Jennifer Wilck's Blog, page 43
February 1, 2016
She's Seventeen
She’s seventeen. She can supposedly drive a car—I’m keeping my thoughts to myself on this until someone actually gives her a license. She can see an R-rated movie by herself, provided I let her. She’s taking the SAT and touring colleges.
Yet all I see is the eight-month old in the pink striped overalls and white hat, with big blue eyes (they were blue then, instead of green as they are now), sitting on a blanket outside in the grass, waving at passersby and waiting for Daddy to come home from work.
It’s weird. A good weird, but weird, nonetheless, because I don’t have any desire to go back in time. Sure, there are elements I’d love to relive, like the new-baby smell, or the neighborhood walks, or watching her sleep, or the cuddles. But there are plenty of things I have no desire to go through again—the hyper-alert status that goes on for years, the tantrums, the constant entertaining until she learned to entertain herself (at least for a little while).
I’m having a hard time with how old she’s gotten. She’s on the cusp of adulthood and I can see it, taste it almost. She’s going to be an amazing woman. My cousin and I used to talk about our daughters when they were tiny. A year apart, and stubborn as anything, we used to say they’d turn into strong women, if we lived long enough. Well, she’s going to be one heck of a strong woman, a fact I’m infinitely glad about.
I’ve lived just about long enough to see it. And this next chapter is going to be amazing.
Yet all I see is the eight-month old in the pink striped overalls and white hat, with big blue eyes (they were blue then, instead of green as they are now), sitting on a blanket outside in the grass, waving at passersby and waiting for Daddy to come home from work.
It’s weird. A good weird, but weird, nonetheless, because I don’t have any desire to go back in time. Sure, there are elements I’d love to relive, like the new-baby smell, or the neighborhood walks, or watching her sleep, or the cuddles. But there are plenty of things I have no desire to go through again—the hyper-alert status that goes on for years, the tantrums, the constant entertaining until she learned to entertain herself (at least for a little while).
I’m having a hard time with how old she’s gotten. She’s on the cusp of adulthood and I can see it, taste it almost. She’s going to be an amazing woman. My cousin and I used to talk about our daughters when they were tiny. A year apart, and stubborn as anything, we used to say they’d turn into strong women, if we lived long enough. Well, she’s going to be one heck of a strong woman, a fact I’m infinitely glad about.
I’ve lived just about long enough to see it. And this next chapter is going to be amazing.
January 25, 2016
Perspective
Becoming a parent forced me to become more of a planner and much less spontaneous in my decisions. Actually, I’m not really sure how spontaneous I’ve ever been—I suspect it’s more of a desire than an actual personality trait of mine, but regardless, once I had kids, all traces of that trait went out the window. Planning ahead is the only way I can keep sane and organized.
With that comes knowledge of the weather. Between making sure my kids are wearing somewhat weather-appropriate clothes (honestly, they’re teenagers so my influence is significantly less than it used to be) to answering my husband’s frequent question, “what’s the weather going to be like today,” I’ve become the family meteorologist, with expectations of a much higher track record than properly trained and paid ones.
Luckily, I have a friend on Facebook who is an amateur meteorologist and loves to post weather predictions, backed by his study of a variety of models and maps. His record is much more accurate than local media pundits, so for major storms, I rely on him to tell me what’s going on.
Needless to say, for this snowstorm we just had, I’d known about it for days. As had everyone else. Except unlike almost everyone around me, I wasn’t worried. That’s not to say I shouldn’t have been, but I have a very laissez-faire attitude when it comes to weather. I live in New Jersey. Unless it’s snowing in July or dust storming in January, I don’t worry. That 70-degree weather in December? THAT concerned me. The potential of a blizzard in January? Pfft. It’s supposed to happen.
Will I go to the grocery store? Of course, but that’s because I go to the grocery store every freaking day. Somebody needs something or runs out of something or I just can’t plan my meals far enough in advance to avoid the place (in spite of what I said above about planning). What I don’t do is buy enough French Toast ingredients for a week just because we’re having a storm for a day or two.
Deck pictures? Um, I’d rather see them in the warm, sunny weather, when you’re enjoying their purpose. Actually, I’d rather be invited over to actually enjoy your deck (and hopefully a BBQ or something). Sure, it’s an easy way to show how much snow you’ve gotten, but I have the same amount at my house, give or take a few inches. And if I don’t, I will shortly—remember, I live in New Jersey. It snows here every winter.
