There is a running joke in my newsroom that when someone brings food, I come... well... running. And there is always food around here. From bagels in the morning, to someone's going away cake, to the leftovers from the almost-weekly sales meetings the big wigs have. I am always pushing people over in an attempt to be first in line.
But around this time of the year, a girl could get herself into a lot of trouble. By 3pm, I'd already indulged in about two dozen pieces of Halloween candy somebody left on the set (they may or may not have been a prop, I'm honestly not sure); then, I ate a few orange-frosting-coated Halloween cookies somebody left in the break room. Then, my chief meteorologist arrived with her annual Halloween tradition of fresh, hot, homemade apple pies.
Not only was I first in line, but I even got to cut the pie (well, one of four she brought-- can you domestic GODDESS???) into a size piece of my liking. I asked my coworkers, "Should I cut this into six slices? Eight? 10?" Nobody answered me. So I followed my gut, and went with six. Who doesn't like a big piece of pie? I helped myself to some vanilla ice cream, too, then sat down at my lowly desk (not even a cubicle! I don't even have a cubicle in this place!!!) to eat. I probably looked like a pig, but that's all right; I'd already scrubbed myself down with "swine flu juice" (aka, hand sanitizer), I was good to go.
This is just the beginning of "sweets season" at my office. It starts with the apple pie, then morphs into pumpkin pie by mid-November; my boss provides a whole Thanksgiving smorgasboard (did I spell that right?) the week of Thanksgiving, and the entire month of December is consumed by me and my coworkers consuming cookies, cakes, and candy canes.
A diet like this (and I use the term "diet" loosely) could completely derail a girl's plan to maintain a healthy weight. But what am I to do? I have absolutely ZERO willpower, and I've had the obligation blessing of nursing G for the past 13+ months, helping me burn calories faster than a lingerie model on caffeine. I'm taking it for granted, I know, and potentially corrupting all the post-baby weight loss by partaking in each and every slice I'm offered on the job.
Then again, I thought about going to the gym this morning... so that should at least count for something, right?
I look forward to this "Blog Hop" every week! If you haven't fallen in love with Mama M yet, it's time you did so. Head over to her blog and check it out for a good laugh!
This week's questions are:
1. What were you doing the last time you really had a good laugh?
The last one I remember was a few days ago at work. In TV News, we call a pre-recorded, pre-edited news story a "package". One of my supervisors had just looked at one of our reporter's stories for the upcoming show, and screamed out "'C', I love your package!". That itself was funny, but one of my other co-workers immediately retorted with, "That's what she said". Classic. I'm still chuckling about it now.
2. Who was your first CELEBRITY crush?
Gosh, I feel like a dork saying this, but it was Jonathan Taylor Thomas (whose picture I found by googling "JTT", geez, what a loser am I???). I loved him first as that sassy "Randy Taylor" on "Home Improvement", then once I learned he was the voice of "Simba" in "The Lion King"... I was a goner. I had posters of the boy all over my room, and yes (blush), even above my bed (what was I, a 13 year old boy?). But, as all good crushes must, this one came to a crashing end when I realized JTT was a
3. What is one talent that you wish you had?
This is so random, but I've always wanted to be able to do a standing back flip. Nothing fancy, no gyrotonic gymnastic moves like Kerri Strug, just a standing back flip. I think it would be funny to be able to just do it whenever I felt like it. Just got a great deal at the grocery store? Flip for it! Finally fit into your skinny jeans again? Flip for it!
4. How often do you and your spouse go out w/o the kids? Is it frequent enough?
Wow, I think the last time DH and I went out alone was the last night of our beach vacation. The problem is, he works an
5. What colour(s) is your bedroom?
Mama M, you're not alone... our bedroom is stark white too. We BOUGHT our house solely because I fell in love with the master bedroom-- a huge, airy room with lots of windows, a cathedral ceiling, his and hers closets. I loved it the and 3+ years later I still do. But it's so big that I just can't decide how to decorate it. I'm pretty set on something in a lush, rich, warm red, but that's as far as I've gotten. In fact, I'm so torn up about this very issue that when my therapist recently asked me to write down my 1-year, 5-year, and 10-year goals, "painting the bedroom" was at the top of my list (sad, but true). I've actually enlisted my aunt-- an interior designer-- to come visit us for Thanksgiving and give me her input!
PHEW! Those were some fun questions today!
I hope you'll visit Mama M's blog and play in this fun little game, and if this is your first time over to my blog, thanks for stopping by! I hope you'll leave me a message so I can get to know you and repay the visit, and new friends & followers are always welcome!
I always want to participate in "Show Us Your Life" over at Kelly's Korner, but I don't always have the pictures to "show" you! (Like last week, the theme was "Show Us Your Fall Decorations"; I have a one-year-old who thinks Indian Corn is part of her afternoon snack. Needless to say, all our fall decorations are up in the attic with the rest of our junk excess).
This week, though, not only can I show you my daughter's Halloween costumes from this year and last, I can also show you what Ducky's worn the past few years!
Here is G last year at Halloween (she was just 6 weeks old):
This is what G is wearing this year:
And here is Ducky in her traditional costume-- she's worn it three years running (and I do mean running literally; she runs for the hills when she sees me bring it out of the closet!):
G & I are going to a "Ladies Night" Halloween party tonight, and while her costume is set, I still have no idea what to wear! Since I'll be at work all day, that leaves me with exactly 24 minutes before I hop in the car to make some decisions and put a plan in action. Here are my options:
1) Put on DH's old football jersey from college, drag some mascara under my eyes, and be a football player
2) Find the old clothes we always wear when painting and go as a painter
3) A la "Jim" from The Office, write "BOOK" on my face and go as "Facebook"
What do you think I should go as? VOTE BY POSTING A COMMENT! And if you have any other great last minute ideas that could be implemented in the 30 minutes between when I get home from work and have to leave for tonight's party, feel free to drop a suggestion!
UPDATE TO THANKFUL THURSDAY
This is proof of how God works miracles in our lives when we take a few minutes to praise him!
