One photograph, ten years old, of my law enforcement training class.
One Leadership Award, ten years old.
Photographs of my children and my husband.
Photographs of my parents and my sister.
One photo of my niece.
A Goonies screensaver.
A 2013 twelve month wall calendar.
Two lamps with lights softer than florescent.
One round table in the corner. Four gray chairs.
Three bookcases. Thirty four binders.
A footstool where I rest my feet when I wear heels.
A painting that looks like a scene through a window.
No windows.
An Our Lady of Guadalupe coin I ordered from an online Catholic superstore.
A laminated card with a prayer, saved from the funeral of a coworker's parent.
A GirlFight poster featuring Michelle Rodriguez in boxing gloves.
A filing cabinet.
A drawer of personnel files.
One file of documentation supporting demotion of an employee.
One file of documentation supporting a corrective action of an employee.
A candy dish with two dusty hard candies.
An Iron Man sticker.
An 8 1/2 inch by 11 inch white paper with the words "I love u Momee happee mothers day"
"'Oh crap, was that today?': Working on a deadline" door hanger depicting two dinosaurs watching Noah's ark sail away.
One white iHome.
Three cans of soup (Hearty Tomato, Tomato and Basil, Chicken Dumpling).
One bowl, 2 cups, plastic spoons.
Showing posts with label Work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Work. Show all posts
Monday, October 14, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
The Gap
You are a powerful woman. Uncompromising, strong, everything I want you to be. But you are feminine - caring, unsure, vulnerable. This tension is unique to you. Say it in your writing. Your voice is valuable. - Papa, Christmas 2007
Here are the items she brought to the meeting: pen, notebook, Droid, and water bottle. She was excellent at dissecting a conversation, especially when those in authority were pontificating. Ignoring out-loud thinking and capturing her assignments on paper was her specialty.
The other managers were there, all men smooth and leaning back casually in their leather chairs, tossing out half-formed opinions and receiving thoughtful nods from the men higher up the food chain.
Neanderthal idiot goons, she thought, keeping her ankles crossed and an attentive smile on her face.
The discussion turned to fundraising. Mike from marketing, bless his heart, spoke up first.
"Sponsorships are essential to our next five years. I cannot stress how much our financial sustainability depends on alternative funding sources in these economic times."
Jim was next.
"To build on Mike's excellent statement, I would agree and also add that we need to think outside the box."
Then Ted.
"Yes, I agree with Jim and Mike and their valuable insight. We need to think outside the box and find unconvential alternatives."
She put her pen down.
Robert said, "We'll have to train our workforce to think outside the box. They don't do that very well."
Murmers of assent flowed around the table like the wave at a baseball game. There was a high five at the other end of the table.
She couldn't stand it anymore. She cleared her throat and said, "I think we need to put a request for proposals out for retailers to sponsor our delivery trucks statewide. I've analyzed the return on investment and if they give us a million dollars they can reasonably expect eight hundred thousand impressions."
As she was speaking, Robert and Jim turned in their chairs toward the CEO and leaned forward. Other than that, no one moved, and no one made eye contact with her.
Four seconds of silence passed.
Ted said, "I agree with Robert's excellent point. We can no longer afford to be the only ones with unconvential thinking. We need our entire company thinking about how to raise funds right now."
"Now is that a training problem, or a talent problem?" Jim asked.
Resigned sighs rippled through the room, making her guess that they thought the company's talent problem was hopeless.
Robert pointed his finger high into the air and said, "What about - and this thought just hit me now - what about our fleet? What about all that blank space on our trucks? I bet we could find a corporate sponsor who wants a piece of that."
Ted leaned forward in his chair.
The CEO said, "Robert, that's an excellent idea. How much do you think we should go after?"
Robert said, "Oh, I would say about one million dollars would get us back on our feet for now."
"I like the idea Robert. Get a team together and let's see what you can do. Give me an update in a week."
Her pen slipped to the floor. She rose out of her chair and bent to pick it up, then thought better of it. She stood, squared her shoulders and spoke.
****************************************************************************
Here are the items she brought to the meeting a week later: a cup of coffee and her Droid. As she sat down Robert handed her the sponsorship status report.
The CEO strolled in and parked himself in the seat next to her. "How are they doing, Rachel?"
"I've got a good team, Frank. We're on track to put out the sponsorship bid on Friday. We've got two potential funders on board already."
Robert said, "Sir, your decision to make Rachel our supervisor was the best you could have made. She is wholly engaged in ensuring a successful outcome on this project."
"I agree with Robert," Ted said.
Jim and Mike looked a little sick.
Here are the items she brought to the meeting: pen, notebook, Droid, and water bottle. She was excellent at dissecting a conversation, especially when those in authority were pontificating. Ignoring out-loud thinking and capturing her assignments on paper was her specialty.
The other managers were there, all men smooth and leaning back casually in their leather chairs, tossing out half-formed opinions and receiving thoughtful nods from the men higher up the food chain.
Neanderthal idiot goons, she thought, keeping her ankles crossed and an attentive smile on her face.
The discussion turned to fundraising. Mike from marketing, bless his heart, spoke up first.
"Sponsorships are essential to our next five years. I cannot stress how much our financial sustainability depends on alternative funding sources in these economic times."
Jim was next.
"To build on Mike's excellent statement, I would agree and also add that we need to think outside the box."
Then Ted.
"Yes, I agree with Jim and Mike and their valuable insight. We need to think outside the box and find unconvential alternatives."
She put her pen down.
Robert said, "We'll have to train our workforce to think outside the box. They don't do that very well."
Murmers of assent flowed around the table like the wave at a baseball game. There was a high five at the other end of the table.
She couldn't stand it anymore. She cleared her throat and said, "I think we need to put a request for proposals out for retailers to sponsor our delivery trucks statewide. I've analyzed the return on investment and if they give us a million dollars they can reasonably expect eight hundred thousand impressions."
As she was speaking, Robert and Jim turned in their chairs toward the CEO and leaned forward. Other than that, no one moved, and no one made eye contact with her.