I’ll admit to loving the photos of your kids playing in the snow. And your dogs and cats (although seriously, who makes a cat go outside in the snow???). They’re cute, but then again, I love seeing photos of your loved ones regardless of the weather.
Funny stories about snow clearing? Bring it! Comments about how weathermen have the most stable job in the world? Go for it—who else can be wrong every single time and still have a job. Pretty nature photos? Love them! Snow is beautiful, especially if you don’t have to clear it or drive in it.
But really, people, we need perspective. Snow in winter is normal. Stocking up on twelve gallons of milk, five loaves of bread and four dozen eggs is not—and is horrible for your cholesterol.
;)
With that comes knowledge of the weather. Between making sure my kids are wearing somewhat weather-appropriate clothes (honestly, they’re teenagers so my influence is significantly less than it used to be) to answering my husband’s frequent question, “what’s the weather going to be like today,” I’ve become the family meteorologist, with expectations of a much higher track record than properly trained and paid ones.
Luckily, I have a friend on Facebook who is an amateur meteorologist and loves to post weather predictions, backed by his study of a variety of models and maps. His record is much more accurate than local media pundits, so for major storms, I rely on him to tell me what’s going on.
Needless to say, for this snowstorm we just had, I’d known about it for days. As had everyone else. Except unlike almost everyone around me, I wasn’t worried. That’s not to say I shouldn’t have been, but I have a very laissez-faire attitude when it comes to weather. I live in New Jersey. Unless it’s snowing in July or dust storming in January, I don’t worry. That 70-degree weather in December? THAT concerned me. The potential of a blizzard in January? Pfft. It’s supposed to happen.
Will I go to the grocery store? Of course, but that’s because I go to the grocery store every freaking day. Somebody needs something or runs out of something or I just can’t plan my meals far enough in advance to avoid the place (in spite of what I said above about planning). What I don’t do is buy enough French Toast ingredients for a week just because we’re having a storm for a day or two.
Deck pictures? Um, I’d rather see them in the warm, sunny weather, when you’re enjoying their purpose. Actually, I’d rather be invited over to actually enjoy your deck (and hopefully a BBQ or something). Sure, it’s an easy way to show how much snow you’ve gotten, but I have the same amount at my house, give or take a few inches. And if I don’t, I will shortly—remember, I live in New Jersey. It snows here every winter.
I’ll admit to loving the photos of your kids playing in the snow. And your dogs and cats (although seriously, who makes a cat go outside in the snow???). They’re cute, but then again, I love seeing photos of your loved ones regardless of the weather.
Funny stories about snow clearing? Bring it! Comments about how weathermen have the most stable job in the world? Go for it—who else can be wrong every single time and still have a job. Pretty nature photos? Love them! Snow is beautiful, especially if you don’t have to clear it or drive in it.
But really, people, we need perspective. Snow in winter is normal. Stocking up on twelve gallons of milk, five loaves of bread and four dozen eggs is not—and is horrible for your cholesterol.
;)January 18, 2016
January 11, 2016
Holding Pattern
I’m in a holding pattern. I hate holding patterns.
I’m waiting for responses from editors, through my agent, for submissions. I suspect, having taken this long, that they will say no.
I’ve finished one other manuscript and am in the process of editing it. Now that I’ve finished the first draft, I’m kind of losing motivation for this part, since this is where I identify all the problems and try to fix them, without completely hating what I’ve written. Add in my suspicion that a rejection is coming very soon (see above), and the cloud of negativity grows. But providing I can get past it, I’d like to have the first round of edits complete within the month so I can send it to one of my critique partners. She’ll read it for plot—does it make sense, is there a story arc/character arc, etc., is the tension sustained throughout. And then I’ll fix all the mistakes she identifies.
In the meantime, I’m also working on a second manuscript. I wrote 54,000 words and got stuck. This is the one I started on one of the college visits my daughter and I went to. While she was sitting in the hotel room doing homework, I started writing. 5,000 words later and I wanted to keep going. So I did. Until I got stuck. I met with my critique partner last week and she did a great job unsticking me. But that means I have to rewrite those 54,000 words. I’m going through from the beginning and trying to do that now, with the goal of getting it in decent shape to do serious writing on it in February.
