at the College, it was the greatest, scariest day I ever had. College level fundraising. With one of the biggest organizations in the county. The Big Show. I thought for sure they had made a mistake and I was going to fall flat on my face.
"Now how do you feel?" she asked.
"Taking that job was the best decision I could have made. I know that it prevents me from tucking my kids in every single night, or picking them up from school sometimes. But I hope they see that my success is their benefit in the long run and have more respect for me because of it. And at that place, falling on your face is simply not an option. There is always a safety net of support beneath you."
One often forgets that an average human has a multitude of different dreams- in the same night. I believe that carries into our waking hours, too. So, try something different, or get stuck in a great dream for a while- either way, you'll be glad you did.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Wisdom Defined
I am a great example to tell you what wisdom isn't today. A wise person does not wait 15 years in between having their top and bottom wisdom teeth removed. At sixteen, I had a stay at home mother to take care of me while I set up camp on the pull-out couch in the living room. Couldn't miss me- donned in two bandanas tied together with pea packs on either side of my mouth. I was perched there as my mother was too afraid to let me go up and down the basement stairs where my bedroom was located. She was there to giggle at me when I had my dose of pain medicine and I thought I was invinsible enough to crunch on a carrot. She was there to keep the fudgicles frozen and the oatmeal coming. For a whole week.
At 30- not quite the case. 12 hours before going under the dental lights, my husband was diagnosed with a classic case of Influenza. Temperature at 102, aches, exhaustion, lack of appetite and energy. In fear that my children were to be down with the same thing by the next day, I sent him off to the bedroom and haven't really seen him since Tuesday. I wasn't going to rely on him too much for the remainder of the week- but at minimum to help out with picking up the kids the afternoon of my surgery and maybe pajama patrol.
So, this flu-event has left me to re-freeze my own pea ice packs, wrap the scarf around my own head and scoop my own ice cream- not to mention whatever else I juggle daily (breakfast, drop off, pickup, dinner, bath, pj's, reading, bed). I slept on the couch last night not because I couldn't walk down a set of stairs, but because I was avoiding the Influenza Man.
One thing that I can tell you is self-reliance is king. When all else fails, you can rely on yourself.
This is all taking place during my spring break vacation- I'm thinking now I will be taking additional personal days shortly after this "break"- I don't think many would blame me, really.
And did I mention that my mother left to return to Maine, the day before my teeth were taken out? Now, that's wise.
At 30- not quite the case. 12 hours before going under the dental lights, my husband was diagnosed with a classic case of Influenza. Temperature at 102, aches, exhaustion, lack of appetite and energy. In fear that my children were to be down with the same thing by the next day, I sent him off to the bedroom and haven't really seen him since Tuesday. I wasn't going to rely on him too much for the remainder of the week- but at minimum to help out with picking up the kids the afternoon of my surgery and maybe pajama patrol.
So, this flu-event has left me to re-freeze my own pea ice packs, wrap the scarf around my own head and scoop my own ice cream- not to mention whatever else I juggle daily (breakfast, drop off, pickup, dinner, bath, pj's, reading, bed). I slept on the couch last night not because I couldn't walk down a set of stairs, but because I was avoiding the Influenza Man.
One thing that I can tell you is self-reliance is king. When all else fails, you can rely on yourself.
This is all taking place during my spring break vacation- I'm thinking now I will be taking additional personal days shortly after this "break"- I don't think many would blame me, really.
And did I mention that my mother left to return to Maine, the day before my teeth were taken out? Now, that's wise.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
A Blog Confessional
It has been five months since I've last blogged.-please forgive me. I am vowing to spend a bit more time here, especially since life is in a better place.
The day after I posted last, I found the perfect job at the perfect location, posted online. By the end of that weekend, they had my application. I made it a point to be in front of the decision makers three times before I even interviewed and rose to the top of 6 finalists, making it official on December 18th:
"Lisa, we're delighted to offer you the position at the Foundation. You are welcome to start on January 1st, but I'm sure that'll be too-"I cut her off, "I'll start on the first. I'll finish up things there easily by the end of the month. Thank you. I am so happy to be a part of your organization."
I hung up the call and burst into tears. It had happened. I was leaving the misery on my terms, not theirs. Within an hour of that phonecall, I had proudly delivered my pre-printed resignation letter in the hands of my boss. He was just as happy as I. We were finally free of one another.
It's now been three full months since I started my new gig and I couldn't be happier. I have my own tasks to accomplish, my own activities I organize and run and I've even raised a few bucks for them, too. All of the women I work with are fantastic- and for the most part, are all packing a full workload, a couple of kids, sport schedules and husbands to some degree. So, when the school rings your cell phone at the wrong time during that meeting, we just utter the name of our child, grab our keys and go- we all understand and appreciate that we understand what we all are up against every day. I have found you- you women life jugglers- I knew there were more than just two of us.
And we've added soccer to our lives. But that's for another blog.
