And today they fired me

Happy Fucking New Year.

I wish I had some shrimp corn dogs.

Well, that's a metaphor for something

Thanks to all of you who have inquired about my job situation--I'll update you below.

But first, a story...

On December 23rd I went into work and I was one of the first ones there. On my desk was a Chipolte gift card, no note or anything, just a gift card laying on my desk. I love Chipolte, so I thought that little Chipolte Christmas Elves had visited the office overnight to bring me gifts, since I was all bitter about a lack of office Christmas gift and/or bonus. No one said anything about it, so I just put it in my wallet and figured that my little elf wished to be anonymous.

This evening, the family and I went to Target to make several purchases for our trip to Illinois tomorrow. After shopping we decided to get some Chipolte and I happily presented my gift card. Guess what--it was totally empty. No money had been loaded onto it. Now, I know that could have been an oversight on the part of a Chipolte employee when many gift cards were purchased, but the way things are going right now, it feels like a metaphor.

On to the details...

After a very nice Christmas with my family (and delicious Shrimp Corn Dogs--more about those later), I went back to work on Tuesday morning and was told by Mama X that R no longer worked there. R's husband has really been declining, but something feels really wrong to me about R's leaving. Will has made several really stupid comments about "needing someone who can do the job" with regard to R. One of the reasons that this feels so weird is that there has been no official communication from The Big Cheese or Mr. X regarding R's leaving. It was left to Mama X to tell me and no one in authority has said a word to me about it.

Initially, The Husband thought that R's leaving gave me a little more job security, but I've never felt that way. If they are willing to fire someone whose husband is dying of cancer, they won't hesitate to cast me aside. Also, today I overheard a portion of a conversation* between Guy and K and it sounds like K has been given R's job. K has been cleaning out R's office and she's been really eager to do that. I can't imagine her being that helpful if there wasn't something in it for her.

This brings us to me...no one has told me anything. The Big Cheese, Will, Mr. X and even Al Gore had a big "strategy meeting" on Tuesday**. Mr. X sent me home from work early before the meeting started. I think that I decision has been made, but they aren't telling me what it is. I am a chicken and am afraid to ask. We normally have a Monday Morning Meeting, however that's been moved to Tuesday because of New Years. Those meetings are usually pretty low key, however two email reminders have already been sent out about this one. I have a really bad feeling that they are going to announce my new position to me in front of everyone at the meeting, like it's a done deal. I've gone over several reaction scenarios in my head for that one--I'm not sure what I'll do if that happens.

After all of this though, I'm not sure that I really want to work there any more. They have treated me badly and if my gut is right, they've treated R even worse. I used to admire what I thought was drive and ambition--now I think it might just be greed.

(Take a minute to absorb the serious part.)

And now to completely change the subject.

Shrimp Corn Dogs are AWESOME. Do you like shrimp? Do you like Corn Dogs? Imagine the two things together and you get the awesomeness that is a Trader Joe's Shrimp Corn Dog. If you live near a Trader Joe's run, do not walk, and get some for yourself. I recommend stocking up because I am worried that they may be a holiday only item. To further tempt you, here is a picture of them when they are cooked (along with another favorite, Trader Joe's Shrimp Tempura).

We had a lovely Christmas at my house. On Christmas Eve, we had my new tradition--The Feast of the Seven Dishes. I think that I will keep that up and make seven different snack foods so we can have a little party before church. Our church's Midnight*** Mass was beautiful and I'm working on forgiving myself for a major vocal mistake that I made while singing O Holy Night. (It was so good in my dining room--I honestly don't know what happened in church. Everyone at church said it was lovely, with the exception of our choir director, who is also my voice teacher, so there really was an issue.) We were lazy all day on Christmas. My iPhone alarm accidentally went off at 7:45--if it wasn't for that I don't know how late Sweet Pea would have slept. She loved her new bike and Bitty Baby from Santa. I also made one of the best things for dinner that I've made in a long time. Should you need a fancy-ish dinner, try these Fontina and Prosciutto Stuffed Pork Chops with pan-roasted grapes (sounds weird, tastes good) and polenta. I made creamy polenta, instead of grilled. I recommend cutting the polenta recipe in half, since we will be eating polenta well into the New Year.