I got home from a miserable Thursday of work to find an unexpected refund check from an old account I'd basically forgotten about. DH & I now have enough money to buy Christmas presents for our daughter and family members!
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For the first time, I'm playing along with "Thankful Thursdays", sponsored by Welcome To The Nut House.
I've had a really tough week-- from the near "red polka dot skirt" debaucle of yesterday to today, when the computer system at work crashed at 1pm, leaving me with just four hours to get my entire newscast put into working order. I just feel like things haven't been going my way.
But, when stuff like this happens, I know the best thing I can do is take a step back and reflect on what is just so incredibly awesome about my world. Besides, we are exactly 28 days from Thanksgiving, so what better time than now to start thinking about how blessed we are?
So...
Today I am thankful for...
#5) The fact that today is Thursday. I love Thursdays. All the anticipation of the weekend, but without any of the letdown. I'm especially thankful that Saturday is Halloween, and G gets to dress up in her awesome fairy princess costume!
#4) I'm thankful that DH has been so gosh-darn wonderful lately. I've been apoplectic frustrated lately by my string of bad luck, but having him around to calm my nerves, make me a cup of hot tea when I get home, and remind me that "luck" is just a matter of perspective makes everything better!
#3) I love my hometown, Cleveland, Ohio (not where I currently live, but where I called home for 18 years). Call it what you will-- a pit of recession, the "Mistake By The Lake", home of losing sports teams-- but people from this part of the country have a lot of pride! When I get really homesick (like I was feeling today), I watch this video. Sure, it makes fun of my hometown, but it also makes me laugh. So much of it is true, and only a true Clevelander (or maybe someone from Pittsburgh, Columbus, Detroit, or Buffalo) could really apprediate it! (By the way, did you notice in the picture above that G is wearing Cleveland Indians overalls?)
#2) My mom; we talk almost every day on the phone, and she's a hoot. She always has a funny story or a juicy piece of gossip from my hometown (yesterday, we talked about how my "Dear John" was in love with his current girlfriend! Woo hoo!). She helps me keep it real.
And finally...
#1) NBC comedy night! I've got "The Office" on the brain so badly, I accidentally called one of my coworkers "Michael Scott" (his first name is Michael, but his last name is most definitely not Scott-- and he is nothing like Steve Carrell's character on the show!). After a rough day of work, it's going to be great to go home, veg out with DH on the couch, and laugh at other people's jobs... even if they are fictional!
What are you thankful for?
It's sad but true. The majority of what most people know (or, think they know) about my job comes from this man:
Yup, none other than Mr. Rod Burgundy, the voice of San Diego (aka, "The Whale's Vagina"), California. You see, five years ago-- back when I was paying an exorbitant amount of money to earn a graduate degree in a field in which I'd earn basically nothing; namely, journalism-- Will Ferrell came out with this movie that poked more than a little fun at my industry.
No hard feelings... really... it's a field prime for humor... but... We're already a business chalk full of cliches. For example:
"It was a drug deal gone bad"-- ok, which drug deals actually go good?
"The fact of the matter is"-- if they weren't facts, we wouldn't put them on tv...
"A town hit hard by job losses"-- as if job losses were ever welcomed by a community?
Those are just a few. But following Mr. Burgundy and the crew at Newschanel 4, the entire industry became one, gigantic cliche.
Pandamonium, anyone?
So today, it's my goal to teach you a little bit about what I do... and what I don't do.
First of all, it is pure fiction that all TV news anchors are shallow. They're not. Well, not all of them. I'm sure some undoubtedly are. I'm sure there are some who do nothing but primp and preen for the camera, who get angry when their co-anchor gets more face-time than them, who rant and rave at their producer (that would be me) when they don't like a given story. Blessedly, I've never been cursed to work with that type. But there is a misnomer out there (my own mother believed it for years before I got into TV) that these anchors write their own material. THEY DON'T. That's my job! I search for, select, and write all the stories that appear in my one-hour newscast, except for the two or three pieces supplied by my team of local supporters. My anchors just read them. Yes, they insert a little extra information now and then, but by and large, I am the "author", they are merely the editors, the faces that make the story look good on air.
The second fact I want to teach you is about our salaries. You see, a lot of folks think that because I work in TV, I make the big bucks. (Insert laugh here) That couldn't be further from the truth. Actually, I spent $50,000+ for one year of graduate school, only to earn $20,000 at my first job. My salary was so low, that I couldn't even afford to pay my school loans. And while some anchors and reporters do get a clothing/hair/makeup stipend, poor producers like me don't. (But, on the bright side, I can wear jeans any day of the week.)
The third myth about journalism I want to "debunk" is that it's a man's world. Maybe it was back when the fictional Mr. Burgundy was dominating the air waves. Back when smoke clogged up the newsroom, men drank a shot of whiskey before taking to the set, and "sexual harassment" was a PC term still 20 years down the road (sounds like a scene straight out of "Mad Med"). But today, women dominate in our studio. Of my three supervisors, two are women. The majority of our anchors and reporters are, too. It's not surprising, really; women are far more likely to major in English or communications than men these days, two degree fields which really lend themselves well to broadcasting. But in the 1970s, when "Veronica Corningstone" had just graduated from Syracuse University, she was entering a man's world.
Now, not all of Ron Burgundy's assessments of the news industry are wrong. We do "amp up" our coverage four times a year-- times lovingly referred to as "sweeps"-- in February, May, July, and November (and even though today is only October 29th, this is the first day of the November "sweeps"). What does that mean? In layman's terms, it means my life will be utter hell for the next 28 days. It means no vacation days, coming in to work even under the pall of the swine flu, and being at my very best regardless of what's happening out there in the world. It means my station will promote the same story five straight days about the importance of hand sanitizer all in hopes of persuading you to tune in. It means we will produce an hour special on the swine flu and what you can do to protect your family. It means that even the smallest, most mundane piece of information will be exploited beyond belief (again, think Burgundy's "Pandamonium"). Then, when it's all said and done, we will pat ourselves on the back for a job well done and immediately begin focusing on the next four-week period from hell.
Got any more questions? Shoot!
Til then, "Keep it classy, BlogWorld!"
