Just one of those days...

I guarantee you G.C. did not hate his job.

I hate my job.

I know people say "everyone hates their job."  But that is just not true.  First of all, I know plenty of people who love their jobs.  Second of all, I have had several jobs that I loved.

For instance, I loved my old job.  Were there things about it that I didn't like?  Sure, it could be a bit isolating for example.  But overall, it was a great job, very flexible, great benefits and compensation, and something very important to me: colleagues that I liked and respected and that liked and respected me.  It was just a pretty sweet gig.  And I hardly to never dreaded getting up and going to work in the morning.  Sure, I would rather have stayed home with Superman and the boys, but that can't be helped.

Why did I leave that job that I loved?  Well, as much as I loved it, and actually really liked the town we lived in in NW Ohio, we did not like being so geographically far from any family.  We moved there pre-kids, but once Thing 1 and Thing 2 came along, we knew we wanted to be closer to one of our sets of parents.  So, I started looking for a new job.

I won't go into specifics about why I don't like my job.  Dude, this is the internet, and although I highly doubt anyone from my job would ever stumble onto my blog...it could happen.

Here is my problem though.  I'm 32 years old.  I'm well educated.  I'm happily married.  I have two great kids.  But I spend 40 hours a week, wishing I was somewhere else, doing something else.  I feel like that is a problem.  If I'm going to spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week NOT being with my kids, I want to at least enjoy what I'm doing, feel like I'm making a difference in the world, be productive and creative, and enjoy the people with whom I'm working.  Is that really too much to ask?

Life is short y'all.  We never know how many days we have left.  Or our loved ones have left.  Shouldn't we ENJOY our days as best we can?

I love crafting.  I love being creative.  I really, really, really need to figure out a way to turn my love and passion for making things into a way to make a living.  Because I'm slowly dying an emotional death in this job.  In the three years I've worked here, I've be come an unhappier person.  A more pessimistic person.  Frustrated.  Grouchy.

No wonder I'm having a hard time making friends.  I wouldn't want to be friends with someone whose always in a bad mood either!  I miss the me who used to be happy and upbeat.  Sure, I was no Pollyanna, but I was a lot more joyful once upon a time.

How do I solve this problem?  Part of my issue is that I just don't know.  I can't just quit my job, because we need the income.  I've applied for job after job after job in this area, but in three years I've only had three job interviews and not one offer.  (But even then, I worry what if I hate that job even more than this one!?!)

Part of me is pissed that I can't find a job because I know I'm a rockstar, but the longer I stay in this job and don't get interviews and job offers, the more my self-esteem and confidence diminish.  Why don't the want me?  Maybe I'm just not as awesome as I think I am.

I wish this blog was ending with a resolution of how I'm going to fix things.  But it's not.  It's going to end with a frowny face.  And me feeling sorry for myself.  And sad.  And confused.  And wishing I was at home, in front of my sewing machine, instead of at my desk wishing I was anywhere but here.

Something has to give.  And soon.  Because I refuse to be this unhappy every day.

:(

Happy Father's Day Superman

I recently posted this article about Fathers on my facebook page, commenting how I'm so glad that both Superman and my own father are the good kind of fathers.  The kind that have made being active with their kids a priority in their lives.  A father who is actually an equal parent and an equal spouse, doing housework and laundry because it is a household responsibility, not claiming it's woman's work.  (On the same token, I have been known to roll up my sleeves and mow the lawn and take out the trash and grab my tool box to fix a faulty light switch or replace a toilet, because it's not men's work.)

I thought: How sad that this needs to be written in 2011.  It seems like such a 1950s idea of woman as caretaker and man as standoffish provider.  But sadly, I do personally know couples where the mother does do it all while the father works.  And when he comes home he needs his "me time" to unwind from working.  And then spends hours and hours of golfing on the weekends.  For some of them it works (and good for them, who am I to judge), but for most of them...it doesn't.  The women feel over burdened and unappreciated.  And they are sad to see their children who idolize their daddies, getting so little of his time or attention.  And they fume when the absentee fathers suggest having "just one more" baby.  One of my friends even secretly had her tubes tied during her c-section, and as far as I know STILL hasn't told her husband, because he wanted more kids and she didn't.  And some of these women eventually became so tired of being single mothers that they eventually left their husbands to be actual single mothers.

I wouldn't say that I'm lucky Superman turned out to be a good dad, because I always knew he would be.  In fact, that is part of why I fell in love with him.  Part of why I knew I wanted to marry him. We met when we were both working for a non-profit organization that provided care and job opportunities for adults with physical and mental disabilities.  Watching the care, patience, and compassion he had for a population most people are afraid of, I could see the kind of father he would one day be.  And throughout our dating, as I got to know him better and better, I just became more sure of this.

