As a pregnant woman, my nightly dreams have become even more vivid and wacky. For those of you who know me personally, this is probably a frightening thought! I am already a very vivid dreamer, but add in pregnancy and we are in for a whirl. During the month before my wedding, VargasGirl (who has equally as wacky and vivid dreams as I do) and I shared daily e-mail accounts of our dreams regarding my wedding. I still giggle at her dream of my mom as an Amazon woman in a pink gingham dress.
Last week I had a dream about my time working in the dermatology clinic where I worked as the Mohs surgery histotech (a method for removing skin cancer) for five years. Three of those years part time while I was an undergrad – I did a job share with a woman who had toddlers and wanted the flexibility to go home to her kids at 3pm on the four days a week we worked and have summers off. It worked great. I had a good paying job through college, she worked a flexible schedule. When I graduated from college she quit and became a SAHM and eventually moved to California and I worked full time in the position for two years until I could deal with it no longer and knew a change had to be made in my life.
I loved that job in many ways. I also hated that job in many ways. Everyone has that job that defines them as an employee I believe, this was mine. I had a tremendous amount of responsibility, patients respected me, I came out of my shyness shell a significant amount and I really learned how to interact with people and console them – a trait that aside from my own son, doesn’t come natural to me. I gained experience in running my own (albeit small) lab as well. The downside came in working in a doctor’s office with three physicians and their all female support staff. There was as much bickering and hormones flying in that office as my freshman dorm. As hard as I find it sometimes to work in a male dominated field, it doesn’t hold a candle to that office.
I worked for a super doctor, in more ways than one. He was a Super Doctor in that he was sent all the hard cases and had incredible skin cancer cure rates, I saw more wacky stuff working for him than I ever hope to see in the rest of my life. I also met many local and even a few national level celebrities who were referred to him. He was super towards me to give me all his confidence in my abilities and sought to teach me everything he knew. Still today I believe my knowledge of dermatology and skin cancer probably surpasses many new practicing dermatologists. We spent lots of time together at work, often working until 11pm, we routinely lunched together and he treated me like his daughter. He had hopes and dreams for me (going to medical school at the University where he taught part time) and he was good to me and offered me lots of flexibility in my job. I adored his family and often babysat his three kids when he and his wife would vacation.
When I graduated college he held a twinge of disappointment (I am nearly positive) that I decided to go on working for him full time and had switched from talking about med school to talking about grad school. Our friendship changed somewhere along those lines during those last two years. I think it was my being there full time, him seeing lots more potential for me and my getting a much closer look at him as a shrewd (but very savvy) business manager and finding out later on how incredibly cheated I was on my salary. The mentor/mentee phase was over and I was now just his employee. AB still wrinkles his nose and talks about how much he hated the man when my time working for Dr. Stinkbug comes up in conversation. AB was of the opinion that when things started going sour with him I should have told him to take a hike and left him in a huge bind to scramble for a new histotech. Maybe I should have, but it was never and still wouldn’t be in my nature to do that to him. He was and I am sure still is, a good man.
When I dream about work, I dream about that place. I have never once dreamt about washing animal cages in the tox lab I worked at in high school, or the lab and university I worked in through grad school, and rarely do I dream about my current job. (Yes, there is my extensive resume.) Yet once a month or so, come rain or shine, I dream about cutting slides, assisting in cutting on people’s faces and stitching, running from room to room and consoling patients, making an effort to reassure them that their faces will recover. (Side note, please wear sunscreen.) I would dream that my slides are perfect, I dream of the stress and I dream of Dr. Stinkbug barking orders at me.
Surprisingly my dream last week was vastly different then previous dreams. I dreamt I was in Colorado visiting my mom, Dr. S found out and asked me to come in and cut slides for him one day. I tried to decline but finally went in. He introduced me with huge pride in his face to everyone in the office and then, with Leif in tow, I went back to my lab and tried to work. But instead of cranking out perfect slides, I couldn’t cut them. I was plowing through chunks of embedding medium and skin in the quest for the perfect thin slide that encompassed the entire length of the dermis and into the fat layer. I could not do it. Leif was being patient for Leif, but still he didn’t want to be there. The Petri dishes were stacking up and patients were waiting for their results. I could not get a slide made. I had forgotten how.
This is something that I have told AB I will never forget how to do, I will never forget how to cut frozen sections. The other night in my dream I had forgotten. Dr. S came over to me and instead of his face turning beet red as he yelled, he patted me on the shoulder as he looked into the cryostat at the mess in there and said, “it’s ok, you don’t need to do this”. And I picked up my son and left.
The dream was immensely satisfying to me. I don’t know if it marked the end of my being plagued with dreams of working in that place (even after 10 years of absence), or if it was just the mental acknowledgement I got from Dr. S (or really myself since it was my dream) that the stress is gone and I don’t need to plague myself with it anymore. I don’t know why the dream was so satisfying to me, but it was.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Friday, October 20, 2006
A sign it was time
This morning AB was getting Leif ready. He switched off the TV, which is unusual. I asked him what was up fearing something was on the news that was scary and/or not appropriate for Leif.
AB: "Oh it's a new episode of Little Einsteins this morning and I don't want to spoil it for Leif."
NM: "Thank goodness you got a job, you apparently really needed one."
AB: "Oh it's a new episode of Little Einsteins this morning and I don't want to spoil it for Leif."
NM: "Thank goodness you got a job, you apparently really needed one."
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Getting old sucks
Not me for once. Well yes, I am getting older, but I am not *that* old.
I got an e-mail this morning from my mom. Her message was to tell me that my nearly 84 year old grandmother was in a car accident and totaled her car. She is fine as is the other party. Yes, my grandmother is still driving. This is, however, her second accident in one year. Both of which she swears were not her fault.
My cousin was the one who called my mom. She was at work, her police officer husband at home sleeping since he was working nights. He got a call from his buddy telling him that my grandmother had an accident and will need someone to take her home from the ER. My grandmother was not the one to call anyone.
My cousin shows up at the ER with my grandmother wondering how she found out. (Duh.) Cousin tells her she is here to take her home and my grandmother asks her instead of taking her home, drop her at a car rental place so she can get a car. She can’t live without one. My cousin called my mom who told her to take her home and tell her to rest, then my mom calls her to talk.
Wow it sucks watching your loved ones age. When my grandmother visited in June of this past year I was shocked to see how little she was. When I was a kid she was 5’2”. She seemed almost proud that she is 4’8” now and everyone comments on how tiny she is. Her mind is sharp and she still kicks our butts (sometimes without cheating) at games. She doesn’t see herself in the mirror. She is tiny except for that 4” hump on her back. How can my strong Swedish grandmother be aging like this?
Par for the course when my mom called her later this morning the first thing she asked was, “how did you find out?” My mom scolded her for the fact that she had to find out from my cousin, who thankfully called her immediately. It sounds as though the conversation was a difficult one trying to keep my grandmother on track with discussing the accident and potentially her need to move out of her house and not her ailing dog.
Because this is her second accident in a year and due to her age she will be undergoing an assessment through the police department to see if she can retain her license. Despite the fact that she was ticketed she evidently had plenty to say about the other guy in the accident, he ran a red light and was speeding she said. It does no good for her to lie because my cousin’s husband will be getting a copy of the police report tonight when he goes on duty to find out exactly what happened. How bad is it that none of us believe her version?
Sadly I have to admit that about the best thing that could happen in this situation is that she lose her license. It will create a lot of scrambling on our part to get her moved into town to an apartment where there is public transit, teaching her how to use the bus system, and then booking her on buses to spend the holidays with family. But the costs of not doing these things and letting her continue to drive are far more costly.
I got an e-mail this morning from my mom. Her message was to tell me that my nearly 84 year old grandmother was in a car accident and totaled her car. She is fine as is the other party. Yes, my grandmother is still driving. This is, however, her second accident in one year. Both of which she swears were not her fault.
My cousin was the one who called my mom. She was at work, her police officer husband at home sleeping since he was working nights. He got a call from his buddy telling him that my grandmother had an accident and will need someone to take her home from the ER. My grandmother was not the one to call anyone.
My cousin shows up at the ER with my grandmother wondering how she found out. (Duh.) Cousin tells her she is here to take her home and my grandmother asks her instead of taking her home, drop her at a car rental place so she can get a car. She can’t live without one. My cousin called my mom who told her to take her home and tell her to rest, then my mom calls her to talk.
Wow it sucks watching your loved ones age. When my grandmother visited in June of this past year I was shocked to see how little she was. When I was a kid she was 5’2”. She seemed almost proud that she is 4’8” now and everyone comments on how tiny she is. Her mind is sharp and she still kicks our butts (sometimes without cheating) at games. She doesn’t see herself in the mirror. She is tiny except for that 4” hump on her back. How can my strong Swedish grandmother be aging like this?
Par for the course when my mom called her later this morning the first thing she asked was, “how did you find out?” My mom scolded her for the fact that she had to find out from my cousin, who thankfully called her immediately. It sounds as though the conversation was a difficult one trying to keep my grandmother on track with discussing the accident and potentially her need to move out of her house and not her ailing dog.
Because this is her second accident in a year and due to her age she will be undergoing an assessment through the police department to see if she can retain her license. Despite the fact that she was ticketed she evidently had plenty to say about the other guy in the accident, he ran a red light and was speeding she said. It does no good for her to lie because my cousin’s husband will be getting a copy of the police report tonight when he goes on duty to find out exactly what happened. How bad is it that none of us believe her version?
Sadly I have to admit that about the best thing that could happen in this situation is that she lose her license. It will create a lot of scrambling on our part to get her moved into town to an apartment where there is public transit, teaching her how to use the bus system, and then booking her on buses to spend the holidays with family. But the costs of not doing these things and letting her continue to drive are far more costly.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Some Leif funnies
I need something to cheer me up today. I have raging hormones that have turned me into a big pile of negativity spewing pooey (see the Nuclear Mom's Second Pregnancy blog in the side column).
Toddler OCD, a real phenomena
Leif and I have been working hard on looking for cars when we cross the street to get the mail. I ask him if there are cars coming, he looks and often points out the parked cars on our street, then when I reassure him they aren’t moving we agree we can go.
I can now rest assured that I have properly conveyed to him the necessity of looking both ways for cars based off my experience in driving to work this morning. Every time we stopped at an intersection Leif would YELL from the back seat, “CARS COMING MOMMY, DON’T GO!” Of course being a toddler and OCD just comes natural to toddlers he can’t just tell me once at each intersection. Oh no, no less than 23 times at each intersection was acceptable.
How to wake daddy according to Leif:
"DADDY, wake up!" screamed multiple times.
AB groggily rolls over with eyes open.
Apparently this has not been a success since he isn't up and out of bed immediately. Leif gets onto the bed.
"Put your blankey away Daddy! Put your blankey away!" Leif says as he peels the covers off AB leaving him exposed.
---------------------------
I am thinking it might be time to start thinking about moving Leif out of his crib. We had planned on keeping him in it until after the baby came, then making a big deal out of a NEW room and moving him then. Some people have agreed with this tactic, others disagreed. I think it is all in how it is approached.
However, the past two of three nights Leif has not been interested in going to bed in his crib. In fact, tonight he asked to sleep on the floor. Ok, once in the crib, he cried to sleep on the floor. I pulled him out, he layed his head on his pillow on the floor, asked for his blankey and told me goodnight.
And he was out. I am thinking this weekend we may pull the crib mattress out and put it on the floor and let him start by sleeping on that. Depending on how that goes we might consider a move sooner than anticipated to a new big boy room and turn the nursery into the temporary guest room, maybe over Thanksgiving?
Toddler OCD, a real phenomena
Leif and I have been working hard on looking for cars when we cross the street to get the mail. I ask him if there are cars coming, he looks and often points out the parked cars on our street, then when I reassure him they aren’t moving we agree we can go.
I can now rest assured that I have properly conveyed to him the necessity of looking both ways for cars based off my experience in driving to work this morning. Every time we stopped at an intersection Leif would YELL from the back seat, “CARS COMING MOMMY, DON’T GO!” Of course being a toddler and OCD just comes natural to toddlers he can’t just tell me once at each intersection. Oh no, no less than 23 times at each intersection was acceptable.
How to wake daddy according to Leif:
"DADDY, wake up!" screamed multiple times.
AB groggily rolls over with eyes open.
Apparently this has not been a success since he isn't up and out of bed immediately. Leif gets onto the bed.
"Put your blankey away Daddy! Put your blankey away!" Leif says as he peels the covers off AB leaving him exposed.
---------------------------
I am thinking it might be time to start thinking about moving Leif out of his crib. We had planned on keeping him in it until after the baby came, then making a big deal out of a NEW room and moving him then. Some people have agreed with this tactic, others disagreed. I think it is all in how it is approached.
However, the past two of three nights Leif has not been interested in going to bed in his crib. In fact, tonight he asked to sleep on the floor. Ok, once in the crib, he cried to sleep on the floor. I pulled him out, he layed his head on his pillow on the floor, asked for his blankey and told me goodnight.
And he was out. I am thinking this weekend we may pull the crib mattress out and put it on the floor and let him start by sleeping on that. Depending on how that goes we might consider a move sooner than anticipated to a new big boy room and turn the nursery into the temporary guest room, maybe over Thanksgiving?
Monday, October 16, 2006
Reclaiming my house
This weekend I was amazingly successful at reclaiming my house from the clutter and dirt that had taken over. I cleaned the master suite and started laundry Saturday. Sunday I focused on the formal dining room (Leif’s playroom) and the library. I dusted and vacuumed, Leif helped. When I pulled the vacuum cleaner out he retrieved his little vacuum and followed meticulously in my steps matching the length and time of each stroke. He helped me pick up his GeoTracks. The library I was somewhat successful at, limited mostly by the loads of papers that AB “might” need at some point in his coursework. They are all stacked for him to sort. AB cleaned the living room Sunday while watching the Seahawks game and between the two of us the kitchen was cleaned.
Our west wing went completely neglected save for the accidental mopping of the utility room. Pregnancy brain is real. I was filling the utility room sink up with Oxiclean and hot water when Leif started doing something (I can’t remember what) that he wasn’t supposed to. I went running with every intention of returning to the sink in the utility room. A little while later I heard water splashing, sure enough, scalding hot water all over the floor of the utility room.
One major accomplishment Sunday was achieving dominance over the laundry. It has been months since every piece of laundry has been clean in this house. AND I accomplished this feat with a toddler in underwear!
That last statement implies there was success with the toddler in underwear. Which actually couldn’t be farther from the truth. Truth is I managed to time that last load of laundry to finish about 30 minutes before the next accident. So my house was really just 30 minutes of not a speck of dirty laundry.
Speaking of Leif, I couldn’t have more of a boy’s boy on my hand. Wow. He is just all boy. Lately everything is about being an airplane, flinging ones body through mid-air and wrestling. He has his tender moments too though, like last night when for some reason he insisted on going to bed on the floor instead of his crib. I layed down on the floor with him and he reached over and rubbed my shoulder for a few minutes. When we leave in the mornings there are always a few tears as Leif calls for “just one more piss” from Daddy. If he had his way AB would stand there and give one more kiss all morning. (Ignore the fact that when we get to daycare I have to beg for a hug and kiss as he is running off to get busy with his day.)