This warning is for the one man I know reads my blog from time to time (other than DH, of course, who devours each and every post with wild abandon begrudgingly approves my blogs before they're posted).
Anyway, to KK: DON'T READ ANY FURTHER. Seriously. It's for your own good this time. Just move on and come back tomorrow.
Still here? Don't say I didn't warn you!
Today I wore this outfit to work:
Then, at 10am, in the midst of our morning meeting, I felt my monthly visitor arrive (at this point, five days late, thank you very much). And, being in said morning meeting, I was helpless to leave. By the time I got to the bathroom... it was too late... you can fill in the blanks and imagine for yourselves what had happened.
But suffice it to say, I was going commando... during my cycle... wearing a white skirt. Yeah. Awesomeness.
I know this is TMI, but that's not even the worst part of this story. The most low-down, degrading, embarassing, self-effacing part? Without any of my female coworkers in the newsroom for the better part of the afternoon, I had to alert one of my male coworkers of the problem (don't gasp, he's cool with that... you know what I mean)... just in case I started walking around wearing a white polka dot skirt.
So, for seven brutal hours (I know I said this blog would be brutally honest, but this is not what I had in mind), I went commando. I feel dirty. Disgusting. Demoralized.
Help me out here-- what's the most mortifying moment you've had recently?
In the past week, there has been a lot of good news in my world.
Last week, one of my favorite co-workers announced she was getting married to a wonderful man she's known since college. Then on Monday, a second co-worker revealed she too was engaged to her long-time boyfriend. (These two events now have me with severe ring envy, but I digress).
As I already mentioned, a good friend gave birth on Friday to her first child, a boy. The very next day, another friend told me she was seven weeks pregnant with her second child (another friend for G!), making her the second woman in that particular group who is currently expecting. Sunday morning, a male co-worker and his wife welcomed their first child, also a boy, into the world. And just a few moments ago, yet another co-worker announced his wife was expecting a baby after suffering a miscarriage back in the spring.
And, as for me?
NOT PREGNANT.
(I'm happy, sad, and relieved all at once...)
This isn't going to be a post bashing my ex (who may or may not actually be named John). I'm not going to rant and rave about how I thought me and my high school sweetheart would be together forever, about how he broke my heart, or about what a big mistake he made. While all those things were true-- at one time-- they are not true any longer. In fact, I owe a lot to "John".
Dear John,
When you dumped me unceremoniously just minutes after my cousin's wedding (while I was still wearing my ice-blue bridesmaid gown), it felt like a scene from "Legally Blonde". I thought my life was over. I thought that at age 20, my love life was washed up. We'd spent three years of our life together. We'd dealt with my father losing his job, your parents divorce, and both of us going to colleges four states apart. I couldn't imagine a world without you.
For years, I did everything I could just to spite you. To show you how much better off I was without you. To prove that you'd made a huge mistake letting me go from your life. Even once I'd moved on with the man who would become DH, I still ranted and raved about the injustices and ills you'd done to me.
Then, something happened. I'm not sure exactly when it began, but ever-so-slowly, my hate started to melt away. I found myself missing the friendship that we'd shared for so many years. I started wondering what you were up to, how your life was, and-- yes-- even how your love life was going. You must have felt that too, because around the exact same time, you also began reaching out to me.
We both know the exact moment all that pent-up anger and frustration finally found its resolution. It was Easter Sunday 2004-- the day my grandmother invited you, your mother, and your then girlfriend (poor, poor "M"-- if only she'd known what she was in for that day) over for a holiday lunch with our entire family. It was the day DH & I announced our engagement. I think in that moment, we both realized there would never be an "us" again, and, that that was a good thing.
Over the 5+ years since, you've been there for me every step of the way. When I came crying to you one cold, January night a mere five months before I was to walk down the aisle, telling you I wasn't sure I could do it, you reminded me that I'd never been good at life's changes, and that I was simply getting cold feet, and that I'd get over it. You were right. On my wedding day, you joined one of DH's best friends in handing out programs to our guests, as many of my distant relatives whispered to one another, "Wait, isn't he the groom?" (Apparently, many of my extended family never got the message we'd broken up and I'd moved on.) When DH & I moved into our first apartment together, you came and helped us celebrate, and became not only my friend, but his too.
Then there's the night I'll never forget. I was working late at the TV station in March 2007 when I got a call from a mutual friend, "L". You'd been in a horrific motorcycle accident, you were clinging to life, your phone had been destroyed, and no one could find your mother. Did I know where she was, and how to reach her? I did, and I called her on a business trip to Las Vegas to tell her she needed to get home, her son was on life support. I sent my mother to the hospital to hold vigil in the waiting room with all your family and friends. I prayed to God he wouldn't take my best friend away from me again. Then, on another Easter Sunday, three years after our first "reconnection", God answered all our prayers and brought you back to me one more time.
Now, you're my daughter's Godfather, in an odd twist of fate the majority of the world finds incredibly unusual. But to me, it's natural. Our relationship has changed and evolved over the years. I have been fortunate enough to have two great loves in my life; you were my first. You taught me how to respect another person, how to respect myself as one part of a couple. I am the wife I am today because, in many ways, of the lessons our relationship taught me.
So, dearest "John", let me say "Thank You" from the very bottom of my heart for loving me, loving my daughter, even loving my husband. Your friendship means the world to us.
This morning, in a span of 90 minutes, I managed to break--
-The 10-day old laptop
-The turntable on the microwave
-The XM radio in my car
Oh, and my monthly curse? She's now FOUR days late.
We all have secrets. Now, it's time to lay it all out on the table.
I was hoping to start a weekly feature a few months back called "Confession Sunday", but I've got to confess: I'm not on the computer much on Sundays (or Saturdays, for that matter), so it was hard to keep at it.
So, in the vein of "Confession Sunday", I propose "Truthful Tuesday". The idea is the same (being brutally honest about my life), but with a twist. Each week, I'll ask you to reveal a dirty little secret about your life. And of course, it wouldn't be fair it I didn't share my own answer.
So, if you feel like participating leave a comment or grab this oh-so-brand-new button (and do let me know if it doesn't work, I'm just learning my HTML) and follow along!