Because remember ladies, we don't live in a patriarchal society with archaic arranged marriages.  We CHOOSE our mates.  We CHOOSE who we want to procreate with.  Who we want to share our genes with and our lives.

In fact, when I first met Superman, I was actually dating someone else.  This guy was fun, funny, interesting, and he adored me (who wouldn't love that?).  I knew he wanted to marry me.  I knew he wanted to have kids with me.  But the thing was, as fun as he was to date...I knew he was not the guy I wanted to be the father of my children.  First of all, he had a son.  And honestly, as much as I liked the guy, I thought he was a pretty lousy father.  True, there are some other factors why I knew he wasn't the one that I won't go into here, but the bottom line was even without any of those other factors, seeing him father his son, I knew I would not be having kids with him.

But I guess maybe I was lucky.

Lucky that Superman didn't change. Some women I know have married men who maybe they thought would be great dads, but somewhere along the line they made their careers a priority over parenting.

Lucky that he turned out to be an even better dad than I ever hope or imagined.

When I found out I was pregnant, we immediately started discussing whether or not we could afford for one of us to stay home.  Even from the beginning, it wasn't how I would stay home.  It was which one of us.  Prior to getting pregnant, we had never discussed how to handle child care.  Which in hindsight was a mistake.  However, as luck would have it we both were in 100% agreeance that we didn't want to put a baby in daycare, and that we would find a way to make sure that, at least for the first year, one of us would stay home to raise it.

Because we had just moved to a new state for my job, and Superman didn't even have a full time job yet (did I mention the pregnancy was unplanned?), he volunteered to stay home.

Then we found out we were having twins.

He didn't bat an eye.  In fact, once he found out we were having twin boys, he seemed pretty excited for his "guy time".

After one year, we both agreed that the arrangement was working so well that he would go ahead and stay home another year.  At the end of year two, we decided to go for another!  For three years, he was the primary caregiver, before we decided it was time for the boys to head to pre-school, and for Superman to re-enter the outside-of-home-workforce again.  I was both happy (for the boys starting a new chapter of their lives and for Superman getting a chance to work among peers again) and sad (because for three years I never had to worry about my children's care and happiness).

But you would not believe how many comments I heard from other women (mothers and non-mothers) saying "I would never let anyone else raise my children".  Excuse me?  I didn't drop them off with some stranger, they were at home with their father.  What makes you think that you have more of a right to raise your children than he does?  What makes you think you'd even be better at it?

Honestly, are there things I probably would have done differently (like more scheduled activities and taking the kids on playdates), but I say probably because I realize some things are easier said than done.  What I think I would have done and what I actually would have done might be two wholly different things...

But I can tell you what they did learn from their daddy that they most likely wouldn't have learned from me (at least not as well):

Patience.  I am much more hot-headed and quick to temper than my calm-demeanored husband; I love that they seem to have acquired his personality.  After all, if I hadn't thought he was pretty great, I wouldn't have married him.

A love for music.  Sure, I love to sing along with the radio, but by three years old, my boys already knew how to keep a beat on drums and hold a guitar the right way as they lip synced to old school 80s rock songs, thanks to hours and hours of home jam sessions.  I swear to you they can tell the difference between Girls, Girls, Girls, Crazy Train, I Love Rock n' Roll, and Jump by just the first two bars of the song.

A love for the outdoors.  Even on the hottest of days, when I would have hidden away in the security of the air conditioning, Superman would venture outside with the boys and find something fun to do.  Whether it was splashing around in the wading pool, looking for bugs, or just taking a short walk.

How to be active.  Superman is an avid runner, and loves being active.  He would take the boys on really long walks, all around our little town.  Often walking them up to my work to visit me during the day.  Now 4 years old, Thing 1 and Thing 2 really show the benefits of being raised by someone so active.  (Not to say that I'm a lazy-ass, but let's just say I find doing a craft project more fun than taking a 5 mile walk pushing a double stroller.)

I could go on.  But, my point is...yes, we are different parents.  But neither one of us is the inherently better parent based on whether we sit or stand when we pee.  We both have our strengths and our weaknesses.  And I like to think that as co-parents we compliment one another well and have raised two amazingly awesome kids because of it.