Four seconds of silence passed.
Ted said, "I agree with Robert's excellent point. We can no longer afford to be the only ones with unconvential thinking. We need our entire company thinking about how to raise funds right now."
"Now is that a training problem, or a talent problem?" Jim asked.
Resigned sighs rippled through the room, making her guess that they thought the company's talent problem was hopeless.
Robert pointed his finger high into the air and said, "What about - and this thought just hit me now - what about our fleet? What about all that blank space on our trucks? I bet we could find a corporate sponsor who wants a piece of that."
Ted leaned forward in his chair.
The CEO said, "Robert, that's an excellent idea. How much do you think we should go after?"
Robert said, "Oh, I would say about one million dollars would get us back on our feet for now."
"I like the idea Robert. Get a team together and let's see what you can do. Give me an update in a week."
Her pen slipped to the floor. She rose out of her chair and bent to pick it up, then thought better of it. She stood, squared her shoulders and spoke.
****************************************************************************
Here are the items she brought to the meeting a week later: a cup of coffee and her Droid. As she sat down Robert handed her the sponsorship status report.
The CEO strolled in and parked himself in the seat next to her. "How are they doing, Rachel?"
"I've got a good team, Frank. We're on track to put out the sponsorship bid on Friday. We've got two potential funders on board already."
Robert said, "Sir, your decision to make Rachel our supervisor was the best you could have made. She is wholly engaged in ensuring a successful outcome on this project."
"I agree with Robert," Ted said.
Jim and Mike looked a little sick.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Stuck
It's like she woke up from a dream and started writing.
Someone had taken my life and my diaries and written a book: Truth-isms and In-Your-Faces by Crazy Coppertop, edited by So-and-So.
Chapter One
In this time of economic woe, nothing makes you feel better than remembering the good times, when your friends actually liked you and put their arms around you and told you how awesome you are on a daily basis. That doesn't happen these days at work where a commonly heard phrase is "Night of the Long Knives." And in this time of mortgages and kids and SUVs and car seats and food permanently stuck under the table, it helps to go back to those wide-eyed days when your friends dropped these Buddha-like bombs and uttered truisms about the world, so certain that they were the first to see it and everyone slaving away at their muckity-muck jobs were blind sheep.
"The world cannot support more mouths, therefore it is my ethical duty - hee, hee, she said dootie - to forebear procreation."
We walked in the rain because it was brave and romantic and we had fucking hours to kill. Hours. Every day.
"A great artist is one who can transform herself, over and over again, to reflect the time in her life and the art the world needs for the moment."
And we had hours to pontificate and read poetry and ascribe meaning to the latest song from Third Eye Blind.
I want something else
to get me through this
semi-charmed kinda life
baby
baby
And what consequences to any of this? A vague sense that at some point our choices were going to matter but more of a sense that life was happening to us and there was nothing we could do about it.
"Don't get a tattoo. You'll never get a job with a tattoo."
Love was cruel in the way that since we couldn't control the world we were aware that we'd better have all the sex and the long talks we could before the real world sucked us far away from each other, and we used it as an excuse to make no promises other than non-binding blither.
"To thine own self be true. Always. No matter what happens between us."
The unequivocal laughing acceptance of me, the pleasure of seeing each other. Scorn. Unadulterated scorn of where I come from, like a soft nest I could settle into, the pet names designed to love and belittle. The rare moments of serious shared life.
And then blindly we trade one language for another and we learn the acronyms at work just so that we can be blindly accepted, and we invent other truisms about life and love and motherhood and we stop questioning because frankly with car seats and a mortgage questioning becomes dangerous, and there's too much at stake.
"No. We tried that before."
"It doesn't fit the rules."
"Motherhood is full of joy and disappointment, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."
"I am a worker bee, infinitely replaceable, therefore I must behave."
And thirty-five becomes old, and we look back at fucking milestones, like a fucking project timeline where the next 50 years consist of gray projections.
"A great artist is one who can transform herself, over and over again, to reflect the time in her life and the art the world needs for the moment."
Someone had taken my life and my diaries and written a book: Truth-isms and In-Your-Faces by Crazy Coppertop, edited by So-and-So.
Chapter One
In this time of economic woe, nothing makes you feel better than remembering the good times, when your friends actually liked you and put their arms around you and told you how awesome you are on a daily basis. That doesn't happen these days at work where a commonly heard phrase is "Night of the Long Knives." And in this time of mortgages and kids and SUVs and car seats and food permanently stuck under the table, it helps to go back to those wide-eyed days when your friends dropped these Buddha-like bombs and uttered truisms about the world, so certain that they were the first to see it and everyone slaving away at their muckity-muck jobs were blind sheep.
"The world cannot support more mouths, therefore it is my ethical duty - hee, hee, she said dootie - to forebear procreation."
We walked in the rain because it was brave and romantic and we had fucking hours to kill. Hours. Every day.
"A great artist is one who can transform herself, over and over again, to reflect the time in her life and the art the world needs for the moment."
And we had hours to pontificate and read poetry and ascribe meaning to the latest song from Third Eye Blind.
I want something else
to get me through this
semi-charmed kinda life
baby
baby
And what consequences to any of this? A vague sense that at some point our choices were going to matter but more of a sense that life was happening to us and there was nothing we could do about it.
"Don't get a tattoo. You'll never get a job with a tattoo."
Love was cruel in the way that since we couldn't control the world we were aware that we'd better have all the sex and the long talks we could before the real world sucked us far away from each other, and we used it as an excuse to make no promises other than non-binding blither.
"To thine own self be true. Always. No matter what happens between us."
The unequivocal laughing acceptance of me, the pleasure of seeing each other. Scorn. Unadulterated scorn of where I come from, like a soft nest I could settle into, the pet names designed to love and belittle. The rare moments of serious shared life.