Also, The Husband and I went to see "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" yesterday, which was one of the best films that I have seen in a long time. I enjoyed all three books, even though they were one of the weirdest things that I've ever read. I was worried about the violence in the movie, but I had imagined it much worse than it looked on film, so I was okay. If you're looking for a good movie to see this weekend, that's the one I would go to.

Anyway, we're heading into the New Year. I am excited to be spending it with good friends. I am anxious about my job (see note about eczema). I am trying not to be. Thanks for reading this past year. Here's to hoping that 2012 is a great year for you and that I can quickly find a new, and better, triangle to work in.

(I feel kind of bad for always stealing from her, but I guess it's really promotion... Read this post from The Bloggess. I know just how she feels.)

*Not by snooping--people in the office just talk really loud in front of me (and I have bionic hearing--really I do--that's actually what it's called).

**I have eczema patches around my eyes as a stress trophy from that one

***But celebrated at 10:00

My Present to You

Toast

I'm really stressed out. This might be news to you if you are living under a rock. Even The Husband (who is usually really obtuse) has picked up on my stress level.

Although I love Christmas, I (like many people), get so caught up in having the "perfect day" that I forget to enjoy myself. I'm trying really hard to give myself a break this year.

I haven't baked any cookies yet, and I'm thinking that I probably won't. This is okay because I bought Milk Chocolate Salted Carmel Butter Cookies from Trader Joe's.* I also bought a chocolate ganache present cake and a pumpkin tart (also from my friend Trader Joe). On Christmas Eve, I will not be cooking any part of the Feast of the Seven Fishes. (If you are unfamiliar with the Seven Fishes, you are lucky. It is a weird Italian Catholic thing and it involves having to cook or eat Baccala. Baccala is gross--that is all I will say about it. It can also involve eels.) Instead on Christmas Eve, we will be enjoying stuffed mushrooms and shrimp corndogs**, again, from my friend Trader Joe.

I had some moments today where I started to freak out about food, and Clay Aiken, and whether or not I was going to get Friday off of work, and the fact the Sweet Pea's Ritalin isn't doing anything and I feel horrible giving it to her every morning. In another very mature moment*** (when I was on the brink of tears at lunch) I thought about what I could control. The answer was food, and that's really it.

Although ultimately I decided that the therapist I was seeing a little over a year ago was doing me more harm than good, she did have her moments, and one of them was a time that I was crying about having a frozen lasagna in the house. (The Husband does not believe in frozen lasagna. He also doesn't believe in cooking himself--this makes life hard.) My therapist was able to get me to stop and actually listen to how insane I sounded. I was barely holding it together and I was worried that I hadn't made lasagna? I'm not that bad now, but I know that I have to give myself a break, so I'm going to do that. On Christmas Eve, I'm going to eat Trader Joe's Shrimp Corndogs**** and Salted Carmel Butter Cookies that I didn't make and I will be okay. In fact, it's going to be really tasty.

I'm sure that I'll write again before Christmas, but in case I don't...My wish for all of you is to give yourself a break and realize that we probably can't make the perfect holiday. Instead, we can relax with our families and love them the best that we can.

On Christmas Day I will hopefully feel up to stuffing some pork chops with the prosciutto and fontina cheese I bought today. If not, we'll all have toast, and that will be okay too.

*I have hidden the cookies from myself because I want to eat them NOW.

**I am extremely excited about the shrimp corndogs.

***I've been having those a lot lately. Weird.

****Yes, I will tell you what they tasted like.

And then Clay Aiken gave me a facial tick

From my perch at my Triangle, it was easy to watch for the arrival of Clay Aiken today. By my watch (actually my iPhone), he was 6 minutes late. Not cool, Clay Aiken. I was always on time. He also wasn't wearing a tie. I was 100% positive that it was Clay Aiken because of my stalking him on LinkedIn.

