My Sore Arm

I am working this week (well, except for yesterday which was taken to celebrate Toddler Pukefest – 2006) and I have to tell you that I feel cheated in some way. The parking garage here at work is almost completely empty, with everyone taking vacation this week. I chose not to take vacation, however that is NOT the point. The point is (oh, shut up – I am getting to it) that it feels wrong to work when nobody else is. Wrong, wrong, wrong. And more of the wrong.

I sit here, trying to accomplish great things – like year end employee reviews, left over training for our new time reporting system, filter through the 4336 emails that I have not yet gotten to (I am totally NOT making up that number) and other miscellaneous stuff. I am not doing a very good job of any of it. Next year maybe I will take the holidays off too.


Here is my challenge for you staying at home lumps of uselessness today: Carry around – in your left arm - a 25 pound weight (in the form of a sick, clingy, dead-weight toddler) all day long. This weight will accompany you EVERYWHERE YOU GO. You will not be permitted to put it down every – or you will be subjected to horribly pathetic (and loud) screams of discontent. Take this weight to bed with you as well, enduring hours of kicking, patting, pulling and general annoyance. And then, just like me today, walk around wondering why your freaking arm hurts so much.


My Christmas Memory

I have a nice life now, however I have not always had it so easy.

My mother raised my brother and I by herself. She worked hard, sometimes two jobs, sometimes at night – doing whatever it took to give us the things we needed to survive. Some years were harder than others… some sting just thinking about them – like the years where there were no Christmas presents and people brought us donated food in boxes so that we would have a nice dinner. Some years were very, very good – like the years when my mom was able to buy me a prom dress and shoes. Overall, it was a fantastic childhood, however those hard holiday years still stick with me. I blame them for my disdain of Christmas. And, I believe they are the reason I always go overboard with gift giving. I tend to spend too much money, buying the kids too many things…but it makes me feel good to do it – because I can.

I remember one Christmas where there was next-to-nothing under the tree. It was not the worst Christmas in my memories but it was near the bottom. It did include free food from the Church (which was amazing, and I loved it, and I don’t mean to knock the charity at all), and we had friends surrounding us and we were all fairly healthy and happy – so that part was good.

-- Let’s establish right now that I know Christmas isn’t about toys, or clothes. It isn’t about giving or receiving things. It is about something grander…it is about family and religion and hope. It can be so much more than I used to make of it – but to a kid – it is about the stuff. And as a kid – I just never had the stuff.--

So that very memorable year, we went to a friend’s house for Christmas dinner. It was one of the most painful holidays I can recall, because it was the first year I remember noticing how little we had in comparison to those around us. I walked into our friend’s house to a house full of new toys and clothes. I had never witnessed such a lavish display of gifts. I had no idea that people lived like that…and boy did it sting. Yes I was shallow. Yes it was wrong. But I was 10, and had received a book of life savers and a cat calendar. It was not the worst year in terms of gifts received, but it paled in comparison to the stuff those kid were given from Santa. The Santa they still believed in. The Santa that I came to know didn’t exist when I was 4 because my parents had gotten divorced and my dead-beat dad packed up and left town to some unknown place in the country where he could squander away his money and never ever again be forced to send to us – leaving us poor, poor, poor. Stupid fake Santa.

Is there a point to this? No idea. I just know that I always think about my past this time of year. I think about how far I have come and I think about those less fortunate. I try to give money, gifts, time to those less fortunate and hope that I make a difference to them. I hope that I can make the holidays just a little bit better for someone who is now in the same boat as me all those years ago. I hope you do the same.


My 18 Month Old Boys

The boys went to the doctor the other day for their 18 month checkups…and they are still HUGE. Roark is around the 75-80% for height, while Cole is in the 90-95% (1 ½ in difference). Weight is the same with Cole at 34 pounds and Roark at 33. They walk, run, jump. They play together, make car noises (VAROOOM), laugh at the most mundane things, love to be chased, and they actually do talk a little. Roark says poopoo, diaper (byeber), ice, doggy (goggy), ROAR (when asked what a bear says), woof (hoof), fatty, die, no, yeah, dada, mama, quack (kack), and says a few other things we cannot figure out. Cole is a little less interested in the whole talking thing – he says no (nyah), die, doggy (doddy), dada, mama, ice, meow (mow), quack (kack), poo, and a few others. They are great at repeating (god help us) but don’t tend to walk around talking for no good reason. They try to use a spoon. They drink from a cup. They do still use pacifiers but we are starting to only let them have them at night. They still take two naps a day (although as I write this Roark is protesting nap number two by screaming from his bed). They love to play at the park and think the slide is the bomb. They color with sidewalk chalk and crayons, although eating the tools seems to be the preference. Overall, they are doing great… it is amazing what little boys they have become.


My 1/2 Marathon

Not much interest in reading any blogs today. A lot of work to do and just feel drained. We ran the White Rock ½ Marathon Sunday…and it has left me wanting for energy.

Our time was not bad…2:15 for the ½ which was our stretch goal. That would bring us in around 4:30 for a full, with a stretch goal of 4:15. I think that would be fantastic. I used to dream of a sub-4 marathon, however I am not sure that is realistic based on my past times. I don’t know if my block is physical or mental, but it sure does irritate me.


My Journal

When I think about this journal and try to figure out what its purpose is I tend to get a little confused. However I started thinking about it this way: If this journal were written by my mother as a gift to me…what would I want it to say? If I am leaving this as a legacy or as a reminder of my life, what is important to complete? Interesting no? I of course didn’t come up with any answers, but the thoughts were good. And I think I like what is here and feel that it serves its purpose for me. It is about my life – my hopes and dreams...and failures. It is for my family – who all have the link and sometimes even read – so that they know what is in my heart. It is a record of my life and the things that are important to me. I like that. It feels right.

I have been reading Tuesday’s with Morrie to the boys (when I read which is every-other-night). It has made me think about my life quite a bit. I wonder if I were to cease living today how successful would I rate my life, my relationships? I am sure that I wouldn’t stack up to the Morrie’s of the world. Would you?


His Sweetest Moment

Roark was crying around midnight so I went into the room and watched him for a minute – he was struggling to get comfortable, looking around for someone to pick him up. I scopped him up into my arms and carried him back to bed with me. I know that this won’t last long –that he will be big and brave and won’t need me like this soon enough. I laid down, him beside me, sharing a pillow and squishing under the covers. He leaned into me, his forehead against mine, noses touching. His little hand reaching up stroking my face as he fell asleep. It was by far one of his sweetest moments and I wish it could have lasted forever.

My 12 Miles

Next weekend is a ½ marathon here in Dallas. A ½ marathon that I so eagerly signed up for MONTHS ago. I sit here now and wonder what I was thinking when I decided to race in the middle of December at 0-dark-thirty in the morning. I can say with some amount of certainty that I was either drunk or just not thinking at all.

We went on our last long run before the race this past weekend. My husband and I went around 3:00 when the boys were sleeping so that we wouldn’t have to drag them along in the cold. It is nice having teenagers at home. So, so nice. At 3:00 it is usually fairly warm. Not on Sunday. It was windy, and cold. There was sun, however it was slacking and not providing a damn bit of heat. So, we started out bundled in sweatshirts/jackets/gloves/hats. We were wearing shorts thinking (optimistically) that it would warm up a bit once we got going. And it did…we did. We got warmer and ran back to the car to drop off jackets/sweatshirts, because we didn’t want to carry that stuff for the whole run. BIG MISTAKE. I even held onto my hat and gloves, but it didn’t seem to matter. From that point on, it didn’t warm up. In fact, it just got colder as the sun set and we never really got warm again.