And then blindly we trade one language for another and we learn the acronyms at work just so that we can be blindly accepted, and we invent other truisms about life and love and motherhood and we stop questioning because frankly with car seats and a mortgage questioning becomes dangerous, and there's too much at stake.
"No. We tried that before."
"It doesn't fit the rules."
"Motherhood is full of joy and disappointment, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."
"I am a worker bee, infinitely replaceable, therefore I must behave."
And thirty-five becomes old, and we look back at fucking milestones, like a fucking project timeline where the next 50 years consist of gray projections.
"A great artist is one who can transform herself, over and over again, to reflect the time in her life and the art the world needs for the moment."
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Behave Yourself
Four men have told me to behave myself. This has all happened very recently, within the last month. While those two words and four syllables - be-have-your-self - say more about the men than they do about me, I would like to explore in words for you, dear reader, just what circumstances compelled these men to attempt to put sideboards on how I live my life.
Exhibit A: I'm sitting in a meeting, in Grand Junction, surrounded by handlebar moustaches. I am cogently explaining the programs I manage and a new project in the works. Another male manager leans across the table to me and asks with a smirk, "How much is that gonna cost us? Thirty two million?"Referring of course to our recent thirty two million dollar accounting error in Denver. I lean across the table to him and say, "About three dollars a person, but thanks for asking. Your question was extremely helpful to all of us." Dead silence in the room for a beat. Then twenty people start laughing and handlebar moustache man is red in the face. Special note: This is not the only instance in which I give him the what what. There is another one, but you get the point.
Exhibit B: I have several meetings with the Director over the course of five months, about a merger we are going through and about a very political project I've been working on. At one point I think I get exasperated and throw my hands up and say, "Dude!" After our last meeting he says, "Behave yourself, but not too much." Special note: I'm still analyzing that one.
Exhibit C: I'm sitting in a meeting in Denver, with a guy with a handlebar moustache from Grand Junction, not related to the special man from Exhibit A. We are discussing meeting options for our budget meeting. This older man, who was most likely hot shit in the 1970s, says, "There's a new gentleman's club. We could go there for the meeting." To which somebody replies, "But would the women be invited?" To which he says, "As long as they dance." I have three options here, as a high-ranking female manager who has the responsibility to stop sexual harassment in the workplace. I can ignore it. I can use sarcasm. Or I can very intelligently and firmly explain that the comments are inappropriate and unappreciated in the workplace. Of course I use sarcasm. I told him that his comment, coupled with the fact that he asked me to get him coffee at the beginning of the meeting, made me want to take him behind the building and beat him in a fight, which I was sure I'd win. I think I also told him, "Dude!"
Exhibit D: My father-in-law, a man I love dearly and use sarcasm with whenever possible, has been slightly befuddled at my insistence that my husband take some turns hosting holidays, as in cooking the entire Thanksgiving dinner, including organizing it and doing grocery shopping while I drank vodka from a plastic cup. At Easter dinner, I filled my plate ahead of my father-in-law, and he started blathering about the men always getting to eat first in the family and so on and so forth, to which I replied that if he needed somewhere to cry he could go in the back bedroom and I'd go the extra mile and get him some tissue.
Behave yourself. From each one of them. Independently. Without holding some sort of inner circle meeting to coordinate their strategy. I take it as a sign that I make them slightly uncomfortable, or maybe that I lack the tact, or maybe that I need to zip it more often.
I find it highly amusing.
Exhibit A: I'm sitting in a meeting, in Grand Junction, surrounded by handlebar moustaches. I am cogently explaining the programs I manage and a new project in the works. Another male manager leans across the table to me and asks with a smirk, "How much is that gonna cost us? Thirty two million?"Referring of course to our recent thirty two million dollar accounting error in Denver. I lean across the table to him and say, "About three dollars a person, but thanks for asking. Your question was extremely helpful to all of us." Dead silence in the room for a beat. Then twenty people start laughing and handlebar moustache man is red in the face. Special note: This is not the only instance in which I give him the what what. There is another one, but you get the point.
Exhibit B: I have several meetings with the Director over the course of five months, about a merger we are going through and about a very political project I've been working on. At one point I think I get exasperated and throw my hands up and say, "Dude!" After our last meeting he says, "Behave yourself, but not too much." Special note: I'm still analyzing that one.
Exhibit C: I'm sitting in a meeting in Denver, with a guy with a handlebar moustache from Grand Junction, not related to the special man from Exhibit A. We are discussing meeting options for our budget meeting. This older man, who was most likely hot shit in the 1970s, says, "There's a new gentleman's club. We could go there for the meeting." To which somebody replies, "But would the women be invited?" To which he says, "As long as they dance." I have three options here, as a high-ranking female manager who has the responsibility to stop sexual harassment in the workplace. I can ignore it. I can use sarcasm. Or I can very intelligently and firmly explain that the comments are inappropriate and unappreciated in the workplace. Of course I use sarcasm. I told him that his comment, coupled with the fact that he asked me to get him coffee at the beginning of the meeting, made me want to take him behind the building and beat him in a fight, which I was sure I'd win. I think I also told him, "Dude!"
Exhibit D: My father-in-law, a man I love dearly and use sarcasm with whenever possible, has been slightly befuddled at my insistence that my husband take some turns hosting holidays, as in cooking the entire Thanksgiving dinner, including organizing it and doing grocery shopping while I drank vodka from a plastic cup. At Easter dinner, I filled my plate ahead of my father-in-law, and he started blathering about the men always getting to eat first in the family and so on and so forth, to which I replied that if he needed somewhere to cry he could go in the back bedroom and I'd go the extra mile and get him some tissue.
Behave yourself. From each one of them. Independently. Without holding some sort of inner circle meeting to coordinate their strategy. I take it as a sign that I make them slightly uncomfortable, or maybe that I lack the tact, or maybe that I need to zip it more often.
I find it highly amusing.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The Truth
He made the case for freedom of thought and expression - and a certain humility regarding one's own cherished beliefs - on the grounds that, no matter how much certainty is in our own hearts, human beings cannot know for sure which truths are true, and that believing we can leads us down a terrible path. --Cullen Murphy
The truth today. Objective fact. Behaviors. Actions.