I did pretty well at work today. No throwing up. I had plenty to do, so I stayed busy and tried not to think about it. No one mentioned Clay Aiken's interview to me today. I wonder if Mr. X figured that I put two and two together, given how many times a day I need to look at his calendar. Once Clay Aiken actually entered the building, I did get really nervous, like anxiety attack nervous. I have an eye tick that only shows up under extreme stress, so it showed up this afternoon, which was really cool. Everyone likes a girl with an eye tick. I really hope that this is over soon.

In other news, Vaclav Havel (former president of the Czech Republic, Cold War Activist, playwright, humanitarian, all around good person, and someone that was always on my list of people I wanted to have over to my house for dinner) died on Sunday. If you remember learning about Charter 77, the Prague Spring in 1968, or the Velvet Revolution, this is the man who was their architect. I've read several obituaries today and was going to link to one, but I can't pick. Just Google him and you'll find lots to read, including his early plays. The House at Checkpoint Charlie in Berlin, which is now a museum of both the Berlin Wall and social activism throughout the world, has the typewriter that he used to write many of his early plays and also Charter 77--you can actually sit down at type something with it.* When I lived in Berlin I wrote lots of people letters on his typewriter. (I was kind of a hog in the museum.) When I was visiting Prague it was Wenceslas Day**, so I got to see him (from very, very far away) giving a public address. I didn't understand a word of it, but it was like seeing a rock star to me.

While I was Googling him, I found that he wrote a lot about hope. I guess looking back at his life, he had to hope for something better, and then once he succeeded he got to witness all that hope having come to fruition. I like to think that we would have been friends, if we had ever met. I don't usually get sad when people I don't know die, but I feel like his passing should be mourned. The world lost a great citizen.

So, to end today, I am going to try and relax enough so my face stops ticking, and think about hope...

"Hope is a state of mind, not of the world. Either we have hope or we don't; it is a dimension of the soul, and it's not essentially dependent on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation. Hope is not prognostication. It is an orientation of the spirit, and orientation of the heart; it transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons ...Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously heading for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed. The more propitious the situation in which we demonstrate hope, the deeper the hope is. Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out."

-Vaclav Havel
1936-2011

*Because people in Europe have respect for stuff and don't trash it. If you go to Anne Frank's house in Amsterdam you can also sit down in her chair at her desk and look out the window. There's no plexiglass or velvet ropes.

**Wenceslas is actually "Vaclav" in Czech--isn't that cool

And then Clay Aiken made me throw up

My body is not handling stress very well. I woke up really early this morning (about 3:00 am) I think with a migraine and it felt like my head was going to cleave in two.* This migraine lasted most of the day and came with lots of throwing up. I don't have the flu, it was just the headache.

The Husband took Sweet Pea and the Girl Scouts to go caroling at a nursing home today and I decided to be helpful and go grocery shopping while they were gone. Do not drive with a migraine. I got so sick on the way to the store thinking about food that I thought I was going to throw up in The Husband's car. I turned around and came home and thankfully made it back inside the house** before I threw up.

This is all Clay Aiken's fault. If today was this bad, how bad will tomorrow be?

*I've always liked the word "cleave," so much more fun than split.

**and the bathroom

I hate you Clay Aiken

I hate Clay Aiken.* The Clay Aiken that's trying to take my job, not the real Clay Aiken, although I don't really like him either. In my head I know that what's happening isn't Clay Aiken's fault; he's just a guy looking for what he thinks will be a better job. In my heart it's all his fault. Per his LinkedIn profile** he already has a really good job with a great company. He will never have health insurance as good as what he has right now. (If he gets the job at BCFG he will come to mourn his health insurance loss--I didn't understand how good I had it until a few years after I left the Big P.) I would like to take Clay Aiken by the shoulders and shake him until his teeth rattle. I would tell him "Stay where you are. You're ruining someone's life."

One of the reasons that I hate Clay Aiken so much is that it's easier to hate him than the other people at BCFG. Although right now they are treating me like shit, I feel like in their souls, which are currently extremely misguided, they are good people. I am hoping and counting on their good people-ness to keep me in my job.

It's the season of Advent; the coming of the Christ Child, and this year I have been thinking a lot about the Wise Men and their journey following the star for hundreds or thousands of miles. Although I don't think that I'm worthy of divine intervention, I've been hoping that a star will stop over my head in my Triangle and point the people to me.