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<img src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn287/lifeafterbc/Elizabeth/TruthfulTuesdaysButton.jpg"
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This week it's time to be truthful about... your celebrity crush.
I'll start...
For the longest time, I had one-- and only one-- celebrity crush. His name is Peyton Williams Manning. Like me, this 33-year-old is an Aries, meaning we are both stubborn, bull-headed, and used to getting what we want. For Peyton, that means winning MVP awards and Super Bowl trophies. For me, that means being able to watch #18 every week in tight football pants. DH is well aware of my 
But recently, I've fallen for another. His name is Mark Salling, better known as Noah "Puck" Puckerman from my new favorite TV show, "Glee". I don't know what it is about the close-cropped mohawk on this high school jock turned show choir stud, but it drives me wild. Those smoldering eyes, that knowing smirk, that bad-a$$ attitude... and he can sing! Now, before you berate me for "falling in love" with a high school student, let me tell you; I've done some research on Mark/"Puck", and I am a mere four months older than him. So there.Of course, there is the matter of DH... But he's allowed to have his celebrity crushes and I'm allowed to have mine. Besides, DH really is the combination of Peyton & Puck; he's an ex-football player with dark, smoldering eyes. Sure he can't carry a tune, but he sure does make my heart sing!
Who is your celebrity crush? Why? It's time to spill!
Where did the weekend go? I even took Friday off, giving me my first 3-day weekend in more than a month, and yet the time just zoomed by. So seriously, can someone tell me where the weekend went?
I am the queen of over-scheduling, and this weekend was no exception. In fact, rather than giving our sitter the day off, I ended up asking her to come in as scheduled for a few hours Friday morning so I could have the luxury of accomplishing a few tasks sans G (wowee, that meant getting to the gym and the grocery store-- go
me!). From there, I cleaned the house from head to toe; had eight of DH's coworkers over for dinner & drinks; woke up with a bloody hangover; took G to a friend's house for their annual Halloween picture (she's the fairy princess, in case you couldn't pick her out); joined a friend to visit another friend and her brand new baby in the hospital; did three loads of laundry (new moms: are you doing endless loads of laundry these days? I feel like I should be buying stock in Tide); routed against every top-5 ranked college football team in hopes enough people would lose so my home-state, #19-ranked Buckeyes might once again have the chance to lose to an SEC team in the national title game; went to bed way too late; woke up at 3am, then again at 7:30am to the sounds of a very unhappy G (teething again?); missed church because the baby who didn't want to sleep at night did want to take a 3-hour nap that encompassed all or part of all three masses at our church; tried to debug the brand new laptop (grrr!)... are you tired yet? I'm pretty sure DH, G, & I crammed a week's worth of social outings, chores, and errands into three days. I'm pooped.
And now it's back to the grind of a five-day work week without a vacation day in sight (well, technically Thanksgiving is in sight-- just 31 days away... not like I'm counting or anything). I'm thinking about moving to Europe.
Why Europe? Well, I did some quick research on Wikipedia (don't tell my boss! He doesn't believe Wikipedia is a valid research tool). Here's what I found: thought Europe was just the place to go for a very liberal, lengthly, highly-compensated maternity leave? Think again! The average American works 1777 hours a year. Now, if you're a math-whiz (or read my blog with a calculator handy), then you know that comes out to less than 35 hours/year. BUT (and this is a big "but"), that includes American of a working-age who do not work at all- like the unemployed, stay-at-home-moms, or part-time workers. When you eliminate all of those individuals, the average American's work week shoots up to 46 hours a week. By comparison, in the Netherlands, the average worker is only on the job 25 hours a week. 25 hours? No wonder they have so much time to smoke their legalized marijuana! And in France, a 35-hour work week is the law; it's even a highly-publicized fact that some of the country's biggest fashion houses (think Louis Vuitton and Hermes) close for the entire month of August (did anyone else see that "Oprah" episode?)!!!
But, if you're like me and heading to work right now (don't panic, I'm not blogging and driving), then take heart: at least you don't live in North Korea (average work week: 60 hours!).
As for me? Just 44 hours and 59 minutes til the weekend...
WOW, what a great way to cap off what's been a fabulous day! One of my dearest friends just delivered her first son (beautiful & healthy!), DH & I hosted a great dinner party with some new friends from his work, and then, I log on here to see that Tamara over at the "(un)experienced mom" has passed along my first ever blogging award! Thank you from the bottom of my blog-loving heart!
Here's how the award works:
1. Thank the person who gave you the award and link to their blog.
2. Share 10 honest things about yourself.
3. Present this award to 7 other whose blogs you find brilliant in design or content.
4. Tell those 7 people they have been awarded.
So, if it pleases the Academy...
Honest Fact #1: Wow, it's tough to think of ten honest things when my blog is all about being brutally honest. But, let's just start with the fact that I am a food addict. I love to eat... and eat... and eat. Case in point? Tonight, when I ate two hamburgers, a hot dog, three pieces of pie, and two heaping portions of 3-bean salad during our party. Oh yeah, and some chips and dip!
Honest Fact #2: I am a bit of a "friend whore". I absolutely adore meeting new people. Whether they're through my work, my neighborhood, my hobbies, my mutual friends-- I am a true people person. I think this is part of why I love blogging so much; it's a great way to "meet" people I might never otherwise see in real life!
Honest Fact #3: G is 13 months old and we are still breastfeeding. And I do not plan to stop anytime soon. We don't do it all the time, just before bedtime, and occasionally if she's feeling really lousy. I have a lot of people in my life- including my mom- who think this is just plain weird.
Honest Fact #4: I didn't start text messaging until the past few months. In fact, I didn't even have a phone that allowed me to send or receive texts until July. I'm a bit of a Luddite.
Honest Fact #5: I think I've decided against getting the swine flu vaccine for G. I just can't justify the risks, even though I know they're highly overblown. I'd say, "Better safe than sorry," but honestly, I think I could say that even if I'd decided the other way.