I did not cross everything off of my list. I rushed my child to bed so I could pay bills. I thought of my children at 2:15 pm and wished I could be with them. My stomach hurt too much to exercise. I received my budget deadline, 15 days from now. I took a project away from my best employee. I had a difficult time forming thoughts. I realized, at least three times, that I need a couple of hours alone to think. I watched Pawn Stars. I weighed the pros and cons of two decisions. In one week I will question my decision. My mind spent more time with the unknowns than with the knowns. I struggled to make pleasant conversation. I made it look easy. I lost two pounds. I wish I had a nemesis - an easy person to blame for all my self-doubt.
You are old enough to wonder, to ask, to reject what is presented to you simply because it was presented to you. But you also cling to the idealism of youth. You feel there must be some single, all-defining Truth - and you think that once you find it, all that once confused you will suddenly make sense. --Brandon Sanderson
I am acutely aware I need to do our taxes and visit C with her new baby. I don't know when I will have the time. I am more honest with a pen than a keyboard. I will need to type this later. I am overwhelmed with the amount of work I have. I feel like I'm doing nothing well. I badly want to accept a C grade from myself. I want to accept occasional failure. I work with amazing people who don't tell me what they really think because I am their boss. If I quit work tomorrow, no duties or tasks would be important enough to warrant an immediate replacement for me, at least in this merger, this economy, where government is shrinking and putting more on workers is the "right" thing to do. The truth, right now, is that we are all grateful to have a job, and to have the job of the guy who just retired on top of our full-time jobs, and the truth is we cannot complain, or we shall be looked upon as lazy, or inefficent. In the name of great efficiency, the great Truth of work, we absorb the duties of those forced out, praying that we get to keep our two jobs and no pay raises. Government is too big, too inefficient, so we need less people, less resources.
The moment we allow the economic calculus to invade everything, then nothing becomes worthwhile anymore. --E.F. Schumacher
My truth is saying no. And yes, my job feeds and houses and clothes my family, and I need my job. So I say no to small things, strategically, so that I don't end up sleeping at the office, so my employees can go home to their personal lives. And the real truth is that I would like to say no, but I don't.
Leisure and time to think are luxuries we cannot afford in today's economy. The truth is I have everything I want except the time to enjoy it.
I believe that people have their own Journey. --Brigid the Tri-Babe
The truth today. Objective fact. Behaviors. Actions.
I did not cross everything off of my list. I rushed my child to bed so I could pay bills. I thought of my children at 2:15 pm and wished I could be with them. My stomach hurt too much to exercise. I received my budget deadline, 15 days from now. I took a project away from my best employee. I had a difficult time forming thoughts. I realized, at least three times, that I need a couple of hours alone to think. I watched Pawn Stars. I weighed the pros and cons of two decisions. In one week I will question my decision. My mind spent more time with the unknowns than with the knowns. I struggled to make pleasant conversation. I made it look easy. I lost two pounds. I wish I had a nemesis - an easy person to blame for all my self-doubt.
You are old enough to wonder, to ask, to reject what is presented to you simply because it was presented to you. But you also cling to the idealism of youth. You feel there must be some single, all-defining Truth - and you think that once you find it, all that once confused you will suddenly make sense. --Brandon Sanderson
I am acutely aware I need to do our taxes and visit C with her new baby. I don't know when I will have the time. I am more honest with a pen than a keyboard. I will need to type this later. I am overwhelmed with the amount of work I have. I feel like I'm doing nothing well. I badly want to accept a C grade from myself. I want to accept occasional failure. I work with amazing people who don't tell me what they really think because I am their boss. If I quit work tomorrow, no duties or tasks would be important enough to warrant an immediate replacement for me, at least in this merger, this economy, where government is shrinking and putting more on workers is the "right" thing to do. The truth, right now, is that we are all grateful to have a job, and to have the job of the guy who just retired on top of our full-time jobs, and the truth is we cannot complain, or we shall be looked upon as lazy, or inefficent. In the name of great efficiency, the great Truth of work, we absorb the duties of those forced out, praying that we get to keep our two jobs and no pay raises. Government is too big, too inefficient, so we need less people, less resources.
The moment we allow the economic calculus to invade everything, then nothing becomes worthwhile anymore. --E.F. Schumacher
My truth is saying no. And yes, my job feeds and houses and clothes my family, and I need my job. So I say no to small things, strategically, so that I don't end up sleeping at the office, so my employees can go home to their personal lives. And the real truth is that I would like to say no, but I don't.
Leisure and time to think are luxuries we cannot afford in today's economy. The truth is I have everything I want except the time to enjoy it.
I believe that people have their own Journey. --Brigid the Tri-Babe
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Denver traffic report
the highway is a metallic millipede
with thousands of cars for legs
stop still slow still stop still slow still stop
sinuous movement
the other appendages and I
we're in this together
moving downtown
only to reverse course and
crawl home after dark
I know why Enri writes on the train
with thousands of cars for legs
stop still slow still stop still slow still stop
sinuous movement
the other appendages and I
we're in this together
moving downtown
only to reverse course and
crawl home after dark
I know why Enri writes on the train
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Choices
The gifts of a meaningful challenging job and a beautiful messy delightful family mean I make choices every day - but how lucky I am to have these choices.
What really matters to me? What do I want to be remembered for when I die? Yes, family comes first, but my values align with where I work, so work is a part of it. I help connect people to the natural world and wildlife in a way that is not packaged, canned, processed, frozen, televised, spun, disinfected or dissected; and with that connection I believe humans tap into something greater than themselves, to raw, wild life and death and our duty to immerse ourselves in it and protect it at the same time.
My family. There is the *yawn* view that it is our highest duty to raise another human being. The Old Man and I have never talked about values but I guarantee we agree on fundamental concepts:
* our children will be able to think for themselves, to participate in their education, to discover the world so as not only to become functioning adults but to have their choice in how they make their living.
