#60

WordPress has been setting blogging goals for me. Never one to back down from a challenge, especially an easy one, I am here showing WordPress that I have officially created 60 blog posts with a post whose sole purpose is to be post number 60.

I changed up the design of the blog to mark this monumental occasion. Isn’t it pretty? I really like it. It was also about 3 rows down on the options page, so limited browsing was required.

Three years of blogging. Sometimes I like it; sometimes I don’t. I’m believe that I perform this task in an exceptionally half-assed manner. There’s zero consistency. Sometimes I remember to hit spell check. Occasionally, I proofread after the post is live, of course. Someday, I’m going to actually add something to the meet my family and photos sections. It will probably be along the lines of “Made Ya Look!” because the photos are on the basement computer and I blog from the living room computer. See the logic?

This has never been a place for perfection.

It’s been a place to dump my brain when the sarcasm builds to the point of combustion. It’s been a place to share with my five readers what’s going on over here with the Clowns. It’s a place for me to look back and relive how I felt at a particular moment in time.

I thank Linda for encouraging me to get started and so many others for inadvertently inspiring me to keep it going. Namely, those two heathens, because if I don’t write down and share the things they do, no one would believe me.

That’s So Cliché

Everyday I’m bombarded with clichés. It’s super annoying, so in retaliation, I’ve decided to compile a list of them in hopes of one day using every single one in a sentence.

Sports-Themed clichés:

“Full court press” Never used by someone who has actually played basketball.

“Press forward” Only used when one finds himself over-using “full court press.”

“Tee it up” I hate golf.

“On deck” Consistently used with “Tee it up.” Strangely enough golf and baseball require different swings and equipment.

“Keep the ball rolling” Eventually all balls will stop rolling thanks to gravity.

“Touch base” I really don’t mind this one that much, but I do mind when “bases” is used instead of “base.” It’s wrong and you sound like an idiot.

Industry-Specific clichés:

“True it up” Mike Holmes is the ONLY person qualified to true things up.

“Buttoned up” Well, I hope so. There are rules against such things these days.

“In the hopper” Nothing, absolutely nothing, I have done in my corporate career has ever involved an actual hopper.

“Making good in roads” Seriously? Unfortunately, my work has never, ever required me to move dirt to make an in road. Proverbial poo, yes.

“Tease out” Teasing died with Aqua Net Hairspray in 1988.

Food-Inspired clichés:

“Low-hanging fruit” Implies little effort. This is rarely to never the actual case. I also picture old man balls when I hear this one. Then I throw up in my mouth.

“Peel back the onion” I picture Shrek and Donkey talking when I hear this one. Which makes me think the person using it might be a donkey.

“Apples-to-apples” I had a supervisor once who used this phrase daily and liked to mix up the fruit so we would get bored with it. Sometimes it was bananas, sometimes oranges, sometimes different varieties of apples, however I have absolutely no recollection what he was actually comparing.

“Soup-to-nuts” Who in the heck wants nuts in their soup? Or soup in their nuts? Who eats soup and nuts simultaneously?

Uncategorized clichés:

“The buck stops here” A presidential quote. What a leader you are regurgitating words of another person.

“Circle back” I instantly picture my grandparents’ inbred border collie when I hear this one. She would circle back all day long if someone didn’t stop her.

“Flesh it out” Creepy. Gross. Weird.

“Flush it out” Used when someone doesn’t know that it’s actually “Flesh it out” I actually like this one because I instantly picture whatever program referenced is being “flushed” down the commode and I giggle.

Got over used clichés in your workplace? Please note them in the comments section. It’s important we keep record of these things.

It’s Monday Morning Sunshine!

D and I changed up the morning routine a few months ago. Mostly because he wasn’t getting to work in a timely manner and that could have not so good consequences. Since I have aspirations of one day staying home with these monkeys, I agreed we needed to change things up to keep him employed.

In the old days, D would get up and get himself ready, then get the kids ready while I got myself ready. We’d all leave the house about the same time. Those days were glorious.

Now, D gets up and gets himself ready, then sprints out the door before the shampoo is out of my hair and the kids are still sleeping. These days are not so glorious.

M and I are not morning people. We despise the wee hours of the morning. We grumble and moan. We’re slow to move. Leaving the warm cocoon of our beds takes more inner strength than one could imagine. C is not like us. She wakes up talking and does not stop. The three of us together, in the wee hours of the morning, are quite a misfit crew.