I think it is time to stop accepting that fathers are some kind of second rate parents.  Quit describing a dad spending time with his kids as "babysitting" or "giving mom a break", he is just doing what he is supposed to be doing...being a parent!  Quit having such low expectations of what a father looks like.  EXPECT a father to be a parent.  A real parent.

And don't accept this "I work hard all day" as an excuse for not parenting nonsense.  Guess what?  For three years I was the working parent with the 9-5 job, yet I somehow managed to come home, change my clothes, and go play with my kids...and my husband (because that is important too).  In fact, everyday I would make sure to 1. notice and give Superman a compliment about the house, 2. give him a rest from the kids (stay-at-homes need this "me time" much more than working parents I think), 3. cook dinner, and we alternated days for who gave the evening bath.  Was it tiring?  Of course.  But who ever said being a parent would be easy?

I'm happy to say that its summertime again, and school is out.  Which means my husband has left his Clark Kent job as high school teacher to resume his role of Superman stay-at-home-dad.  So, for the next 2.5 months, I can rest easing knowing Thing 1 and Thing 2 will be having the summer fun of their lives!

And honestly, I'm pretty jealous.  Because who wouldn't want to spend all day hanging out with this guy --->?

Grateful

It's amazing what we stumble on while surfing the internet.  Today I clicked on a link on CNN.com on the story of a Toledo woman who was implanted with the wrong embryos and some where along the way ended up on a website called Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, which is an organization that provides free photography services to woman who have lost a baby.

I read a few of these incredibly touching and sad stories, and was overwhelmed with feelings.  Sadness.  Sympathy.  Anger.  Guilt.

But most of all, I kept thinking how lucky I was to have somehow ended up with not just one, but two healthy children.

And while I cursed so much of the process at the time, I can look back now and appreciate how many wonderful things aligned just right to make their life possible.

It was an unplanned pregnancy.  I wasn't taking any vitamins or supplements or folic acid.  But luckily I discovered I was pregnant very early on and was able to immediately be put under a doctor's care.

I had recently moved to Ohio and hadn't even found an OBGYN yet.  I picked Dr. Miracle out of an insurance directory.  I believe I owe my sons lives to this amazing doctor.

We discovered it was twins very early on (7 weeks).  Dr. Miracle scheduled an ultrasound right away "just in case," even though most woman I know don't have their first ultrasound until 12 weeks.

Dr. Miracle just so happened to have completed a residency with a Maternal Fetal Medicine specialist who specialized in multiple pregnancies.  So the first thing she did was begin monitoring me for incompetent cervix, which she knew I was at higher risk for carrying multiples, by ordering a vaginal ultra sound every two weeks.

When the MFM in Toledo saw the initial "funneling" (first signs of an incompetent cervix) he was actually willing to wait another week to see if we needed to operate.  Dr. Miracle was more aggressive.  She called me at work that afternoon and I'll never forget her words: "He is the specialist. But I'm telling you, if it was my babies and my body, I'd be in the hospital having that cerclage done tonight."  And I was.  And I did.

From there, I did everything she told me to do.  Everything.  She told me to stay on bedrest for one week.  Lay in bed all day.  Only get up to go to the bathroom and for one short 5 minute shower a night.  Have Superman time me.

After one week, I went in for my check up and there was more bad news.  The cerclage was holding, but the funneling was worse, my cervix was opened all the way down to the sutures now.  Instead of going back to work and continuing the rest of my pregnancy normally, I would be on bedrest (or what I like to call "bed arrest") for the remainder of my pregnancy.  I was 20 weeks along.

Everyday before leaving for work, Superman would fix up a cooler of meals and snacks for me and put it on my bedside.  I watched a lot of tv, surfed a lot of internet, did a lot of crossword puzzles, cross stitching, crocheting, reading...you name it.  We were new to the area, so during four weeks of bed arrest I had six non-Superman visitors.  My in-laws came once, my aunt and uncle from Indiana came once, one work colleague came, and one of my friends from home who was traveling through NW Ohio on a business trip.  I was bored out of mind.  But I stayed in that bed.

After three weeks of weekly check ups, the prognosis wasn't good.  My cervix was dangerously thin and open.  Dr. Miracle said it could no longer take the pressure of traveling 10 minutes for my weekly check ups.  She was concerned the cerclage would rip (I could have hemorrhaged) and/or that the amniotic sac would break (pre-mature delivery).  She wanted me in the hospital for the remainder of my pregnancy.  I was 23 weeks along

I was still allowed up to go to the bathroom, but my daily showers which had been changed to every other day showers were now changed again to weekly showers.  I would be a button press and five feet away from emergency medical care.  My room was the closest to the nurses' station on the maternity ward.  I was ordered to spend my days lying in the trendelenburg position, with my feet up and head down.  I was put on medication to hold off contractions, since they would have an averse affect on my cervix.  I was given a steroid shot to help develop the boys lungs in the likely case they were born pre-mature.