* money and status aren't everything.
* our children will believe unwaveringly in their own self-worth.
There are so many demands on my energy and focus and time, and some demands are bullshit demands, let's be honest.... that it has helped me to define big picture priorities:
1. A majority of my energy goes to my family life.
2. I engage only in pursuits I find personally satisfying.
3. I nurture my mental, physical and spiritual health on a regular basis.
When I feel like dropping a six pack of High Life on The Old Man's chair as a parting gift and escaping to Mexico, or when my head pounds from stress and clanging noise, or when I can't focus because my mind has checked out, those are clues that I'm not paying attention to my top 3 priorities.
One of those things I find personally satisfying is writing... I haven't posted a lot lately, but I hope to correct that in the future.
Thanks for listening, online world. :)
What really matters to me? What do I want to be remembered for when I die? Yes, family comes first, but my values align with where I work, so work is a part of it. I help connect people to the natural world and wildlife in a way that is not packaged, canned, processed, frozen, televised, spun, disinfected or dissected; and with that connection I believe humans tap into something greater than themselves, to raw, wild life and death and our duty to immerse ourselves in it and protect it at the same time.
My family. There is the *yawn* view that it is our highest duty to raise another human being. The Old Man and I have never talked about values but I guarantee we agree on fundamental concepts:
* our children will be able to think for themselves, to participate in their education, to discover the world so as not only to become functioning adults but to have their choice in how they make their living.
* money and status aren't everything.
* our children will believe unwaveringly in their own self-worth.
There are so many demands on my energy and focus and time, and some demands are bullshit demands, let's be honest.... that it has helped me to define big picture priorities:
1. A majority of my energy goes to my family life.
2. I engage only in pursuits I find personally satisfying.
3. I nurture my mental, physical and spiritual health on a regular basis.
When I feel like dropping a six pack of High Life on The Old Man's chair as a parting gift and escaping to Mexico, or when my head pounds from stress and clanging noise, or when I can't focus because my mind has checked out, those are clues that I'm not paying attention to my top 3 priorities.
One of those things I find personally satisfying is writing... I haven't posted a lot lately, but I hope to correct that in the future.
Thanks for listening, online world. :)
Friday, June 24, 2011
Torn Debate
http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/06/07/introducing-the-motherlode-book-club/
Torn: True Stories of Kids, Career & the Conflict of Modern Motherhood is the first book in the Motherlode Book Club hosted by Lisa Belkin (see link above.) I’m a contributor; read my essay, When I Sneeze, I Pee a Little, and you might laugh a bit. And maybe pee.
Comments are coming in on the NY Times site like crazy, and I find myself not really wanting to jump in the fray. The comments range from SAHMs (Stay At Home Moms) – apparently we are labeling EVERYTHING with acronyms these days, making it that much easier to stereotype people – to die-hard career women who feel they’ve sacrificed nothing as moms in high-powered jobs.
Daycare bad
Daycare good
“Daycare at 4 months old? Why don’t you just take your kid from the hospital straight to daycare?”
Contributors are a bunch of whiny rich mothers
Quit yer bitchin’
Etcetera.
Here’s the deal. Each to her own. What works for you doesn’t work for me. Vicey versey. This is a time in history when a large number of women are the primary breadwinners (especially now in the bad economy, look it up) and are mothers with responsibilities at home.
And here’s the other deal. Women’s work is this:
Laundry
Dishes
Dinner
Diapers
Bedtime
Grocery store
Dry cleaning
Vacuuming
Calendar items, including doctor and dentist appointments, financial planner, vacations
Emotional health of entire family, including remembering birthdays, hugging children when they are crying, planning family events, sympathizing with sick kids, knowing when to hold ‘em, when to fold ‘em, when to walk away
Etcetera.
It’s being charge of my own emotional health plus the mental health of the entire family that is the honest-to-goodness straw on the proverbial camel for me.
Of course not every woman feels this way. But the debate obviously goes on (86 comments on the NY Times blog) and some women, like me, feel divided, feel torn.
I do feel like the story of dads is missing in the book. These days young dads like my husband juggle work and family right along beside us. But my husband doesn’t feel torn. It’s not an identity crisis with him.
By the way, the name of this blog was almost Identity Code Red, which is highly dramatic but illustrates the point.
In this time of social change when both moms and dads are going through a redefinition of roles, why the hell wouldn’t we write about it?
By the way, there’s a need for more books like this, from fathers’ perspectives. Someone write that down and go make some money off the idea. Peace out.
Torn: True Stories of Kids, Career & the Conflict of Modern Motherhood is the first book in the Motherlode Book Club hosted by Lisa Belkin (see link above.) I’m a contributor; read my essay, When I Sneeze, I Pee a Little, and you might laugh a bit. And maybe pee.
Comments are coming in on the NY Times site like crazy, and I find myself not really wanting to jump in the fray. The comments range from SAHMs (Stay At Home Moms) – apparently we are labeling EVERYTHING with acronyms these days, making it that much easier to stereotype people – to die-hard career women who feel they’ve sacrificed nothing as moms in high-powered jobs.
Daycare bad
Daycare good
“Daycare at 4 months old? Why don’t you just take your kid from the hospital straight to daycare?”
Contributors are a bunch of whiny rich mothers
Quit yer bitchin’
Etcetera.
Here’s the deal. Each to her own. What works for you doesn’t work for me. Vicey versey. This is a time in history when a large number of women are the primary breadwinners (especially now in the bad economy, look it up) and are mothers with responsibilities at home.
And here’s the other deal. Women’s work is this:
Laundry
Dishes
Dinner
Diapers
Bedtime
Grocery store
Dry cleaning
Vacuuming
Calendar items, including doctor and dentist appointments, financial planner, vacations
Emotional health of entire family, including remembering birthdays, hugging children when they are crying, planning family events, sympathizing with sick kids, knowing when to hold ‘em, when to fold ‘em, when to walk away
Etcetera.