February is my writing chapter’s novel-writing month. We aim to each write 30,000 in a month. It breaks down to a little more than 1,000 words a day, so it’s totally doable as long as the stars align and no one has a crisis. If I can get my edits done this month, I can move forward next month and hopefully reach the goal.
And therefore, this month is a holding pattern. Setting everything up for next month, without actually taking big strides forward. Patience has never been my strong suit, but I’m trying. And that’s about the best I can do right now.
I’m waiting for responses from editors, through my agent, for submissions. I suspect, having taken this long, that they will say no.
I’ve finished one other manuscript and am in the process of editing it. Now that I’ve finished the first draft, I’m kind of losing motivation for this part, since this is where I identify all the problems and try to fix them, without completely hating what I’ve written. Add in my suspicion that a rejection is coming very soon (see above), and the cloud of negativity grows. But providing I can get past it, I’d like to have the first round of edits complete within the month so I can send it to one of my critique partners. She’ll read it for plot—does it make sense, is there a story arc/character arc, etc., is the tension sustained throughout. And then I’ll fix all the mistakes she identifies.
In the meantime, I’m also working on a second manuscript. I wrote 54,000 words and got stuck. This is the one I started on one of the college visits my daughter and I went to. While she was sitting in the hotel room doing homework, I started writing. 5,000 words later and I wanted to keep going. So I did. Until I got stuck. I met with my critique partner last week and she did a great job unsticking me. But that means I have to rewrite those 54,000 words. I’m going through from the beginning and trying to do that now, with the goal of getting it in decent shape to do serious writing on it in February.
February is my writing chapter’s novel-writing month. We aim to each write 30,000 in a month. It breaks down to a little more than 1,000 words a day, so it’s totally doable as long as the stars align and no one has a crisis. If I can get my edits done this month, I can move forward next month and hopefully reach the goal.
And therefore, this month is a holding pattern. Setting everything up for next month, without actually taking big strides forward. Patience has never been my strong suit, but I’m trying. And that’s about the best I can do right now.
January 4, 2016
Winter Break
Winter break is over and whoa, boy, it was a doozy.
That’s not to say it wasn’t wonderful—it really was. We were all home together and spent quality time that we haven’t been able to since school started. But I think I might have carried my “the kids need a real break” too far. As usual.
Both girls have had a difficult school year, and winter break is the one break where we weren’t looking at colleges or trying to get a million things done. So I wanted them to have time to do whatever they pleased (within legal limits) and with whomever they wanted.
Banana Girl informed me that ALL her friends, even the ones who never go on vacation, were going on vacation. The General (formerly The Princess—Star Wars fans will get the reference) needed to empty her room for the painter to come the Monday she went back to school. My mom volunteered to help in any way necessary. So I figured we were covered. We’d do a little shopping, get some chores around the house done and if any friends were actually available, we’d see them. My mom would take the girls a little to give them a break, and all would be great.
Yeah.
Banana Girl wanted to reorganize her room and closet, so for Chanukah, my parents gave her a trip to The Container Store, which they planned for over break. She also wanted to bake, so my mom planned to teach her how to make piecrust (and of course, a pie to go in it). She wanted to play her new Monopoly game with her friends before they left on vacation, and to have all of her friends over before break ended.
The General wanted her best friend from camp to spend a couple days with us. Her friends from her summer Israel trip wanted to visit their counselor who was visiting New York City. And she wanted to help celebrate her NFTY friend’s birthday. Plus she needed to clean her room.
I wanted to do something fun for New Year’s Eve.
Here’s what happened:
The General’s camp friend arrived the day after Christmas, plunked her bags down and we drove to Garden State Plaza for shopping. Remember that story about the massive traffic and the person who sat in the parking garage for FOUR hours trying to leave the shopping center? Well, that person wasn’t me, but we were there. Banana Girl and I shopped while The General and her friend went off on their own. Biggest mall ever, most amount of people I’ve ever seen. O. M. G.
The next day, I dropped the General and her friend in town and hosted Banana Girl’s 3 best friends here for a board game-playing afternoon—one of which involved whipped cream (I have no idea why).
The day after that, I dropped the General’s friend at our meeting spot for her to return home. One night to ourselves.
The following day, five of the General’s friends from her summer Israel trip came over and spent the night, after which I drove them to the train station to go into New York City to meet up with their counselor for lunch. The highlight of that experience for me:
I thought I showed a lot of restraint not screaming at them, nor mentioning sex slaves or human trafficking. Yay me. They all made it back to where they were supposed to go.