Once a week, I was wheeled down to the ultrasound tech (not in a wheelchair mind you, in my bed).  Every week my cervix measurements got smaller and smaller.  Every week we held our breath, crossed our fingers, and said our prayers that my cervix could hold out just one more week.

As my cervix continued to shrink, my restrictions grew.  Soon there were no more showers.  Soon I was on a bedpan.

Right around 28 weeks, what the medical community deems "viability," I had a brief resurgence in my cervical measurements.  We were elated.  Until I got the letter from my insurance company saying it no longer considered my hospital stay to be necessary medical treatment.  They argued that because my cervix was getting better, I didn't need to be in the hospital.  Dr. Miracle told us not to worry.  She explained to the bureaucrats that my cervix was getting better because the treatment WAS WORKING.  Then, in language they understood she asked if they'd rather pay for an extended minimally invasive stay of the mother or for the extended intensive care stay of two incredibly premature babies.  They decided my care, being considerably less expensive was the better investment.

Unfortunately, the resurgence didn't last long.  And soon I was back to agonizing over premature delivery and what possible long term complications my sons would have if they beat the odds and survived.

At 30 weeks, Dr. Miracle told me if I made it to 35 weeks and the boys measured at least 5 lbs each, she'd plan the cesarean.  (Any thoughts I'd had about trying a vaginal delivery were by this point long gone out the window.  I'd have been much too weak.)

The nurses made me a tear off countdown clock.  We started a "birthdate" pool.

My cervix was shrinking.  I was put on an IV for dehydration.  I was depressed.  I was lonely (my only regular vistor was Superman, but even he worked, so my time with him was limited to 6 pm -10 pm during the week).  I was pale.  I was weak.  I slept a lot.

At 33 weeks, the boys were both measuring almost 5 lbs by ultrasound, so Dr. Miracle, Superman, and I set a delivery date: June 11.  We called our parents and friends.

(Sidenote: My sister wanted me to change the date to June 13, so they'd share her birthday.  I told her she was crazy after 16 weeks of bedrest to ask me to wait even one more day.  In hindsight, though I haven't told her, I wish I'd waited.  But at the time I was not mentally or emotionally prepared to do that.)

All of the days in the birthdate pool passed....33 weeks and 5 days, 34 weeks and 1 day, 34 weeks and 3 days...  my stubborn little cervix literally beat every single date that anyone had guessed.  Including Superman's.  Including mine.

My parents came.

Superman's parents came.

June 11th came.

And at 11 am, I was wheeled into the Operating Room.

At 11:36 am, Thing 1 was born weighing 5lbs 13 oz and 18.5 inches long.  Scoring a perfect 10 on the Apgar scale.

At 11:38 am, Thing 2 was born weighting 5 lbs 7 oz and 18.25 inches long.  Scoring a 10 on the Apgar scale.

16 weeks filled with worry, anxiety, tears, and uncertainty.  Every second worth it.  I felt, and still feel, like the luckiest woman in the world.

Six weeks later, during my final post-delivery check up with Dr. Miracle, she admitted that even she didn't think I'd make it to 35 weeks.  She thought when I was admitted to the hospital, I'd be lucky to make it another 2 or 3 weeks tops.

I don't know why fate smiled down on me and my boys, but I'm really really grateful.

I hate mornings

I hate mornings.  But not for the same reason most people probably hate mornings.

I've always considered myself a morning person.  I'm like my dad in that way.  And it turns out that Thing 1 and Thing 2 follow in our footsteps, because those little guys wake up in amazing moods 99% of the time.  Most mornings, they don't even wake up groggy.  They just seem to pop up excited and ready to play.

But that is the problem.  They want to play.  They are happy, sweet, and playful...  and mommy is all business, trying to get ready for work and school.

It breaks my heart, because mornings are the most one-on-two time I get with them.  Superman leaves for work at about 7:15, which means it's just me and my boys until it's time to take them to school.  I want to just lay in bed and cuddle with them while they tell me about their dreams (which they always seem so excited to tell you about), or get down on the ground and play trains, or play endless scenarios of "doggy", but I can't because I'm racing the clock.

Over and over again, my meanest mommy moments (which are also the most disappointed in myself parenting moments) always happen in the morning, while trying to get them ready for school.  At the time that my kids are perhaps at their sweetest and best, I turn into Momzilla.