It’s being charge of my own emotional health plus the mental health of the entire family that is the honest-to-goodness straw on the proverbial camel for me.
Of course not every woman feels this way. But the debate obviously goes on (86 comments on the NY Times blog) and some women, like me, feel divided, feel torn.
I do feel like the story of dads is missing in the book. These days young dads like my husband juggle work and family right along beside us. But my husband doesn’t feel torn. It’s not an identity crisis with him.
By the way, the name of this blog was almost Identity Code Red, which is highly dramatic but illustrates the point.
In this time of social change when both moms and dads are going through a redefinition of roles, why the hell wouldn’t we write about it?
By the way, there’s a need for more books like this, from fathers’ perspectives. Someone write that down and go make some money off the idea. Peace out.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Book review
Of all the reviews of Torn, and wow, there have been many, this is the one I identify with the most: http://bioblog.biotunes.org/bioblog/2011/05/03/the-conflict-of-modern-motherhood-is-all-about-guilt/
It is as hard for dads these days as it is for moms. The Old Man took two months off when Baby Girl was born. He's the one who usually takes time off of work when they're sick. He picks up the kids four days a week from daycare.
In some ways, we won't ever question men's decisions on how to craft their work days as much as we'll question women's. But it is also not a mainstream idea for a man to take major time off for his family. There's less leeway and the tacit assumption that the man's wife will be at home while he works long hours or drives two hours for an emergency work call.
The Old Man and I both keenly feel pulled in too many directions - there's got to be an easier way.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Meetings
I'm new at running meetings at work.
I asked a co-worker, our Public Involvement specialist, about an idea I had to curb sarcasm during meetings.
I buy a Nerf gun.
When I hear sarcastic or negative comments, I shoot the offender.
He pointed out that I was answering an indirectly aggressive tactic with an overtly aggressive tactic. And how does that further my goal of mutual respect and an atmosphere of collaborative problem-solving?
Still, wouldn't it be fun?
I asked a co-worker, our Public Involvement specialist, about an idea I had to curb sarcasm during meetings.
I buy a Nerf gun.
When I hear sarcastic or negative comments, I shoot the offender.
He pointed out that I was answering an indirectly aggressive tactic with an overtly aggressive tactic. And how does that further my goal of mutual respect and an atmosphere of collaborative problem-solving?
Still, wouldn't it be fun?
Friday, February 25, 2011
But still.
I think the whole world of work these days is wrapped up in worry..the economy, making more money, staying relevant even after globalization. In our respective workplaces we begin to eat each other alive, to pick and tear each other apart. Like a den of wolves, starving for fresh meat. When we're attacked by another pack, we turn on them and fight viciously.
The above is somewhat melodramatic.
But really, it's not too fun out there. I still believe that the people I work with are passionate about what they do, and will accept pay cuts, demoralizing speeches from leadership, bashes to the hard work they've done over and over again, and they will keep being passionate about what they do, because they aren't doing it for the money or the recognition or the promotions or even the camaraderie in the end. They are doing it for the deep-seated connection they have to wildlife. And when we wake up out of our blood-crazed senses and look around, we'll still appreciate that about each other.
Again, the above is somewhat melodramatic. But still.
The above is somewhat melodramatic.
But really, it's not too fun out there. I still believe that the people I work with are passionate about what they do, and will accept pay cuts, demoralizing speeches from leadership, bashes to the hard work they've done over and over again, and they will keep being passionate about what they do, because they aren't doing it for the money or the recognition or the promotions or even the camaraderie in the end. They are doing it for the deep-seated connection they have to wildlife. And when we wake up out of our blood-crazed senses and look around, we'll still appreciate that about each other.
Again, the above is somewhat melodramatic. But still.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Circus
I've moved up the ladder. Climbed, up, up, up. There's a new dynamic here. I wonder what's going on. I wonder, am I the only one who sees that some things here don't make sense? I have a coworker, who didn't get the job I got, who is a thorn in my side. Just one example of the lunacy: she has a Christmas bear that sings "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" when she squeezes its paw. I hear high-pitched Christmas music at odd times in the office coming from this bear. I fantasize about setting it on fire. Politics and interpersonal conflict rule business decisions here at the top. I'm not kidding.
The Old Man has strengths opposite from mine. He takes nothing personally, he assumes the best of everyone, and he doesn't obsess over crazy coworkers. He gave me a metaphor.
"Yes, you're in a circus. Don't be one of the clowns. Be something cool like a trapeze artist. Your boss is the ring master with the crazy hat. Christmas bear lady is a seal with a ball balanced on her nose. Be part of the circus - you have to. Just be something cool."
The circus metaphor is all I've got right now. My instinct is to forcefully and with great venom wall myself off from the craziness.
"Wish me luck having patience and being nice all day tomorrow," I told The Old Man.
"All day?" he said. "I don't think you can do it."
He knows me too well.
The Old Man has strengths opposite from mine. He takes nothing personally, he assumes the best of everyone, and he doesn't obsess over crazy coworkers. He gave me a metaphor.
"Yes, you're in a circus. Don't be one of the clowns. Be something cool like a trapeze artist. Your boss is the ring master with the crazy hat. Christmas bear lady is a seal with a ball balanced on her nose. Be part of the circus - you have to. Just be something cool."
The circus metaphor is all I've got right now. My instinct is to forcefully and with great venom wall myself off from the craziness.
"Wish me luck having patience and being nice all day tomorrow," I told The Old Man.
"All day?" he said. "I don't think you can do it."
He knows me too well.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
"Torn"
Torn is book about work and family. I'm not talking about the Torn I recently read in which a girl dies and comes back to life as a demon slayer with super-magical powers and the ability to inherit the essence of each demon she kills, thus leaving her torn between her demon and human natures.Where was I? Yes, this Torn is coming out May 2011, and it contains an essay by yours truly called "When I Sneeze, I Pee a Little."