* My sister, L2, and I were definitely Ruben Studdard fans. In fact, anytime that Ruban Studdard song "Don't you remember you told me you loved me ba-a-a-by...baby...baby..baby" came on the radio we would call each other and sing in loudly into each other's voice mail. This was extra fun to us because L2 worked for a giant financial organization and all of her ingoing and outgoing calls were recorded. We were so used to it that we didn't really think about it, but I always wondered if anyone ever listened to our singing. (For those of you who don't know me personally, both of my sisters have L first names, so I will be calling them L1 and L2.) Lots of people must share my feelings about Clay, as my picture is from the "I hate Clay Aiken" Facebook Group.

**LinkedIn is awesome for spying on people trying to steal your job.

Pesto Burritos, Christmas Parties, and "When were you going to tell me that?"

So, this is the story of my big pitch, the company Christmas Party, and how sometimes you shouldn't go looking for things...

On Monday, after psyching myself up for two days and practicing in front of the mirror and in the car, I went into the office and told Mr. X right away in the morning that I wanted to talk to him. He said sure. I had planned to have my conversation in his office. I had thought about how I would ask to close the door, where I would sit, how I would cross my ankles, and about not picking at my finger nails to show how nervous I was*. The morning passed, and he never asked to talk to me. I started to freak out, thinking that he'd forgotten and that I'd have to repeat the whole process Tuesday morning, or worse, that he'd ask me to go to lunch. Chewing had not factored into any of my preparation. Lunch was too friendly, and I was not feeling like a friend. The clock edged closer to noon, and (oh horror), he asked me to lunch. I was freaking out, but then decided that I would order a salad and eat tiny pieces of lettuce, so I could still talk. I told myself this was going to be okay and that I would still be able to say what I wanted to say.

So, we go to lunch. But, instead of** going to a normal restaurant, we went to an Italian knock off of Chipolte. I love Chipolte and Italian food, but having this conversation with a burrito was not what I had planned. Technically at this restaurant, instead of a tortilla you got a flatbread (it seemed an awful lot like a tortilla to me). I had a vegetarian one and had them put as few things as possible inside (grilled zucchini, rocket***, sun dried tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and they topped it off with some pesto). Believe me, this was a tiny Italian burrito--Mr. X had his with angel hair pasta inside and double chicken. (Yes, you read that right, he had pasta inside his bread.) In addition to having to chew while having one of the worse conversations of my life, this restaurant didn't have normal tables; instead they had these long high school cafeteria like things. Mr. X decided we should sit next to each other, with our chairs angled towards each other, like we were on some weird kind of date. Awkward.

As I said in my previous post, I told Mr. X to choose me in the best way that I could. I'm actually extremely proud of myself**** for saying all that I had to say. It was one of those moments when you are looking at yourself from the outside and seeing that you are a grown up. I told him that demoting me was a mistake, without any irony--I meant every word that I said and I had the courage to say them. I felt like Lady Macbeth: "But screw your courage to the sticking place, and we'll not fail." (although I was not planning to kill anyone). And then I asked if there was another candidate. I knew the answer before I asked the question, but I wanted to make him say it. There is someone else. Mr. X has known this guy, who we will call Clay Aiken, for a couple of years. This reinforces my feelings that this whole thing has been in the works for awhile and is bigger than me. I still feel that there is discrimination going on, but I don't really know what to do about it. I would like to be a fly on the wall the first time Mr. X asks Clay Aiken to make him a cup of coffee (or when Mr. X realizes he's going to have to start walking the 10 feet to the coffee pot himself). I, personally, can't believe I ever let myself get in the position of getting coffee. Maybe that was my downfall.

Last night was our office Christmas Dinner. It was horrible. I wanted to celebrate with these people about as much as I wanted to have teeth pulled, but The Husband and I put on our happy faces and went to dinner. Because this is the way life works out, we ended up sitting next to The Big Cheese and Mrs. Big Cheese. Mrs. Big Cheese said that she didn't even know that I had started working there. I'm not really sure what that means--I'm trying to think that it means that Mrs. Big Cheese has really bad manners. You should at least pretend to know your husband's employees. The Husband and I had a whole babysitting debacle, since the dinner was on a Wednesday and got pushed back to starting at 7:30, so we skipped the post-dinner bowling. I'm glad that we had an excuse to do that. I don't think I could have kept from cracking under the pressure for too much longer. Apparently bowling got kind of wild--it sounded today like someone took their clothes off. Oh, speaking of clothes, I was very disappointed because K did not wear any sparkles. Instead she wore a plaid shirt. I was actually kind of over dressed (which is always better than being under dressed).