2 hours later we returned to the car – freezing and tired. And sore. I have a freaking sore hip – like I am 90 or something. I am amazed at my ability to fall apart at such a young age and this is the icing on the cake. I am two days out of that long run and it is hard to walk, or even lay on that side. I am just not looking forward to 13.1 miles on Saturday.


Email I Received This Morning


I am passing this on to you because it definitely worked for me and we could all use a little more calmness in our lives. By following this simple advice I heard on the Dr. Phil show, I have finally found inner peace.

Dr. Phil proclaimed, "The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you've started and never finished."

So, I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished, and before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of White Zinfandel, a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream, a bottle of Kahlua, a package of Oreos, the remainder of my old Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some Doritos and a box of chocolates.

You have no idea how freaking good I feel. Please pass this on to those you feel might be in need of inner peace.


Sending Out a Search Party

Actual conversation overheard at health club:

Damn girl! I won’t be putting no thong on this fat ass… My ass is so big – they would have to send out a search party to find it!


Roark is sitting on the floor at my feet playing with toys (well that and pooping). Cole is standing in the living room trying to throw balls at me…he of course misses every time, but is quite determined so I imagine I will get pegged at any moment. He thinks “Ouch!” is funny. Which it totally is NOT.



Random Stuff (A.K.A – I cannot think clearly and have no desire to write anything creative or even remotely interesting)

My town is supposed to be filled with a “wintry mix” tomorrow. Given that I live in Texas, I am not much of a believer.

I burned my ear with the flat iron a few days ago and now it randomly bleeds all over my hair. Sexy.

No X-Ray results yet on my daughter. They are slow and incompetent. I called the doctor’s office today asking about them, and they didn’t have the results YET. They called me back a few hours later and asked where we had them done. Ummm, the hospital. Where they SENT US. When I told them this, they seemed confused. Where exactly did they expect to go? I now fully expect them to tell us they are lost and would we please go get them done again…lather, rinse, repeat.

I have been so tired the past few days. I have felt amazing the past few weeks overall, and now suddenly feel myself slipping back to yucky, tired, and worn out feeling. What is up with that?

Christmas is upon us and I have done next to nothing in the way of Christmas shopping. I have ordered stuff for my boss, my husband’s boss, and his dad. That is it. I have not done anything beyond that – and I did that stuff yesterday. I have thought about ordering online, but cannot get motivated to do any of it. How doomed am I?

Tonight I am making grilled sausage with sautéed peppers and onions for dinner. I have no idea what else to make with it. Maybe I will serve it with Pop Tarts or Pez. Sounds perfectly nutritious to me.

I am supposed to run today, but have no desire to drag myself outside and actually do it. At the very least I should be going to the gym. You know, we are running in a ½ marathon in 2 weeks and I am just not ready. Luckily we did manage to get in a 10 mile run last weekend, so I am no longer worried that I won’t make the full 13 miles, but I have to admit that the long run about killed me. Who’s idea was this run anyway? Oh yeah…mine. Damnit!

I had sushi from our cafeteria for lunch today. I wish I had not done that. Now my office smells like dead fish and I am still hungry.

Work blows. It is hard. It is VERY thankless. My customer hates me. I have so much work to do, and no time. And yes, I know I have said all this before.

I need a drink. Like a two-bottles-of-wine drink, or a six-pack drink. Not just a silly little one-drink drink. Does that mean I have a problem? If I recognize that it is a problem, can I still continue to drink? If not, forget I mentioned that.

And finally cute picture of the day:


My Daughter, My Son

My daughter has a back ache. She has had it for a long time. It won’t go away and it is scaring me a little bit. We had x-rays taken, but we have not gotten the results. Apparently we don’t rank on the doctor’s list. This is a bit of a pain when you are a parent and you want to fix things, like NOW. Hopefully we will hear back today. She is on pain killers now, after having been on muscle relaxants (none of which are helping even a little bit).

My son has a bruised face. He got it yesterday. Do you want to know how this happened? My sweet, lovable black lab bit him. We don’t know why. He was being supervised. The dog has never shown aggression toward the boys. He was not being abused, hurt, neglected. He just decided to take a bite out of Roark’s face… We think his leg that had TPLO surgery last year is hurting him, and when Roark touched it Shiner freaked out. So – to the doggie doctor we must go. If he is not hurt or sick, we are going to involve a dog trainer. If he has no behavior issues, we are going to consider giving him away…which makes me very, very sad. And – if we give away Shiner, we will give away Zieggy too, and wait until the boys are older to have pets. I love my dogs and I wish that this had never happened.


My Boys:

I look at you sleeping at night and I am amazed that you even exist. Your perfect faces, your tiny fingers and toes, your beautiful eyelashes are all works of art. I see myself and your father in the things that you say and do. You have personalities already and although sometimes undesirable, I love your actions and reactions to things that go on in this wild house.

Before you were born, your father and I would spend time talking about having a child someday. We never discussed more than one – knowing pregnancy was not where I was a Viking. I would imagine a little boy or girl in our lives, laughing, teaching us, driving us crazy (ok, crazier) – but I never imagined the joy that the two of you have brought us. To have you both, healthy and happy is a miracle in every definition possible.

I cannot wait to see you grow up. Watch you discover your likes and dislikes, plan your future, embark on great adventures. I cannot wait to meet the adult men that are now my little boys.

I want you to know that no matter what decisions you make in your life, no matter what you say or do – I will always, always love you. I will do everything I can to give you a good life full of support and love and understanding. I want you to have the opportunity to fulfill your dreams.

I love you so much.



Let Me Count the Ways

I didn’t expect this to have the effect on me that it has. Sure, it was a sad story. Yes, it was one that kept me reading and feeling like I wanted to help if possible… but I didn’t ever expect it to seep into the crevices of my thoughts and heart and change my thinking, change me in the way that it has. My heart goes out to this family in a way I cannot describe and I cannot even explain why. Why has this affected me so deeply? Why has it changed my outlook on life? Why has it changed my feelings about my own family?

I was thinking about AT and his kids and the loss of his wife this weekend. I was so in awe of his love for her, and his ability to express it when she was sick, dying, and then after she passed away. I found myself telling complete strangers about the way he was able to articulate his feelings…it was that moving to me. And as I thought about this, I wondered why we tend to wait until people are sick, dying, or dead to tell them how we feel. I am not sure why we don’t invest more in our relationships while they are alive, growing and able to become better and better… Why do you think that is? Why do we take our relationships for granted?

I am going to *try* not to do this. I want to let those close to me know how I feel while we are healthy and alive. I want to make these relationships the best that they can be – and want those that I love to know how I feel. I want to make a difference in their lives while they have a chance to recognize and enjoy it.


Delayed Driving

So I am out of town and it is everything I hoped it would be. Plane left late in a whirlwind (literally) – having some of the worst windy weather on record in Dallas. Many flights were cancelled and MANY MANY delayed. Mine was extremely late. Figures. I got into Baltimore and had missed my two meetings, at which point I spent over two hours traveling a distance that should have taken just over an hour. Bad traffic and a closed highway made that a fun drive. This is all typical for me when traveling. I have a co-worked that always gets hit with bad luck, but I do believe my experiences run a nice second to his.