In the meantime, my mom helped Banana Girl empty her room and closet to organize. I avoided looking and tried to plan something for my husband and I to do New Year’s Eve.
The General talked about having plans with her friends for New Year’s. Said plans remained vague. Banana Girl invited a friend over for New Year’s Eve. The General finally made plans with her school friends to go out to dinner for New Year’s Eve and volunteered us to drive home. There went my plans.
The day after New Year’s Day, I drove the General to meet her NFTY friend and to spend the night, then hosted Banana Girl’s seven friends here for the evening. The following day, we picked up the General from her friend’s house.
Last night there were only four of us in the house. All night. Today they are all gone.
What did I learn?Be careful what I wish for.Teens who love to play board games warm my heart.Having friends in lots of different groups is awesome.Despite being beyond clueless, teens can actually make it into NYC, through Penn Station and back onto the train and home in one piece.Leading a new driver out of our neighborhood and down the hill to navigate the fog is a small price to pay for ensuring her safety, and I know other moms would do the same for my teen.Watching the ball drop with my kids and husband, regardless of how many “others” are there too, is perfect.Despite my doubts, it is possible to clean out a room by a deadline.Closets can get organized.Mondays are amazing.
That’s not to say it wasn’t wonderful—it really was. We were all home together and spent quality time that we haven’t been able to since school started. But I think I might have carried my “the kids need a real break” too far. As usual.
Both girls have had a difficult school year, and winter break is the one break where we weren’t looking at colleges or trying to get a million things done. So I wanted them to have time to do whatever they pleased (within legal limits) and with whomever they wanted.
Banana Girl informed me that ALL her friends, even the ones who never go on vacation, were going on vacation. The General (formerly The Princess—Star Wars fans will get the reference) needed to empty her room for the painter to come the Monday she went back to school. My mom volunteered to help in any way necessary. So I figured we were covered. We’d do a little shopping, get some chores around the house done and if any friends were actually available, we’d see them. My mom would take the girls a little to give them a break, and all would be great.
Yeah.
Banana Girl wanted to reorganize her room and closet, so for Chanukah, my parents gave her a trip to The Container Store, which they planned for over break. She also wanted to bake, so my mom planned to teach her how to make piecrust (and of course, a pie to go in it). She wanted to play her new Monopoly game with her friends before they left on vacation, and to have all of her friends over before break ended.
The General wanted her best friend from camp to spend a couple days with us. Her friends from her summer Israel trip wanted to visit their counselor who was visiting New York City. And she wanted to help celebrate her NFTY friend’s birthday. Plus she needed to clean her room.
I wanted to do something fun for New Year’s Eve.
Here’s what happened:
The General’s camp friend arrived the day after Christmas, plunked her bags down and we drove to Garden State Plaza for shopping. Remember that story about the massive traffic and the person who sat in the parking garage for FOUR hours trying to leave the shopping center? Well, that person wasn’t me, but we were there. Banana Girl and I shopped while The General and her friend went off on their own. Biggest mall ever, most amount of people I’ve ever seen. O. M. G.
The next day, I dropped the General and her friend in town and hosted Banana Girl’s 3 best friends here for a board game-playing afternoon—one of which involved whipped cream (I have no idea why).
The day after that, I dropped the General’s friend at our meeting spot for her to return home. One night to ourselves.
The following day, five of the General’s friends from her summer Israel trip came over and spent the night, after which I drove them to the train station to go into New York City to meet up with their counselor for lunch. The highlight of that experience for me:
Me: Where are you meeting E?
Them: Penn Station.
Me: Penn Station is pretty big. Maybe you should narrow it down?
One of them: Well, he’s really, really tall.
Me: Maybe you should narrow it down (the best I could do without screaming)?
Them: The entrance.
Me: There are many entrances.
I thought I showed a lot of restraint not screaming at them, nor mentioning sex slaves or human trafficking. Yay me. They all made it back to where they were supposed to go.
In the meantime, my mom helped Banana Girl empty her room and closet to organize. I avoided looking and tried to plan something for my husband and I to do New Year’s Eve.
The General talked about having plans with her friends for New Year’s. Said plans remained vague. Banana Girl invited a friend over for New Year’s Eve. The General finally made plans with her school friends to go out to dinner for New Year’s Eve and volunteered us to drive home. There went my plans.