Then there is this morning where Leif came into the bedroom while I was getting ready and told me he wanted to “watch baby”. I stuck the VHS tape in the VCR and hit play as we marveled at the in utero baby on the screen. Leif took to pointing out the body parts to me, similarly to how I did for him last Friday, only when I did it, I pointed to the actual body parts. Leif pointed to empty space and would recite “baby’s arm” or at the face and say “look mommy toes!” It melted my heart. Also implied he is not my little all knowing oracle… and maybe, just maybe he says “sister” because it is easier to say and not because he is all knowing.
In other news, my former graduate advisor wrote me this weekend asking me to write a letter in support for him in his nomination for a Graduate Advising Award. I like writing, why then does this task leave me without words? My goal is to create a letter that is brief, poignant and memorable and that conveys how deserving he truly is. All I can come up with is a rambling mess of words and examples of his worthiness. It reads plainly like every other letter of recommendation out there. This is killing me.
The other thing that is killing me is that he told me in his letter that my former labmate, John, got a job teaching at a small State College in Colorado. Slacker John. The one I “promised” (with my fingers crossed) to help him find a job here and then never followed up because I couldn’t stand what my coworkers would think of me if I actually recommended him. He has yet to defend and still has only written one (poorly written) draft of his dissertation done. Ugh. I suppose I should take consolation in the fact that he has a 1 year temporary appointment making probably less than half what I do here. Still I dream of a comfortable job like this, in my home state, preferably with my husband bringing in a good salary… I still sit here shaking my head thinking of John in this position, and just a twinge of jealousy.
In other news from my former advisor I had recently expressed some discontent at how hard of a time I am having weedling myself into surface science projects here, my true calling. When I first took this position he was unimpressed and probably somewhat concerned at my willingness to jump into the nuclear realm. (I was job hungry.) In his recent letter he encouraged me to remain straddling the two worlds given the state of our international relations. This was important for me to hear from him. Like a child that is always looking for a parent’s approval, I seek his approval in my professional life.
Our west wing went completely neglected save for the accidental mopping of the utility room. Pregnancy brain is real. I was filling the utility room sink up with Oxiclean and hot water when Leif started doing something (I can’t remember what) that he wasn’t supposed to. I went running with every intention of returning to the sink in the utility room. A little while later I heard water splashing, sure enough, scalding hot water all over the floor of the utility room.
One major accomplishment Sunday was achieving dominance over the laundry. It has been months since every piece of laundry has been clean in this house. AND I accomplished this feat with a toddler in underwear!
That last statement implies there was success with the toddler in underwear. Which actually couldn’t be farther from the truth. Truth is I managed to time that last load of laundry to finish about 30 minutes before the next accident. So my house was really just 30 minutes of not a speck of dirty laundry.
Speaking of Leif, I couldn’t have more of a boy’s boy on my hand. Wow. He is just all boy. Lately everything is about being an airplane, flinging ones body through mid-air and wrestling. He has his tender moments too though, like last night when for some reason he insisted on going to bed on the floor instead of his crib. I layed down on the floor with him and he reached over and rubbed my shoulder for a few minutes. When we leave in the mornings there are always a few tears as Leif calls for “just one more piss” from Daddy. If he had his way AB would stand there and give one more kiss all morning. (Ignore the fact that when we get to daycare I have to beg for a hug and kiss as he is running off to get busy with his day.)
Then there is this morning where Leif came into the bedroom while I was getting ready and told me he wanted to “watch baby”. I stuck the VHS tape in the VCR and hit play as we marveled at the in utero baby on the screen. Leif took to pointing out the body parts to me, similarly to how I did for him last Friday, only when I did it, I pointed to the actual body parts. Leif pointed to empty space and would recite “baby’s arm” or at the face and say “look mommy toes!” It melted my heart. Also implied he is not my little all knowing oracle… and maybe, just maybe he says “sister” because it is easier to say and not because he is all knowing.
In other news, my former graduate advisor wrote me this weekend asking me to write a letter in support for him in his nomination for a Graduate Advising Award. I like writing, why then does this task leave me without words? My goal is to create a letter that is brief, poignant and memorable and that conveys how deserving he truly is. All I can come up with is a rambling mess of words and examples of his worthiness. It reads plainly like every other letter of recommendation out there. This is killing me.
The other thing that is killing me is that he told me in his letter that my former labmate, John, got a job teaching at a small State College in Colorado. Slacker John. The one I “promised” (with my fingers crossed) to help him find a job here and then never followed up because I couldn’t stand what my coworkers would think of me if I actually recommended him. He has yet to defend and still has only written one (poorly written) draft of his dissertation done. Ugh. I suppose I should take consolation in the fact that he has a 1 year temporary appointment making probably less than half what I do here. Still I dream of a comfortable job like this, in my home state, preferably with my husband bringing in a good salary… I still sit here shaking my head thinking of John in this position, and just a twinge of jealousy.
In other news from my former advisor I had recently expressed some discontent at how hard of a time I am having weedling myself into surface science projects here, my true calling. When I first took this position he was unimpressed and probably somewhat concerned at my willingness to jump into the nuclear realm. (I was job hungry.) In his recent letter he encouraged me to remain straddling the two worlds given the state of our international relations. This was important for me to hear from him. Like a child that is always looking for a parent’s approval, I seek his approval in my professional life.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Random blogging
Tomorrow is the day during all pregnancies everywhere that we wait for in anticipation. The ultrasound day! We are really looking forward to tomorrow. This pregnancy has had me fairly paranoid about a number of random things, but tomorrow should hopefully put my head to rest and reassure me that we have one healthy baby growing away. We won’t find out the gender because we love torturing our friends and loved ones, but really for the purely selfish reason of relishing that “It’s a (insert gender)” moment at delivery. Another thing to guess about!
Work is plodding along slowly. I finally came to the realization that I need another project to work on and so I set about in working on that yesterday. I e-mailed a handful of people in the area of my expertise asking if there are any openings on their projects for the coming year for a surface / vacuum / materials scientist. So far I have no takers. My former team lead came by to tell me he is in the same boat (great) and to encourage me to go over to the dark side since I have the radiation detection experience. I fear this. I worry about suddenly being on a project where travel is routine. If I have no takers by Monday I will have to wander over and talk to the PM for this particular multi multi million dollar project which I have avoided the gravitational pull from for years. I can already see it, “oh yes and I don’t want to travel more than once a month or so because as you know I have a toddler at home, I won’t be allowed to travel anymore in about 12 weeks due to our companies travel restrictions with pregnancy, oh and I didn’t tell you I am pregnant? Oh yeah, I will be out on maternity leave for about 12 weeks next spring.” Yeah. I can’t wait.
The advantage I have over others I suppose is that I am not looking for temporary work. I am looking to pick up a new project to replace my successfully finished project. About 30% time is what I am aiming for starting at the end of the month when my paper should be finished.
Leif is doing well. He does his best to crack us up daily. He has a new song that he sings regularly and AB and I struggled and struggled to learn the words. It doesn’t help that he speaks toddler language, so really getting what he is saying is difficult. The second hard point comes in the discovery yesterday that the song is really just a string of made up, but rhyming words! His teacher has promised to write it out for us because Leif really hates that AB and I don’t know this song when he wants us to sing it.
One of Leif’s funnier moments this weekend was when he announced to me that he too has a baby in his tummy. “You do?” I responded surprised. He then stuck his belly out and instructed me to “piss baby in my tummy” (kiss the baby in my tummy). I cracked up, and promptly did as he asked!
We are constantly impressed with Leif. He is working hard on the ABC's and has certain phrases down, "m,n,o,p" "s,t,u" and his favorite is "w,x,y,AND z". He is routinely counting to 14 without help or prompting if you have 14 things to count. What perplexes us though is his insistance that doing something on the count of three, like jumping or making the blocks crash is always "3,4,6!"
Last night I ventured out to get my haircut. I haven’t done this in ages it seems. Partly because I had a horrible cut last time and partly because I have been highly reclusive lately. But I ventured out to V’s stylist bravely last night. I left horrified. Seriously. I hated it. I even told the stylist I was extremely skeptical. I picked up Leif at V’s house and she worked hard to reassure me, but that was quickly eroded away by my husband who said, “woah” when he walked in the house. I said, “I am not sure what I think” and he replied “yeah, me either”. It is good I suppose to pride oneself with honesty, but there are times when it just isn’t the best policy.
The good news though is that the style vastly improved this morning when I styled it myself. At least today, I am quite happy with the cut. (AB still hasn’t told me he likes it, or offered a positive comment… but then again unless it was back to my waist I doubt he would rave. Dork.)
I am craving some free time lately. I have none. I have a little time in the evening after Leif goes down to blog a little and catch up on MySpace on occasion. About an hour to watch TV and then I am done for. My house is a disaster area. Serious disaster area. I am really hoping AB gets a job offer this week JUST so I can call our housecleaner back. AB’s intentions to keep the house clean while out of work were good, but they are just that, intentions. In the meantime I have 1” thick dog hair carpet on my side of the bedroom floor since Winny sleeps on the floor next to me. I am not sure when last our sheets were washed, my athroom sink is a frightening zone of filth. I struggle to get a load of laundry in everyday. My pantry is frightening as is my linen closet. I need a sign that says “Watch for Falling Objects When Opening” attached to the front of each. I think I am starting to nest. The mess is driving me insane. I fear that this weekend is going to be ALL about cleaning and that I am going to have to take time away from Leif to accomplish this. I hate that, but it is a must.
What I really want to do? Some crafts. I have marked off Thanksgiving week to be home all week (yay!) and my plan for that week is to make a quilt for this baby. (I will accomplish this by taking Leif to daycare Monday and Tuesday, thereby having some me time.) I plan to buy the fabric in advance and if I am lucky have cut my pieces so I can sew starting Monday morning. With any luck I will have a completed quilt by the end of the holiday week.
Even more than quilting, I have been craving some cross stitch time, I have a few gorgeous patterns begging for attention, UFO #1 Chat Noir (unfinished object) and UTO #1 Pates Baroni (untackled object) and my big prize UTO #2, The Orange Tree. I can’t even envision when I am next going to have a chance to sit down and tackle them. I took up cross stitching after one of my best friends, Vargas Girl, hooked me a number of years ago. I completed a number of small patterns… small compared to the above three that are each 50,000+ stitches. Then I delved into big patterns. I am not much for the ever present country style and cutesy cute patterns and so when I found sites that specialized in Vintage and Classic Artwork, my addiction was fed. I made a promise that I wouldn’t buy more until I completed one. That didn’t last long when I found Pates Baroni on sale for half price. Then I was browsing Golden Kite and found the Orange Tree and fell in love nearly immediately. Oh I also made the commitment to finish Chat Noir before Leif was born. Boy was *I* funny! In the past few weeks I have been seriously contemplating pulling out The Orange Tree. I am dying to stitch that. Then I think about all the work of pulling out my crates of supplies, going through my boxes of thread, buying the colors I need, spooling them all and organizing them… how to deal with Leif’s need to “howp” and I sigh and look at my dirty house and realize what REALLY needs to be tackled.
I also want to finish the October book club selection, The Red Tent, (that was already discussed). (Fantastic read, btw.) I am not even going to attempt the November book, Geek Something, Love maybe? I own it, but even putting it on my to do list is setting myself up for failure. I am a sucky book club member this second year. I haven’t been since June. Amazingly I have read most of the books, and on time too (with the exception of The Red Tent which I am SO close to finishing). For me 75% of it right now is purely scheduling difficulties, AB has class on my book club night. The other 25% of it is a mix between finding a babysitter (ok, I admit it, making the effort to find a babysitter) and feeling up to par (the problem with August and the partial problem with September). My FIL started the December book (Persepolis, The Story of a Childhood, a graphic novel) at the cabin this past weekend and told me he finds it worthwhile and interesting and that I should aim to read it, and I really want to. His endorsement is huge to me and seeing that he read 1/3 of it while “babysitting” Leif (as he napped) while AB and I dug clams, I am optimistic I can accomplish it.
What is occupying your time this Indian summer?
Work is plodding along slowly. I finally came to the realization that I need another project to work on and so I set about in working on that yesterday. I e-mailed a handful of people in the area of my expertise asking if there are any openings on their projects for the coming year for a surface / vacuum / materials scientist. So far I have no takers. My former team lead came by to tell me he is in the same boat (great) and to encourage me to go over to the dark side since I have the radiation detection experience. I fear this. I worry about suddenly being on a project where travel is routine. If I have no takers by Monday I will have to wander over and talk to the PM for this particular multi multi million dollar project which I have avoided the gravitational pull from for years. I can already see it, “oh yes and I don’t want to travel more than once a month or so because as you know I have a toddler at home, I won’t be allowed to travel anymore in about 12 weeks due to our companies travel restrictions with pregnancy, oh and I didn’t tell you I am pregnant? Oh yeah, I will be out on maternity leave for about 12 weeks next spring.” Yeah. I can’t wait.
The advantage I have over others I suppose is that I am not looking for temporary work. I am looking to pick up a new project to replace my successfully finished project. About 30% time is what I am aiming for starting at the end of the month when my paper should be finished.
Leif is doing well. He does his best to crack us up daily. He has a new song that he sings regularly and AB and I struggled and struggled to learn the words. It doesn’t help that he speaks toddler language, so really getting what he is saying is difficult. The second hard point comes in the discovery yesterday that the song is really just a string of made up, but rhyming words! His teacher has promised to write it out for us because Leif really hates that AB and I don’t know this song when he wants us to sing it.
One of Leif’s funnier moments this weekend was when he announced to me that he too has a baby in his tummy. “You do?” I responded surprised. He then stuck his belly out and instructed me to “piss baby in my tummy” (kiss the baby in my tummy). I cracked up, and promptly did as he asked!
We are constantly impressed with Leif. He is working hard on the ABC's and has certain phrases down, "m,n,o,p" "s,t,u" and his favorite is "w,x,y,AND z". He is routinely counting to 14 without help or prompting if you have 14 things to count. What perplexes us though is his insistance that doing something on the count of three, like jumping or making the blocks crash is always "3,4,6!"
Last night I ventured out to get my haircut. I haven’t done this in ages it seems. Partly because I had a horrible cut last time and partly because I have been highly reclusive lately. But I ventured out to V’s stylist bravely last night. I left horrified. Seriously. I hated it. I even told the stylist I was extremely skeptical. I picked up Leif at V’s house and she worked hard to reassure me, but that was quickly eroded away by my husband who said, “woah” when he walked in the house. I said, “I am not sure what I think” and he replied “yeah, me either”. It is good I suppose to pride oneself with honesty, but there are times when it just isn’t the best policy.
The good news though is that the style vastly improved this morning when I styled it myself. At least today, I am quite happy with the cut. (AB still hasn’t told me he likes it, or offered a positive comment… but then again unless it was back to my waist I doubt he would rave. Dork.)
I am craving some free time lately. I have none. I have a little time in the evening after Leif goes down to blog a little and catch up on MySpace on occasion. About an hour to watch TV and then I am done for. My house is a disaster area. Serious disaster area. I am really hoping AB gets a job offer this week JUST so I can call our housecleaner back. AB’s intentions to keep the house clean while out of work were good, but they are just that, intentions. In the meantime I have 1” thick dog hair carpet on my side of the bedroom floor since Winny sleeps on the floor next to me. I am not sure when last our sheets were washed, my athroom sink is a frightening zone of filth. I struggle to get a load of laundry in everyday. My pantry is frightening as is my linen closet. I need a sign that says “Watch for Falling Objects When Opening” attached to the front of each. I think I am starting to nest. The mess is driving me insane. I fear that this weekend is going to be ALL about cleaning and that I am going to have to take time away from Leif to accomplish this. I hate that, but it is a must.