Honest Fact #6: Once in college, I was brought before the campus council for helping to host a party at which extreme amounts of Everclear was served. We all had to put on "beer goggles" to experience how our "victims" must have felt being that intoxicated. We hosted another Everclear party the next weekend. I haven't touched the stuff since.
Honest Fact #7: Even though DH & I chose G's name long before she was conceived, I almost changed it about halfway through my pregnancy to "Samantha", in honor of my dad. DH convinced me to stick with our plan, and I'm so glad I did.
Honest Fact #8: DH thinks we conceived G after a Christmas Party in December 2007-- but the truth is, I'm pretty sure she was actually conceived the night before. He just doesn't remember, and I don't have the heart to correct him!
Honest Fact #9: At least one night a week, I kick DH out of our bed so I can have it all to myself and get some non-snoring-interrupted peace!
Honest Fact #10: I have three big celebrity crushes; Peyton Manning (Indianapolis Colts QB), Lebron James, and "Puck" from "Glee" (anybody knows who plays this hottie actor?). I know, they couldn't be more different, but they all exude sexiness and confidence to me!
OK, that was tough! Now, it's time to pass this award on to some of my favorite bloggers!
1) Christina
2) Melody
3) Mary
4) Tricia
5) Mama M
6) Patrice
7) Adam (Kayleigh's Dad)
Tamara, thanks again!! And goodnight, everybody!
Mama M's "5 Question Friday" has quickly become one of my favorite "blog events" of the week. I've been especially looking forward to it this week, because I'm off work and I knew I'd have more time to work on my answers!
1. Whats your favorite horror movie?
Well, for sentimental reasons, it's "The Shining". It's the movie DH & I watched on our first "date" (in my single dorm room... bow chica bow wow!). I strategically picked it, knowing it would scare the bejezus out of me and give me an excuse to cling onto his ruggedly handsome biceps!
I'm also a big fan of the "Scream" trilogy, which, I understand, is about to become a "quadrilogy" (is that even a word???)!
2. Bath tub or Hot tub?
Hot tub, with this caveat: It cannot be a public hot tub (in a gym, a hotel, etc.). I prefer hot tubs at a friend's house or at a cabin in the mountains (uh oh, another bow chica bow wow!).
3. Do you prefer to watch a movie at the theater or at home?
I'm not really a movie theater type of girl. From the $10 ticket to the $5 popcorn to the $4 soda... it's just too expensive for me. And now that our cable has "on demand" movies, it just seems silly to go to the theater when we can pay $4 to rent the newest flicks without even leaving our couch!
4. If you could chose a maid, cook or chauffeur, which one would you choose?
Haha, when I first read this question, I thought it meant which would I want to *be*... and I was going to say maid, because that's where my domestic skills lie. But if I could pick one to *have*, I would definitely choose a cook (of a chef, as the case may be). I abhor cooking-- I have high-cuisine tastes, but I definitely lack the culinary talents to back it up!
5. Electric Slide, Boot Scootin' Boogie, or the Macarena?
None of the above! Instead, I cast a write-in vote for the "Thriller" dance, made famous by the late, great King of Pop himself! About three years ago, DH & I were at a wedding in Texas when, much to his eternal embarassment, I persuaded my three sisters-in-law to join me on the dance floor for a zombie-licious good time. Let's just be thankful there are no pictures (or, heaven forbid, videos!) of that!
As G's favorite cartoon character, Mickey Mouse, would say, "Thanks For Stopping By"!
(Ok, maybe I should add "quoting 'Mickey Mouse Clubhouse' to my "You know you're a mom when..." post!)
I know I'm a mom because...
I routinely pick up crumbs and other tidbits of discarded, half-chewed baby food from the floor and (gasp!) eat it just to avoid yet another trip to the trash can...
The part of my cupboards that used to be occupied by beer steins and margarita glasses is now taken up by sippy cups, animal crackers, and cheese straws...
I narrate my hourly (seriously, wasn't my bladder supposed to go back to its normal size after giving birth???) trips to the bathroom for G's benefit, hoping she'll pick up on this crucial information for potty-training down the road...
I've spent more money on diapers and wipes in the past year than on dinners out, new clothes, and Starbucks... combined...
On the rare occasions I go out with my friends, I have to watch myself so that I don't speak in "baby talk"...
Whenever DH & I take G out to eat, the evening always ends with me on my hands and knees under the table... picking up bits of food G's tossed around during the meal (what did you think I was doing under the table, sickos!)...
Even after my "cleaning lady" display, I still tip the waitress upwards of 30% for the mess and chaos we've caused...
I still wear my nursing tank tops... even to the gym...
I have to wait to put on jewelry until after I leave the house for work in the morning, otherwise my daughter takes it, chews on it, then manages to lose it in her toy box...
I am more eager to dress my daughter in the morning than sort through my own, ill-sized (in more ways than one!) wardrobe...
I can't sleep at night unless I first check in on my sleeping angel in the room across the hall...
95% of the conversations I've had in the past year have been about my daughter. And during the other 5%, I've been holding my tongue so I don't sound like a completely obsessed mother...
Sometimes, in an effort to get out of the shower before G wakes up from her nap, I forget to rinse the conditioner out of my hair...
When G starts fussing in the car, I often burst into song at the top of my lungs, using lyrics which I have rearranged to my daughter's delight...
My tabletops, countertops, and desktops are all bare in an effort to avoid the marauding eye of my kleptomaniac toddler...
My heart is bigger, fuller, happier than it ever has been in my entire life...
...all because I'm a mom.
Don't wear white after Labor Day. Never eat until everyone at the table has been served. Always send a gift if you've been invited to a wedding or baby shower. These are just a handful of the "social conventions" we absentmindedly follow without a second thought.
Of course, we all have our own rules to live by. Sometimes, they're lessons we've learned along the way-- like knowing not to mix beer and liquor during a Saturday night binge, or never pairing your shortest mini-skirt with your highest heels. But other times, they're ridiculous notions we religiously follow without rhyme, reason, or even sanity.
I have some of these rules to live by. Ok, ok, I have a lot of these rules to live by. As a previously-confessed Type-A (as in anal), it should come as no surprise to you that I have a little bit of OCD. All too often, this tendency to micro-manage every little piece of my life-- whether it be in my home, at my office, or even out in the real world-- can bite me in the butt. So I thought I'd take note of some of these worthless "rules NOT to live by", and let them go.