The day after New Year’s Day, I drove the General to meet her NFTY friend and to spend the night, then hosted Banana Girl’s seven friends here for the evening. The following day, we picked up the General from her friend’s house.
Last night there were only four of us in the house. All night. Today they are all gone.
What did I learn?Be careful what I wish for.Teens who love to play board games warm my heart.Having friends in lots of different groups is awesome.Despite being beyond clueless, teens can actually make it into NYC, through Penn Station and back onto the train and home in one piece.Leading a new driver out of our neighborhood and down the hill to navigate the fog is a small price to pay for ensuring her safety, and I know other moms would do the same for my teen.Watching the ball drop with my kids and husband, regardless of how many “others” are there too, is perfect.Despite my doubts, it is possible to clean out a room by a deadline.Closets can get organized.Mondays are amazing.
December 28, 2015
Babysitting
I used to love babysitting.
When I was a teenager, I babysat my neighbors all the time. I got paid really, really well, too, which didn’t hurt. And I loved kids so to me, it was paid playtime.
But now I’m an adult, and while I still love babysitters, I’m a little less in love with babysitting, especially since everyone I’m surrounded by is way too old to be babysat.
Like when I’m sitting in my house and the Princess got up early to go to swim practice, but her camp friend is still here sleeping. Do I wake her for breakfast? Lunch? Do I leave her alone or suggest she might want to do something?
Like when Banana Girl has all of her friends over and I wait around because I’m not a fan of kids being completely un-chaperoned (even though they’re good kids and old enough to be on their own).
Like when the adults around me need someone to knock their heads together so they act like grownups.
Like when school vacation is not actually a vacation for me, yet everyone around me is taking one (formally or informally) and wonders why I’m cranky about not being able to get my work done.
Like when everyone wants to make plans, but no one actually makes them, and then wonders why I can’t give them an answer when they ask me what the plans are.
I don’t know what the going rate for babysitting is, but I used to make $10 an hour. Pretty sure no one who knows me can afford my rates.
When I was a teenager, I babysat my neighbors all the time. I got paid really, really well, too, which didn’t hurt. And I loved kids so to me, it was paid playtime.
But now I’m an adult, and while I still love babysitters, I’m a little less in love with babysitting, especially since everyone I’m surrounded by is way too old to be babysat.
Like when I’m sitting in my house and the Princess got up early to go to swim practice, but her camp friend is still here sleeping. Do I wake her for breakfast? Lunch? Do I leave her alone or suggest she might want to do something?
Like when Banana Girl has all of her friends over and I wait around because I’m not a fan of kids being completely un-chaperoned (even though they’re good kids and old enough to be on their own).
Like when the adults around me need someone to knock their heads together so they act like grownups.
Like when school vacation is not actually a vacation for me, yet everyone around me is taking one (formally or informally) and wonders why I’m cranky about not being able to get my work done.
Like when everyone wants to make plans, but no one actually makes them, and then wonders why I can’t give them an answer when they ask me what the plans are.
I don’t know what the going rate for babysitting is, but I used to make $10 an hour. Pretty sure no one who knows me can afford my rates.
December 21, 2015
December 14, 2015
Calm Within the Storm
There’s something very satisfying about being the calm within the storm. It doesn’t happen often. I’m usually the one freaking out over everything, and if I’m not freaking out about something, I’m freaking out over having nothing to freak out about. It’s exhausting.
But right now, I’m calm.
All around me, people are gearing up for celebrating Christmas. Stores are mobbed, people are counting down, lights are blinking and music is playing. It’s lovely from a distance, but here at home, Chanukah is just about over—only a few more hours left. It’s a small holiday, although it lasts a while, so we don’t have the craziness that is generally associated with Christmas. And as I pack away the decorations for another year and clean the wax out of the menorahs, I appreciate the peace. No more triple checking what time everyone will be home and fitting in candle lighting with homework and meetings and dinner. For me, it’s a quiet time, and I’m going to appreciate it.