They don't want to get dressed (because they want to stay in their pajamas and play) so I find myself physically restraining them to put their clothes on.  They want to play, but I get angry when I walk in the living room and find that they've pushed the coffee table over to the front closet and are standing on it to get their Candy Land game off of the top shelf, spilling dozens of other games in the process.  No matter how many times I promise myself I won't lose my tempter, I invariably end up yelling at some-Thing in the morning for something.  And I hate myself for it.

Some mornings I give in to the desire to just be mommy with them and enjoy their morning mood.  Like this morning.  I had just gotten out of the shower, when I heard Thing 2's soft whispering.  He was sitting in mommy and daddy's bed, next to Thing 1 (who was still sleeping) and saying "Time to get up brother."  Within minutes, both were giggling and laughing under my covers.  So, I abandoned the urge to use the time to blow dry my hair and put on my makeup, and I hopped in bed next to them.  We played tickle monster.  Thing 2 played puppy.  Thing 1 and I took turns giving puppy commands.  We gave lots of sweet kisses.  It was heaven.

But then at some point, I thought "Ugh, we are going to be so late."  So I got up and got back to getting ready.  The rest of the morning included a Thing 2 not wanting to get dressed fit.  A Thing 1 not wanting the breakfast Superman had set out for them.  And me walking into the coffee table incident described above after I finished blow drying my hair.

Our utopic morning in bed was long forgotten as my frustration and irritation grew.

I don't know what the solution is.  Some people say "wake them up earlier so you don't feel so rushed"  However... 1. when you wake them up, they wake up grumpy, 2. we'd have to put them to bed earlier, and I already feel like I barely get any time with them in the evening.

I need a different job.  I need to be a free-lance something or other, working from home.  Or a professor, where I could set my teaching time for afternoons.  Something where I didn't have to push my happy children out of bed and into the arms of others at 8:30 am every morning.

Sometimes I really miss Superman being a stay at home dad.  The boys could stay in their pajamas as long as they wanted!  Often, I'd come home for lunch and the three of them would still be in their pajamas with disheveled hair and in the happiest of moods.

Happy Birthday to me!

Na-na-na-na-na-na...You say it's your birthday
Na-na-na-na-na-na...It's my birthday too--yeah

Today is my 32nd birthday.  I am one of those people who loves their birthday.  I usually start counting down in my head about a month out.  My mom and brother both have birthdays in early March, so as soon as theirs pass, I start thinking of mine.  But this year, my birthday really crept up on me.  It wasn't until this past Friday, April Fool's Day, that I thought oh yeah, my birthday is in a few days.  (That is also the first day my husband seemed to remember I had a looming birthday as well.)

Don't worry, I'm not turning into one of those "my birthday doesn't mean anything people," because I still love my birthday!  I love receiving cards.  Unwrapping presents.  Blowing out birthday candles.  Eating cake!  And all of the other it's-your-day specialness that comes with turning one year older.  The 21st century has brought even more virtual birthday goodness in the form of birthday text messages and Facebook messages.  So far this morning, I've been wished Happy Birthday by at least 35 people!  It's a nice surprise to open your email and find the inbox overflowing with wishes for you to have the best day ever.  Especially when you didn't get one at home.

I'm not saying Superman forgot my birthday, but I am saying that in the rush to get ready this morning, he did not wish me a Happy Birthday.  Nor did he make me breakfast, leave me a card, or in any other way indicate that he remembered or cared.  It brought back memories of my 10th birthday, the year that my parents forgot.  Okay, they didn't Sixteen Candles me and forget completely, but they did forget to wish me a Happy Birthday in the morning.  It wasn't until they were both at work did they realize and call one another... "Did you?"  "No.  Did you?"  "No."  Uh-oh!  I ended up getting my first  delivery of flowers that day.  I remember because my dad had always said flowers were a waste of money, and they both agreed I was too young to appreciate them anyway.  But guilt trumps practicality!

Meanwhile, I'm not one to sit and mope about not getting what I want.  Instead, I decided to make my own birthday treat.  There is a cute locally owned donut shop in town that I haven't been to since we moved back almost two years ago.  After getting Thing 1 and Thing 2 ready for school, I asked them if they wanted to go get a birthday treat with Mommy, and we headed to Crescent Donuts.  I let each of the boys pick out one donut.  Thing 1 got a cherry filled donut with cream cheese icing.  Thing 2 got a powdered sugar donut.  And I got my favorite: Boston Cream.  We completed our order with two cold milks and sat down at a table.