RULES NOT TO LIVE BY:
1) Don't use a sick day in the two weeks prior to or following a vacation.
-The day we got back from vacation a few months ago, I realized I already needed a vacation from my vacation. So naturally, I found myself up at 2am, unable to sleep, and obsessively counting down the minutes until my alarm would inevitably wake me up for the work week. DH urged me to take the day off-- but I'd just used five (count 'em, five of TEN!) precious vacation days, and I refused to use one of the three sick days I had left for the year. So what did I do? I staggered into work half-asleep, where I nearly made a grievous mistake that could have gotten my station sued. Lesson? If you're too sick or sleepy to work, then DON'T WORK!
2) I must go to the gym at least three times a week.
-There are two reasons for this useless rule. First, because I don't want to get flabby. But the more important, more pressing reason why I drag myself to the gym at least three times a week (almost always at an ungodly hour of the morning or night) is because I paid for my membership in advance, and BY GOD I'm going to get my money's worth. This is the motivation for a lot of what I do. I am a miser, a scrooge, and penny-pincher, and I hate to waste my hard-earned coin. But all too often, doing so comes at my expense (haha, no pun intended). I find myself at the gym when I could be home resting up for the day, or when I could be spending quality time with my DH after G goes to bed. Lesson? Time > Money. Therefore, by the transitive property of math, it is a greater grievance to waste time than money.
3) The bed must be made every... single... morning.
-I think this is a rule that irks my DH more than just about anything else. If it were up to him, the bed would never, ever be made. I, on the other hand, equate hospital corners to manna in the desert: absolutely necessary. At the end of a long, hard day, there is nothing better than crawling into a well-made bed and nodding off to sleep. I feel this way about a lot of household chores: I enjoy showering in a clean bathroom more than a dirty one, eating in a clean kitchen instead of one that's got food splatters everywhere, watching TV on a monitor that isn't caked with dust. It's just who. I. am. But you know what? On some rare occasions during which cataclysmic events have prevented me from finishing a chore to my lofty standards, the world did not end. Lesson? Things don't always have to be perfect, even for a perfectionist.
I'm curious to hear what some of your "rules to live by/not to live by" are... and the lessons you've learned by giving them up.
I'm in love. And I don't care who knows it.
Of course I'm in love with her:
But today, I'm talking about my love for him:
A few months ago, I was all prepared to go into a little more detail about DH & I, and our decision to seek couples counseling. Then, I got that hateful message on my blog, and I pulled back. But in order for you to really understand how I feel about DH now, you have to understand how I was feeling about myself then.
When I was pregnant, I read a lot of books and articles-- and got a lot of advice-- talking about how tough it can be for couples to adjust to the birth of a child, particularly their first. I dismissed all that scholarly (and not so scholarly) input. DH & I were doing better than ever during those nine months. He was helpful, supportive, loving; everything a man and a soon-to-be father should be. Those feelings even continued into G's first few months of life.
And then I went back to work.
And then I started to feel, well, lost.
Looking back on it now, I'm fairly confident I had a mild to moderate case of post-partum depression, and was too... I'm not sure... scared? stressed? proud?... to do anything about it. So instead, I took an almost "third person"-like role in my own life, and watched idly by as my world slowly began melting down. I threw tantrums. I locked myself in my bedroom closet and cried. I prayed for clarity. But nothing I did helped. That's when I knew I needed to seek assistance elsewhere.
But even then, I was too afraid to go to counseling on my own. I'd never stepped foot in a counselor's office-- not even my high school guidance counselor- and I didn't know what to expect. So, I asked DH to join me for couples therapy. And he said yes.
That was the first spark. Knowing that DH cared so deeply about me that he was willing to bear his soul to a perfect stranger for the good of our marriage calmed me in a way I hadn't been able to comfort myself in months. Although most of our sessions focused on me and how I was feeling about myself, our therapist did teach us three big things. First, people are who they are, and you need to accept them that way. Meaning, I am type-A, I am always going to be type-A; DH is type-B and will remain so. That doesn't mean we can't get along. Rather, we need to use our different strengths and talents to each other's benefits, me getting from him what I can't get from myself and vice verse. Second, we learned that we have to be open and honest about how we're feeling, but that doesn't mean we have to share every little detail of our lives. That's what friends are for. And third, she taught us some key coping strategies to get us through the tough times (and helped us realize that all couples-- and individuals, for that matter-- do have tough times).
Going to counseling taught me several other lessons as well. Since opening up about our decision, many friends have confided in me about their own thoughts and feelings, either regarding themselves or their reliationships. I've learned that even the happiest relationship can have problems, and that marriage is a work-in-progress. It's also dispelled any stigma attached to therapy in my mind, and I hope, in the minds of friends and family members I've talked to about it. Sometimes, you just need an unbiased third party to listen.
So, back to DH and I and where we stand now. I can see he's making a greater effort especially when it comes to being patient with me. He no longer sees my type-A personality as a direct affront to himself, and so, he's more likely to listen to my requests. As for me, I've learned to take a breather every now and then, relax, and remember that things don't have to get done right away. In a way, he's become more of a "type B+" and I've become a little more of a "type A-".
And we're reconnecting, too. We're spending more one-on-one time-- although it's still tough to find-- and we're sharing more quiet moments together. I feel giddy again, like I did when we started dating. Our flame is burning brightly once more.
That MckMama, she's addictive, I tell ya! Maybe it's that her weekly "series" is on Mondays-- hot off the weekend and all my family's crazy shenanigans-- but I can never resist participating! If you feel like playing along, head over to her blog and check it out.
And if you're new to my blog, welcome! I love to see new visitors around here, and hope you like what you see. If you leave me a comment or another way to check out your blog, I'd certainly love to repay the visit.
This week, MckMama is doing her standard "Not Me! Monday", but I'm going to mix it up by interjecting a little "Not My Child! Monday" into my post.
So...