Social media is filled with political rants on both sides. No matter which political party you support, everyone is shouting (admittedly one party is shouting louder than the other right now). Sure, there are rights to support and observations that need to be made, but nothing has been decided yet. Primaries haven’t even occurred. If this is how loud we are now, I can’t even imagine what it will be like when we have two actual candidates. The ugliness is reaching a crescendo and I don’t know what happens when we reach the summit. So I’m liking and commenting on posts that are particularly “likeable” and “comment-worthy,” but I’m taking a step back when I can and not jumping into the fray every single second. Sometimes shock jocks and fear mongers do what they do for the reaction they get. I’m not playing that game.
I’m sure as soon as I post this there will be something to freak out over—I have two teenaged girls, after all. But for this moment, I’m taking a really deep breath.
Good luck everyone!
But right now, I’m calm.
All around me, people are gearing up for celebrating Christmas. Stores are mobbed, people are counting down, lights are blinking and music is playing. It’s lovely from a distance, but here at home, Chanukah is just about over—only a few more hours left. It’s a small holiday, although it lasts a while, so we don’t have the craziness that is generally associated with Christmas. And as I pack away the decorations for another year and clean the wax out of the menorahs, I appreciate the peace. No more triple checking what time everyone will be home and fitting in candle lighting with homework and meetings and dinner. For me, it’s a quiet time, and I’m going to appreciate it.
Social media is filled with political rants on both sides. No matter which political party you support, everyone is shouting (admittedly one party is shouting louder than the other right now). Sure, there are rights to support and observations that need to be made, but nothing has been decided yet. Primaries haven’t even occurred. If this is how loud we are now, I can’t even imagine what it will be like when we have two actual candidates. The ugliness is reaching a crescendo and I don’t know what happens when we reach the summit. So I’m liking and commenting on posts that are particularly “likeable” and “comment-worthy,” but I’m taking a step back when I can and not jumping into the fray every single second. Sometimes shock jocks and fear mongers do what they do for the reaction they get. I’m not playing that game.
I’m sure as soon as I post this there will be something to freak out over—I have two teenaged girls, after all. But for this moment, I’m taking a really deep breath.
Good luck everyone!
December 7, 2015
Me Vs. You
I overheard some friends of mine talking this past weekend—this is where I a) find out which of my friends read my blog and b) lose many of them who fear ever being mentioned here.* They were discussing the idea of working from home and one said, looking at me, that she could never do what I do because it requires too much self-discipline. It's actually not the first time I've heard this; it is, however, the most recent.
And I beg to differ.
Working from home takes the same amount of discipline as working out of the home does. I’ll admit, my schedule is a little more flexible, but there are many similarities between us (I’m talking the generic “us” here):
We both have a schedule. You have a meeting or break at x time, a proposal due at y time and a client at z time. I have a certain amount of words I need to get written before 3:15, whenall hell breaks loosemy kids come home from school.
We both have daily “chores” to get done. You have to go through voicemails, emails and other daily stuff. I have to get the errands done for that particular day, as well as go through emails, make phone calls and figure out dinner.
We both have “water cooler time.” When you need a break from your work and want to talk to someone, you turn to someone down the hall or in your office or by the coffee machine and have brief conversations. When I need a break from my work, I turn to social media. I “like” a few things, “post” a little and then turn it off and go back to work. And because there’s no one hanging over me (like a boss) to remind me to get back to work, I either schedule downtime into my day or set an alarm.
Is it exactly the same? Of course not. But my right to call what I do “work” requires the same amount of discipline as the necessity for you to show your bosses that you’re doing what they hired you to do. Your fear of getting fired or disciplined is equal to my fear of not making a deadline (self-imposed or not).
Making me out to have more discipline than you do leads too easily to judging everyone around us—who’s a better mom (the stay-at-home or the work-away-from-home), who is more organized (the one with one kid or the one with five). We all have strengths and weaknesses and none of us need to be judged well or harshly. I have complete faith that in my shoes, you could do exactly what I do, neither better nor worse, but differently, in a way that works for you.
So thanks for the compliment, but honestly, it’s not necessary. Our similarities and differences make us the friends that we are.
*I promise, this is as “bad” as I get when mentioning real-life friends. For some crazy reason, I like you guys, and want to keep you! J
And I beg to differ.
Working from home takes the same amount of discipline as working out of the home does. I’ll admit, my schedule is a little more flexible, but there are many similarities between us (I’m talking the generic “us” here):
We both have a schedule. You have a meeting or break at x time, a proposal due at y time and a client at z time. I have a certain amount of words I need to get written before 3:15, when
We both have daily “chores” to get done. You have to go through voicemails, emails and other daily stuff. I have to get the errands done for that particular day, as well as go through emails, make phone calls and figure out dinner.