The boys were especially cute this morning.  They were dressed in jeans and coordinating personalized baseball t-shirts (Thing 1's was blue of course, and Thing 2's was red), and they were so well behaved as they sat and ate their doughnuts.  The feisty old men at the counter sipping coffee were enamored with my little guys.  They asked them their names, ages, and if they had girlfriends.  They got a big kick out of Thing 2 saying his girlfriend was "R---" and then Thing 1 saying "two R---s", with Thing 2 nodding and saying "yea, two R----s" (because he has two little girl friends with the same name).  "That's right son, start early!" they chuckled.

I should point out that when Thing 1 was about about halfway through eating his jelly filled donut, he decided he didn't like it and that we should trade.  So, he ended up eating my Boston Cream.  My-oh-my how motherhood changes things.  Even my day is really still their day.

We'll see what Superman does this evening to make up for his birthday faux-pas this morning.  Let me give you a hint: it'd better include chocolate!

**Update: No phone call, email, text, NOTHING from Superman during the workday.  I came home from work a little early and caught him with Thing 1 and Thing 2 in the kitchen, covered with chocolate cake batter.  The boys were screaming "Happy Birthday Mommy!  We made you a cake!"  Then Superman gave me two cards, one from him and one from the boys, and a dozen roses.  Then he took me out for dinner at the restaurant of my choice (yes, I CHOSE Steak n' Shake!).  Then it was to Lowe's to buy my birthday present...a few Closetmaid pieces for additional storage in my craft room.  But the real present is that he never once bitched about my craft room being the most expensive room in the house.  And, he even helped me turn the screws a few times putting it together.


Later that night, I asked him point blank if he realized he had never wished me Happy Birthday that morning.  And he said yes.  But he said by the time he realized it when he got to work, he decided not to call or text me, but to make it seem like he'd totally forgotten and surprise me with the cake and flowers when I got home.


In the end, I had a pretty rocking birthday, so I won't complain.


P.S.  A shout out to my parents who bought me an awesome new craft table for my craft room!  In my mom's words "because we know you wouldn't spend the money on yourself."  Ah, she knows me too well.

40 B4 40: Update

Right after the new year, I wrote my list of 40 Things I Want to Accomplish Before I Turn 40. Seeing as I will be turning 32 in two days, I thought maybe this would be a good time to update my progress.

3. Sell something on etsy.com - So, I've started making these capes. Originally I just made them for Thing 1 and Thing 2, but some friends saw pictures of them online and the requests started coming in. I've done preliminary research on starting a shop, and right now I'm at the stage of deciding what my shop name will be. Superman came up with "Mama Kay Designs," which I thought was really catchy, but apparently somebody else did too, because "Momma Kay" and "Mama Kay" were both already taken. Once I decide on the name, I will open my shop and start listing the capes and maybe add on t-shirt quilts in the future.

4. Present at a national conference - In January, I submitted a proposal to ACTFL and am waiting to hear whether or not it's been accepted. I should find out some time this month.

5. Have a job I love - I applied for two new jobs in the last month. One application resulted in an interview. It's been about 3 weeks since the interview, and I still haven't heard anything. However, I also haven't received my portfolio back yet, so I'm trying to stay positive that means I'm still in the running for the second round of interviews. Also, I've checked online, and the position has not been filled through HR yet. I'm also focusing on trying to appreciate the job I do have, which has made things better.

7. Jog a 5K - About two weeks ago, I started the Couch to 5K running program. I'm currently on my second week of the first week work out. My brother and I started at the same time, so we are encouraging one another and have picked out a 5K to jog together in September.

10. Achieve a normal weight BMI (18.5–24.9) - I rejoined Weight Watchers. I was pretty successful with it once back B.C., so I'm hoping the second time's the charm. So far, I've lost 18 pounds since January 3. It's coming off slowly, but slow and steady wins the race. Hey, I have until 40 after all!

12. Grow an herb garden - Last week I planted some cilantro, basil, and oregano. Growing it in the window until after the first frost, when I will transplant the seedlings to a porch container.

13. Grow a vegetable garden - Last week I planted some heirloom tomatoes, brussels sprouts, and rainbow peppers. Growing it in the window until after the first frost, when I will transplant the seedlings to the garden. I bought a soil test kit to test the garden plot in the meanwhile. And I've researched renting a mini-tiller for clearing out the plot once the ground softens.

26. Finish Thing1 & Thing2's scrapbooks - I finished Year 1! Year 2, 3, & 4 still to go.

27. Scrapbook my wedding - Started.

31. Learn to use my serger - Got it down, dusted it off, threaded the machine, and practiced on scrap pieces. I need to find a project to make with it next...