Today I did something that I probably shouldn't have done. I am really paranoid and wondering when the other shoe will drop, so I decided to see if Clay Aiken was scheduled to come in for an interview. I looked at the calendars of Mr. X, The Big Cheese and Will and it was pretty easy to deduce that Clay Aiken will be coming in on Monday, December 19th at 1:00. I will also be in the office on Monday, December 19th at 1:00. I wonder if they will introduce us and give Clay Aiken a tour of my Triangle. I met everyone in the office at my second interview. I hope they have the class not to introduce us, but I'm starting to doubt just about everything. Thanks to Clay Aiken's LinkedIn profile, I now know lots of things about him. I'm more qualified for my job, probably because it's already my job.

Anyway, when you combine all of this with Sweet Pea's Ritalin-induced emotional outbursts and the fact that the Ritalin isn't working at all, I'm at about the breaking point from a stress and mental-health standpoint. I am coping by living in denial and overspending on Christmas presents. (It's a good year to be Sweet Pea.) I want to cry most of the time and I feel like this:


(The picture comes from this great blog post "Adventures in Depression")

Right now I am doing the best I can, which is not very well. Thanks to everyone for your kind thoughts and words. I do feel like I did the best that I could for myself and now we just have to wait and see who they think is better--me or Clay Aiken.


*I was nothing, if not thorough.

**Sweet Pea just asked me if gladiators had brains. This has nothing to do with my post, I just wanted to share

***so much more fun to say "rocket" than "arugula"

****in the midst of feeling really sad

Quick Update

I was going to write a long post today about work and Sweet Pea, but I am just too tired. I figured that I should give you a quick update though.

Yesterday I went to lunch with Mr. X and said "choose me" in the most eloquent way that I could. (I decided to do it without Ativan, and there was a pesto filled burrito involved. I'll tell you more about that later.) There is another candidate. It is really hard to be competing with someone for a job that you already have. Anyway, because of this guy's current position, he has to give notice by December 22, or he is contractually obligated to his current job for a really long time, so I think that I'll know something soon. Tomorrow is the BCFG Christmas dinner--I'll be trying really hard to not stab anyone with a steak knife. (I'm sure K will be wearing something with sequins--I'll keep you posted.)

Also, the Ritalin isn't working. Ritalin is a fast acting drug--it does not need to build up to a therapeutic level. If it was going to work we'd have noticed something by now. There's no change. I was at violin with Sweet Pea today, and it was painful to watch, as always. Thankfully her teacher is a very patient man.

Lots of things are frustrating now, so I'm going to bed.

Ritalin Update

We've given Sweet Pea two doses of Ritalin and I am hopeful (kind of). She seems to be doing okay on the medication--no upset stomach, loss of appetite, and no insomnia. Her only side effect so far is that she is extremely emotional; crying at the drop of a hat. This is a known side effect and will hopefully diminish over time. If it doesn't, then Ritalin probably isn't the right drug for her.

I am cautiously hopeful that it is working...we went to the Nutcracker yesterday and she was more still than I have seen her in a long time (or probably ever) and she was also very still at church this morning. Sweet Pea doesn't have the hyperactivity component of ADHD, however she is hyper-focused or hyper-aware of her surroundings. Where you and I may notice if something is new in a room or if we have a tag in our shirt, she notices these things and fixates on them to the point that she can't concentrate on anything else. I describe her as one of the reasons that they invented tagless t-shirts. I have to buy her a particular brand of sock (sold only at Target) because all the other ones are "too tight" and she can't concentrate with them on. She got in trouble a lot in kindergarten for messing with her socks* before I figured out what was actually going on. Tomorrow in school will be a better test and I'm curious to hear what her teacher is going to say.