Today was a typical description of my morning, flying solo against the heathens. I will say, D did hang around today and got both kids dressed before he left. Otherwise I would have made it to work sometime tomorrow.

C really was helpful, in her own way of course. She was completely dressed and ready, standing at the storm door, tapping it and talking to the dog so the dog would bark and whine incessantly, while I tried to run around and get M in a coat that he would wear, make coffee and pack up everything. “Everything” takes 3 rather large and heavy bags.

While waiting on me, M insisted on pushing and shoving C with the edge of a Milk Bone simply because if he’s miserable; she’s going to be miserable with him. C, in typical C fashion, retaliated with screaming and whining, at an eardrum bursting decibel to make sure I as aware M was pushing and shoving her. I loaded myself down with all of the gear because God-forbid I make two trips. That would be logical.

Once we finally began our descent into the garage, the morning crescendo began. I’m partially convinced there is a hidden camera in our garage and my husband and his co-workers watch daily live feed of us leaving on his computer while they sip hot coffee and laugh.

C was out first, hurling Milk Bones at the dog and SCREAMING for her to eat her bone.

C loves having a dog because she’s ALLOWED to boss the dog. She bosses the dog as best she can; in her mind the only way to make that beast listen is to bark commands over and over and over again until the dog does something that resembles obedience. Anyway, back to the story.

The dog couldn’t hear any of her commands this morning because she was too busy jumping all over me with her dirty, slobbery body. Did I mention she ran a marathon through our muddy ditch last night? No? Well she did and no, she had not yet had a bath. And yes, business professional is the dress code at work.

M was the third out the door. While stepping off the stoop and on to the steps he lost his balance and once again (this happens weekly), nearly dove head first into the garage floor. I’m hoping by three years old, he remembers there is a step down from the garage door. I caught his head before it hit the concrete with my foot for the second time in a week without dropping the 3 bags, a can of dog food, a mug of hot coffee and car keys I was carrying. Thank goodness for big feet and outstanding reflexes.

As he was crying hysterically for me to hold him and C was still screaming for the dog to eat her bone, the dog decided to help me with M by jumping over my back and tempting to lick/bite his head. Surprisingly, M did not find this comforting.

Giving up on the efficiency of carrying everything at once, I set down the bags and cans and mugs and keys, picked up the boy and got him into the car. C finally stopped talking long enough to get herself in the car. The dog, overwhelmed by the chaos, retreated to her kennel and I took the opportunity to lock her into it.

While going back to the stoop to retrieve “everything” I could hear from the car “Mom? Hey MO-OM! Mom? Mom, I need….”

Breathing deeply and trying not to think about the fact that in 60 minutes these kids would be at the sitter and it would be 40 and 50 year olds screaming “Kelly? Hey Kelllll-llleeee. Could you….?”, I sloooooowllllyyyy walked back to the car, tightened C into her car seat and put the car into reverse.

I’m told I will miss this someday.

Hopeful that we scored an A+

Dear God,

I think we’ve passed. We took nearly all the time alloted for this test. But we found her. We found that special person who we believe has enough heart, brains and will to care for the two creative and ornery blessings you’ve given to us.

Thanks for taking us on that trip. I would agree direct routes are never fun or interesting. It’s the on the detours you find what you didn’t know existed.

C explained to our new sitter that she needed to stay put and her husband was not welcome to accept any out-of-town employment. We’ve been through this searching for a sitter thing one too many times and she is done, thankyouverymuch.

Out of the mouths of babes. Or an elderly woman named Daisy trapped in a 4 year old’s body.

I’m sorry, four and a half year old’s body.

I’m still recovering from the trauma that left me 2 days to sort this whole mess out. I can’t stop sleeping and I still sort of want to throw up. Last week I couldn’t stop eating. This week food disgusts me. Thank you for providing us health insurance and access to good doctors. My guts and I might need their assistance.

But we did it. We’re nearly through the first week. Faith, trust, and subscriptions to every babysitting site on the World Wide Web…but I think we did it.

Love,

Me

A Beautiful Saturday Morning Brunch

This past Saturday my friend Linda and I finally got together for brunch after several missed/rescheduled happy hours. All missed get-togethers were my fault because I have children and a job and neither one affords much free time. There was also that babysitter drama that caught me off guard. Long story short, we were long overdue for food, drinks and catching up.