My child did NOT try to pick food up off the floor at our favorite Italian restaurant during lunch with me and her grama Saturday afternoon. And she MAY not have succeeded... I'm honestly not sure, because I didn't realize she was doing it right away. And G most certainly did not learn how to use the word "why" (or, more precisely, "WHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????") at the top of her lungs during a shopping trip to Best Buy this weekend. She'd already tried to demolish a few displays when I scooped her up off the floor (WHHHHYYYYYYYYYYY does she insist on walking everywhere these days?). She started fussing, and I did NOT say, "G, I can't let you walk around here anymore". Well, that baby did NOT reply with her new favorite word.
As for me, I did NOT try to cop out on my week to cook and make the same pasta with three different sauces and try to pass it off as three different meals. NOPE, NOT ME. I am not lazy when it comes to cooking, and I would definitely NOT cut corners in order to get out of the kitchen at light speed. No way! (Insert eyelashes batting) Aren't I the Julia Childs of the 21st century? Aren't I the Emeril Lagasse of the East Coast?
From DH: Apparently, I am NOT. Or, on this day of double negatives, I am NOT not. Whatever. You get the picture.
And remember that new laptop I said I already hated? Well, I did NOT stay up way past my bedtime two nights in a row checking email in bed. That would NOT be a bad idea for someone who can't sleep in past 7:30am.
What did you NOT do this week? Can't wait to hear what you have to say!
UPDATE
As you can tell by the top of my blog, ya'll were a great help in helping me eliminate the header altogether. YAHOO! I also learnd a thing or two about HTML code in the process. A big "thanks" to everybody who chimed in with advice!
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You ARE at the right place. The new laptop has me motivated to try some new ideas on my blog. So, I'm tinkering around on here.
But, for the life of me, I can't figure out how to get rid of the title bar (the one that now says, "from the desk of a full-time mom"). I want to "hide it" under the new header I made (on powerpoint, thanks Meredith for the idea!), but it won't let me. Yes, I've tried the option in my blogger editor that should allow me to do that, but it won't work. Help!
(Melody, Christina, I'm partcularly thinking of you here... did you do anything special to make yours that way?)
As in, life before computers. Seriously, what how did we do research? Cyber-stalk our exes? Search for a new job, a pizza place, or directions to the nearest mall?
Last week, my world came to an abrupt, screeching, crashing halt, when my home computer... well... crashed. It was a slow, painful death, brought on by four years of not-very-up-to-date virus protection. The first sign of impending doom was a heart-shaped sticky note I placed on the monitor a few months back warning all potential users (basically DH and myself) to visit password protected sites at their own risk. The final symptom was the staggered, halting movement of our once-frolicking screensaver. Our old desktop-- the first major purchase DH & I made as a married couple more than four years ago-- was gone.
That in itself was traumatic. But then came news Thursday morning at work that our entire network had been infected with a virus, and our chief engineer handed out the same dire warning I had issued at home weeks ago: don't visit any sites where your information could be compromised. Forget my fears over accessing Facebook or Blogger-- how was I going to check my email? My online banking? Our stocks? Panic-mode quickly set in.
I said to a girlfriend earlier this week over coffee (coffee? not really... while she was enjoying a caffeinated beverage, I was sipping a steamed milk... how old am I, 5?), how on earth did we communicate with each other before the internet came along? I'm not young enough-- or naive enough-- to deny that I remember those days. I do. I remember them well. I remember being a senior in high school when I got my first email account, and I remember that about 95% of what flooded my inbox was pornographic spam because I had no idea what "privacy settings" were. I remember going to college and thinking AIM was the neatest thing around. I remember when my college was tapped as one of the "test schools" for Facebook, and loathing the invasive social networking site long before it became ubiquitous, not only on every college campus across the country, but in every office and home as well. (By the way, I'm now a rabid FB fan!)
The thing is, before computers (BC), life was significantly simpler. Want to talk to an old friend? Call them. Found a cool article you think your mom would enjoy? Send it to her in the mail with a quick note. The quantity of communication might have been less in those days, but I guarantee, the quality was far superior.
Back to now, though. After two days (yes, just two days; I made it two lousy days without internet access at home or work), I caved. My mom has been in town this weekend, and she offered to buy DH & I a new computer as an early Christmas present. So, tonight, I'm typing to you from the comfort of my own bed with a brand new laptop. Honestly? I hate it. The keyboard is finicky, the processor is burning up my lap, and it's kinda loud. But so goes technology. I'm sure I'll get used to this just like I got used to driving past the ATM in favor of online banking and checking stock quotes on Yahoo instead of how my dad did it, in the newspaper.
I feel like things have been pretty serious on my blog lately, so, in an effort to "lighten" things up, I'm going to once again play along with Mama M's "Five Question Friday"!
1. What phrase, or phrases, do you say a lot?
I am the queen of catch phrases. I work in TV news, so I have a masters degree in cliches. I love to tell people never assume because to do so would "make an a$$ out of you and me". I also tend to call people "super silly" or "super cute" or "super sweet"-- "super" anything! By the way, has anyone ever played the board game "Catch Phrase"? It's a hoot!
2. Swimming: Are you a kamikaze off the boat, take the plunge from the deep end, or a gradual, slow submersion from the shore or shallow end kind of person?
I took my first child/parent swim lesson at five months old, and ever since, my LIFE has been in the water. I began swimming competitively at age 7, traveled extensively for meets, and ultimately became a high school All-American. I also worked as a lifeguard and swim instructor as a teenager. For years, I vowed I wouldn't let G be a swimmer like me-- it takes up so much time, a lot of effort, and at times, heartache-- but she's already a water baby!
3. Have any tattoos? If not, what would you get?
No way! I'm afraid of needles (it's why I dropped my pre-med major early in college and pursued a degree in history instead), so I'll probably never ink up.
4. What is your favorite tree?
A Christmas tree! I am obsessed with this holiday, and have enough ornaments to adorn two or three trees! Unfortunately, we still use a sad-looking fake tree that doesn't even have lights pre-strung on it, but I still manage to decorate it to the nines.
5. Two pronged question: What is your favorite non-physical thing about your spouse? What is your favorite physical thing about your spouse or significant other?