What I really want to do? Some crafts. I have marked off Thanksgiving week to be home all week (yay!) and my plan for that week is to make a quilt for this baby. (I will accomplish this by taking Leif to daycare Monday and Tuesday, thereby having some me time.) I plan to buy the fabric in advance and if I am lucky have cut my pieces so I can sew starting Monday morning. With any luck I will have a completed quilt by the end of the holiday week.
Even more than quilting, I have been craving some cross stitch time, I have a few gorgeous patterns begging for attention, UFO #1 Chat Noir (unfinished object) and UTO #1 Pates Baroni (untackled object) and my big prize UTO #2, The Orange Tree. I can’t even envision when I am next going to have a chance to sit down and tackle them. I took up cross stitching after one of my best friends, Vargas Girl, hooked me a number of years ago. I completed a number of small patterns… small compared to the above three that are each 50,000+ stitches. Then I delved into big patterns. I am not much for the ever present country style and cutesy cute patterns and so when I found sites that specialized in Vintage and Classic Artwork, my addiction was fed. I made a promise that I wouldn’t buy more until I completed one. That didn’t last long when I found Pates Baroni on sale for half price. Then I was browsing Golden Kite and found the Orange Tree and fell in love nearly immediately. Oh I also made the commitment to finish Chat Noir before Leif was born. Boy was *I* funny! In the past few weeks I have been seriously contemplating pulling out The Orange Tree. I am dying to stitch that. Then I think about all the work of pulling out my crates of supplies, going through my boxes of thread, buying the colors I need, spooling them all and organizing them… how to deal with Leif’s need to “howp” and I sigh and look at my dirty house and realize what REALLY needs to be tackled.
I also want to finish the October book club selection, The Red Tent, (that was already discussed). (Fantastic read, btw.) I am not even going to attempt the November book, Geek Something, Love maybe? I own it, but even putting it on my to do list is setting myself up for failure. I am a sucky book club member this second year. I haven’t been since June. Amazingly I have read most of the books, and on time too (with the exception of The Red Tent which I am SO close to finishing). For me 75% of it right now is purely scheduling difficulties, AB has class on my book club night. The other 25% of it is a mix between finding a babysitter (ok, I admit it, making the effort to find a babysitter) and feeling up to par (the problem with August and the partial problem with September). My FIL started the December book (Persepolis, The Story of a Childhood, a graphic novel) at the cabin this past weekend and told me he finds it worthwhile and interesting and that I should aim to read it, and I really want to. His endorsement is huge to me and seeing that he read 1/3 of it while “babysitting” Leif (as he napped) while AB and I dug clams, I am optimistic I can accomplish it.
What is occupying your time this Indian summer?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Blogging with pictures take 2
Blogging with pictures
I have had no time lately to blog even a vacation update. So I am taking a few minutes of my lunch break (naughty me) here at work to get at least something up from our trip to the coast last weekend.
A rare, quiet moment with Winny dog.
A trip in the row boat.
Kissing grandpa (or in Leif speak, "pissing bompa").
Hanging with mommy on the porch.
Grandma asked for a kiss... not sure what she got.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Have a good weekend!
AB, Leif, Winny and I are packing up the car and heading over the mountains and to the coast for a long weekend! We are vacating tomorrow morning as early as possible in order to get to the cabin before low tide. I love low tide and want to spend some time clamming with my mom and stepdad and showing Leif starfish, crabs, sea snails and how to walk on oyster shells, because that is what our beach is composed of, oysters. Big, huge Pacific oysters.
I need a getaway. Work is wearing on me this week. I started a venting blog about work and felt myself getting all worked up again. Let’s just say f*$%ing continuing resolution and leave it at that. This is the time every year, when I stare longingly at the ads in the back of my C&En magazine at the new faculty positions listed and dream.
But I am headed out on vacation! Four days at the seashore with the family I love. I am anxious to see Leif interact with the new environment. I am nervous to take him out in the row boat. I am thrilled to sleep in and let Leif hang with my mom. I am looking forward to Oysterfest and the Washington State Seafood Festival. I am anticipating time with a few books on the couch. I hope there will still be blackberries to pick. (Although I will not be surprised if there aren’t.)
I shall return on Tuesday! Everyone have a super weekend!
I need a getaway. Work is wearing on me this week. I started a venting blog about work and felt myself getting all worked up again. Let’s just say f*$%ing continuing resolution and leave it at that. This is the time every year, when I stare longingly at the ads in the back of my C&En magazine at the new faculty positions listed and dream.
But I am headed out on vacation! Four days at the seashore with the family I love. I am anxious to see Leif interact with the new environment. I am nervous to take him out in the row boat. I am thrilled to sleep in and let Leif hang with my mom. I am looking forward to Oysterfest and the Washington State Seafood Festival. I am anticipating time with a few books on the couch. I hope there will still be blackberries to pick. (Although I will not be surprised if there aren’t.)
I shall return on Tuesday! Everyone have a super weekend!
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Failure of the advance Christmas shopping tactic
AB: What a great hat you got Leif! I love it! I wish I had one like it.
NM: Well ok. (Goes to closet and pulls out matching hat intended for Christmas present.)
The upside, of course, being the wonderful feeling of seeing my matching boys in their hats out on our walk last night. It has just started to cool down enough that after the sun has set, a hat is a nice thing.
Leif loved his hat and would have taken a bath in it last night had we let him. He especially liked the fact that dad had one just like it.
The GeoTrax I bought this week on sale will go straight to the closet and will not come out until they are ready to be wrapped and put under a tree!
NM: Well ok. (Goes to closet and pulls out matching hat intended for Christmas present.)
The upside, of course, being the wonderful feeling of seeing my matching boys in their hats out on our walk last night. It has just started to cool down enough that after the sun has set, a hat is a nice thing.
Leif loved his hat and would have taken a bath in it last night had we let him. He especially liked the fact that dad had one just like it.
The GeoTrax I bought this week on sale will go straight to the closet and will not come out until they are ready to be wrapped and put under a tree!
The sky is falling!
Last night while watching TV I told AB that I was planning on voting for our Democratic candidate for Senate, Maria Cantwell. As one of those notorious and very dangerous non-party affiliated swing voters, I expected a debate and was prepared for it.
I got instead a sigh, and my card carrying Republican husband admitted that he just doesn’t think he can bring himself to vote for the Republican candidate, Mike McGavick.
I got instead a sigh, and my card carrying Republican husband admitted that he just doesn’t think he can bring himself to vote for the Republican candidate, Mike McGavick.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Failure?
A Masters degree in Biostatistics from Harvard at age 22. How can that even be considered failure?
One of the really outstanding students I have mentored here at the lab e-mailed me today with such a somber voice that failure is the only word to put with her attitude and voice. She e-mailed me asking if she could use me as a reference in her job search as her plans for a Ph.D. from Harvard in Biostatistics “didn’t work out”. Disappointed? Only in the fact that she defended her Masters in June and didn’t even tell me so that I could send her a congratulations on your graduation card as well as a token graduation gift.
My goodness. If this is failure, what have we come to? I e-mailed her back with a hearty congratulations on her Masters and did my best to impart to her what a wonderful achievement she has in getting this degree. It made me sad for her, because I know her well enough to know that it is a huge blow to her ego to have to admit that she stopped short of her Ph.D. I knew there were difficulties from the get go in her program. She talked with me frequently about them during her first year, about the cut-throat nature of her colleagues, the unavailable nature of her professors. After her first year she was considering quitting. I believe it was me and one of the managers here at the lab who convinced her to plod forward, that it was just the first year crappola that she was encountering.
Even at my very small state school I had my fair share of that the first year. On the contrary though, I look back and realize that I was often the one dishing it out that first year. (Hanging head in shame.) But the recipients were so deserving. I mean if you can’t hack it during year one at a school that TRIES to keep its enrollment up, take a hint. (Is that justification?) Take the girl who was a year ahead of me who could not explain to her students how to derive the Ideal Gas Law. (She did graduate and is teaching math at a small community college in California.) Or the 57 year old woman who… oh goodness, I don’t even know where to start with her. When you raise your hand 3 months into Advanced Inorganic Chemistry and say, “wait, I thought a salt was NaCl?” There is a problem.
These aren’t the students that are at Harvard. C was valedictorian, graduated two years early from high school and then graduated ivy league at the top of her class in physics. The girl is amazing.
I think back to when C was selecting grad schools to apply to. Johns Hopkins, Harvard, Stanford, etc. Then she put University of Washington as her back up. She, not surprisingly, got into them all. But what shocked me was that in talking to her, UW had wormed its way into her top list and I remember her saying she kind of wanted to go there. But we all told C, you *have* to go to one of the others. You will forever kick yourself for not going! Just think of the opportunities when you finish with your Ph.D.! I wonder if we all pushed her too hard. If in her own mind, she didn’t know better what would be a good fit. And it was her fear of disappointment towards everyone else that pushed her to Harvard. I feel a twinge of guilt.
I sit here with my Ph.D. from a lower end state school. It was a safe bet. I was a decent college student who took a safe bet and went to a school that aimed to retain its students. Then I look at C with a foul taste in her mouth from her grad experience and her Masters from a school known for its competitiveness and I think how unfair. Because wow, she is so smart. And in my own mind, I look at this and can’t help but think how stupid they were to let her go.
One of the really outstanding students I have mentored here at the lab e-mailed me today with such a somber voice that failure is the only word to put with her attitude and voice. She e-mailed me asking if she could use me as a reference in her job search as her plans for a Ph.D. from Harvard in Biostatistics “didn’t work out”. Disappointed? Only in the fact that she defended her Masters in June and didn’t even tell me so that I could send her a congratulations on your graduation card as well as a token graduation gift.
My goodness. If this is failure, what have we come to? I e-mailed her back with a hearty congratulations on her Masters and did my best to impart to her what a wonderful achievement she has in getting this degree. It made me sad for her, because I know her well enough to know that it is a huge blow to her ego to have to admit that she stopped short of her Ph.D. I knew there were difficulties from the get go in her program. She talked with me frequently about them during her first year, about the cut-throat nature of her colleagues, the unavailable nature of her professors. After her first year she was considering quitting. I believe it was me and one of the managers here at the lab who convinced her to plod forward, that it was just the first year crappola that she was encountering.
Even at my very small state school I had my fair share of that the first year. On the contrary though, I look back and realize that I was often the one dishing it out that first year. (Hanging head in shame.) But the recipients were so deserving. I mean if you can’t hack it during year one at a school that TRIES to keep its enrollment up, take a hint. (Is that justification?) Take the girl who was a year ahead of me who could not explain to her students how to derive the Ideal Gas Law. (She did graduate and is teaching math at a small community college in California.) Or the 57 year old woman who… oh goodness, I don’t even know where to start with her. When you raise your hand 3 months into Advanced Inorganic Chemistry and say, “wait, I thought a salt was NaCl?” There is a problem.
These aren’t the students that are at Harvard. C was valedictorian, graduated two years early from high school and then graduated ivy league at the top of her class in physics. The girl is amazing.
I think back to when C was selecting grad schools to apply to. Johns Hopkins, Harvard, Stanford, etc. Then she put University of Washington as her back up. She, not surprisingly, got into them all. But what shocked me was that in talking to her, UW had wormed its way into her top list and I remember her saying she kind of wanted to go there. But we all told C, you *have* to go to one of the others. You will forever kick yourself for not going! Just think of the opportunities when you finish with your Ph.D.! I wonder if we all pushed her too hard. If in her own mind, she didn’t know better what would be a good fit. And it was her fear of disappointment towards everyone else that pushed her to Harvard. I feel a twinge of guilt.
I sit here with my Ph.D. from a lower end state school. It was a safe bet. I was a decent college student who took a safe bet and went to a school that aimed to retain its students. Then I look at C with a foul taste in her mouth from her grad experience and her Masters from a school known for its competitiveness and I think how unfair. Because wow, she is so smart. And in my own mind, I look at this and can’t help but think how stupid they were to let her go.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Names take two
Last night after a few weeks absence from names discussions AB and I delved back into it pretty hardcore. I mentioned previously that we have trouble with names. This has lead to some interesting discussions, like one from last night (no offense meant, of course):
AB: How about X?
NM: That is so white trash.
AB: Now why would you say that?
NM: It’s a name on Days of our Lives!
AB: And you know this because?
NM: Oh yeah. Point taken, I did live in a trailer house until I was four!
or this one:
AB: How about Abigail Beatrix?
NM: Now where in the world did that come from?
AB: The initials would be A.B.C.!
NM: (rolling my eyes)
And when they aren’t so funny, they can be downright frustrating. Who knew that two people who love each other so much would have such a hard time agreeing.
Leif’s name fits him so well I can’t even imagine his name being the other options we talked about. Among them Lars, Nathaniel and Joshua. So maybe Nathaniel and Joshua would work for him, but he isn’t a Lars to me. Of course, conventional wisdom says well if you liked those names the first time around, why not toss them in for round two? I still like the name Lars, so does AB, but he has a set of second cousins named Leif and Lars. It is one thing to have a same name in a family, quite another to name two sets of brothers in the same family the same names. We just can’t do it. Nathaniel and Joshua have been ruled out because now that we have started down the road with Scandinavian sounding names, it is hard to jump over to a traditional name. It just doesn’t fit with Leif.
Each gender has a different set of issues with us. Let’s start with boy’s names since I mentioned the above. We just plain don’t agree. This was the case with Leif too, we did finally come up with those four boys names and then I think I was the one who pushed for Leif. I am not sure we were even 100% sold on Leif when he was born, but then I called him Leif after he was born. AB has always said he was happy with that decision and I believe him. I have a list of wonderful Scandinavian boy’s names that I love, most have been ruled out by AB. (I am delving into my sacred list now… per our conversation last night, these names are no longer in the running.)
Zapped from my list are Sven, Tayte, Ari and Stefan. On AB’s sacred list we have ruled out Rolf. (See who is giving more??) I know AB loved Rolf, but as someone who spent 5 years in speech therapy struggling with “R’s” and specifically “ro” sounds, this name just doesn’t fly. I have to think too much when I say it. I can already hear myself being mad and yelling, “Walf!” and my child looking at me, pointing and laughing. Then everytime someone didn’t understand it I would worry that my speech impediments were coming back.
As of last night we have one name that we both like (from my list) and then two more, one that AB really likes and one that I really like. Both of those names are acceptable options to the other person. This means we are very nearly sold on a boy’s name unless something else pops up.
Enter the next biggest complication with boy’s names. Middle names. AB and I both like the idea of using family names for middle names. Since they are family names I don’t have a problem sharing them because my family that reads my blog will immediately know what the names are, so I will post our choices here. Leif’s middle name is John after my FIL. My FIL’s name was going to be used in some fashion in Leif’s name per AB’s request, and I had no problem with this. I suppose it is only fair then that my family be honored this time around. I want this, AB is offering it. But I cannot come up with a family name that I really, really like. No offense meant to anyone!