I decided to take C with me because M had come down with the flu the evening before. D had already taken the lead on chasing M with a trash can to catch the vomit (M has zero desire to vomit in any place that might make clean up easy). I thought it’d just be best to let those two boys hang out together.

Read: I didn’t want the flu. I was not cancelling again. I hate cleaning up vomit. I am a sissy Mom and not afraid to admit it.

So, we girls had ourselves a lovely brunch. Linda and I challenged ourselves to replace the not-so-nice words we would normally use, with more preschool appropriate language. So far, I think we succeeded. There was also a buffet of donuts and other yumminess.  C behaved herself like I have never seen before. I think the gigantic donut helped.

Linda and I had decided to come back to my place so she could meet our new wonder-pup.

Do you feel it? Do you feel the chaos coming?

Because you KNOW this is not going to read, Linda comes into the house pets the well-behaved monster dog. Children smile politely and wait to be spoken to.

We all pull into the driveway. The dog sprints out of the garage and proceeds to pee all over the driveway because she is just so danged excited to meet a NEW person. As a reference, the dog drinks roughly 1 gallon of water each day and all that exits at some point. Driveway now equals Dog Pee River. Dog jumps on Linda, licks Linda, loves the crap out of Linda. Thank goodness Linda loves dogs. We all go into the house with the dog. Dog steals kids’ blankets/toys/food. Kids scream. Linda laughs. Dog tries to hide with blanket/toys/food. 60 pound puppies cannot hide. Dog jumps all over furniture. Kids scream. Husband yells. Linda stares with slightly shocked but composed look on her face.

And then for the grand finale, M vomits all over the couch.

I turn to run, but Linda is blocking my exit.

C says, “YUCK!”

D says, “Could you please get the dog out of the house?”

Dog, Linda, C and I head for the garage. Linda makes quick and polite exit. C hugs Linda. C and I hide in the garage doing important things like “hold the dog so Linda can back out of the driveway.” Subsequently we also get out of vomit clean up. My girl is learning quickly.

Strangely enough, Linda and I talk about how much fun the morning was and how we’ll definitely have to do this again.

The Neighbor’s Dog’s New BFF

Our beloved neighbor dog, Odie, is a pseudo big sister. D broke. He finally caved to a dog and in the dead of winter nonetheless. The man either loves me or he was in a desperate search for a Christmas present.

Because my brain is somewhat damaged we got a St. Bernard…puppy.

Four days after Christmas I loaded my children and my father into my car, drove two hours and picked up our precious pooch. She was much bigger in real life than she looked in her picture. But, OMG was she adorable. I got to meet her dad. If I ever pet a lion, I think it will be a similar experience to petting her dad. Not that he was aggressive, just that he was really freakin’ huge.

As we started the two-hour drive home the new pup laid down in her crate and went to sleep. My son, however, started screaming hysterically that he was going to throw up. In a panic, I maneuvered us off the highway. Once the car was in park he let me know that he was all better. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him, he was just inducing panic. Welcome to my life.

Upon getting the new puppy home, we quickly realized she came with bonus pets…in the form of worms and fleas! So that was fun. A flea treatment and two wormings later, she’s just one pet. We like her best that way.

Serenity Now

I’m determined to be calm and in control.

I will manage and attack what I can.

I will not shop my frustrations away.

I will push off and reprioritize what I can’t.

I will remember that we are only given what we can handle.

I will not throw scissors at my co-workers, no matter what favor this would be to society.

I will also not shoot staples at my co-workers.

I can’t afford to have my stapler taken away.

I will count my blessings that Pandora totally gets me today.

I will thank Flo Rida for the song Good Feeling.

I will stop wondering what has spurred this new obsession with hip hop.

I will remember, I have no rhythm and will stop bobbing my head at my desk.

I will not allow work and life to overwhelm me.

I will pass this little insanity check God has offered me.

I will remember that last year at this time, I was at a funeral. Things could be worse.

I will remember that last year at this time, I was preparing for my own new venture. Things will get better.

For the SIXTH time in 4 years we find ourselves without a sitter. Once again, life happened and we’re losing another good one. I am so excited for their family and this new venture. It’s an unexpected blessing for them. Selfishly, I know what the next month will look like (in addition to the train wreck it already was booked to be.). I know it won’t end with February and the coming months will be full of readjustment and worry.