Driving to the hotel last night, in my usual “in a hurry, god would you FREAKING HURRY UP” fashion, I realized that I am never calm, at peace or content when driving. I am always in such a mad hurry to get where I am going and am continually irritated with anyone else on the road that has the potential to be in my way. I am not sure why I am like that. The time in the car could be relaxing, an escape. But I don’t ever look at it that way. When this finally dawned on me I settled down, sat back and enjoyed the scenery. Then – it got dark and I slipped back in to “get me the hell off the road mode”. Perhaps there is no hope for me.


Freak Out

I have access to this site maintained by the school system that my kids are students in. I can log in at any time and see their past and current grades in any class, and can drill down to grades on each assignment. I must say that I am FREAKING GLAD THIS WASN’T AROUND WHEN I WAS IN SCHOOL. Now my kids have the potential to get chewed out on a daily basis vs. once every 6 weeks. I know that they regret me telling me about this and wish they had never mentioned it. I would have found out eventually, but they may have been granted a little more peace until then. I don’t want to embarrass them here and tell you current standings, but lets just say that we are in discussions at this very minute as to 1) what in the hell have you been doing for the past 2 weeks and 2) how do you fail your mother tongue?

No Progress

I just realized when reading through stuff from last year that I have made NO PROGRESS on my weight loss plan. NONE. This is sad. I feel like I have worked at it...and yet, not so much. Damn lack of progress.

Travel Advisory

I have to travel over the next few days – and for those of you who know me, you know how much I hate to travel for work. I am the biggest baby when it comes to this – the worlds most pathetic homebody. I miss being with the boys and my husband. I miss my bed and my family and my office. I miss everything about being home and hate when I am not here...

I am Lucky

So many things have happened lately in the world that make me reflect on my life, on my family and on my unbelievable luck. I have healthy kids, a wonderful husband, a steady job – I am (mostly) sane, I have reliable care for the boys during the day, the girls go to good schools, we have enough money to live comfortably.

I look at my boys and I know that I am a good parent. They are happy people. They smile, they laugh, they have a sense of humor. They are starting to talk and mimic me and I like what I see. They are not running around yelling “NO NO NO” all day. They tell you about rocks and outside and flowers. They talk about the doggie and kitty and their toys. They pretend to be talking to people on the phone and they always seem so completely…content. It is nice. Don’t get me wrong – they have their stubborn and obnoxious moments (hours), but overall they are happy wonderful kids.

I look at my girls and I know that I am a good parent. When they are with me they are happy. They laugh, they smile, they joke around. They enjoy being with the family and love talking to me – either in person, on the phone or via text messages. They like playing games and going camping with us – enjoy being around us most of the time. They are of course teenagers and have that wonderful attitude that generally accompanies that age, but overall we are happy together.

I look at my husband and I know how truly lucky I am. He is my rock when times are tough. He is my source of humor when the days are long and difficult. He really is my best friend – and he is hot too (lucky me).

I look at my life and I know I am lucky.


Hazy Morning, Lingering Dream

I had this dream early this morning and it was so real…real enough that I have thought about it ever since. When I was running this morning I just couldn’t get it out of my head – and yet… I cannot remember really what it was about. Does that ever happen to you?



The boys are sitting here eating lunch “aye-yah aye-yah uh, uh, uh” followed by giggles rings through the kitchen. The dogs are laying under the high chairs expecting to get fed any and all leftovers. Macaroni and cheese and bananas cover their trays, and their hands and faces. Todd is reading strange news and eating lunch. As I sit here typing this, I am thinking how lucky I am. What a wonderful life I have. I am so grateful for every moment with this family – for every weekend we have together. Later today we are going running in one of my favorite places – River Legacy Parks in Ft. Worth. Then we will head over to Todd’s dad’s house and spend the night playing cards, drinking wine and watching the boys get into trouble. It will be a perfect day.

The Dead Guy ALWAYS Wins

Don't tell me people pay attention to who they are voting for.

This guy was dead for a MONTH and he still won the election... that is funny.


Horrible and Amazing

What would you do if your spouse was in the hospital, sicker than you could have ever imagined – and nobody knew what was wrong? Would you keep your sense of humor? Would you blog through the day to keep everyone updated on what was happening? Would you continue to be a kick-ass parent taking care of the kids and house and everything else that happens in daily life while your world crumbles around you?

Take a look at this. The struggle is horrible, the composure and passion amazing. My heart goes out to this family.


I am Shallow

There is, no lie, a man who has a cube outside my office whos name is Jesus. I find myself resisting the urge to whisper prayers as I walk by on my way to a meeting.

I Will NEVER Forgive You

Although I know that being unforgiving sucks the life energy out of a person, there are a few people whom I have never forgiven.

I have not forgiven my mother - for accusing me of taking her credit card and using it at an expensive restaurant when I was 17. As it turned out, it was her co-worker who had not received her renewal yet, and had used my mom’s for a business luncheon in a tight bind.

I have not forgiven the Pepper’s – they locked me in the basement of their house while babysitting for me when I was no more than 4 years old. I wouldn’t take a nap so they put me in the basement, shut off the lights and locked the door to the upstairs – after telling me that the boogie man lived down there. I believe this is why I am still afraid of basements.

I have not forgiven these people – although I admit that I can’t even remember their name. I cannot imagine what kind of bully the boy grew up to be based on his demeanor at age 6.

I have not forgiven Allen Crawford - a former boss that hit on me. I had not been in a situation like that before. It completely ruined my image of authority figures and for the first time made me really, really hate my job. Interestingly enough, this has happened several times since then, but that time was the first, therefore is the receiver of the bulk of my anger. I think the difference is that now I am prepared for it – am more mature and have a lot of experience behind me. This makes it easier to diffuse these situations when/if they do arise.

I have not forgiven myself – for many, many, many mistakes I have made over the years. No matter what happens in my life it seems that it is hardest to forgive myself.



I did go to the gym yesterday afternoon and I worked out. Yeah me. I also went running this morning and set a recent record, 53 minutes. I am in trouble as I have a ½ marathon to do in December and am not even close to ready for it. I should be up to an hour and a half at LEAST by now, or 2 hours if I were well prepared…oh, that is going to hurt.

I do have to say that the run today felt fantastic. I have not really run more than 1/2 hour in a while...blame sickness, laziness, whatever - but it just hasn't happened. Today it was in the 40s and foggy...which made the landscape interesting. It was cool enough to feel cold at first but warm up to a great temp after I got used to it. Nothing hurt, breathing was easy - it was just a good run overall...and this all on top of 3 hours of sleep last night!


About the 3 hours of sleep... lets just say that Cole is teething and is not much himself these days.


I didn’t vote today. I suppose I feel slightly guilty, yet at the same time I know that my vote would be wasted. I have not done the due diligence needed to make any type of intelligent decision about who our leaders should be, and I am directly opposed to voting straight ticket of any kind. I think that shows complete ineptitude. I am not a fan of supporting stupidity – so I waived my rights today. What would you do if you had not done the research to know who to vote for? Would you vote anyway, feeling as though doing something is better than nothing? Would you cram for the vote and stay up all night studying candidates and options? Or would you just not go?