So, if you are a mom who wants to write, a career woman who wants to procreate, a man who is married to a career woman who wants to procreate and write, or a career woman who wants to stay at home with her kids, this book is for you. Pretty much the only people this book is not for are stodgy old men who dream about the good old days when women could do the birthin' and the cookin' and the shuttin' up.
Here is what the book is about, in case my demon-slaying references were confusing:
Trying to strike the right balance between career and motherhood is one of the most stressful, heart-wrenching issues facing women today. In Torn, 46 women examine the conflict between the need to nurture and the need to work, and reveal creative solutions for having the best of both worlds. Their stories offer hope and inspiration, but also reveal the messy realities of modern motherhood and life’s inevitable crises, both small and large: from breast pump mishaps to battles with cancer; diaper blowouts to debilitating depression; competitive cupcake baking to coming home from war. In the end, the reader can take comfort in the knowledge that there is no perfect mother; nor is there a perfect balance when it comes to kids and career. The real challenge facing women today is not juggling their many roles, but realigning their expectations of what is possible and accepting that success does not equal “doing it all.”
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
I Like Pie
Hi out there. I've got a new job that is kicking my butt, so I'm tired a lot and haven't had the small hot spark of writing inspiration lately. It'll come back, I'm sure. I can do forty-three things at once, but adding the forty-fourth makes it all fall apart.
I proposed buying pies at Village Inn for Thanksgiving. The Old Man turned on the puppy dog eyes and looked as hurt as if I had just announced I was having an affair. "The crust," he said. "The crust. And we must have whip cream. Let's not repeat the whip cream disaster of 2006."
OK, so I'm paraphrasing him a bit, although if you want to see The Old Man get overly dramatic, bring up sub-par food.
Would it be wrong to take the whole family to the fabulous Golden Corral buffet for turkey day? How long will The Old Man, cringing from a mortally wounded palate, take to recover?
I proposed buying pies at Village Inn for Thanksgiving. The Old Man turned on the puppy dog eyes and looked as hurt as if I had just announced I was having an affair. "The crust," he said. "The crust. And we must have whip cream. Let's not repeat the whip cream disaster of 2006."
OK, so I'm paraphrasing him a bit, although if you want to see The Old Man get overly dramatic, bring up sub-par food.
Would it be wrong to take the whole family to the fabulous Golden Corral buffet for turkey day? How long will The Old Man, cringing from a mortally wounded palate, take to recover?
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Working Parents
What image pops into your brain when you think "working mother?" Is it a bedraggled, tired woman focused on a laptop, ignoring her screaming baby on the floor? Is it a woman with a cell phone in one hand and a crying baby in the other?
The image is a blatant stereotype of yesteryear, the invention of Stone Age guilt-mongers.
Here's the reality today: working moms and dads ARE struggling to keep their heads above water. But as they are wading through, they are holding their children up, passing them back and forth, doing everything they can to make sure their kids are happy, warm, safe, dry, rocked, cuddled and played with. Working parents - often to the detriment of their own health and schedules - go far to make sure their children are content and cared for.
Here's a new image: a muscled woman bouncing her happy smiling baby in one arm and turning off her cell phone, because she leaves work at work, where it belongs.
The image is a blatant stereotype of yesteryear, the invention of Stone Age guilt-mongers.
Here's the reality today: working moms and dads ARE struggling to keep their heads above water. But as they are wading through, they are holding their children up, passing them back and forth, doing everything they can to make sure their kids are happy, warm, safe, dry, rocked, cuddled and played with. Working parents - often to the detriment of their own health and schedules - go far to make sure their children are content and cared for.
Here's a new image: a muscled woman bouncing her happy smiling baby in one arm and turning off her cell phone, because she leaves work at work, where it belongs.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Job for my Clone
http://jobview.usajobs.gov/GetJob.aspx?JobID=90412226&aid=79134553-31810&WT.mc_n=125
The Bureau of Land Management is hiring a Wild Horse and Burro Specialist in Washington, D.C. I actually lived among and researched wild horses in college, and I meet the minimum requirements for the job. How strange that I would qualify for this job, that I have great friends in Washington D.C. and I would enjoy living there. I can almost see a parallel life...
But I have a Norah Jones Rage Against the Machine kind of love, the kind of love where the Zac Brown Band makes me get all nostalgic when I remember yesterday at 5:00 in the evening when The Old Man grabbed my ass and did the dishes and made me remember romance is about day-to-day love.
I'm ridiculously blessed that I have my man and my family. I'd never let wild horses drag me away.
The Bureau of Land Management is hiring a Wild Horse and Burro Specialist in Washington, D.C. I actually lived among and researched wild horses in college, and I meet the minimum requirements for the job. How strange that I would qualify for this job, that I have great friends in Washington D.C. and I would enjoy living there. I can almost see a parallel life...
But I have a Norah Jones Rage Against the Machine kind of love, the kind of love where the Zac Brown Band makes me get all nostalgic when I remember yesterday at 5:00 in the evening when The Old Man grabbed my ass and did the dishes and made me remember romance is about day-to-day love.
I'm ridiculously blessed that I have my man and my family. I'd never let wild horses drag me away.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Chick Lit
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=129423107&sc=fb&cc=fp
My sister brought this interesting NPR post to my attention. There is no such thing as "chick lit." Writing about home and feelings and relationships is valid.
In other news, I'm so busy that today as I was driving the kids to daycare I had a brief moment of terror because I thought I had forgotten to put my shirt on. I looked down, and indeed, I was wearing a shirt. Score.
My sister brought this interesting NPR post to my attention. There is no such thing as "chick lit." Writing about home and feelings and relationships is valid.
In other news, I'm so busy that today as I was driving the kids to daycare I had a brief moment of terror because I thought I had forgotten to put my shirt on. I looked down, and indeed, I was wearing a shirt. Score.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
That Bastard
Work tried to follow me home so I stopped the car and yanked his manicured tweezed lotiony smooth cuff-linked self out of his car and beat the shit out of him and left him bleeding by the side of the road.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Noggin. Nodding. Punkin Head. Lash Whip.