My first choice is my grandfather’s middle name, Lemuel, which very nearly makes AB vomit. He tells me it reminds him of a small rodent. (Eye roll.) My father’s middle name, Warren, is an obvious choice if it weren’t one of those names with too many r’s in it that causes me angst when I have to speak it. I have a coworker named Warren and I avoid speaking his first name at all costs. My maiden name is an option, but it does NOT go with our leading first name. Right now the leader of the pack is my great grandfather’s first name Albert (also my great great uncle’s first name). I like that name. He died when I was very young and so I never knew him, but I did know my Uncle Bud (Albert).
I don’t have a huge family to select from, and when you start ruling out names of those people who fall under the category of “there is no way in hell I am naming my child after you”, well the list becomes even smaller. I am considering, if this child is a boy and Albert doesn’t go well with the first name, kicking the middle name back over to AB’s side of the family or departing from the family name tradition. Help?
Girls… The set of issues with girls is far different then boys. With girls there are too many names we really, really like. We agree on nearly everything. Well most everything. I have three names that were always among my favorites which AB ruled out the first time around had Leif been a girl, Anna, Alice and Astrid. I suppose I am drawn to “A” names. I may have to pull these back out if we have #3 and AB is really deadset on A.B.C. initials. (Dork.)
Elin and Astrid (who made my list again) were removed from my sacred list last night. Abigail from AB’s list. I have three left on my sacred list. One that we both really love, but AB’s hesitation on it is that a number of women in his extended family (two or three) are named this. It is his great grandmother’s name. I get this concern, but I still love the name. The other name is an L name. We love it but it poses a problem that with our chosen middle name, our daughter would have the same initials as our son, L.J.C. Is this hokey?
Given that we agree on names, our decision is not a whole lot easier. See AB has this name that he loves. I mean, really, really feels strongly about naming our daughter this name. I like the name. It isn’t on my sacred list, but I really like it. In fact, I had given in on this particular name when I was pregnant with Leif had he been a girl. The name holds a lot of meaning for AB and I in our relationship. Here is what kills me, it fails the Supreme Court test. You know, can you see someone on the Supreme Court with this name? I cannot. AB likes to remind me that there are CEO’s named Bunny (NOT the name)… or maybe it was there was ONE CEO named Bunny at some point, he can’t remember.
I worry that my daughter won’t be taken seriously with this name. As a woman in a male dominated field, being taken seriously is very important to me. AB thinks I am being ridiculous. The name is one that I would put with a sports star, or an actress, or singer. The name is different, it isn’t one that I have ever seen in a name book or on a name website, it isn’t on the social security website, it isn’t anywhere one typically looks for names. It isn’t made up, in fact, it goes back to ancient mythological times. I want this name for my daughter, but I worry. I worry that some white haired old man will look at her resume someday and scoff at her name and toss it away.
Is my worry unfounded? Are there enough different names nowadays that this one that is a touch “out there” won’t raise an eyebrow?
I am very close to once again, giving in. The thought of denying my husband something that he really, really wants when I (for the most part) picked our son’s name and will give her middle name to her, just kills me. Oh yeah, if a girl, her middle name will be Jeanne (pronounced Jean), the same as mine, my mom’s, my grandmother’s, my great grandmother’s… If she hates her name she can always do as my grandmother (Shirley Jeanne) has done and go by Jeanne. Any words of wisdom on this?
(I know it would be far easier if I divulged the name. But I am a big meany like that and not going to.)
AB: How about X?
NM: That is so white trash.
AB: Now why would you say that?
NM: It’s a name on Days of our Lives!
AB: And you know this because?
NM: Oh yeah. Point taken, I did live in a trailer house until I was four!
or this one:
AB: How about Abigail Beatrix?
NM: Now where in the world did that come from?
AB: The initials would be A.B.C.!
NM: (rolling my eyes)
And when they aren’t so funny, they can be downright frustrating. Who knew that two people who love each other so much would have such a hard time agreeing.
Leif’s name fits him so well I can’t even imagine his name being the other options we talked about. Among them Lars, Nathaniel and Joshua. So maybe Nathaniel and Joshua would work for him, but he isn’t a Lars to me. Of course, conventional wisdom says well if you liked those names the first time around, why not toss them in for round two? I still like the name Lars, so does AB, but he has a set of second cousins named Leif and Lars. It is one thing to have a same name in a family, quite another to name two sets of brothers in the same family the same names. We just can’t do it. Nathaniel and Joshua have been ruled out because now that we have started down the road with Scandinavian sounding names, it is hard to jump over to a traditional name. It just doesn’t fit with Leif.
Each gender has a different set of issues with us. Let’s start with boy’s names since I mentioned the above. We just plain don’t agree. This was the case with Leif too, we did finally come up with those four boys names and then I think I was the one who pushed for Leif. I am not sure we were even 100% sold on Leif when he was born, but then I called him Leif after he was born. AB has always said he was happy with that decision and I believe him. I have a list of wonderful Scandinavian boy’s names that I love, most have been ruled out by AB. (I am delving into my sacred list now… per our conversation last night, these names are no longer in the running.)
Zapped from my list are Sven, Tayte, Ari and Stefan. On AB’s sacred list we have ruled out Rolf. (See who is giving more??) I know AB loved Rolf, but as someone who spent 5 years in speech therapy struggling with “R’s” and specifically “ro” sounds, this name just doesn’t fly. I have to think too much when I say it. I can already hear myself being mad and yelling, “Walf!” and my child looking at me, pointing and laughing. Then everytime someone didn’t understand it I would worry that my speech impediments were coming back.
As of last night we have one name that we both like (from my list) and then two more, one that AB really likes and one that I really like. Both of those names are acceptable options to the other person. This means we are very nearly sold on a boy’s name unless something else pops up.
Enter the next biggest complication with boy’s names. Middle names. AB and I both like the idea of using family names for middle names. Since they are family names I don’t have a problem sharing them because my family that reads my blog will immediately know what the names are, so I will post our choices here. Leif’s middle name is John after my FIL. My FIL’s name was going to be used in some fashion in Leif’s name per AB’s request, and I had no problem with this. I suppose it is only fair then that my family be honored this time around. I want this, AB is offering it. But I cannot come up with a family name that I really, really like. No offense meant to anyone!
My first choice is my grandfather’s middle name, Lemuel, which very nearly makes AB vomit. He tells me it reminds him of a small rodent. (Eye roll.) My father’s middle name, Warren, is an obvious choice if it weren’t one of those names with too many r’s in it that causes me angst when I have to speak it. I have a coworker named Warren and I avoid speaking his first name at all costs. My maiden name is an option, but it does NOT go with our leading first name. Right now the leader of the pack is my great grandfather’s first name Albert (also my great great uncle’s first name). I like that name. He died when I was very young and so I never knew him, but I did know my Uncle Bud (Albert).
I don’t have a huge family to select from, and when you start ruling out names of those people who fall under the category of “there is no way in hell I am naming my child after you”, well the list becomes even smaller. I am considering, if this child is a boy and Albert doesn’t go well with the first name, kicking the middle name back over to AB’s side of the family or departing from the family name tradition. Help?
Girls… The set of issues with girls is far different then boys. With girls there are too many names we really, really like. We agree on nearly everything. Well most everything. I have three names that were always among my favorites which AB ruled out the first time around had Leif been a girl, Anna, Alice and Astrid. I suppose I am drawn to “A” names. I may have to pull these back out if we have #3 and AB is really deadset on A.B.C. initials. (Dork.)
Elin and Astrid (who made my list again) were removed from my sacred list last night. Abigail from AB’s list. I have three left on my sacred list. One that we both really love, but AB’s hesitation on it is that a number of women in his extended family (two or three) are named this. It is his great grandmother’s name. I get this concern, but I still love the name. The other name is an L name. We love it but it poses a problem that with our chosen middle name, our daughter would have the same initials as our son, L.J.C. Is this hokey?
Given that we agree on names, our decision is not a whole lot easier. See AB has this name that he loves. I mean, really, really feels strongly about naming our daughter this name. I like the name. It isn’t on my sacred list, but I really like it. In fact, I had given in on this particular name when I was pregnant with Leif had he been a girl. The name holds a lot of meaning for AB and I in our relationship. Here is what kills me, it fails the Supreme Court test. You know, can you see someone on the Supreme Court with this name? I cannot. AB likes to remind me that there are CEO’s named Bunny (NOT the name)… or maybe it was there was ONE CEO named Bunny at some point, he can’t remember.
I worry that my daughter won’t be taken seriously with this name. As a woman in a male dominated field, being taken seriously is very important to me. AB thinks I am being ridiculous. The name is one that I would put with a sports star, or an actress, or singer. The name is different, it isn’t one that I have ever seen in a name book or on a name website, it isn’t on the social security website, it isn’t anywhere one typically looks for names. It isn’t made up, in fact, it goes back to ancient mythological times. I want this name for my daughter, but I worry. I worry that some white haired old man will look at her resume someday and scoff at her name and toss it away.
Is my worry unfounded? Are there enough different names nowadays that this one that is a touch “out there” won’t raise an eyebrow?
I am very close to once again, giving in. The thought of denying my husband something that he really, really wants when I (for the most part) picked our son’s name and will give her middle name to her, just kills me. Oh yeah, if a girl, her middle name will be Jeanne (pronounced Jean), the same as mine, my mom’s, my grandmother’s, my great grandmother’s… If she hates her name she can always do as my grandmother (Shirley Jeanne) has done and go by Jeanne. Any words of wisdom on this?
(I know it would be far easier if I divulged the name. But I am a big meany like that and not going to.)
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Update Day
Otherwise known as boring blog day.
Potty Training: I have backed off for a little while (who am I kidding, backed off… I never put the heat on). Leif was sick last weekend. I love the age of language, actually hearing your child say “ear hurts” is so much more efficient. A quick trip to the Urgent Care at 7pm Friday night, our favorite broad base antibiotic 30 minutes later after $15 and a quick peak by our favorite Urgent Care doc.
Suffice it to say, antibiotics and potty training? Just not a good idea. Even though I have decided to give it some time, Leif hasn’t. He still goes about 50% of the time both at home and at daycare. He is still doing this on his own, often without telling us. Suddenly it dawns on AB and I, “where’s Leif?” Sure enough, in sitting on the potty with a poopy diaper on the floor. Lovely. Oh well, it is part of the learning process.
He will finish up his antibiotic this weekend. The weekend after this coming one we are traveling so I won’t push it then either.
Mice: Three as of this morning. I truly hate killing them. I told AB he had to deal with the mousetraps, because I just wouldn’t. After mouse number one I really hoped that was it. After AB got rid of the one he admitted that he was having a hard time with that, admitted that they really are cute little things. But the fact that they are getting into my dried goods and leaving their little droppings all over my canned goods, they have to go. I have fears of Hanta virus and will be buying a face mask to clean up the droppings when our traps quit filling.
Leif in general: He is doing great! He is very opinionated and can be pretty bossy. Today his teacher told AB that he is really starting to talk in full sentences suddenly. I have noticed this just a little. Evidently today someone threw something and Leif yelled, “Don’t throw that, it can hurt!” Gee, I wonder where he has heard that before…
Miscellaneous: I officially started my Christmas shopping today and am ultra-thrilled about that. I love Christmas and can’t wait to start decorating. I will have my warm up decorating with Halloween, then pull down the scary things, leave the fall things for Thanksgiving, and then I get to dig into the big prize, Christmas decorations! Last year I hit the after Christmas sales hard at Target and at a few stores online. I got some major scores, two sets of silver chargers for like $4 each (AB doesn’t "get" them and still moans every time he has to move the boxes in the utility room cupboard, but he will appreciate their beauty, I will make him appreciate them.) I got some decorations from Pottery Barn that I not so secretly coveted with V… I think between the two of us we nearly bought their stock on clearance.
During my online shopping foray I was surprised to find that TRU is no longer Amazon affiliated. I am an Amazon addict, so I am disappointed to hear that I have to go to another website for toys now. And most of my disappointment is in seeing that Amazon’s toy selection has subsequently taken a nosedive. I took advantage of the buy two get the third free sale on GeoTrax at TRU for my train obsessed little boy. He has finally found “his” toy. He will play with the GeoTrax every night and most mornings before we leave. I think AB and I are as anxious about adding to the set. We like it almost as much as Leif does.
I also gave in and bought the Little People Christmas Story set. This will be our in utero baby’s first Christmas present since well, it would be totally lost on Leif. Not the story of Christmas. Last year he loved the Advent calendar and we have been talking about Jesus and God. (We have this Advent calendar if you are interested… ) I do plan on opening the Little People set early and if Leif wants to play with it, he can, but I don’t expect he will, other than to put Baby Jesus on one of the train cars and haul him around the train track.
Things are good here. Two more days of the fiscal year left. I suffered a major setback on my deliverable for my main project thanks to a mechanical engineer with little vacuum experience and my not checking every single little detail. Actually it was something I debated with him, but I really should have just put my foot down and said, “I feel more comfortable using these components I am used to, this is what we are going to do.” It doesn’t really matter, the report says the unit is complete, it really is very close to complete and we have money to continue working come October 2 to tide us over until our year two funds arrive in January. Most of the headache comes in that I really need to sit down with my mechanical engineer and explain to him what went wrong with his design, just so it doesn’t happen again on another project.
We are really, really looking forward to heading off to the West side of the mountains for Oysterfest on October 6. I need some R&R. Leif needs some grandparent time. Winny needs some fresh seawater air. Four (ofr five) days of life in a cabin with grandparents. I am looking forward to cooking with my mom, beachcombing (since I grew up in the mountain states, the seashores never cease to amaze me), clamming, BBQ’ing some oysters on the beach, and sitting around playing Mexican Train Dominoes each night. 9 days and counting!
Potty Training: I have backed off for a little while (who am I kidding, backed off… I never put the heat on). Leif was sick last weekend. I love the age of language, actually hearing your child say “ear hurts” is so much more efficient. A quick trip to the Urgent Care at 7pm Friday night, our favorite broad base antibiotic 30 minutes later after $15 and a quick peak by our favorite Urgent Care doc.
Suffice it to say, antibiotics and potty training? Just not a good idea. Even though I have decided to give it some time, Leif hasn’t. He still goes about 50% of the time both at home and at daycare. He is still doing this on his own, often without telling us. Suddenly it dawns on AB and I, “where’s Leif?” Sure enough, in sitting on the potty with a poopy diaper on the floor. Lovely. Oh well, it is part of the learning process.
He will finish up his antibiotic this weekend. The weekend after this coming one we are traveling so I won’t push it then either.
Mice: Three as of this morning. I truly hate killing them. I told AB he had to deal with the mousetraps, because I just wouldn’t. After mouse number one I really hoped that was it. After AB got rid of the one he admitted that he was having a hard time with that, admitted that they really are cute little things. But the fact that they are getting into my dried goods and leaving their little droppings all over my canned goods, they have to go. I have fears of Hanta virus and will be buying a face mask to clean up the droppings when our traps quit filling.