Operation Isn’t It About Time To Finally Lose The Damn Post-Baby Weight

Right now I am contemplating going to the Gym in order to support Operation Isn’t It About Time To Finally Lose The Damn Post-Baby Weight, and leaning unhealthily toward “stay here and keep reading nonsense”. I have the time, I am only a few blocks away. The boys are asleep. I won’t be missing a thing…and yet, and yet… here I still am. I know I NEED to go, but I DON’T WANNA. Why is that? And, as I sit here I am staring down two overfilled laundry baskets full of clean clothes just begging to be folded and put away (and there is another one downstairs in the laundry room if you must know the truth – GOD you are pushy). I know I need to fold it, but I don’t. The bathroom is a mess and needs to be cleaned. Our bedroom needs to be vacuumed. There are a million things that I really need to do, and yet I sit here and read the news and read email and avoid all contact with responsibility. So – now. Here. For all 5 of you to read is a complete rip-off of my husband’s 2006 New Year’s Resolution. I now resolve NOT TO BE LAZY. From here on out, I will not spend the day looking forward to sleeping. I will no longer let the laundry pile up, the dirt take over the house and the bed go unmade for days (ok, weeks – it is weeks). I will get off my ass and go to the gym, and keep the house clean and weed the flower beds. I will work during work time and contribute to the living.

I will start right now by going to the gym. Damn gym.

My Working Life

Do you have those days (weeks, months) where you don’t enjoy work anymore? Where it has somehow become this “have to” that sucks the will to live right out of you? You will do anything to avoid it – to stay clear of that responsibility so that you don’t get pulled down into the depression that it seems to rain on you?

Yeah – work is that fun.



We spent 20 minutes wrangling two toddlers into skeleton costumes for 10 minutes of trick-or-treating. Not sure it was worth it.

To Do or Not to Do

What am I putting off right now?

  • Getting old amalgam fillings replaced (dentist = torture and pain)
  • A serious review of our budget (if I ignore it, will it go away?)
  • Getting the windshields in the cars replaced (3 months and counting)
  • Cleaning my bedroom
  • Annual girly exam (don’t count on this happening anytime soon)
  • Cleaning the garage (oh I make me laugh)
  • Cleaning the laundry room
  • Work, work, work

Changing Seasons

It is finally cold outside. The summer is over and fall is in full-swing here. This may be the first time I have been thrilled to see the changing seasons. Is that a sign of getting old? I used to hate the changing seasons – I would live for summer, spending all day baking in the sun. I cursed spring, fall and winter until summer arrived again. When I moved to Texas it was like a slice of heaven…it never snowed, it was hot, hot, hot most of the year, and I reveled in the wonderfulness of it. Times have changed. I have changed. Here it goes: I like the cold too. That wasn’t so bad.



It seems like every few months someone gets all up in arms about something someone said about someone else and someone picks up their toys and goes home…or decides not to write in their journal anymore. I guess I am just a simpleton, because honestly I just don’t care about all of that stuff going on out there. I am not the popular kid at school and I usually don’t even know that people are fighting until it is so long over with that I feel like I have just discovered some supposed ‘little known top secret fact’ which was actually highlighted in the issue of Time that I read at my dentists office – which happened to be 4 months old by the time I found it to begin with. So – needless to say, I am not the one in the know around here. And even when I think I am in the know, I am actually WAY BEHIND, because dude, I don’t even read the current events until they are 4 MONTHS OLD.

See, I read this here: and I then I read this here: and then I read this here. And you know what? Eh – I just really didn’t care either way. So here we are and I have not much to say. I get that someone made fun of someone's kids hair. Ummm, is there more to it than that? There must be, but I am missing the point. Man - I had my kids heads shaved - if you want to make fun of kids, hop on over to my site and it is a free-for-all. Like I said, I am sure I am missing the point.

So my weekend was nice and quiet. I took a lot of vicodin, napped quite a bit, recovered from a kidney infection and a sore tooth and well, that was about all that happened. Seriously. We didn’t do a damn thing. I didn’t type anything, read anything, watch anything on the computer. Not once. I watched some TV, but I didn’t strain myself. It was glorious. Seriously.

And now? I am sleepy. So sleepy. So very, very sleepy…and I have work to do. And kids to go home to. And more work there. So there is that.


Buy Ruffles...or else you are stupid.

Photo shoot at the grocery store over the past weekend...


Parties and Police

Friday night went off without a hitch. Ha. HAHA. HAHAHAHAHA. Whew! That is a funny one. What? Oh right…you don’t yet know about the disaster that was my Friday night. It can be summed up by saying that my newly 15 year old daughter is grounded until January. It was THAT fun.

The details, you ask? You couldn’t stop me if you wanted to.

Girls started arriving for Brittany’s birthday around 7. One girl showed up and left only 15 later because her mother didn’t want her going to a haunted house without adult supervision. I thought this was pretty funny. My husband and I planned to drop them off (all 11 of them, mind you) at the haunted house with money, and then go out to dinner. They were to call us when they were done and we would come get them. We were about 5 minutes away the whole time. But, this girls mother didn’t like that idea so she couldn’t stay. I laughed at her and her mistrust of the girls. Ummm, lets just say that she is smarter than me. MUCH SMARTER.

The haunted house part was fine. We dropped the girls off and went to dinner at Dakota’s – which by the way was AWESOME. After dinner we headed over and picked up the girls who were ready to go home. So far, so good. We then headed home and ordered them pizzas. After the pizza arrived, Todd and I went to bed. It was midnight, I was tired. We went to sleep.

At 3:00am there was a knock on the bedroom door. It was Brittany – and she was quite persistent with the damn knocking. She announced that there was a policeman downstairs on the front porch that wanted to talk to us…which of course got our attention. I grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt and headed downstairs. I bet I looked HOT.

Officer Something-rather proceeded to tell us that two of the girls that were staying at our house were currently 2 blocks away being detained by another officer. And, that they had seen my daughter and another one of her friends walking back from the park only minutes before. 3 AM!!!! According to the police, there were a bunch of girls at the park horsing around with some guys in a gray car – 2 fifteen year olds and an 18 year old. They were loud and obnoxious and someone called the cops to shut them up. According to my daughter, they were hanging out at the park “because we wanted to swing” when all of a sudden some guys showed up and then she left. Never-mind that one of these guys is the one my daughter went out on a date with last week…because that is simply not important (yeah, right).

I sent my daughter and her friend inside, grabbed a sweatshirt (it was 40 degrees out) and went over to where the other girls were being held. There were two police cars with lights on and a few policemen standing around. One of the girls was sitting on the curb alone. The other was nowhere to be seen. I walked over to the infamous silver car and opened the door – and found girl number 2. I got her out of the car and of course yelled at them both. WTF? What were they doing out at 3am – in a car with boys – when they were under our care at our house???? One of the girls called her mom, who came and got her. The other girl couldn’t get in touch with her mother, and came back home with me.

My husband said, and I agree, that we will never really know what was going on – but I think I have a pretty good idea. I think that all of the girls were up at the park – after calling the boys and asking them to meet them there. Two of the girls were hanging out in their car, and the other girls got cold – and since there was no room in the car for anyone else, they went home to get warm. Brittany and her friend went home and then back to hang around the boys, but left again when they heard the police cars.