This news comes (as it always does) while I’m attempting to manage an overwhelming amount of complex work and difficult management situations. I know why this happened. I exhaled this week. I thought about how everything–life and work—was rolling along smoothly. I thought for a split second that I had “it” under control.

Women have Pissing Matches Too

I need to get these words out of my head because the more and more I think about their source, the more angry and insulted I am getting. I’ll work on the solution/witty come-back later. For now, word vomit so I don’t go postal tomorrow morning. Sorry.

I believe I’ve mentioned I have a new co-worker. She calls me one of the following, but never ever my real name.

Kel, Kell-Bell, Hun, Honey Bunny, Sweetie.

I vomit a little in my mouth every time she addresses me. It’s insulting, degrading and I wish she knew that the only people who call me Kel are people I hate.

The thing is, I like her most of the time. I think she adds a bit of spunk to our team that has been missing. The problem is that she’s a wild card and I don’t quite know how much to trust her. Mostly because I don’t trust anyone who calls me Kel or anyone who refers to grown women as Honey Bunny. Or those who spew their resume every time they exhale.

I struggle because she seems to want to be a very supportive/mentoring type which is something I need in the “matrix” environment I find myself, but I’m not 100% her intentions are pure and I know I don’t want her as a mentor. She’s constantly attempting to bestow her 20+ years of working mother wisdom on me; ensuring that she mentions exactly how old she is and how long she’s been working in every conversation. However, I was under the apparently misguided notion that us working moms were supposed to be championing each other; not demoralizing each other with obnoxiously insulting and degrading nick-names.

She’s recently taken a step back in her career and I think adjusting to life without an administrative assistant is difficult for her. I don’t really care. Regardless of where she’s been or what she’s done, we are equals now. And this might shock her, but I’ve been a few places and done a few things too.

I think she looks at me as one of her children. If the ink had just dried on my undergraduate, I might relish in this subordinate role. Nearly ten years into jobs that actually come with benefits packages, I’m irritated with it to say the very least.

But today, today we hit a new low in the demoralizing our fellow working women.

She hugged me after a meeting.

During the meeting I had politely and professionally put another obnoxious female co-worker in her place. In attempting to congratulate me for “doing a good job” she felt I needed a hug. In fact, I saw the hug coming and tried to run, but she chased me down (more or less) to wrap me in her 20+ years of wisdom. Why I needed the congratulations or the hug is beyond me.

First and foremost, I am NOT a hugger. I’m not a toucher. I command at least 3 feet of personal space or I get twitchy. I find most huggers are not hugging because they want to offer comfort or love. Hugging is like the human form of asserting dominance. It appears as a kind gesture, but typically only the hugger wants to hug. The huggee is just trying to suffer through this “affection” so they don’t look like a b-hole for punching the hugger in the nose. Or maybe I’ve only been hugged by unethical huggers. It’s debatable.

Aside from the fact that I am predispositioned go stiff as a board, punch or run when someone’s outstretched arms are getting close to me, who the heck hugs in the workplace? Can I file sexual harassment for this? If a male co-worker had done the same thing, I certainly would have, provided I wasn’t busy bailing my husband out of jail. Why am I supposed to take it just because we are two women? I haven’t seen her hugging on our boss, or the reporting guys, so why is it okay to hug me? I strongly believe this is another form of demoralization and domination.

And I’m done with it.

Q&A

M is 2 and now we get “The Question” every where we go.

“So, are you guys going to have any more?”

Followed by an awkward smile.

I won’t get into how weird it is to have friends and family inquire about your procreation plans and/or the state of your uterus.

I mean it’s been two years since the last baby, the standard amount of time between births and I’m still under the fertility expiration date of 35 years, so it’s a perfectly logical question.

The answer? I don’t know.

There is a huge, huge part of me that would love, love, love to have another squishy, sweet baby. But I also know having another baby means, for us, leaving another baby at the sitter’s for approximately 50 hours every week. It also means dividing our free time in thirds instead of halves. It means more money, a bigger car (that is not a van), another college fund. Oh geez, and the LAUNDRY.

And then I think about what one of my great-aunts and a mother of seven said, “You just make a little more food and you wash a few more clothes. It all works out.” I instantly visualized a family sized boxed of macaroni and cheese. I don’t know why, but I was terrified.