Leif in general: He is doing great! He is very opinionated and can be pretty bossy. Today his teacher told AB that he is really starting to talk in full sentences suddenly. I have noticed this just a little. Evidently today someone threw something and Leif yelled, “Don’t throw that, it can hurt!” Gee, I wonder where he has heard that before…
Miscellaneous: I officially started my Christmas shopping today and am ultra-thrilled about that. I love Christmas and can’t wait to start decorating. I will have my warm up decorating with Halloween, then pull down the scary things, leave the fall things for Thanksgiving, and then I get to dig into the big prize, Christmas decorations! Last year I hit the after Christmas sales hard at Target and at a few stores online. I got some major scores, two sets of silver chargers for like $4 each (AB doesn’t "get" them and still moans every time he has to move the boxes in the utility room cupboard, but he will appreciate their beauty, I will make him appreciate them.) I got some decorations from Pottery Barn that I not so secretly coveted with V… I think between the two of us we nearly bought their stock on clearance.
During my online shopping foray I was surprised to find that TRU is no longer Amazon affiliated. I am an Amazon addict, so I am disappointed to hear that I have to go to another website for toys now. And most of my disappointment is in seeing that Amazon’s toy selection has subsequently taken a nosedive. I took advantage of the buy two get the third free sale on GeoTrax at TRU for my train obsessed little boy. He has finally found “his” toy. He will play with the GeoTrax every night and most mornings before we leave. I think AB and I are as anxious about adding to the set. We like it almost as much as Leif does.
I also gave in and bought the Little People Christmas Story set. This will be our in utero baby’s first Christmas present since well, it would be totally lost on Leif. Not the story of Christmas. Last year he loved the Advent calendar and we have been talking about Jesus and God. (We have this Advent calendar if you are interested… ) I do plan on opening the Little People set early and if Leif wants to play with it, he can, but I don’t expect he will, other than to put Baby Jesus on one of the train cars and haul him around the train track.
Things are good here. Two more days of the fiscal year left. I suffered a major setback on my deliverable for my main project thanks to a mechanical engineer with little vacuum experience and my not checking every single little detail. Actually it was something I debated with him, but I really should have just put my foot down and said, “I feel more comfortable using these components I am used to, this is what we are going to do.” It doesn’t really matter, the report says the unit is complete, it really is very close to complete and we have money to continue working come October 2 to tide us over until our year two funds arrive in January. Most of the headache comes in that I really need to sit down with my mechanical engineer and explain to him what went wrong with his design, just so it doesn’t happen again on another project.
We are really, really looking forward to heading off to the West side of the mountains for Oysterfest on October 6. I need some R&R. Leif needs some grandparent time. Winny needs some fresh seawater air. Four (ofr five) days of life in a cabin with grandparents. I am looking forward to cooking with my mom, beachcombing (since I grew up in the mountain states, the seashores never cease to amaze me), clamming, BBQ’ing some oysters on the beach, and sitting around playing Mexican Train Dominoes each night. 9 days and counting!
Monday, September 25, 2006
My son, no apparent relationship to me
Sunday Leif and I made Halloween cut out cookies. He loved stirring and rolling and cutting them out (your typical pumpkin, ghost and Halloween rabbit), but was far less interested in decorating them. Apparently this was due to my tactical error in setting out chocolate chips to decorate the pumpkins. As soon as he discovered they were indeed chocolate, he was sold. And it was hard to keep ahead of him with putting the chips on.
Leif then complained in pulling the chips off the cookies that they were "messy" being coated with orange frosting and all. My poor child, having to wipe off orange frosting off your chocolate.
I sent one of Leif's special Halloween rabbits in his lunch to daycare today where he held it out for everyone to admire and told about decorating it to his table. He was apparently VERY proud of it. Then when he was finished with lunch, instead of noshing on his special cookie dessert, he threw it away.
His teacher pulled it out of the trash and told him he should eat his special cookie. "Nope," he replied, "no eat it rabbit cookie." And threw it back away.
Leif then complained in pulling the chips off the cookies that they were "messy" being coated with orange frosting and all. My poor child, having to wipe off orange frosting off your chocolate.
I sent one of Leif's special Halloween rabbits in his lunch to daycare today where he held it out for everyone to admire and told about decorating it to his table. He was apparently VERY proud of it. Then when he was finished with lunch, instead of noshing on his special cookie dessert, he threw it away.
His teacher pulled it out of the trash and told him he should eat his special cookie. "Nope," he replied, "no eat it rabbit cookie." And threw it back away.
Orson, Axel, Gunnhilde, or Thor?
Names have not surprisingly been a big topic of interest for me lately. Assigning a human being a name that will define them for the rest of their lives is a very daunting task. I envision a name that is classic, yet not too popular, of Scandinavian descent to honor our families common history. But along with that it has to be something that isn’t too confounding to most people. Of course, these requirements are not the same ones my husband has, but that is a story for later.
As we watch TV at night I watch as names scroll by in the credits, or listen for unique names (not uneek names, unique as in less common). Last night we were watching Desperate Housewives (busted) when I heard a new name, “Orson”. AB said, “there’s a name you don’t often hear” and started naming off the Orsons he knew of, Orson Welles, Orson Scott Card. Let’s compare how NM’s brain works… “Mork calling Orson, come in Orson”. Now I am just incredibly annoyed that a likely major character on Desperate Housewives is named Orson because I am, every Sunday night from now until they kill him off, going to be sitting in front of my TV saying, “Mork calling Orson, come in Orson”. AB is thrilled.
Needless to say, this baby will not be Orson.
I have my list of possible names on a sticky note on my computer monitor. Five girl’s names and seven boy’s names. I look down the list everyday and like each name. They border on the classic with a little edginess to them thanks mostly to their somewhat foreign nature.
When I was a kid I watched and read Roots. It remains one of my favorite books of all times. One thing that struck me as a kid was Kunta Kinte being spoken his name first. I remember the scene of his father holding him up in the moonlight speaking his name to him, for the first time. It was a profound moment to me and I decided then and there that my children would hear their names in full first, before family and friends. This is also for practical reasons as well as this romantic image I had in my head. No one is going to criticize a baby’s name once named, at least not to the parent’s face. However, all bets are off if a name is announced beforehand.
Case in point… my grandmother has the most hideous handwriting ever. She was a nurse who should have been a physician. When I was born she wrote immediately to her family in California announcing the birth of her first grandbaby, a little girl weighing in at 8 lbs 12 oz named Axel. Not a single one of my even most obnoxious great aunts asked “Axel?” Instead the gifts and cards came pouring in to baby girl Axel, much to my mother’s surprise. Once my mom corrected the name then there was plenty of, “whew!” going on in California.
So basically what I am driving towards here is that this little post it note on my computer monitor… will remain a secret. There is only one person who reads my blog (that I know of) who could conceivably get a glimpse. And that would take a little (albeit not much) access wrangling. AB likes to remind me that the options are still just that, options. It isn’t THE name. And given the fact that most on my list are not on AB’s list, he is right. Still my list is sacred to me.
But I am open to receiving suggestions!
As we watch TV at night I watch as names scroll by in the credits, or listen for unique names (not uneek names, unique as in less common). Last night we were watching Desperate Housewives (busted) when I heard a new name, “Orson”. AB said, “there’s a name you don’t often hear” and started naming off the Orsons he knew of, Orson Welles, Orson Scott Card. Let’s compare how NM’s brain works… “Mork calling Orson, come in Orson”. Now I am just incredibly annoyed that a likely major character on Desperate Housewives is named Orson because I am, every Sunday night from now until they kill him off, going to be sitting in front of my TV saying, “Mork calling Orson, come in Orson”. AB is thrilled.
Needless to say, this baby will not be Orson.
I have my list of possible names on a sticky note on my computer monitor. Five girl’s names and seven boy’s names. I look down the list everyday and like each name. They border on the classic with a little edginess to them thanks mostly to their somewhat foreign nature.
When I was a kid I watched and read Roots. It remains one of my favorite books of all times. One thing that struck me as a kid was Kunta Kinte being spoken his name first. I remember the scene of his father holding him up in the moonlight speaking his name to him, for the first time. It was a profound moment to me and I decided then and there that my children would hear their names in full first, before family and friends. This is also for practical reasons as well as this romantic image I had in my head. No one is going to criticize a baby’s name once named, at least not to the parent’s face. However, all bets are off if a name is announced beforehand.
Case in point… my grandmother has the most hideous handwriting ever. She was a nurse who should have been a physician. When I was born she wrote immediately to her family in California announcing the birth of her first grandbaby, a little girl weighing in at 8 lbs 12 oz named Axel. Not a single one of my even most obnoxious great aunts asked “Axel?” Instead the gifts and cards came pouring in to baby girl Axel, much to my mother’s surprise. Once my mom corrected the name then there was plenty of, “whew!” going on in California.
So basically what I am driving towards here is that this little post it note on my computer monitor… will remain a secret. There is only one person who reads my blog (that I know of) who could conceivably get a glimpse. And that would take a little (albeit not much) access wrangling. AB likes to remind me that the options are still just that, options. It isn’t THE name. And given the fact that most on my list are not on AB’s list, he is right. Still my list is sacred to me.
But I am open to receiving suggestions!
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Houston we have poop
While in the midst of potty training us parents just can't help but share the intimate details of our children's bathroom experiences. I suppose we wear it like a badge of honor... one that says I must be doing something right! This, of course, might be repulsive to some. In which case, sorry, skip below the dashed line. Otherwise, bask in my sunshine with me.
I am still in shock. We were sitting at the dinner table tonight and Leif started to get up saying, "poopy potty". Of course we go running. AB cautiously pulls the diaper off... in instances like this he has usually already gone. No poop, so onto the toilet he goes.
A little later he arises and sure enough... there is poop! We had a little party in the bathroom, there was chocolate involved and much cheering.
AB is at class tonight and Leif and I were wrestling on the couch. Ok, he was jumping on me and I was trying to catch the flailing arms and legs keeping them from colliding with me. Leif stops suddenly and tells me potty! We hurry to the potty where he takes off his diaper all the while saying "my help" (meaning don't help me, "my help you" is my sign). And we had a potty!
This weekend we are going to attempt underwear while at home. I am not brave enough to venture out in public this way yet. We will take it in steps. First at home in underwear, then to daycare in underwear, then life as an underwear wearing little boy. Somebody hold me.
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AB got a phone call today from the company he has been speaking with about a job in their lab as a chemist, or project manager, or whatever. Last week they asked him to write up a business plan, which he did... grudgingly and at the last minute it was due. They also asked for a salary request.
There was much hmm'ing over this. AB heard that they pay poorly, so he was hesitant to ask for much. Yet, the job isn't what he really wants, so why drop the number down? We finally settled on a number, a lofty one, with the thought if they are really interested they will counter offer. We also threw in a sentence asking for a week's vacation to start to accomodate the upcoming holidays. Then sent it off.
Today the company called him and told him that they had no problems with the salary request (!!!!), they really liked his business plan, they are not considering anyone else for the job, he can have the vacation he wants and they also work flex time, so if there is anything else coming up they can work around it... (like working the backroom at a particular wine judging).
AB was telling me all this and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. No offer yet, but they asked for permission to contact his references as well as a few of the clients from his former lab who he interacted with regularly. AB is not worried at all and is optimistic about an offer in the next few days.
Which also meant that he got busy and sent out a handful of resumes today. Just so if one of those "ideal" jobs calls him for an interview he can say "sorry I applied for the job before you offered me this job".
I could tell it in his voice all day, he is excited to go back to work. Even if it is in a chemistry lab. At least much of his job will be in business development and project management, and not as a lab grunt.
I am still in shock. We were sitting at the dinner table tonight and Leif started to get up saying, "poopy potty". Of course we go running. AB cautiously pulls the diaper off... in instances like this he has usually already gone. No poop, so onto the toilet he goes.
A little later he arises and sure enough... there is poop! We had a little party in the bathroom, there was chocolate involved and much cheering.
AB is at class tonight and Leif and I were wrestling on the couch. Ok, he was jumping on me and I was trying to catch the flailing arms and legs keeping them from colliding with me. Leif stops suddenly and tells me potty! We hurry to the potty where he takes off his diaper all the while saying "my help" (meaning don't help me, "my help you" is my sign). And we had a potty!
This weekend we are going to attempt underwear while at home. I am not brave enough to venture out in public this way yet. We will take it in steps. First at home in underwear, then to daycare in underwear, then life as an underwear wearing little boy. Somebody hold me.
------------------
AB got a phone call today from the company he has been speaking with about a job in their lab as a chemist, or project manager, or whatever. Last week they asked him to write up a business plan, which he did... grudgingly and at the last minute it was due. They also asked for a salary request.
There was much hmm'ing over this. AB heard that they pay poorly, so he was hesitant to ask for much. Yet, the job isn't what he really wants, so why drop the number down? We finally settled on a number, a lofty one, with the thought if they are really interested they will counter offer. We also threw in a sentence asking for a week's vacation to start to accomodate the upcoming holidays. Then sent it off.
Today the company called him and told him that they had no problems with the salary request (!!!!), they really liked his business plan, they are not considering anyone else for the job, he can have the vacation he wants and they also work flex time, so if there is anything else coming up they can work around it... (like working the backroom at a particular wine judging).
AB was telling me all this and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. No offer yet, but they asked for permission to contact his references as well as a few of the clients from his former lab who he interacted with regularly. AB is not worried at all and is optimistic about an offer in the next few days.
Which also meant that he got busy and sent out a handful of resumes today. Just so if one of those "ideal" jobs calls him for an interview he can say "sorry I applied for the job before you offered me this job".
I could tell it in his voice all day, he is excited to go back to work. Even if it is in a chemistry lab. At least much of his job will be in business development and project management, and not as a lab grunt.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
The great balancing act
This week has been really busy so far. Seven more business days until the fiasco that is fiscal year end is over. We should have a party. Oh yeah, they do that here, but I don’t actually want to go to it.
During these last few weeks on many projects the managers start rationing out hours or commiting people to a certain number of hours per week in order to meet spending goals. During the rest of the year this is a rarity. On my projects we have general commitments of X% of time a year and a task to complete. The micromanaging of FY end is annoying, but necessary I have come to learn. The good project managers manage without cutting their project staff, an end of the stick I have been on and that really sucks.
This morning I came in to a note from the PM for a project I had committed 12-15 hours a week until FY end to. He insisted that I make sure to get that many hours as he didn’t want to run a surplus. The e-mail was a panicked “STOP! No more charging!” He, of course, admitted that he knew he committed me to this, but had failed to continue checking his budget and nearly overran the project. Big no no. (Oh and a bad project manager move…)
What that does to me is suddenly affect how I am managing my hours towards both my personal time charging goals as well as affect other projects in a cascading type event whereby I need to find other places to spend time. It actually isn’t a problem for me this time around, amazingly enough. I have a project I have been sorely neglecting, wishing in some sort of way it would just go poof and waft away… it hasn’t. And I have to bump my hours up on my big project, which I need to do anyways to meet my year end deliverables. So alas, I have work to fill my time card.