Turns out that the car belonged to boy my daughter has been ‘going with’ – or rather to his father, who was out of town. The 18 year old was a friend…whom he let drive the car. That would have REALLY made me mad if it had been my car. Can you imagine? The two girls that were with the police received citations for breaking curfew, as did the two younger boys. The older boy was given a $250.00 ticket. The car was towed. I grounded my daughter. The two girls that received citations are grounded, and the younger boys are grounded. And even though all of the girls should be grounded, I didn’t tell their parents what happened, so they are home free.

We didn’t get back to sleep until after 5, and had to get up at 6:30 with the boys. Doesn’t that sound like fun?


Gouls and Groul

I have a date tonight with my husband. We are taking my daughters and 9 of their friends to a haunted house and leaving them there – and we are going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. I have never been to Dakota's...it is supposed to be great. CANNOT WAIT! Will drink wine. And be happy.

Dumbest Sentence Ever

Actually spoken in a meeting today:

“I would like to compliment you preemptively for the work you have already done”



We went to a concert last night – by Cowboy Mouth. It was a week-night, so we were really living on the edge. Out past midnight when you have to go to work the next day? Doesn’t happen here very often. But, it was a band that I have heard a few songs from and liked, we were going with some great friends we don’t see often enough, and another friend of ours LOVES this band, so I knew it would be a good time…even if we were out late.

Sitting in the audience I was in awe at the following this band had, the energy they could drag out of the audience, the fun they had. During one song, Hurricane Party, everyone threw Tootsie Rolls on the stage. During another one, Everybody Loves Jill, everyone held up red spoons and then when they sang the words “With her red spoon” they threw the spoons at the band. It was like a Rocky Horror cult following. And the greatest part was the lead singer. He plays the drums and sings, and has more energy than a 5 year old on Halloween night (after eating the candy). He yells and screams, and preaches in a way. He has a way of getting pretty much everyone involved in what is going on. And if you don’t want to get involved? He will literally come yell at your ass and make you participate. It had the potential to be annoying, yet wasn’t at all.

Toward the end of the concert I looked out onto the crowd of people – maybe a few hundred, as it was a fairly small bar-type hall they were playing in – I got the feeling that I had been there before. It wasn’t the place that felt familiar (although it was) or the people (although they were). It was the way people were acting. The response they were giving this band. It brought me back to my days in the Pentecostal church… people with there hands in the air, waving them back and forth…eyes closed, concentrating on the words in the songs…listening to the words, drinking everything in.

It was – for lack of any better explanation or words – a religious experience for many of those people. These people were so committed to this band, so connected to the music, so happy to ‘belong’ – that they just let themselves go and didn’t focus on anything but what they were seeing and hearing. Strangely though – it didn’t make me feel like this was special or fantastic. It simply re-iterated what I have felt for many years: Church is simply a social experience, a pep rally for folks that need to feel like they belong to something greater than themselves.

Driving and Living

Driving down the road, looking at all of the neon signs, car dealerships, high rise buildings, I begin to wish for the simpler times. I wonder how life in the 1800’s would have differed and how much of my energy would be consumed by frivolous things. There are so many things bidding for our attention, for our money. Everywhere you look there is some ad or store trying to get you to spend some of your time there, some of your money there, some of your energy thinking about them. It seems unfair. Why should I spend even a second glancing at a bulletin board for Harley Davidson Motorcycles, or La Madeline coffee? It seems wrong to use my mental abilities to think about Saab’s or Mustangs, or even boats. I hate that we have so much pressuring us in life – so many things distracting us from just LIVING.


Injury Ends Shiner Bock’s Brilliant Career

Shiner Bock, originally uploaded by ckindsfather.

Only 11 months after surrendering to surgery for his knee, Shiner Bock has announced his retirement from professional ball retrieving. He had been wavering on a final decision until earlier this week when a mild sprint brought him to his paws. As he lay looking up at the blue sky, he knew that his career was over.

There is virtually no strength left in Shiner’s knee to carry his worn-down body through another chasing season.The 96 pound black lab turned 5 this year, and although young in mind, he had to face his reality, and cancelled plans for a graceful farewell appearance in the park amongst all of the children. Instead, Shiner will turn over his grand ball collection to Ziegen Bock as chew toys.

It was not as if Shiner had no time to prepare. The Kindsfather’s persuaded Shiner to push through another season running after balls, but then he hurt his knee, had surgery, and finally injured his leg again. Retirement was imminent before his owners this week declared that his knee problems were career-ending.

The media conference yesterday (which aired nowhere for nobody) was possibly the biggest in sport since Sassy won the ball chasing record a few years ago. Shiner said it was one of the toughest days of his life, starting with fronting up to his brother in the morning before their regular walk and letting him know this was it.

“Woof”, (translation: I couldn't even look them in the eye, it was that sad) Shiner said.

“Woof, woof, woof”, (translation: Being a part of ball catching for the last 4+ years, you train catching a ball, you eat and sleep basically with balls, you do it every day, and it's just so sad to not be a part of it any more. But life must go on)

And lastly, “woof” (translation: Ball catching has been my life — or half of it. It means so much to you and you don't realize until you have to hang the ball up how much it does mean. I haven't thought too much about what I'm going to do after retrieving balls. I wish I could lay here and just lick mine, however they were removed).

My 15 Year Old Daughter

My youngest daughter is 15 years old today. 15 years torn from the calendar in what feels like months. It is hard to explain the passing of time, to capture the emotions and activities in a way that lets anyone else but me understand all that has happened and how much these 15 years have meant to me. I barely remember a life without Brittany in it. I know for certain I would never want a life without her.

She was born with a heart much larger than a child should have. She is passionate about everything in her world. Everything is either fantastic or a tragedy – there is no in-between for her. She lives life to the fullest – always interested in what is going on, who is going where, who said what. It can make your head spin to see her in action, but most of the time it simply makes me laugh.

She is such a different person from me. She is the person I longed to be in high school. She is popular and cute, and so sure of herself. She isn’t influenced by her friends the way I was – she is steadfast in her beliefs and is proud of the decisions she makes. I don’t see her caving on her desires simply to ‘fit in’, although she certainly seems to fit in anyway. Where did that confidence come from? How did she obtain it so young?

I am scared to see her working her way into the world – a world that will take advantage of her generous heart. Yet, I am so proud of her and look forward to watching her continue to grow and laugh and learn.

Happy Birthday Brittany. I love you.


Letters to People at the Gym

To the man on the treadmill in front of me at lunch today: The farts are FOUL! That is not a normal condition – see a doctor about that PRONTO…and until you have fixed your leak, stay the fuck away from the Y and especially me. Seriously dude – that is RANK!!!

To the woman in the dressing room to whom I said “you have gorgeous hair”: I take it back. You ungrateful little, snotty, the-world-loves-me little bitch.

To the man on the treadmill beside me: Yes, I run slow. I am running slower than you. Still am. Still am. STOP LOOKING AT MY SPEED AND LEAVE ME ALONE.

To the man wearing the wife-beater, flirting and getting in everyone’s way: For god’s sake man – put on a real shirt. And go work out, or just go. This is not a bar. It is not happy hour.

To the amazingly HOT man at the counter on my way out: Thank you for being there and being easy on the eyes.