At four o'clock in the morning on Tuesday, I fell asleep on the floor with my legs folded under me. The next thing I remember The Old Man is beside me telling me I had crashed to the floor and hit my head.
I was beside the Baby's crib, waiting for her to fall back asleep. I must have fallen asleep in a weird position, gotten up too fast to take a shower, and then passed out.
The nurse on the phone told me to go the emergency room because they didn't know why I fell. When I tried to tell her that I knew why I fell, she didn't listen.
So I didn't go.
But I went to the doctor yesterday. Headaches and dizziness and trouble concentrating.
He said I have concussion and whiplash. And to take Tylenol every 6 hours.
So there is no moral to this story. Other than don't kneel on the floor and then fall asleep and then sleepwalk to the shower.
Now I have my guilt trip for my daughter. I was only in labor with her 3 hours so I can't use that one.
"You made me so tired that one night I got concussion and whiplash." That'll be a good one in twenty years or so.
I'll have difficulty concentrating, headaches, dizziness and slower reflexes for a while. So mess me with don't.
I was beside the Baby's crib, waiting for her to fall back asleep. I must have fallen asleep in a weird position, gotten up too fast to take a shower, and then passed out.
The nurse on the phone told me to go the emergency room because they didn't know why I fell. When I tried to tell her that I knew why I fell, she didn't listen.
So I didn't go.
But I went to the doctor yesterday. Headaches and dizziness and trouble concentrating.
He said I have concussion and whiplash. And to take Tylenol every 6 hours.
So there is no moral to this story. Other than don't kneel on the floor and then fall asleep and then sleepwalk to the shower.
Now I have my guilt trip for my daughter. I was only in labor with her 3 hours so I can't use that one.
"You made me so tired that one night I got concussion and whiplash." That'll be a good one in twenty years or so.
I'll have difficulty concentrating, headaches, dizziness and slower reflexes for a while. So mess me with don't.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Back to Work: 10 Tips for New Moms
You're a new mom, with a baby in daycare and a full-time job. Here are 10 tips for a smooth transition back to work:
1. Wherever you are, be there mentally. If you're at work, don't freak out if you haven't thought of your baby for 3 hours. If you're at home, don't dwell on work.
2. If you're still breastfeeding, take time to pump to keep up your milk supply. The law says you can. Don't let bosses or coworkers make you feel guilty for doing so. A hands-free pumping bra makes the time pass quickly.
3. There are no studies that show wheat beer increases milk supply. Oatmeal increases milk supply. But that's no reason you can't have a beer every once in a while to relax.
4. Take time to be with your baby when you get home. You need each other.
5. When your baby gets sick for the first time, your vacation and sick time will be depleted from maternity leave. Take a deep breath when your husband, rolling in accrued sick leave, doesn't understand that it is now his responsibility to take the baby to the doctor.
6. Don't be surprised if your boss or coworkers expect less of you now that you're a mom. Prove them wrong.
7. When your husband pouts and feels sorry for himself because he has to wake up at 5 A.M. to hold the baby while you get ready for work, try to suppress your urge to kick him in the shins. Don't worry, you probably won't be able to beat him up too bad because you're exhausted from the midnight and 3:30 AM marathon nighttime feedings.
8. Try to reach back into the recesses of your sleep-deprived brain and give your husband a break. This new baby stuff is a huge strain on relationships. He's a good guy and has a full-time job too. Wait until the baby is asleep and you are both calm to talk over any problems. Give each other the benefit of the doubt.
9. Take heart. This exhausted zombie kind of life doesn't last forever. Only for about a year. Until your next kid.
10. For Christ's sake, stop feeling guilty. If you must leave your baby in daycare, if you stop breastfeeding, if you can't make spectacular dinners anymore, if you're at your desk and all of a sudden your mind goes blank - feeling guilty about it doesn't do any good.
I think all moms are different, all families are different, all babies are different. If someone tells you there's a handbook, she's lying. I'd be interested to hear other tips from moms and dads...things that have worked for you.
1. Wherever you are, be there mentally. If you're at work, don't freak out if you haven't thought of your baby for 3 hours. If you're at home, don't dwell on work.
2. If you're still breastfeeding, take time to pump to keep up your milk supply. The law says you can. Don't let bosses or coworkers make you feel guilty for doing so. A hands-free pumping bra makes the time pass quickly.
3. There are no studies that show wheat beer increases milk supply. Oatmeal increases milk supply. But that's no reason you can't have a beer every once in a while to relax.
4. Take time to be with your baby when you get home. You need each other.
5. When your baby gets sick for the first time, your vacation and sick time will be depleted from maternity leave. Take a deep breath when your husband, rolling in accrued sick leave, doesn't understand that it is now his responsibility to take the baby to the doctor.
6. Don't be surprised if your boss or coworkers expect less of you now that you're a mom. Prove them wrong.
7. When your husband pouts and feels sorry for himself because he has to wake up at 5 A.M. to hold the baby while you get ready for work, try to suppress your urge to kick him in the shins. Don't worry, you probably won't be able to beat him up too bad because you're exhausted from the midnight and 3:30 AM marathon nighttime feedings.
8. Try to reach back into the recesses of your sleep-deprived brain and give your husband a break. This new baby stuff is a huge strain on relationships. He's a good guy and has a full-time job too. Wait until the baby is asleep and you are both calm to talk over any problems. Give each other the benefit of the doubt.
9. Take heart. This exhausted zombie kind of life doesn't last forever. Only for about a year. Until your next kid.
10. For Christ's sake, stop feeling guilty. If you must leave your baby in daycare, if you stop breastfeeding, if you can't make spectacular dinners anymore, if you're at your desk and all of a sudden your mind goes blank - feeling guilty about it doesn't do any good.
I think all moms are different, all families are different, all babies are different. If someone tells you there's a handbook, she's lying. I'd be interested to hear other tips from moms and dads...things that have worked for you.
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