So there is my work whine. Working as a government employee during the last two weeks of the fiscal year and through the likely continuing resolution that will ensue starting October 1 while we wait for the budget to be settled is a really unpleasant experience. Money to start on October 1, 2006 will arrive in sometime mid-January 2007 (just after 1st 2007 quarterly reports are due) whereby we will have still been expected to accomplish the same amount but with no money. And pushing our 12 month year into a mere 9 months. This leaves people scrambling for work starting October 1 since no money is actually available from the big clients until the budget is settled. Except for lucky people like me who have small lab projects that actually get fed on October 1. Then I will be hoarding my stash of three little projects, clinging to them with all my worth, swatting hands away like flies. I have layed out my vacation time for the next three months in anticipation for continuing resolution. I just need to keep my eye on the future and my necessity to ration my vacation time so that I have 6 days available come March… so I can supplement my STD and have 3 months off for maternity leave… paid. (Ah yes, I whine about the life of a government employee... we obviously have it very hard.)
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So if you have stuck with me this long through the ramblings of life as a scientist, well then a reward. Leif’s daycare teacher told me a story this morning that both warmed my heart and made me insanely curious.
As Leif was falling asleep yesterday he mumbled to K about “mommy baby tummy”. Aww, the things I say at home DO sink in! K told him, “yes sweety, your mommy has a baby in her tummy and it will be either your sister or brother”. True to his routine thus far he replied to her “my sister”, then went on to mumble “mommy baby tummy, my sister” until he fell asleep.
Awww! I nearly teared up right there. Of course now curiosity has gotten the better of me and there is some little part of me that kind of wants to know what we are having, a girl or a boy. I love Christmas presents, I love anticipation, and I love driving my friends and family up the wall with not knowing. ;-) But Leif’s presence and seeming certainty on this subject adds an element of curiosity to things for me. Should we find out and then have 20 weeks to help him get used to the idea of a brother, should he just maybe be wrong? Should we find out just to satisfy my curiosity that maybe my child is really an oracle? Or go with our gut and not find out again because it is my little nugget at the end of labor hearing, “It’s a”? Yeah, I am pretty sure we will stick with the later, but it does have me thinking!
Potty training is going forward. Tonight we were cleaning up the kitchen and Leif went to the bathroom by himself without saying a word to us. He took off his diaper and then apparently realized the little stool wasn't there and it was in the other bathroom. (Note to self, BUY another stupid $6 stool from Target.) He ran across the house, grabbed it, ran back and climbed up, and as far as we could tell, he went! There was much clapping and hooraying and a request for "chocolate", which seems to be the motivating factor. Oh well, antioxidants I suppose... Bribery? I would never!
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So I walked out to the pantry shelves in the garage this evening to retrieve a can of green *gag* beans. For Leif. I cannot stand the canned variety myself, but Leif adores them. I walked in the garage and turned on the light unsuspectingly enough and there it was. A little brown beady eyed little thing staring at me from the shelf. A mouse!
I screamed. This I am not proud of. I was scared, he surprised me. I am not afraid of mice. I have worked with mice both living, dead, and in parts at various points in my life. I am a scientist afterall. But this little guy standing in the midst of my food staring me down was enough to get my goat. AB came running (while Leif continued to play with the toaster unsupervised... rolling my eyes).
Tomorrow, mousetraps. Which I thoroughly hate the idea of. Maybe we should get a cat instead?
During these last few weeks on many projects the managers start rationing out hours or commiting people to a certain number of hours per week in order to meet spending goals. During the rest of the year this is a rarity. On my projects we have general commitments of X% of time a year and a task to complete. The micromanaging of FY end is annoying, but necessary I have come to learn. The good project managers manage without cutting their project staff, an end of the stick I have been on and that really sucks.
This morning I came in to a note from the PM for a project I had committed 12-15 hours a week until FY end to. He insisted that I make sure to get that many hours as he didn’t want to run a surplus. The e-mail was a panicked “STOP! No more charging!” He, of course, admitted that he knew he committed me to this, but had failed to continue checking his budget and nearly overran the project. Big no no. (Oh and a bad project manager move…)
What that does to me is suddenly affect how I am managing my hours towards both my personal time charging goals as well as affect other projects in a cascading type event whereby I need to find other places to spend time. It actually isn’t a problem for me this time around, amazingly enough. I have a project I have been sorely neglecting, wishing in some sort of way it would just go poof and waft away… it hasn’t. And I have to bump my hours up on my big project, which I need to do anyways to meet my year end deliverables. So alas, I have work to fill my time card.
So there is my work whine. Working as a government employee during the last two weeks of the fiscal year and through the likely continuing resolution that will ensue starting October 1 while we wait for the budget to be settled is a really unpleasant experience. Money to start on October 1, 2006 will arrive in sometime mid-January 2007 (just after 1st 2007 quarterly reports are due) whereby we will have still been expected to accomplish the same amount but with no money. And pushing our 12 month year into a mere 9 months. This leaves people scrambling for work starting October 1 since no money is actually available from the big clients until the budget is settled. Except for lucky people like me who have small lab projects that actually get fed on October 1. Then I will be hoarding my stash of three little projects, clinging to them with all my worth, swatting hands away like flies. I have layed out my vacation time for the next three months in anticipation for continuing resolution. I just need to keep my eye on the future and my necessity to ration my vacation time so that I have 6 days available come March… so I can supplement my STD and have 3 months off for maternity leave… paid. (Ah yes, I whine about the life of a government employee... we obviously have it very hard.)
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So if you have stuck with me this long through the ramblings of life as a scientist, well then a reward. Leif’s daycare teacher told me a story this morning that both warmed my heart and made me insanely curious.
As Leif was falling asleep yesterday he mumbled to K about “mommy baby tummy”. Aww, the things I say at home DO sink in! K told him, “yes sweety, your mommy has a baby in her tummy and it will be either your sister or brother”. True to his routine thus far he replied to her “my sister”, then went on to mumble “mommy baby tummy, my sister” until he fell asleep.
Awww! I nearly teared up right there. Of course now curiosity has gotten the better of me and there is some little part of me that kind of wants to know what we are having, a girl or a boy. I love Christmas presents, I love anticipation, and I love driving my friends and family up the wall with not knowing. ;-) But Leif’s presence and seeming certainty on this subject adds an element of curiosity to things for me. Should we find out and then have 20 weeks to help him get used to the idea of a brother, should he just maybe be wrong? Should we find out just to satisfy my curiosity that maybe my child is really an oracle? Or go with our gut and not find out again because it is my little nugget at the end of labor hearing, “It’s a”? Yeah, I am pretty sure we will stick with the later, but it does have me thinking!
Potty training is going forward. Tonight we were cleaning up the kitchen and Leif went to the bathroom by himself without saying a word to us. He took off his diaper and then apparently realized the little stool wasn't there and it was in the other bathroom. (Note to self, BUY another stupid $6 stool from Target.) He ran across the house, grabbed it, ran back and climbed up, and as far as we could tell, he went! There was much clapping and hooraying and a request for "chocolate", which seems to be the motivating factor. Oh well, antioxidants I suppose... Bribery? I would never!
--------
So I walked out to the pantry shelves in the garage this evening to retrieve a can of green *gag* beans. For Leif. I cannot stand the canned variety myself, but Leif adores them. I walked in the garage and turned on the light unsuspectingly enough and there it was. A little brown beady eyed little thing staring at me from the shelf. A mouse!
I screamed. This I am not proud of. I was scared, he surprised me. I am not afraid of mice. I have worked with mice both living, dead, and in parts at various points in my life. I am a scientist afterall. But this little guy standing in the midst of my food staring me down was enough to get my goat. AB came running (while Leif continued to play with the toaster unsupervised... rolling my eyes).
Tomorrow, mousetraps. Which I thoroughly hate the idea of. Maybe we should get a cat instead?
Friday, September 15, 2006
Leif funny for 9-15-06
It has cooled down drastically here the past few days. This morning there was rain. For shoes, Leif has his sandals or a cheap (ugly) pair of shoes we picked up at a second hand shop in a neighboring town while wine tasting early this summer… when we apparently left his shoes at home. Oops. They fit but are a touch tight. And did I mention they are fugly?
This morning I put socks on Leif and then his sandals telling myself we would get out to buy some new fall shoes this weekend. Leif was horrified.
“Socks sticking out!” he panicked and cried repeatedly as he sat down and set to removing the sandals. The sandals were not staying on his feet with socks.
I relented and put the fugly pair of shoes on his feet (with socks). This opposition to sandals with socks came from some influence other than his parents. I am a stuck in my ways, former grunge girl who has very nearly relinquished my Birks and wool socks. (“Very nearly” because I still maintain my grasp to the early 90’s in the confines of my house and in my yard.) AB?? Well his are just bad with no logical explanation... white athletic socks with his sandals despite my encouraging otherwise… sandals bug his heels.
Apparently Leif’s fashion sense is years ahead of ours.
This morning I put socks on Leif and then his sandals telling myself we would get out to buy some new fall shoes this weekend. Leif was horrified.
“Socks sticking out!” he panicked and cried repeatedly as he sat down and set to removing the sandals. The sandals were not staying on his feet with socks.
I relented and put the fugly pair of shoes on his feet (with socks). This opposition to sandals with socks came from some influence other than his parents. I am a stuck in my ways, former grunge girl who has very nearly relinquished my Birks and wool socks. (“Very nearly” because I still maintain my grasp to the early 90’s in the confines of my house and in my yard.) AB?? Well his are just bad with no logical explanation... white athletic socks with his sandals despite my encouraging otherwise… sandals bug his heels.
Apparently Leif’s fashion sense is years ahead of ours.
Free of nearly free
Free or nearly free
I typed this title and it kind of makes me feel like my grandmother. My grandmother is 82 years old and is ALL about getting things for free. We talk every Sunday and I get the weekly rundown of every free thing she picked up. I am sure it is part depression era mentality… the other part, as my mom and I have discussed, is plain stinginess. Every week she weasles at least one free lunch out of somebody, it might be a relative, or the bank, or snacks brought in for the hospital pink ladies (where she wraps half of everything in a napkin and takes it home). I will be bold here and say it is downright embarrassing going out and about with her. It isn’t that she tries to enable others to get free things, nope if I take her out for lunch then that counts as free in her book. It is once we are there and she starts wrapping things in napkins and putting them in her purse, it’s not leaving a single drop of tea in the teapot when out for Chinese, it’s emptying the sugar packets into her purse. Last week she got a free MRI for her dog. Seriously.
I can’t really declare myself a bargain hunter. I have bargain hunting friends. And well, I don’t even measure up. I clip an occasional coupon, but most of the time forget to use them. I have my set of discount online outlet stores I use to find things like super high thread count and quality sheets, cute shoes, camping and outdoor gear, and versatile basic apparel. And I shop end of season sales seeking clothes for Leif (or me) for next year, holiday decorations for next year, and the like. I always tell myself not to pay retail, but there are certain things that don’t fit in there. Like shoes that I will wear day in and out. I am a shoe whore and I love cute unique shoes. However, those shoes I wear day in and out to work? Yeah well I resign to pay retail for my Danskos to get the newest styles and colors. Froo froos? I will buy on sale. Leif’s shoes are another… my kid is not going to wear poor quality shoes. If I can find them on sale, well bonus. But if I can’t, so be it.
Nearly anything I buy for AB is on sale. Double standard? Nope, if I can tell him that I saved 60% on this shirt for him, then I am nearly guaranteed he will like the shirt. Retail? You mean you didn’t get this on sale? And it is guaranteed to sit in the back of the closet.
I learned a lesson today. I really, really need to pay better attention to rewards type programs. For weeks now I have been stressing over plane tickets to Colorado for Christmas. Yes, yes, we will once again be traveling over the holidays. There is the part of me that sighs with disappointment at another Christmas away from home. And the other part that is happy dancing about a trip to see my family and where there will be much after Christmas shopping at nice stores (and thus bargains) for my birthday.
AB and I have frequent flier miles with a few airlines and a mileage rewards card. I have always been a huge skeptic of these mileage reward cards. You have to spend so much, the interest rate is high and an annual fee. I remember telling AB they just weren’t worth it. But for some reason he succumbed and got one anyway with Alaska Airlines, which we do fly regularly and are both mileage plan members. Fast forward to today.
Distressed at how much it was going to cost us to fly to Colorado for the holidays, I called the mileage card to see if we have a companion voucher for this year still since pregnancy brain was preventing me from remembering when we last used one. I thought at least maybe I can get Leif to Colorado for $50. They sent me to the Alaska Airlines website where I registered and our status popped up. Not only do I have a companion voucher that expires in a few days (meaning we get another in just a few more days), but our miles balance was far more than I ever imagined!
Bargain city! We are flying to Colorado, all three of us, for barely more than it costs for one of us to fly there. One mileage ticket, one regular price ticket and a companion voucher later and I am on the phone bragging to AB about how I scored. (He praised heartily.) And even better? After a few days we will get our new companion voucher and after Christmas we will certainly have enough miles that we can do it all over again. Dreams of a summer vacation to Alaska floated by AB’s head… Hawaii floated through mine.
I bragged on my score to my mom who was just joyous that we actually HAVE tickets for Christmas. Then I headed out to lunch. I debated and debated what to eat. Aside from Wendy’s baked potatoes and a Frosty, I have a serious aversion to fast food right now (pregnancy related). Which makes grabbing lunch out difficult. I was a little worried the girls at the drive up at Wendy’s would think me weird for getting a baked potato and Frosty three days in a row… so I decided to run into Safeway and grab a Panini. I hadn’t been there in ages, I went through the line, punched in my club card and wa-la. A free sandwich.
I took my sandwich and paused on my way out a little too long. Starbucks… and according to V (who is an official pusher and should be paid by Starbucks for her referrals)… pumpkin spiced lattes are back. I have been allowing myself one caffeinated beverage a day, usually a Pepsi. While pregnant with Leif I was so good and never drank caffeine. Something about pregnancy and parenting a toddler… yeah I need that caffeine. I indulged myself and celebrated my day of bargains with a half caf pumpkin spice latte. Incredible. Seriously the best nonalcoholic drink I have tasted in a LONG time. I am ashamed to say that I didn’t even get to bring it into my office. It was gone by the time I pulled up to my building.
So there it is. My bargain Friday. I feel as though I have aged nearly 50 years in posting this here. Please oh please, someone keep me from stuffing the dinner rolls in my purse tonight.
I typed this title and it kind of makes me feel like my grandmother. My grandmother is 82 years old and is ALL about getting things for free. We talk every Sunday and I get the weekly rundown of every free thing she picked up. I am sure it is part depression era mentality… the other part, as my mom and I have discussed, is plain stinginess. Every week she weasles at least one free lunch out of somebody, it might be a relative, or the bank, or snacks brought in for the hospital pink ladies (where she wraps half of everything in a napkin and takes it home). I will be bold here and say it is downright embarrassing going out and about with her. It isn’t that she tries to enable others to get free things, nope if I take her out for lunch then that counts as free in her book. It is once we are there and she starts wrapping things in napkins and putting them in her purse, it’s not leaving a single drop of tea in the teapot when out for Chinese, it’s emptying the sugar packets into her purse. Last week she got a free MRI for her dog. Seriously.
I can’t really declare myself a bargain hunter. I have bargain hunting friends. And well, I don’t even measure up. I clip an occasional coupon, but most of the time forget to use them. I have my set of discount online outlet stores I use to find things like super high thread count and quality sheets, cute shoes, camping and outdoor gear, and versatile basic apparel. And I shop end of season sales seeking clothes for Leif (or me) for next year, holiday decorations for next year, and the like. I always tell myself not to pay retail, but there are certain things that don’t fit in there. Like shoes that I will wear day in and out. I am a shoe whore and I love cute unique shoes. However, those shoes I wear day in and out to work? Yeah well I resign to pay retail for my Danskos to get the newest styles and colors. Froo froos? I will buy on sale. Leif’s shoes are another… my kid is not going to wear poor quality shoes. If I can find them on sale, well bonus. But if I can’t, so be it.