How to: Go jogging with twins

  1. Pack cups of water, diapers, wipes, pacis, cloth diapers, books, sunscreen, jogging stroller, water bottle, iPod,
  2. Put everything by door while I put my shoes on.
  3. Watch boys get into everything they shouldn’t be while I just want to get my damn shoes on – for Christ sake!!
  4. Pick up Roark and hold Cole’s hand – walk out into garage to put boys in car seats.
  5. Realize the car seats are not in the car because we took them out when the girls went to a movie.
  6. Put Roark down – allowing both boys to wonder the most dangerous garage know to man.
  7. Spot fire-ant killer granules and run to beat boys to them.
  8. Fight Cole for ant-killer.
  9. Win and put on top shelf.
  10. Go back to car seat nightmare.
  11. Get one car seat installed and put Cole in it.
  12. Open garage door so that I can get to the other side of the car.
  13. Put Roark in front seat of car and let him pretend he is driving so that he doesn’t run away.
  14. Put second car seat in car.
  15. Rangel Roark out of front seat and into his seat – which appears to be a major disappointment to him – gathered this based on screaming that made my ears bleed.
  16. Get in car.
  17. Get out of car.
  18. Go back inside and get purse.
  19. Get back in car.
  20. Drive to park – 45 minutes away – because I am insane and think that the park in Ft. Worth is somehow better than any closer park.
  21. Arrive at park.
  22. Get stroller out of car.
  23. Smell poop.
  24. Check Roark.No poop.
  25. Check Cole.No poop.
  26. Check shoes – find poop.
  27. Put boys in stroller.
  28. Give them cups of water and pacis.
  29. Put on iPod.
  30. Lock car.
  31. Stretch.
  32. Walk a bit to warm up.
  33. Pick up cups 14 bazillion times and finally put them in stroller where boys cannot reach them.
  34. Turn up iPod so that I cannot hear boys yelling for water – which they totally don’t want.
  35. Run for about 12.5 minutes and determine I am freaking TIRED.
  36. Turn around and run back to car.
  37. Get water.
  38. Take boys over to the park.
  40. Take stroller into the middle of the field and let boys out.
  41. Spend the next 45 minutes chasing them both and trying to keep them close to the center of the field.
  42. Swear 14 times that they are going to “put your eye out with that stick” and play what can only be seen as a game of fetch with my boys.
  43. Rangle each kid back into the stroller and go back to car.
  44. Put each kid in car.
  45. Drive 45 minutes back home – boys sleeping the whole time.
  46. Get home and realize that the boys are NOT going to take a nap, since they slept in the car.
  47. Put boys in house and then unload car - listening to them scream the whole time.
  48. Weep quietly.


The Spirit of a Boy

I ‘hear’ that the boys are feeling a little better today. I – am at work and my husband is home, so it is all hear-say at this point. What I can attest to is this: last night Cole woke up at least once every damn hour. And like a good mommy I jumped up every time he made noise (in order to avoid the horror of another undiscovered-until-much-later throw up) and ended up getting SO LITTLE SLEEP. I have to say that I prefer work on some days to dealing with the sick kids. Yesterday was nice – holding Cole’s burning up head against my chest, talking to him, rocking him to sleep. I love how sweet they both are when they are not feeling very good. They are cute, cuddly and much less like their normal wild-ass selves. Yet there is something sad about them when they are like this – like part of their spirit is broken. I think I prefer the wild-spirited to the broken-spirited…but don’t hold me to that.


Poor Sick Cole

Both of the boys have not been feeling well lately. They have had a cold ever since going to the doctor a few weeks ago for routine shots. We have been dealing with runny noses and coughs for at least a week from Roark – and last night Cole started up with a fever. I gave him Tylenol (which he freaking HATES) and I put them both to bed around 8:15. Cole went to sleep pretty quickly, Roark struggled as usual, finally going to sleep around 9:something. At 4:30 this morning, Cole started crying. He does this quite a bit – wakes up early and tries to get us to let him play instead of sleep. We ignore him, and inside 5 minutes he goes back to sleep. I did the same thing this morning. He cried for a little while – no more than a few minutes, and was quiet again. I eventually got up, took a shower and got ready for work.

Around 6 I woke up the girls and went down to feed the dogs and get the boys stuff ready for the day. At 6:30 Cole started crying again so I went up to get him, and walked into a room smelling of vomit. So gross. He had thrown up in his bed and it was everywhere. I am assuming here that it happened at 4:30, because (and do not read any further if this is already bothering you) it was dried to his head and the bed. To say I felt like a shit is an understatement. Why didn’t just poke my head in at 4:30 and make sure he was OK? Damn, damn, damn. Poor baby had to fall asleep in puke.

I gave Cole a bath and changed his sheets – Roark was still sleeping and none of this woke him up! Then I loaded them in the car and took my oldest daughter to her dads so she could drive to school. My youngest daughter, the boys and I grabbed some food and then we dropped her off at school. All the while Cole was not exactly acting normal – and he was getting a rash. I decided to stay home and work from there – knowing he is going to need a trip to the doctor this afternoon. He is now asleep in his clean bed, but I am guessing that this is going to be one long day… I hope he is ok.


So now they are both freaking sick. Not so much with the throwing up - but more of the other stuff. It is a joy. Cole's rash is only on his face now - and Roark has it on his head and behind his ears - odd... wish the pooping would stop. For the love of God - make it stop. During one diaper change Roark decided to help me out by putting his hand in his poo and then rubbing his eyes. That was really fun for me.


He is SUCH. A. BUTT!

Last night I was at home with the boys. I had just finished putting their jammies on and they were drinking milk out of cups when all of a sudden Cole walked up to me and slammed his cup into my head. Holy shit – that hurt! I yelled at him (while clutching my head – certain he had split it in two) and do you know what he did? He busted up laughing at the hilarity of my injury – caused by HIM. And – he did it again. I then grabbed the cup and threw it across the room, because I love to over-react. He of course LOVED this game and proceeded to throw his cup at the wall the rest of the night. Score one for the giant butt named Cole.


Fat and Fake Nails

I have been struggling with my weight since having the boys. They are almost a year-and-a-half old. I know, I know – that is PLENTY of time to get back in shape…but I am not there. It is simply hard. Or I am simply lazy. Or maybe a combination of both. It just seems like it was always easy to stay thin. I was never happy with my body (not ever) but my struggles were not weight related. This is new territory and I have to be honest here: I HATE THIS STRUGGLE! I hate putting on a size 8 and having it fit. I hate it a lot when it is tight. I hate that the size 10 doesn’t just slip off my body. I hate that I have a closet full of very tiny clothes I fear I will NEVER wear again.

Why is it that I am this obsessed with my current weight and yet I don’t stop drinking alcohol and can’t seem to stick to the South Beach Diet? Is it not really important? Or do I feel like trying and failing is worse than not trying? What in the hell is the problem? Why can’t I just convince myself that food isn’t as important as I seem to be making it?

Also – why on earth did I get these acrylic nails? What was I thinking? Note to self: buy acetone and remove at once!

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

October is breast cancer awareness month. It is bitter-sweet for me. I am glad that we have the attention focused where it should be, yet it makes me sad. My mom had breast cancer and well…she didn’t survive. It was a long, difficult, unrewarding battle and it has made a huge impression in my heart. There is not a week that goes by that I don’t think about her.