I think I've got a pretty good start going....

Get them on a schedule!

Two more common questions we got a lot when the boys were babies: "How do you do it?" and "When one cries, does he wake the other?"

My answer might not be popular among some types of parents, in fact it might be considered down right terrible, but I don't care...it worked for us.  The answer: Babywise.

When I was pregnant, my cousin's wife gave us a book that I think saved our life and probably our marriage:  On Becoming Babywise.  The method, in short, is half scheduling and half feeding on demand, mixed with a method of training the babies to sleep, similar to the Ferber method.

Demand feeding mothers think that you absolutely have to feed the baby every time it's hungry, even if it is every hour on the hour.

Schedulers, on the other hand, say you firmly dictate when the baby is fed.

Babywise uses a window method.  For instance, a six week old baby might have a window of 2-3 hours.  Which means that from the time the baby starts eating, you can feed it again the next time it's hungry as long as it's been at least two hours.  If three hours passes and it hasn't awoken to eat, you go ahead and wake it to feed it.  The time of the window depends on age (although they do allow for other factors, such as weight and prematurity).

Also, you always put the baby down awake, so that it learns to put itself to sleep.  This means, you don't put the baby down right after a feeding, when they are sleepy.  Instead, you stimulate it and keep it awake (again for a certain amount of time depending on age) and then put it down awake.  If it cries, you use a modified Cry-It-Out method very similar to Ferberizing.  You NEVER rock a baby to sleep.

It sounds like a lot of work.  And at first, it is, because you have to keep track of times.  But I'm telling you, if you have two babies, and you ever want to get a good night sleep again...you have to get them sleeping!  And the best part about Babywise is that it boasts teaching your baby to sleep through the night.  And it absolutely worked for us.  Thing1 and Thing2 were sleeping 11 pm through 6 am by 8 weeks old.  Happy momma!

But, the effects lasted way past infancy.  My boys are still fantastic about going to bed.  My friends always seem jealous when we "put them to bed" and it takes less than 5 minutes.  It's because from a very young age we have had a routine and have had clear expectations about bedtime.

We aren't perfect parents by any means.  But the one thing that I strongly feel we've gotten right is their sleeping.  And to me, children who are good sleepers make for happier parents!

So, I thank the woman who passed on this secret to me.  I am thankful I can learn from her trial and error (she did not use Babywise for her first child and she said she nearly died of exhaustion).  And, maybe me passing on our good experience will help another mother out there!

40 before 40

When I turned 25, I had a bit of a "quarter-life crisis". To help battle my feelings of failure and disappointment, I made a list of 5 goals that I wanted to achieve by 30. They were:

1. Be married (hopefully to Superman)
2. Have (at least started) a family
3. Have a job in my career field
4. Own a house
5. Own a boat

In the years between writing the list and turning 30 (2009), I had forgotten about my list. But as luck would have it, a few months after turning the big 3-0, I found it. I was very satisfied to see my progress.

1. Be married (hopefully to Superman) Check!
2. Have (at least started) a family Done! Check!
3. Have a job in my career field Check!
4. Own a house Almost check, as I was in the process of finalizing the purchase of our house.
5. Own a boat Not even close. However, seeing as I had two toddlers, this was also no longer a goal.

Recently, I decided I needed to make a new list. Goals of things to achieve by the time I'm 40. Here it is (in no particular order)...

My List:

1. Write a book (Even if I NEVER publish it.)
2. Get something published (photo, article, etc.) (journal article Fall 2015)
3. Sell something on etsy.com (summer 2011)
4. Present at a national conference (ACTFL - November 2015)
5. Have a job I love
6. Continue my education (through a certificate, another Masters, or start PhD) (IST Grad Certificate May 2014)
7. Jog a 5K (without stopping to walk)
8. Finish a half-marathon (don't care if I have to walk!)
9. Learn yoga (summer 2013)
10. Achieve a normal weight BMI (18.5–24.9)
11. Cook an entire Thanksgiving meal by myself (Thanksgiving 2013)
12. Grow an herb garden  (summer 2011)
13. Grow a vegetable garden (summer 2011)
14. Learn how to jar/can something (jarred jalapeños grown from my own garden summer 2013)
15. Make my own hot sauce (summer 2016)
16. Make my own wine
17. Take a "girls only" vacation (St. Louis - February 2015)
18. Take my kids to Disney World (March 2013 and again May 2014)
19. Take Superman to Cabo
20. Visit my good friend in India
21. Go to Hawaii (visit where I was born)
22. Go white water rafting
23. Take a cruise
24. Travel by train*
25. See a show on Broadway
26. Finish Thing1 & Thing2's scrapbooks (spring 2011)
27. Scrapbook my wedding (summer 2011)
28. Scrapbook my college years
29. Scrapbook my high school photos
30. Learn to play piano
31. Learn to use my serger (summer 2011)
32. Learn to knit
33. Learn to use coupons (making it a habit)
34. Read at least 15 more books from the top 100 novels list
35. Put myself on the bone marrow transplant list
36. Fill a recipe box with my favorite recipes (including family recipes) (fall 2013, made a family recipe cookbook on shutterfly)
37. Build something (like a shed, or pantry, etc)  (craft table...summer 2011)
38. Establish a style
39. Add charms for my sons to my charm bracelet
40. Take part in a Flash Mob