We both have “water cooler time.” When you need a break from your work and want to talk to someone, you turn to someone down the hall or in your office or by the coffee machine and have brief conversations. When I need a break from my work, I turn to social media. I “like” a few things, “post” a little and then turn it off and go back to work. And because there’s no one hanging over me (like a boss) to remind me to get back to work, I either schedule downtime into my day or set an alarm.
Is it exactly the same? Of course not. But my right to call what I do “work” requires the same amount of discipline as the necessity for you to show your bosses that you’re doing what they hired you to do. Your fear of getting fired or disciplined is equal to my fear of not making a deadline (self-imposed or not).
Making me out to have more discipline than you do leads too easily to judging everyone around us—who’s a better mom (the stay-at-home or the work-away-from-home), who is more organized (the one with one kid or the one with five). We all have strengths and weaknesses and none of us need to be judged well or harshly. I have complete faith that in my shoes, you could do exactly what I do, neither better nor worse, but differently, in a way that works for you.
So thanks for the compliment, but honestly, it’s not necessary. Our similarities and differences make us the friends that we are.
*I promise, this is as “bad” as I get when mentioning real-life friends. For some crazy reason, I like you guys, and want to keep you! J
November 30, 2015
Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving is probably my most favorite holiday of all time. I have great (selective) memories of getting together with my cousins for the holiday, going to high school football games (our big homecoming game was Thanksgiving weekend), going with my family to the racetrack and using my great-grandmother’s winning strategy to bet on the horses, and of course the food.
My kids, however, are less than thrilled with the holiday. Probably because we celebrate all our holidays with all of our family, it doesn’t stand out as much. And they aren’t big fans of the food. Banana Girl said it’s just an excuse for people to say they’re thankful for something, and then spend the other 364 days doing whatever they please and not being thankful.
I think she’s a little young to be so cynical, but I’ll admit to sometimes having a hard time stepping out of myself and being thankful for what I have. Too many times it does feel forced, and too many times the stress of life gets in the way. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to pass around our construction-paper feathers this year and ask everyone to write what they’re thankful for, but now, after letting the holiday pass, having a relaxing weekend, and taking some time to breathe, I realize I am thankful for many things:
My kids. Eyerolls and all, they’re awesome.My husband. He’s the most supportive person I know, when I let him be.My family. They put up with me and help me find the funny even when I’m sure there’s nothing funny about anything.My friends. They make me laugh, make me talk, let me not talk and force me out of the house when I start to become a hermit.My writer friends. They understand this weird profession we’ve chosen and are truly happy when others succeed. The lack of jealousy and the consistent understanding, not to mention providing rescue out of plot holes, is amazing.My dog. She forces me to get exercise, which automatically makes me feel better, and she makes me laugh when she tries to protect me in all her 29-pound glory.
Happy Thanksgiving to all and may you find what you’re thankful for throughout the entire year.
My kids, however, are less than thrilled with the holiday. Probably because we celebrate all our holidays with all of our family, it doesn’t stand out as much. And they aren’t big fans of the food. Banana Girl said it’s just an excuse for people to say they’re thankful for something, and then spend the other 364 days doing whatever they please and not being thankful.
I think she’s a little young to be so cynical, but I’ll admit to sometimes having a hard time stepping out of myself and being thankful for what I have. Too many times it does feel forced, and too many times the stress of life gets in the way. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to pass around our construction-paper feathers this year and ask everyone to write what they’re thankful for, but now, after letting the holiday pass, having a relaxing weekend, and taking some time to breathe, I realize I am thankful for many things:
My kids. Eyerolls and all, they’re awesome.My husband. He’s the most supportive person I know, when I let him be.My family. They put up with me and help me find the funny even when I’m sure there’s nothing funny about anything.My friends. They make me laugh, make me talk, let me not talk and force me out of the house when I start to become a hermit.My writer friends. They understand this weird profession we’ve chosen and are truly happy when others succeed. The lack of jealousy and the consistent understanding, not to mention providing rescue out of plot holes, is amazing.My dog. She forces me to get exercise, which automatically makes me feel better, and she makes me laugh when she tries to protect me in all her 29-pound glory.
Happy Thanksgiving to all and may you find what you’re thankful for throughout the entire year.