Nearly anything I buy for AB is on sale. Double standard? Nope, if I can tell him that I saved 60% on this shirt for him, then I am nearly guaranteed he will like the shirt. Retail? You mean you didn’t get this on sale? And it is guaranteed to sit in the back of the closet.
I learned a lesson today. I really, really need to pay better attention to rewards type programs. For weeks now I have been stressing over plane tickets to Colorado for Christmas. Yes, yes, we will once again be traveling over the holidays. There is the part of me that sighs with disappointment at another Christmas away from home. And the other part that is happy dancing about a trip to see my family and where there will be much after Christmas shopping at nice stores (and thus bargains) for my birthday.
AB and I have frequent flier miles with a few airlines and a mileage rewards card. I have always been a huge skeptic of these mileage reward cards. You have to spend so much, the interest rate is high and an annual fee. I remember telling AB they just weren’t worth it. But for some reason he succumbed and got one anyway with Alaska Airlines, which we do fly regularly and are both mileage plan members. Fast forward to today.
Distressed at how much it was going to cost us to fly to Colorado for the holidays, I called the mileage card to see if we have a companion voucher for this year still since pregnancy brain was preventing me from remembering when we last used one. I thought at least maybe I can get Leif to Colorado for $50. They sent me to the Alaska Airlines website where I registered and our status popped up. Not only do I have a companion voucher that expires in a few days (meaning we get another in just a few more days), but our miles balance was far more than I ever imagined!
Bargain city! We are flying to Colorado, all three of us, for barely more than it costs for one of us to fly there. One mileage ticket, one regular price ticket and a companion voucher later and I am on the phone bragging to AB about how I scored. (He praised heartily.) And even better? After a few days we will get our new companion voucher and after Christmas we will certainly have enough miles that we can do it all over again. Dreams of a summer vacation to Alaska floated by AB’s head… Hawaii floated through mine.
I bragged on my score to my mom who was just joyous that we actually HAVE tickets for Christmas. Then I headed out to lunch. I debated and debated what to eat. Aside from Wendy’s baked potatoes and a Frosty, I have a serious aversion to fast food right now (pregnancy related). Which makes grabbing lunch out difficult. I was a little worried the girls at the drive up at Wendy’s would think me weird for getting a baked potato and Frosty three days in a row… so I decided to run into Safeway and grab a Panini. I hadn’t been there in ages, I went through the line, punched in my club card and wa-la. A free sandwich.
I took my sandwich and paused on my way out a little too long. Starbucks… and according to V (who is an official pusher and should be paid by Starbucks for her referrals)… pumpkin spiced lattes are back. I have been allowing myself one caffeinated beverage a day, usually a Pepsi. While pregnant with Leif I was so good and never drank caffeine. Something about pregnancy and parenting a toddler… yeah I need that caffeine. I indulged myself and celebrated my day of bargains with a half caf pumpkin spice latte. Incredible. Seriously the best nonalcoholic drink I have tasted in a LONG time. I am ashamed to say that I didn’t even get to bring it into my office. It was gone by the time I pulled up to my building.
So there it is. My bargain Friday. I feel as though I have aged nearly 50 years in posting this here. Please oh please, someone keep me from stuffing the dinner rolls in my purse tonight.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Kids and clothes
My MIL has been visiting this week. She arrived on Tuesday and will depart on Monday. I have spent most of the time working, Leif has spent it in daycare, so we are feeling oblivious to the whirlwind of a houseguest for the most part. I am sure this weekend will be different.
Just a few days ago it was 90F out and I was whining about those unreachable 70’s. Seems we just passed over them. Today’s high temperature topped out at 67F. I was surprised by the forecast this morning and marched Leif back into his bedroom and replaced his short sleeved t-shirt with a long sleeved version (sorry MIL, I know you dressed him). I left the shorts. On our to-do list this weekend is a new pair of shoes. He has a pair of sandals that he is nearly outgrowing (the second pair this summer) and with the weather cooling down it is time. Now just to decide on what shoes he gets for the fall.
V and I were discussing the kids and fashion the other day. I was really shocked to hear from her that C has a preference in her clothes that she wears everyday and exerts her choices. Leif… yeah, no concerns there. He wears whatever we put on him. If I ask him to go get a shirt out of his drawer he goes and gets the one on the top. I had thought this was simply because they were too young to really care about what they were wearing. Nope, it is because Leif is AB’s mini-me.
When AB and I started dating I was really surprised to learn that his decision on what to wear each day was complicated only by what t-shirt was on top. Matching? No need to worry about matching when you only wear jeans! I have since learned to use this knowledge to my advantage… that hideous black mountain dew t-shirt that was a give away from some radio station in Alaska (with their logo on it) has been strategically placed at the bottom of the pile for years now without seeing the light of day. As long as the laundry stays done (and AB has so many t-shirts it would take a month of not doing laundry) that shirt shall never grace his body again. Same with the two awful 24 Hour Fitness t-shirts we were given as bonuses for joining the club… I mean who actually wears those? Walking advertisement I am not.
Ah the differences in raising a boy versus a girl.
When my sister was about two years old (my guess) she had a favorite dress. It was a red and white thing that made her look like she should be running through the fields of Switzerland. She called it her twirly dress because when she spun around the skirt would flare out nearly parallel with the floor. It was how we both judged the worthiness of any dress. I had my green security blanket, she had her red Heidi dress. She cried when she couldn’t wear it. She cried when it was washed. I don’t know how she ever got over that hurdle and surrendered the dress.
I don’t think my preference for particular articles of clothing set in until a little later. The first one I recall however, was a pair of “cowboy” boots that my dad’s mom brought down for me. The strategic error here was calling them “cowboy” boots. Had they been “cowgirl” boots all would have been fine and I might have allowed them on my feet. I remember distinctly thinking that no cowboy’s shoes were going on my feet. And they didn’t either.
My aversion to boy clothes continued well into grade school. I loved wearing dresses, I loved being a girl and despised gym day because I had to wear pants. My mom made all of my dresses and school clothes, so the necessity for pants meant a trip to JCPenneys in downtown Casper, WY. To make sure that my pants weren’t confused for boy pants, since boys wore jeans and girls were supposed to wear dresses, I made sure my pants had decorated pockets.
One year my mom got some hand me down clothes from my best friend’s mom. I was a bean pole and my best friend couldn’t wear them. Her mom passed them on. Given my mom’s opposition to used clothing (which I inherited from her) I am surprised we kept the bag of clothes instead of passing it on. One day, after my mom pleaded with me to please wear one of those pairs of pants since I didn’t have any clean ones, I finally did it. I put the jeans, without flowers on the pockets, on and went to school.
The worst thing that could ever happen to a 2nd grade girl happened. One of the boys in the class came up to me and said, “hey those look like my old pants, where did you get them?” First off I was horrified that I might be wearing boy pants. I told him that Jenny’s mom had passed them onto me, so they were girl’s pants. Oh no, he informed me. He told me that his mom had passed on a bag of clothes to Jenny’s mom! “You are wearing my old pants,” he yelled in line to go in from recess.
My face was 100 shades of red and I could feel the tears in my eyes. I went home after school, pulled the boy pants off and refused to touch another thing in that bag. And all my pants from then on had flowers on the pockets… just so there wasn’t any confusion.
Just a few days ago it was 90F out and I was whining about those unreachable 70’s. Seems we just passed over them. Today’s high temperature topped out at 67F. I was surprised by the forecast this morning and marched Leif back into his bedroom and replaced his short sleeved t-shirt with a long sleeved version (sorry MIL, I know you dressed him). I left the shorts. On our to-do list this weekend is a new pair of shoes. He has a pair of sandals that he is nearly outgrowing (the second pair this summer) and with the weather cooling down it is time. Now just to decide on what shoes he gets for the fall.
V and I were discussing the kids and fashion the other day. I was really shocked to hear from her that C has a preference in her clothes that she wears everyday and exerts her choices. Leif… yeah, no concerns there. He wears whatever we put on him. If I ask him to go get a shirt out of his drawer he goes and gets the one on the top. I had thought this was simply because they were too young to really care about what they were wearing. Nope, it is because Leif is AB’s mini-me.
When AB and I started dating I was really surprised to learn that his decision on what to wear each day was complicated only by what t-shirt was on top. Matching? No need to worry about matching when you only wear jeans! I have since learned to use this knowledge to my advantage… that hideous black mountain dew t-shirt that was a give away from some radio station in Alaska (with their logo on it) has been strategically placed at the bottom of the pile for years now without seeing the light of day. As long as the laundry stays done (and AB has so many t-shirts it would take a month of not doing laundry) that shirt shall never grace his body again. Same with the two awful 24 Hour Fitness t-shirts we were given as bonuses for joining the club… I mean who actually wears those? Walking advertisement I am not.
Ah the differences in raising a boy versus a girl.
When my sister was about two years old (my guess) she had a favorite dress. It was a red and white thing that made her look like she should be running through the fields of Switzerland. She called it her twirly dress because when she spun around the skirt would flare out nearly parallel with the floor. It was how we both judged the worthiness of any dress. I had my green security blanket, she had her red Heidi dress. She cried when she couldn’t wear it. She cried when it was washed. I don’t know how she ever got over that hurdle and surrendered the dress.
I don’t think my preference for particular articles of clothing set in until a little later. The first one I recall however, was a pair of “cowboy” boots that my dad’s mom brought down for me. The strategic error here was calling them “cowboy” boots. Had they been “cowgirl” boots all would have been fine and I might have allowed them on my feet. I remember distinctly thinking that no cowboy’s shoes were going on my feet. And they didn’t either.
My aversion to boy clothes continued well into grade school. I loved wearing dresses, I loved being a girl and despised gym day because I had to wear pants. My mom made all of my dresses and school clothes, so the necessity for pants meant a trip to JCPenneys in downtown Casper, WY. To make sure that my pants weren’t confused for boy pants, since boys wore jeans and girls were supposed to wear dresses, I made sure my pants had decorated pockets.
One year my mom got some hand me down clothes from my best friend’s mom. I was a bean pole and my best friend couldn’t wear them. Her mom passed them on. Given my mom’s opposition to used clothing (which I inherited from her) I am surprised we kept the bag of clothes instead of passing it on. One day, after my mom pleaded with me to please wear one of those pairs of pants since I didn’t have any clean ones, I finally did it. I put the jeans, without flowers on the pockets, on and went to school.
The worst thing that could ever happen to a 2nd grade girl happened. One of the boys in the class came up to me and said, “hey those look like my old pants, where did you get them?” First off I was horrified that I might be wearing boy pants. I told him that Jenny’s mom had passed them onto me, so they were girl’s pants. Oh no, he informed me. He told me that his mom had passed on a bag of clothes to Jenny’s mom! “You are wearing my old pants,” he yelled in line to go in from recess.
My face was 100 shades of red and I could feel the tears in my eyes. I went home after school, pulled the boy pants off and refused to touch another thing in that bag. And all my pants from then on had flowers on the pockets… just so there wasn’t any confusion.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Someone, somewhere is screaming "sucker"!
There is one person in my chain of management here at work who I really, really like. I do like my team lead and my manager. But there is one person that really just always makes me feel good about being here. And you know, he does the easiest thing a high level manager can do. Walk down the hall and say hi.
My associate lab director is seriously one of the nicest people I have ever met. He always strikes me as someone who truly cares. (Yes, I hear Catbert laughing evilly at me.) Today we were treated to ice cream in the lunch room as a thank you from him for 2 million hours worked without incident. He made a point of stopping by each lunch room to give a quick spiel and thank you. He had a lot of lunch rooms to stop by since we are spread ALL over the place.
After I finished my ice cream, listened to his little spiel, I went back to my office and settled back into work. My ALD, on his way out, instead of turning right and going to the door outside, takes a left and walks down to my office. Pokes his head in and asks how Leif is doing… what is he doing… etc. He tells me that his son is headed to Iraq tomorrow and so his daughter in law is coming out and staying with them with their one year old for a week and how excited he is to see them. What a cool guy.
I am not management material, but should I ever be in a high up position, I am taking a cue from my ALD. What a difference it makes in ones day to simply be acknowledged.
My associate lab director is seriously one of the nicest people I have ever met. He always strikes me as someone who truly cares. (Yes, I hear Catbert laughing evilly at me.) Today we were treated to ice cream in the lunch room as a thank you from him for 2 million hours worked without incident. He made a point of stopping by each lunch room to give a quick spiel and thank you. He had a lot of lunch rooms to stop by since we are spread ALL over the place.
After I finished my ice cream, listened to his little spiel, I went back to my office and settled back into work. My ALD, on his way out, instead of turning right and going to the door outside, takes a left and walks down to my office. Pokes his head in and asks how Leif is doing… what is he doing… etc. He tells me that his son is headed to Iraq tomorrow and so his daughter in law is coming out and staying with them with their one year old for a week and how excited he is to see them. What a cool guy.
I am not management material, but should I ever be in a high up position, I am taking a cue from my ALD. What a difference it makes in ones day to simply be acknowledged.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Patience is a virtue... or so they say.
Once again, something that I am quite sure is not uncommon with a two year old… I have seriously come to dread the words, “my do it” coming out of Leif’s mouth. I am stuck sitting there waiting for “his do it” for who knows how long. Oh my goodness this could make me insane. Or it could make me the most patient person in the entire world.
Saturday (since we are starting potty training), Leif is trying to take off his diaper as he stands on the stool in front of the toilet. I decided to help it along a little bit by undoing one tab. Harmless right? Ha ha. Oh goodness gracious did that thwart the whole project. There was much screaming and yelling, my name was mud and there was to be no potty sitting. Recovery was (finally after 30 minutes) helped along by a few monsters names Sully and Mike.
And what is the fascination with buckles and clips? Leif hasn’t used the belts on his booster seat in months. He used to scream if we did them. Now? He screams if he can’t “my do it” and buckle them up. His food will go cold as he sits there meticulously working on, not one, but two buckles. I guess the good side to this is that if AB and I eat quick, we all finish about the same time. And waa-laa, dinnertime together!
The buckles on his carseat. Yeah. You know what comes next… I try to sneak a finger in there occasionally, yet inconspicuously, just to nudge the buckle up on the strap so it isn’t 4” lower than the other and thereby completely impossible to connect. Just so maybe there might be a chance for success in the next 3 hours. I usually blame any busted nudges on a need to tickle his cuteness. He buys it.
He is a persistent little bugger. To avoid a complete meltdown I must stand aside while he works on whatever it is. Upon success, he beams, “I did it!” And we have a little party right there and then with many kisses. (In my own mind it is a ‘yay we can get moving now!’ party, but he doesn’t need to do that. It can be all about him.) If we finally reach his exhaustion point (there is one!) he will frustratingly tell me, “My help you”. Kind of backwards, but that’s ok. Yes, I will help you!