I have solid faith that no matter what you are thrown; it will all work out, but I’m not there yet. I’m not ready to say, “Let’s out number ourselves with kids! YAY!” I’m not ready to give up our slivers of free time. I’m definitely not ready for more laundry.

But, as the time of gathering with friends and family approaches, I know the question is coming. Repeatedly. I’m certain I will field it more than D. I’m trying to think of creative responses. I don’t have any. I think I may just hold up C’s preschool picture and let it answer the question.

We’ve got our hands full folks, but thanks for asking.

Q4 in One Post

My social network skills are tanking. In an attempt to make up for a 3 month hiatus, below is a quick recap of Q4 2011. As you can see, I’m typing things like “Q4 2011” and expecting that everyone will quickly and easily interpret this as October, November and December of the year 2011 which means my job has taken over my fun hobby. I thought about outlining Q4 2011 in a Power Point presentation or “deck” for those in the biz, or possibly a fancy Excel graph with pivot tables. Maybe I could post this to a SharePoint site and you could all acknowledge through email voting that you have read it. But, I have not yet mastered pivot tables or SharePoint, so a list will have to do. And, if I did happen to start blogging through any Microsoft program other than Word, I would need someone to come rescue me, because my last reserves of creativity would be dangerously low and I might be on my way to a new career in accounting or finance. Oh crap…I’m already in finance. This is not looking good.

Q4 2011

• I haven’t been to yoga since September. There isn’t any time since C started back to preschool.
• C started back to preschool and attempted to become the second wife of one of her classmates. I stopped her from bringing the rings to school so that the ceremony could not go on as planned.
• Four year olds think being married means that you stare at each other and kiss.
• M turned 2. He woke up screaming “No!” on his birthday. This was a realistic segue from babyhood to toddlerhood.
• I made my second quilt. It only took 1.5 years.
• I managed to finally launch a program I’ve been working on since March. To much less fanfare than I expected.
• I got all of my Christmas shopping done on Thanksgiving weekend. This has been the best Christmas yet.
• I attempted to get M to sleep in a toddler bed and pee in the potty. He would rather sleep in a crib and wear diapers. We’ll try again in Q1 2012.
• M won’t let me call him “Baby” anymore. He tells me, “I not baby anymore.” I think until you can properly use vowels and put your bodily waste in a toilet, you are a baby.
• We took the kids on the Polar Express thanks to tickets from Mrs. Claus. It was AWESOME.
• I took a family self portrait using a 5-gallon bucket as a tripod. It wasn’t too bad if I do say so myself.
• The neighbors’ dog attempted to join us in our family picture. She also cleaned her girlie parts during the portrait session.
• I have a few new co-workers. We’ll stop there. That blog will probably be password protected.
• I got a new cubical. It’s smaller and I’m surrounded by those that have not read one article on cubical edict.
• I would like noise cancelling headphones for Christmas.
• I have a new work friend who is exactly like an old work friend. It’s strange and cool.
• Everyone in the family has been sick with strep throat or the 24 hour stomach bug.
• I decided that I have too much free time and I really, really want a dog. D really, really wants a fence first.
• Our dishwasher and oven both broke in the same week. Thanks to D, they are both working, but not in the automatic sense that they used to. You have to put water in the dishwasher to get it to wash and occasionally you have to thump the top of the oven to get the broiler to turn off. Minor details.
• I thought I would move the kids’ toys to the basement so that our living room would no longer look like pirates ransacked a Toys ‘R Us. Now it looks like both the basement and the living room are Toys ‘R Us stores ransacked by pirates.
• The kids have taken to holding dance parties on my and D’s bed. This involves stripping the entire bed and throwing the bedding on the floor, then cranking up my radio alarm clock and jumping. It also involves bringing all of their favorite blankets, stuffed animals and toys into our room.
• Our entire house looks like a Toys ‘R Us ransacked pirates.

And finally, my favorite kid quotes from Q4 2011:

• “Yook, yook! Sop Sign!! S-O-P spells sop!”
• “Mom! My hiney is cracked!”
• “Why are we going to see Christmas lights?” “Because it’s a fun, family experience.” “You know what else is a fun, family experience? Shopping.”
• After vomiting all over himself and his crib “I need towel Dad.”
• “I so, so sinkered.”
• “I not poopy. I all clean.”
• “Mom, I gave my brother some moneys to play with and told him not to choke on them.