Non-physical: DH's sense of humor. He is hilarious. He always manages to find a way to crack me up, either by saying something ridiculous or doing something crazy. It's a great way to diffuse tense situations!
Physical: His height. In high school, I always dated guys who were taller than me, but not by a lot. That meant I couldn't wear some of my tallest shoes (I'm 5' 8" and regularly wear 4-inch heels!). But with DH standing at 6' 6", I NEVER have to worry about that anymore!
This week, our town lost one of its finest. It lost one of the men who protect and serve. We lost one of our police officers.
The world of law enforcement is a tight knit community, one I'm proud to be a part of because of DH. He's a sheriff's deputy, and although the tragic shooting I'm talking about claimed the life of one of the men in blue, not in black like my husband, it's a loss that affects us all.
I remember covering my first law enforcement-involved shooting at my first job at a small TV station in the Deep South. It also happened to be DH's first week on the job, and I panicked when I heard "deputy down" pulsating in frantic, chaotic repetition on the emergency scanners in the newsroom. I didn't know a lot about DH's duties then; but for one fleeting, terrifying moment, I thought it was my husband who'd been killed.
I think just about everyone who has a spouse, a child, or a parent in law enforcement knows the emotions that coursed through me that day. Those feelings constitute the thin blue line that separate those of us behind the badge from the public at large. It's a line that separates those who can only imagine the worst-case scenario from those of us who know it's a real possibility every time our loved one leaves the house. It's a line that separates nightmare from reality.
As a journalist, it's my job to tip-toe that line on a daily basis. We work with the police and sheriff's office to bring awareness to the public, but we do not work for law enforcement, nor does law enforcement work for us. In a way, the two fields are diametrically opposed; they want to catch the criminal, but sometimes (and this is why I often loathe my job), the more-intriguing story "journalistically" is the one where the bad guy is still on the run. When our goals are such polar opposites, I find myself on the other side of that line.
But at times like this week-- when journalists and officers band together to honor a fallen hero-- we're ALL on the same side of the line. We're on the side that prays for peace, not war; yearns for love, not hate; strives for safety, not fear. It's times like that-- when I see the men and women who protect and serve, who put their lives on the line for me-- that I'm proud to live my life surrounded by the thin blue line.
Today at work, I came across an interesting link I thought you might like to see. This website has become a "mecca" so to speak for blogging mommies to debate the pros and cons of vaccines... namely, the newly-minted swine flu vaccine.
There is a LOT of information out there about the swine flu (aka, H1N1 flu), the vaccine, and the dangers of both. People have different opinions about whether it's a good idea, and whether they'll get the vaccine either for themselves or their children. In fact, my TV station recently surveyed viewers about their choice, and a whopping 70% said they probably would not vaccinate their kids against the swine flu. I don't think it's a matter of taking this illness seriously-- with nine children dead in the past week from the virus, it must be taken seriously. Rather, I think it's a debate over whether the vaccine itself is safe.
As for me, I'm not sure what to think. Every day at work, I see literally dozens of stories about this disease. I hear about kids dying-- but then, in the same breath, caveats claiming the majority of those young victims had other, underlying health care issues. Then, I hear scary reports about side effects of the vaccine itself. It makes me wonder-- what is more dangerous: the swine flu? the swine flu vaccine? or a misinformed public?
I've waffled on the decision to give G this vaccine from the very beginning. First of all, let me say, she has had all her other vaccines-- Tdap, HIB, MMR-- on schedule. I do not-- I repeat, DO NOT-- want to get into a debate on whether or not you agree with that decision. However, the startlingly quick turnaround of the swine flu vaccine for mass distribution did give me cause, and pause, for concern. At first, I vowed I would not give her this vaccine. But recently, I've started to change my mind. The result? I'm in vaccine "no-man's-land" so to speak, searching for answers and opinions.
So, what do you plan to do? What do your friends plan to do? What factors guided you to your decision? What, if any reservations to you still have? I'm interested to hear what you or your friends or your blogger contacts have to say about this. But remember-- let's be civil here, no criticizing anyone else's choice!
I just heard from my sister-in-law about a family friend of hers who lost their little girl this morning. The mother was in the midst of labor when they couldn't find the baby's heartbeat. By the time they got her to an operating room for an emergency c-section, it was too late. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the little girl's neck twice, and Grace couldn't be saved. Today, God has another beautiful angel.
After participating in that walk over the weekend for pregnancy and infant loss, I know well how many people in our own communities are struggling with the unexplained death of a child. While there are no good answers, I hope everyone can find the time to lift a prayer up to God for this baby girl's safe arrival at the gates of Heaven, and to hug your own child a little closer tonight and thank Him for the miracle of a healthy baby.
It's time once again for another hair-raising installment of:
Feel like playing along? Just head over to MckMama's blog!
This week, I did not allow G to stay up two hours past her bedtime in order to enjoy a local fair. That would be irresponsible and I would refuse to be a part of such shenanigans. Oh, and the reason G was NOT able to stay up so late was definitely NOT because I let her eat a funnel cake and powdered sugar. Heck, no. G only eats wholesome, organic, iron-fortified foods. Definitely NOT junky, fair foods... like, fried butter and dough.
And I most certainly DID NOT arrange with DH to switch up our chore list. Each week, I post the list on the side of our refrigerator, and each week, we cross off maybe half the alotted chores. Bottom line: I hate to cook, he hates to clean. So last week, we did NOT decide that I would NEVER, EVER cook again (what? no more burned pizza crusts?) and he would NEVER have to clean a single toilet or kitchen counter. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal, huh?
And in my perhaps most embarassing "Not Me" of the week, I most certainly did NOT strip G down to just her pants and allow her to arrive shirtless at a friend's birthday party. How vulgar! Why would any parent let their child run around topless like that? It would certainly NOT be because said parent allowed their child to drink milk from a sippy cup with a rather pronounced hole in the top in her carseat on the way to that birthday party. And please, no matter what DH tells you, I did NOT make him wash and then dry the milk-soaked shirt in a park restroom. NOPE, NOT ME.