The day after I posted last, I found the perfect job at the perfect location, posted online. By the end of that weekend, they had my application. I made it a point to be in front of the decision makers three times before I even interviewed and rose to the top of 6 finalists, making it official on December 18th:
"Lisa, we're delighted to offer you the position at the Foundation. You are welcome to start on January 1st, but I'm sure that'll be too-"I cut her off, "I'll start on the first. I'll finish up things there easily by the end of the month. Thank you. I am so happy to be a part of your organization."
I hung up the call and burst into tears. It had happened. I was leaving the misery on my terms, not theirs. Within an hour of that phonecall, I had proudly delivered my pre-printed resignation letter in the hands of my boss. He was just as happy as I. We were finally free of one another.
It's now been three full months since I started my new gig and I couldn't be happier. I have my own tasks to accomplish, my own activities I organize and run and I've even raised a few bucks for them, too. All of the women I work with are fantastic- and for the most part, are all packing a full workload, a couple of kids, sport schedules and husbands to some degree. So, when the school rings your cell phone at the wrong time during that meeting, we just utter the name of our child, grab our keys and go- we all understand and appreciate that we understand what we all are up against every day. I have found you- you women life jugglers- I knew there were more than just two of us.
And we've added soccer to our lives. But that's for another blog.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
What Doesn't Kill Us...
makes me really start to question what actually will. I recently went through an agonizing time at work where I was told on less than 48 hours notice that my job was to be eliminated due to "financial strain of the organization." Let me just remind those interested that my job is to raise the dollars for the organization. If you shoot the horse, who's going to pull the cart? Needless to say, I refused to take the "elimination" letter, made some phonecalls, and by Monday, retained my position.
But that really started to put a few things into perspective. For one, it re-confirmed that no-one is truly safe in this "mess"- and we all know what that "mess" is, right? With the September unemployment numbers out, at an enlightening 9.8%- I, over the course of that weekend, was convinced that I was going to be that one putting it at 9.9% by October.
Secondly, it made me realize how much I really miss, and am going to continue to, miss my family and free time. I thought I would be able to transition out of my "part-time gigs" that I do for pocket cash to spend more time with my children and husband, that idea had to be thrown out the window on I-97, after I left my boss' office that afternoon. It made me make MORE phonecalls to my side job prospects to let them know that I'm still available to help out with whatever and whereever they could fit me in.
Lastly, to call those whom I have built a relationship with through this job, to tell them I am looking for another, was about out of the question and a very dicey card to play, especially in the small city I work in. Ultimately, I gained these relationships because of their alliance with the organization, not me. But now, well, I now have gone through that perpetual stack of business cards that never seems to get organized, and picking up the phone.
You have to be fearless in this world now, as much as it hurts and makes you feel like your naked on stage. I have to see that as an opportunity.
But that really started to put a few things into perspective. For one, it re-confirmed that no-one is truly safe in this "mess"- and we all know what that "mess" is, right? With the September unemployment numbers out, at an enlightening 9.8%- I, over the course of that weekend, was convinced that I was going to be that one putting it at 9.9% by October.
Secondly, it made me realize how much I really miss, and am going to continue to, miss my family and free time. I thought I would be able to transition out of my "part-time gigs" that I do for pocket cash to spend more time with my children and husband, that idea had to be thrown out the window on I-97, after I left my boss' office that afternoon. It made me make MORE phonecalls to my side job prospects to let them know that I'm still available to help out with whatever and whereever they could fit me in.
Lastly, to call those whom I have built a relationship with through this job, to tell them I am looking for another, was about out of the question and a very dicey card to play, especially in the small city I work in. Ultimately, I gained these relationships because of their alliance with the organization, not me. But now, well, I now have gone through that perpetual stack of business cards that never seems to get organized, and picking up the phone.
You have to be fearless in this world now, as much as it hurts and makes you feel like your naked on stage. I have to see that as an opportunity.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Let's Add Something Else to the Plate
I have one friend who said to me, "Lisa, I don't know why you don't have a blog. You'd be perfect for one. You're young, busy, really busy, and have a lot to share."
I then said, "For the exact reason you just said, too busy already to manage something I don't even know how to start!"
But I'm a good listener. That's what my other friends say. So, I guess, I listened. And I started a blog.
I'm blogging for the other crazy mom's around me. I know you're out there, I just haven't had a chance to find you, yet. Maybe when my kids are in college- or at least potty trained. And I need confirmation that there is more than just me and another mom I know that's doing superhuman feats and managing (barely) to keep it all together.
Until next time.
I then said, "For the exact reason you just said, too busy already to manage something I don't even know how to start!"
But I'm a good listener. That's what my other friends say. So, I guess, I listened. And I started a blog.
I'm blogging for the other crazy mom's around me. I know you're out there, I just haven't had a chance to find you, yet. Maybe when my kids are in college- or at least potty trained. And I need confirmation that there is more than just me and another mom I know that's doing superhuman feats and managing (barely) to keep it all together.
Until next time.
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