Wish me luck and keep me honest!

*I realized after I wrote this that I have already traveled by train when my best friend FotoGal and I backpacked through Europe together in college. What I mean more specifically is taking a vacation (with my train loving sons) through the U.S. by train. Which I have never done.

B.C.

To most people, the term B.C. when related to telling time refers to Before Christ.  But to me, B.C. means Before Children.  For example "Those boots are gorgeous!  I would have bought them B.C., but instead I'll be buying these much less expensive boots."  To say life changes after you have children is an understatement.  So much so that sometimes I have a hard time remembering what life was like before I became a mom!

I will admit that I was one of "those girls" that wanted the realistic looking baby dolls for Christmas, loved babysitting so I could "play house", and had baby names picked out long before I began dating, or even menstruating!  But wanting to have kids wasn't my entire life.  I mean, I loved softball, camping, water skiing, fishing, and Nintendo.  In fact, many would (and have) described me as a tomboy.  Nor did I rush to get married and start a family young.  I went to college, then grad school, and started a career before I settled down.  In fact, I guess I must have hid my dream of motherhood well enough that even my own father expressed surprise when I decided against going to law school because I was worried that a career in law would prohibit me from being the kind of mother I wanted me to be.

Then in June 2007, after a complication riddled pregnancy, including 15 weeks of bed arrest (I refuse to call it bed rest, but that is another blog) my dream was fulfilled.  I had two precious, healthy baby boys and was more in love than I could have ever imagined!  But motherhood is not as clean, and beautiful, and pretty as it was with plastic baby dolls dressed in white lace dresses.  It is chaotic and dirty, and often thankless.  Sometimes I just want to tell motherhood "I will always love you, but I don't like you very much right now."

Listening to the radio on the way to drop the kids off at pre-school this morning, I heard the deejay discussing a recent poll asking Americans if they would rather A) spend a week away from their family or B) have their cell phone taken away for a day.  And he acted genuinely shocked at how many people (47%) chose A.  He seemed to think it was a sad commentary on American families or something.  I, on the other hand, know exactly why I would choose A:

Spending a week without my family would increase my productivity!  Do you know how much housework I could get done?  How many scrapbook pages I could finish!  Finally touch up that paint in the bedroom.  And I'd still have time to grab a mani/pedi!  They didn't say they'd give up their families forever, just one week!  Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder.  One of my favorite things is that first day home from a few days away at a work conference.  I miss them.  They miss me.  For one day we are all on our best behavior and momentarily forget how crazy we make each other.

On the other hand, you take away my cell phone and my productivity decreases.  Now, not only do I still have to do all of the normal things I feel like I don't have enough time for, but throw in the fact that I'm having to search for a land line phone to make any necessary calls.  Oh, and when I get there I don't even know the number to dial because it's stored in the address book on my phone!

You know the old saying "If momma ain't happy...ain't nobody happy."  Since, I know no one is going to take my kids for the week I decided that I still need to do something just for me.  So I decided to think all the way back to B.C., what did I love?  I used to love to write.  I wrote short stories, poems, prose, blogs...you name it.  Once upon a time, I even had aspirations to become an author.  But between work, and marriage, and children, my writing has fallen to the wayside.  In fact, the most writing I do these days are my 420 word limit Facebook statuses.

So, thanks to inspiration from a friend, I've decided to start out 2011 by starting this blog.  I'll warn you that it won't be pretty (I haven't written in a long time).  And it will be dominated by talk of my children (I told you, I do love motherhood most of the time!).  But whether or not anyone likes it, or even reads it, doesn't matter.  As long as I am writing again, getting it all out there, doing something just for me...Momma will be happy.