When I was 8 or 9 we moved into an old house. This house needed a LOT of work and my mom, brother and I were the only ones around to work on it. We sanded, painted, knocked down walls, tore up the kitchen, and everything else that needed to be done to make it livable. My brother and I had to do all of the ladder work – anything that required reaching over our heads because my mom had a really sore shoulder. This would turn out to be the beginning of the warning signs that she was sick – but none of us really gave it much merit. She didn’t go to the doctor and the cancer festered.

When I was 20 years old my mom came down with the worst cold I have seen. Her breathing was funny, and she coughed a lot. I would compare it to smokers cough. She worked at the hospital at the time as an RN and went down to the emergency room to have someone take a look at her. At this time, it had been 15 years since she had been to the doctor for anything. They took a chest x-ray and scheduled a follow up for Monday morning with an oncologist. Apparently there was a large lump in her breast and her lungs had fluid in them. They didn’t indicate that it was related at the time (at least not to me – but as it turns out I wasn’t told a lot of things).

I took my mom to the doctor. I sat in the waiting room – because she said it wasn’t a big deal and didn’t need me in the room with her. They scheduled her for a biopsy to “check and see if it was cancer” according to my mother. I still wasn’t very concerned – she didn’t seem to be worried at all, so I didn’t think there was a huge issue. I was very, very wrong.

My boyfriend went with me when my mom had the biopsy. When she had been in surgery for about an hour, the surgeon came out and sat down with us. He told me that he was very, very sorry – but that the cancer had progressed to the point where they could not remove it – that there was no way surgery would fix the damage. He said that the cancer had been growing for at least a decade, and was too wide-spread to remove. they simply closed her up and would be starting her on chemo in week. To say I was stunned is the understatement of the year… I was not prepared for that kind of outcome.

Months of chemo. In and out of the hospital. A rushed wedding so that my mom could see me married. A rushed pregnancy so that she could meet her first grandchild. Life just flew past me and I couldn’t slow it down. Chemo didn’t work. The cancer spread to her lungs, bones, kidneys, brain. What started as a lump in her breast ended up eating her body and her mind. She died 2 months before her granddaughter, my first daughter, was born. I sure do miss her.

There is a lesson to be learned here: GO TO THE DOCTOR FOR CHECKUPS EVERY DAMN YEAR.

And then there was one

I wonder what life would be like if I were a stay home mom… I never used to think about this – but have spent some time lately dwelling on it due to a neighbor quitting her job last week to stay home. I have to admit I was a little jealous. OK…a lot jealous. I really do think I would enjoy that life if it wouldn’t require a huge lifestyle change. I have a pretty cushioned life – we eat out, we go on vacation, we spend a fair amount of money on cars, house, the kids and I cannot say that I want to give those things up. I want to go to Italy on spring break. I want to take my daughter to Everest when she graduates. I want to visit our friends after they have their baby in November. And even simpler things like: I want to go to the dentist and get my tooth fixed that is driving me crazy. I am glad we were able to afford to get our boys the RSV immunizations last year, and want to be able to cover healthcare costs in the future. It is nice to have two cars – Todd travels a bit and it would be difficult for the girls to drive anywhere if we only had one car. We live in a nice, safe neighborhood – something I didn’t have as a child…it is important to me that my kids have this.

How do you make a decision to stay home? How do you decide what are must-haves and wants? How do you scale back? How do you go from two quite large incomes to only one?


A good day

I spent the day with the boys because it is a “bank holiday”. I don’t work for a bank, but I support one – so I get to take their vacation days…which is nice. That is until the day after freaking Thanksgiving when I have to drag my ass to work. Anyway, I digress… I was home with the boys and it was glorious. I took them to the bagel shop, and to exchange a pair of shoes I bought Cole. Then after their nap my husband joined us for lunch (which was a nightmare, but lets not dwell on that, please…). After lunch the boys and I went to Ft. Worth to jog on the best trail in the world – River Legacy Parks.

Yesterday when I told Todd what I wanted to do with my day off he dared me to let the boys loose in the park. He said I should put them both in the field and see how long I could make it before going insane. So that is exactly what I did. Seeing how I was insane before starting, I am not sure how to report back to him. Ideas?

The boys played and goofed off in the big fields for a while, and then when I had enough of envisioning them poking sticks in their eyes as they ran down the hill, I packed them into the B.O.B stroller and headed out for a run. I made it about 2.5 miles and I swear to god I lost the will to live. Usually Todd pushes the stroller when we run. It is hard. HARD. H.A.R.D. And totally not in a good way. I guess we went about 5 miles, but it took close to an hour, which is sad. By the time we were back at the car, I was sorry I had even gone out there. How bad is that? Don’t answer that. Please.

Overall though? A very, very nice day. Cute little boys, sunshine, no work. What more could I ask for?


I am a fan of wine. Not so much beer – but wine…ah yes. I think I will start posting my half-assed reviews here for anyone who likes wine – but mostly for me so that we stop buying ones we don’t like. I am a much bigger fan of the reds than whites. I like Chianti and Cabernet Sauvignon. I also like Pinot Noirs a bit. Honestly – I like any dry red wine, and I am not entirely sure I know the difference between them. Remember the old Pepsi vs. Coke challenge? I would certainly fail if given a “red wine challenge” test. And yes, I failed the Pepsi/Coke one. I just don’t pay attention to the details I guess.

So – wines I love:

  • Pretty much all of the Bonterra wines. They are organic and just have a nice, crisp flavor.
  • Kavos – greek red wine. I think they make a white also, but I like the red best (I think it is more for the memories of being in Greece than the actual wine though, because it is not the best wine.
  • Earth, Zin and Fire – Red Zinfandel. Yummy with a funny label – what more could you want?

Things on My Mind

When is fall going to get here already?

Why is it already dark in the early evening - and what is with the darkness at 7am already?

Why is Plano so flat?

When will the boys talk already????

Why am I so tired all. The. Time?

Why can I not get motivated to put away the clean laundry? Or dust? Or do anything to improve the state of my house?

When will my next day off be?

How long till I can retire?



The girls are on fall break this week. I took Tuesday – Thursday off to spend some time with them and the boys and didn’t think about work once. It was nice. But now it is Friday and I am back at work – and it is less nice than not working. Bummer.



I am so upset. I am not sure where to begin..so I guess I will just start rambling.

I have worked my ass off in this job. I bend over backwards to accommodate our customer. I work nights, weekends, all the freaking time. I do whatever is asked of me and more. ALL THE TIME. And yet…and yet…. This morning during a meeting I asked a question of the customer – asked them to provide us with a document so that we could better understand their expectations from us over the weekend. Do you know what happened? I get this from my boss in our instant messenger:

Message history

Pain.in.the.ass.boss said at 9:40AM:

be nice – he (customer on the phone) is a little pissed at you for some reason right now. You are doing fine, just wanted you to be aware

Pain.in.the.ass.boss said at 9:40AM:

we can discuss later

Discuss later my ass.

I am full-force finding another job. Goal is to be out of here by December 1. I will give no notice. And I don’t care what job I end up with – as long as it is not here. Over-reacting? Maybe. But I don’t care.