Saturday (since we are starting potty training), Leif is trying to take off his diaper as he stands on the stool in front of the toilet. I decided to help it along a little bit by undoing one tab. Harmless right? Ha ha. Oh goodness gracious did that thwart the whole project. There was much screaming and yelling, my name was mud and there was to be no potty sitting. Recovery was (finally after 30 minutes) helped along by a few monsters names Sully and Mike.
And what is the fascination with buckles and clips? Leif hasn’t used the belts on his booster seat in months. He used to scream if we did them. Now? He screams if he can’t “my do it” and buckle them up. His food will go cold as he sits there meticulously working on, not one, but two buckles. I guess the good side to this is that if AB and I eat quick, we all finish about the same time. And waa-laa, dinnertime together!
The buckles on his carseat. Yeah. You know what comes next… I try to sneak a finger in there occasionally, yet inconspicuously, just to nudge the buckle up on the strap so it isn’t 4” lower than the other and thereby completely impossible to connect. Just so maybe there might be a chance for success in the next 3 hours. I usually blame any busted nudges on a need to tickle his cuteness. He buys it.
He is a persistent little bugger. To avoid a complete meltdown I must stand aside while he works on whatever it is. Upon success, he beams, “I did it!” And we have a little party right there and then with many kisses. (In my own mind it is a ‘yay we can get moving now!’ party, but he doesn’t need to do that. It can be all about him.) If we finally reach his exhaustion point (there is one!) he will frustratingly tell me, “My help you”. Kind of backwards, but that’s ok. Yes, I will help you!
Friday, September 08, 2006
TGIF!
AB had a job interview this morning. It sounded like the job interview went very well and that he will be called back for a chat with the owner since he was apparently out. It sounds like the job would be a good fit for him, if it weren’t for that nearly completed Masters degree in engineering and his desire to make a career change. This job is not engineering. It is with the company that is a direct competitor with the company he was layed off from. He is viewed as a strategic hire because of what he potentially brings to this company: contacts and knowledge. He was told that they see the position he would be in as a “leadership position” within the company. I guess they told him all the things he needed to hear, a little appeal to the ego, a path upwards and a seemingly friendly environment. I have no doubt he will get an offer after meeting the company owner. The real question is what will the offer be? Will they pay him commensurate with what the position and AB’s experience should garner? And the real question, how desperate is AB for a job right now. Does he want to take the gamble in pushing the career change now? Now is a good time for that. Go with the risk or the stability and current know how? I know AB well enough to know how tired he is of not working, how much he worries about money and how he looks towards the future and at us adding to our family early next year. I know what his answer will be.
This week has really flown by given the Labor Day holiday on Monday. It seems as though our weekend schedule is jam packed (literally). Tomorrow we are getting together with a number of friends to make wine grape jelly. It isn’t made from wine, nope, we have a fair number of wine grapes to make jelly out of. We have a small selection of cabernet sauvignon grapes to contribute to the mix of merlot, sangiovese and syrah. This should provide for a Saturday full of fun in testing out some different blends.
It is also the start of our local Parade of Homes. AB and I really enjoyed this last year and are looking forward to stopping by a few of the homes this year too. We don’t do the “must see every home on the list” thing where you are rewarded with an entry into a contest. Leif just wouldn’t stand for that. We are mostly interested in new homes in particular regions of our town and by builders with a certain style. So our list won’t be overly long.
Also on the list of must do’s is cleaning the house. My MIL arrives on Tuesday and will spend about a week visiting. The house is a disaster. Sorry AB, but his cleaning just doesn’t compare with our former cleaning lady. We will be busy scrambling to pick up the house. I know my MIL means no ill will, but the little things she says and has said in the past really stress me out about my house not being clean enough… nevermind the fact that I am nearly 13 weeks pregnant, with horrible morning sickness (yes, still), working 40 hours a week and mothering a very active 2 year old. I can’t say I am thrilled about the prospect of cleaning the house nearly every free second (because that is what it will take), but hopefully it will mean my tongue will not be severed by my own teeth.
I am anxiously awaiting some cooler weather here. It is September after all. I remember occasional snow in September when I was a kid in Wyoming. But alas, it has been hovering in the upper 90’s this week. The forecast keeps showing days of upper 70’s and low 80’s in the near future. However, these days seem unreachable. Students who failed out of “Gaming Management” in Nevada colleges (yes, a real major) must be just directly siphoned into Meteorology. Then they send the ones who barely passed here. And to think we don’t even have mountains to contend with. Flat land. And they still can’t figure it out!
Let’s see, in other news on the Leif side, daycare has asked us to start officially potty training Leif. I am skeered. His teacher told AB tonight when he picked him up that she needed more diapers and ended with the comment, “well of course if you just potty train him then you don’t need to bring anymore in”. AB stopped her and asked if we should be doing more other than just letting him use it when he wanted. She told him that Leif is not only showing all the signs of being ready (tells her when he is poopy, pulls his own pants down, takes off his own diaper), but is actually pottying on the potty at daycare somewhat regularly, then going and retrieving (or not) the clean diaper and attempting (or not) to put it on. Ugh. I worry this is too young. I know, they have far more experience with this then I do, but isn’t 25 months a little young for this, especially with a boy? She gave AB an outline of what we need to be doing to follow their philosophy on potty training. So I guess we will steam forward. I keep reminding myself how nice it would be to not have two in diapers come this spring.
Everyone have a super weekend!
This week has really flown by given the Labor Day holiday on Monday. It seems as though our weekend schedule is jam packed (literally). Tomorrow we are getting together with a number of friends to make wine grape jelly. It isn’t made from wine, nope, we have a fair number of wine grapes to make jelly out of. We have a small selection of cabernet sauvignon grapes to contribute to the mix of merlot, sangiovese and syrah. This should provide for a Saturday full of fun in testing out some different blends.
It is also the start of our local Parade of Homes. AB and I really enjoyed this last year and are looking forward to stopping by a few of the homes this year too. We don’t do the “must see every home on the list” thing where you are rewarded with an entry into a contest. Leif just wouldn’t stand for that. We are mostly interested in new homes in particular regions of our town and by builders with a certain style. So our list won’t be overly long.
Also on the list of must do’s is cleaning the house. My MIL arrives on Tuesday and will spend about a week visiting. The house is a disaster. Sorry AB, but his cleaning just doesn’t compare with our former cleaning lady. We will be busy scrambling to pick up the house. I know my MIL means no ill will, but the little things she says and has said in the past really stress me out about my house not being clean enough… nevermind the fact that I am nearly 13 weeks pregnant, with horrible morning sickness (yes, still), working 40 hours a week and mothering a very active 2 year old. I can’t say I am thrilled about the prospect of cleaning the house nearly every free second (because that is what it will take), but hopefully it will mean my tongue will not be severed by my own teeth.
I am anxiously awaiting some cooler weather here. It is September after all. I remember occasional snow in September when I was a kid in Wyoming. But alas, it has been hovering in the upper 90’s this week. The forecast keeps showing days of upper 70’s and low 80’s in the near future. However, these days seem unreachable. Students who failed out of “Gaming Management” in Nevada colleges (yes, a real major) must be just directly siphoned into Meteorology. Then they send the ones who barely passed here. And to think we don’t even have mountains to contend with. Flat land. And they still can’t figure it out!
Let’s see, in other news on the Leif side, daycare has asked us to start officially potty training Leif. I am skeered. His teacher told AB tonight when he picked him up that she needed more diapers and ended with the comment, “well of course if you just potty train him then you don’t need to bring anymore in”. AB stopped her and asked if we should be doing more other than just letting him use it when he wanted. She told him that Leif is not only showing all the signs of being ready (tells her when he is poopy, pulls his own pants down, takes off his own diaper), but is actually pottying on the potty at daycare somewhat regularly, then going and retrieving (or not) the clean diaper and attempting (or not) to put it on. Ugh. I worry this is too young. I know, they have far more experience with this then I do, but isn’t 25 months a little young for this, especially with a boy? She gave AB an outline of what we need to be doing to follow their philosophy on potty training. So I guess we will steam forward. I keep reminding myself how nice it would be to not have two in diapers come this spring.
Everyone have a super weekend!
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Assortment packs, just why?
Toddlers have their favorites. I am sure this is not unique to just my toddler. But I would seriously pay more to have a box of band-aids that are ALL Bruce the shark than the Nemo assortment pack we have. Who really wants a band aid with Peach the starfish on it?
No really, I would rather pay twice the price for a Bruce the shark collection so that the other 80% of the band-aids are used without a complete meltdown.
No really, I would rather pay twice the price for a Bruce the shark collection so that the other 80% of the band-aids are used without a complete meltdown.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
So I am really only 24?
AB and I went to lunch today. He came into town to run some errands and so we met at the local Mongolian Grill. It’s a good sign that I was craving this as vegetables have been off the list for some time now. We were checking out and I got a good laugh at the sign behind the counter:
“If you don’t know who shot JR, prepare to be carded.”
Both AB and I chuckled, got a kick out of it and chatted with the owner about the sign. She said we would be surprised how many people just don’t get it, many even ask who junior is.
I got into my car and headed back out to work, flipped the radio station a few times until I found an acceptable song, The BeeGees “Night Fever”. I rocked the rest of the way back to work. I took disco lessons at the YMCA when I was little and remember dancing to this song and dreaming of dancing with John Travolta in his sexy white leisure suit. What a strut. I dreamed of going to a roller disco when I was older and showing off my moves. (And I had good moves!)
Recently a friend of mine online talked about being 35 when her baby will be born and how this concerned her with her age. Plenty of us were there to enlighten her that 35 is in no way old!
Then did I mention the white hair I found on my head the other day. Like polar bear white. White as snow white. I hoped as a kid that when my hair changed colors that it would be white white and not grey. I expected this would be the case since my great grandmother had the same color hair as me and her hair was snow white by the time I came along. Of course I also didn’t expect to start seeing this at such a young age! (It’s Leif’s fault.) AB thought I was overreacting just a tad and reminded me that he has patches of white in his beard. I was more surprised to know that he had noticed them in his beard.
If the 40’s are the new 30’s, that means that the 30’s are the new 20’s… right? Which would make me 24!
“If you don’t know who shot JR, prepare to be carded.”
Both AB and I chuckled, got a kick out of it and chatted with the owner about the sign. She said we would be surprised how many people just don’t get it, many even ask who junior is.
I got into my car and headed back out to work, flipped the radio station a few times until I found an acceptable song, The BeeGees “Night Fever”. I rocked the rest of the way back to work. I took disco lessons at the YMCA when I was little and remember dancing to this song and dreaming of dancing with John Travolta in his sexy white leisure suit. What a strut. I dreamed of going to a roller disco when I was older and showing off my moves. (And I had good moves!)
Recently a friend of mine online talked about being 35 when her baby will be born and how this concerned her with her age. Plenty of us were there to enlighten her that 35 is in no way old!
Then did I mention the white hair I found on my head the other day. Like polar bear white. White as snow white. I hoped as a kid that when my hair changed colors that it would be white white and not grey. I expected this would be the case since my great grandmother had the same color hair as me and her hair was snow white by the time I came along. Of course I also didn’t expect to start seeing this at such a young age! (It’s Leif’s fault.) AB thought I was overreacting just a tad and reminded me that he has patches of white in his beard. I was more surprised to know that he had noticed them in his beard.
If the 40’s are the new 30’s, that means that the 30’s are the new 20’s… right? Which would make me 24!
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Nothing says satisfaction like...
Sitting in the grass at a potluck thrown by members of your former group and overhearing your former group manager say, "Wow, this is really good pie", to his wife, your division director and his wife. Then the three of them getting up and getting a piece of pie and agreeing on what a spectacular peach pie it is. (It was nectarine, oh well, I 'll take it anyway.)
Devoured, decimated, not a scrap left. I was proud to walk up and retrieve the plate making sure they all saw it was ME that baked it from scratch. (Because good pie can only be made from scratch.)
Devoured, decimated, not a scrap left. I was proud to walk up and retrieve the plate making sure they all saw it was ME that baked it from scratch. (Because good pie can only be made from scratch.)
Friday, September 01, 2006
Happy Birthday Dad!
(Sorry about the lack of paragraph breaks. For some reason I cannot get them to stay in. I will attempt another edit later, but for now I just have to accept this is a Blogger glitch.)
Yesterday my dad turned 53. I didn’t get a chance to post then because I was on the webcam with him. It was an hour or so well spent.
My dad was born in Red Lodge,
While I was out at lunch today the song Workingman’s Blues by Bob Dylan came on and the words reminded me of my dad. He started out working as a teenager on oil rigs in
It is amazing the things that impact us as children. I remember when I was a little girl going to a car dealership in
Life was good growing up in our household. Things didn’t always come easy. My dad worked shift work, which was hard on him and hard on our family. But from this experience there was always a huge sense of devotion and satisfaction from a good week’s worth of work that we felt from him. My dad was proud to support our family and despite the fact that he worked long hours he was always at school plays, softball games and track and field day. We went on summer vacations in the car around our region;
My dad is a very traditional sort. He takes pride in being the man of the house and the sole provider. Unfortunately he also tended to marry women who while they liked that idea to start, it was never quite enough. That’s not to say that he ever didn’t allow either my former stepmom or my mom to work, but for my dad I truly believe it was a source of his own pride to be able to take care of his family.
When I think of my dad I also think of his lofty ambitions. I get this from him. My dad has always had big dreams, to own a cabin in the mountains, to have a boat… Sound familiar? I hope that someday in his life, he is able to have these things he has longed for since I was a child.
As I grew older my parents divorced. We spent every other weekend and the summers with my dad. We gained a stepmom and two stepbrothers. Some of my fondest memories come from spending the summers at my dad’s house. We would ride dirt bikes, go swimming, go to the State Fair, canoe the
My dad was always the favored neighborhood parent. All the neighborhood kids hung out at our house. My dad has a great personality that all the kids loved. There were many times I felt like I just wanted them all to leave so I could have my dad to myself. But I was quiet like that. I liked one on one interactions, while my dad was the life of the party. (Which is frighteningly like my son…)
I remember one time openly defying my dad. My dad was always opposed to piercings and according to my mom he was none too happy when I was five and she brought me home with my newly pierced ears. When I was about 13 or 14 I stuck a cube of ice on my ear, pushed a needle through creating hole number 3 or 4 and stuck an earring in while my stepbrothers sat and watched me in the bathroom. That night at dinner it was quiet and Brett, my youngest stepbrother, asked what happened if you pierced your own ear. My dad replied that it would get infected and cause nerve damage to your face and the side of your face would slough off. Or something to that effect. I remember Brett sitting across the table from me with tears in his eyes and his lip quivering. I glared and glared at him, begging him with my eyes, to keep his mouth shut. My dad saw through this, not surprisingly, and asked who pierced their ear. Brett immediately blurted out that I did. I am quite sure my dad didn’t speak to me for a week.
As I entered high school and we moved to
I had a special kinship with my dad growing up as well as today. I always felt like he “got” me. He could read my mind. He understood the ambition I had in life. I was always at home with his rationality. I have never known my dad to be particularly driven by emotions until these recent years. Which is both good and bad, and I am happy to see some of his emotions popping through. I can rely on my dad to offer sound, rational advice that isn’t driven by selfishness. In offering advice he told me the truth and not necessarily just what I wanted to hear. My dad is expert at playing the devil’s advocate, which is probably why I am so tolerant of this with AB.
I love you dad!
Happy Birthday Dad!
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