Yesterday was day 1 of “its just a job” and I must say, it was nice. I worked during the day. I took a lunch and left the office. I went home at 5:30 and didn’t think about the place even for a minute… It was like I was on vacation. I fell asleep right away last night and woke up this morning rested and happy. It has been a while since I have not had issues sleeping or waking up. My mind tends to race thinking about work and all of the things stacking up. Not any more!!! I am no longer the over-worker.


Maybe it doesn’t matter

I have wavered on the importance of a job for much of my life. Much of the time I have felt that my career is very much an extension of who I am – maybe to the point of ridiculousness. I have always put so much stock in what I do, that I don’t think it ever occurred to me that there was the possibility that a job…could just be a job.

Maybe I don’t have to love it. What if I just have a job for the financial benefits that it provides and I don’t derive any needed self-satisfaction from it? Maybe I could cut myself some slack and simply work to pay the bills and find self-fulfillment in other parts of my life. Is this something I can just *change* like that… ah, the million dollar question.

Where did all of this come from? Well, you see, my job has been KILLING me lately. I would not be surprised if this turned out to be literally true, however for now let us all assume that this is an exaggeration. I am not on my death bed, but I am going crazy. And, I blame my job.

I have always put a lot of stock in my career. I seem to gain quite a bit of self-worth from my work successes. I work very hard. I am good at what I do. I continually improve my skills and delivery. I like being good at this job, and more important – I like being better than anyone ever thought I could be at it, including myself. I like shocking the hell out of my leaders by doing a kick-ass job. It feels good. I feel like I matter when I am good at my career. But, unfortunately I also feel quite bad when I don’t do well, or even when things are out of my control at work. If I don’t perform beyond perfection, I take it very, very personally. So much that it affects every aspect of my life. I think that is why I need a new approach.

For the past few weeks I have been absolutely miserable at work. I HATE MY JOB. So Friday I decided that I simply need a new job…onethat can restore my faith in myself and heal all of my insecurities. I was certain that finding a rewarding job would fix everything. I told my husband that I needed to find something that would make me happy to go to work. I needed something that mattered in this world. And do you know what he did? Nothing…except support me and tell me that whatever I wanted to do was possible. Go back to school? OK. Become a teacher? OK. Whatever I wanted was OK… and well – that left me a little confused. Because….well, I have no idea what I want to be. Do you?

I spent the weekend trying to figure out what job would make me happy to wake up every day. What could I do to feel like I am making a difference here? What is the right career choice for me? I thought about being a teacher…teaching high school Latin or Psychology or Biology. These were the classes that I loved so much in high school. I thought about working for the state as part of Child Protection Services or the court system in the child support area. I even thought about going back to school to be a child psychologist. I did a lot of thinking. And even a lot of drinking. But – I am not sure I figured out anything revolutionary about any of this.

I did however realize today that perhaps it doesn’t matter what I do for a career. Maybe…just maybe – my job can just be ‘my job’ and I can find satisfaction in other things I do. Lets face it – I make a lot of money doing the work I do today. I know how to do my job. And, I know how to keep doing well at it. That is enough isn’t it? And – here is the gem in the dirt pile: If I really want to teach, I can do that on the side, perhaps at the community college. I could go back to school for psychology in the evenings. I could even start working in a mentoring program here and get some of that satisfaction. But – I don’t have to start all over all at once just to be happy with work. At least that is what I am telling myself today in hopes of getting past this lingering feeling of working all day on stuff that simply means…nothing.


The Journey

I have a date tonight. With my husband. This makes me very, very happy.

We went to talk to a lawyer yesterday about options for the situation with the girls. The news is bitter-sweet. The best the girls can hope for is 60% of their time with us / 40% with their dad. This is the flip/flop of what is in place today. Not exactly what the girls want but better than what they have now.

The biggest issue with all of this is that the girls will need to hire their own lawyer (we would have to pay for it of course) and they would file a claim to have custody amended. They would sign an affidavit that says they want custody changed to be with me more. Then, we would (with our own lawyers) re-open the custody case and go to court to have it changed. This way it is our two lawyers and the girls wishes against their dad. This gives us a great chance of getting things changed, without me having to ex-husband bash in court in front of my kids. I will NOT tear him down in an effort to spend more time with them…it is not the right way to handle things. Unfortunately all of this is not going to be inexpensive. No – not by a long shot. I was told that it could run 10, 20, 30 thousand dollars for this or more. I have to admit that it made me dizzy.

So now, we talk to the girls and let them decide what they want to do. Not sure they will go through with it and a tiny, tiny part of me won’t be too sad if they don’t. That is a HUGE battle for not much more time with them. Is it worth it? The emotional strain...the money...the risk of making an already horrible relationship with my ex-husband worse? Oh yes. Any amount of time I spend with my daughters is worth it - whatever the cost. I am just not looking forward to the journey.


Popper Parade

10:05pm on a Wednesday night. Just got on a conference call. It is scheduled to run until 6am. Lets not discuss how insane this is getting.

When I came home tonight from work, the boys were in the back yard, playing in the dirt, swinging the hammock, climbing on their swing set, licking rocks (yes, you read that right – they lick rocks…NO – I don’t know why… so stop looking at me like that), and being generally cute.

They do this really, really cute thing in the mornings now. They have these toys that you push around and they have little balls in them that pop. They look like a little vacuum cleaner. Anyway – they boys will walk single file around the room in a circle pushing these things, all the while giggling. We like to call it the “popper parade”. It sure beats the days of screaming and laying around like a lump!

Update on the girls:

Have I mentioned that they have a mean, mean dad? No? Please – let me elaborate. My oldest daughter was told she couldn’t drive her car over here – so I have to pick them up and take them to school in the mornings they are here now. He actually wanted me to take the younger one to school and drop the older one off at his house so that she could then drive herself to school and they wouldn’t have to pick her up. He just won’t let her drive over here – because it is convenient for me – and he is an ass. Anyway, I decided that I would not take her to his house, because the divorce document says that I am to delivery her to school – and I am sticking to it 100% (or doing my best, anyway). Here is the kicker – last night my daughter called me and said that her dad was making her take the bus home on the days I take her to school, because I won’t take her over there. Keep in mind – SHE HAS A FREAKING CAR. And – this would mean she has to change her school schedule so that she gets out in time to take the bus… And do you know why he was doing this? He claimed it is because her step-mom (who doesn’t work) was too busy to pick her up. SAY WHAT? Amazing.

So – I have caved and agreed to take her to her dad’s. I didn’t at first. My initial reaction led me to tell her that I was sorry, but she would have to take the bus, because I will not be deviating from the agreement. I told her that if she didn’t like the arrangement, she knew the process to change it – being a change in custody. However after re-thinking the situation, I decided that I was being as immature as her dad, and well – there you go.

I did go ahead and make an appointment with an attorney to talk about a change in custody – based on the request by my younger daughter though. After hearing the rates for their services I was certain that I have chosen the wrong profession. That place charges $450.00 an hour. Holy hell – I am going to go broke talking to a lawyer. My husband and I go in tomorrow morning to talk about the process and get our questions answered. Then, we will make ANOTHER appointment for the girls to talk to them. I am not sure what is involved, but the person we talked to on the phone (one of the senior partners) made it sound pretty simple. I am sure it is anything but simple, because – well, it just would be too easy.

I would love to tell you about all of the exciting things we have done lately, or have planned for the upcoming weeks. But there really are none. I am in the trenches at work through October, so not much fun will be had here. God I love this job.