I've decided to talk to Mr. X about my alternative proposal tomorrow. I would prefer to talk to him only, since it will be less intimidating, but if I have to talk to everyone, then I'm talking to everyone. I've got the wording for almost everything worked out and I keep telling myself that I'm no worse off for trying than I am right now. I will be bringing some Ativan to work to ward off any bad anxiety. I do hate the fact that my body and mind is such that I need drugs to calm everything down, but if it will give me an edge to stay on top of everything tomorrow, I will take it. Incidentally, Mr. X told me that he takes medication for depression when I was telling him about Sweet Pea's ADD drugs. I did not volunteer the fact that I am bi-polar. It feels like one more thing that could be used against me.

Wish me luck tomorrow. Sweet Pea is going to put on a Christmas show now.

*Because her teacher was Satan here on earth

Thank God for Pudding

I just finished giving Sweet Pea her first dose of Ritalin LA (the LA stands for "long acting," so we will hopefully see 8-10 hours of symptom relief from one pill and she won't have to go to the nurse during the school day for a second one.) The Ritalin comes as a capsule that you can open up and sprinkle over food if you can't swallow the pills. We have practiced pill swallowing*, but this morning Sweet Pea was scared to try once she saw the size of the Ritalin. The pills aren't big**, but they are bigger than a Mini M&M. Thankfully, while getting the prescription filled, we also picked up some chocolate pudding, and I gave her the little bead things from inside the pill mixed into two bites of pudding. She took it really well and now I'm afraid to leave her alone because of the potential side effects. I'm also watching like a hawk to see if I see anything different. We are going to see "The Nutcracker" today, so it will be interesting to see if she can sit still more easily. I feel like I'll get a truer test of the medication's effectiveness on Tuesday when she has her violin lesson after school. I see the most symptoms in her during that time.

My job...I don't even know what to say...I'm working on a plan/counter-offer for them right now. I'm also planning various forms of physical violence in my head--many involve a big hammer.*** I plan to inquire about the full time position, which I would consider provided they would meet my conditions. I feel like I don't have a lot to lose with either countering their initial offer or offering to take the full time position with some pretty big conditions. I've already lost 43% of my pay--once you get over the initial shock, something like that tends to make a person brave. I've come up with some good ideas about things that they aren't doing right now than I am going to add to my part-time counter-offer proposal.

Right now though, I am still just really angry. Yesterday was an extremely awkward day at work between me and Mr. X. I know he was waiting for me to say something, but I wasn't ready to talk yet. I'm still working on what I want and I'm not saying a word until I am positive that I can do it emotion-free. Yesterday I felt like there was still a small risk of crying. I just did my work at my desk, like any other day. It's weird, because for what will probably be the very short term, Mr. X is giving me more responsibilities. I know that he just needs to get stuff pushed off of his desk, but I hope at some point that they see how capable I am and realize what they are doing. That's probably wishful thinking, though. I'm starting to believe that none of them can see further than the end of their own nose.

*Our doctor gave us a great way to practice--you use Mini M&Ms. They are small and non-threatening, so your child can get used to the swallowing motions before you have to do a pill. After practicing, you also have Mini M&Ms for a reward.

**Says the girl who can swallow 8 vitamin sized horse pills at one time.

***Hold on there Internet Police--I would never actually hit someone with a hammer. It's just kind of fun to think about sometimes.

That didn't last long...

Remember how I was so excited after my review? It didn't last.

This morning I was called into a "Strategy Meeting" with The Big Cheese, Mr. X and Will. I will not claim that I knew what was coming, however I did get really nervous prior to the meeting, based on how Mr. X was acting.

BCFG has "decided to go another way." After our meeting last week, I thought that I was going to get more job duties and responsibilities. Today I found out that my job duties will be cut, which they are using to justify a $15,000 cut in my salary.

I sat there in the meeting totally shocked as more and more words came out of Mr. X's mouth. All I was thinking was "keep your face neutral--do not let them see what they are doing to you." I think I was successful. At least I didn't openly crumple.

After the meeting I walked back to my desk, ramrod straight, and went back to work.* Mr. X came over to my desk, telling me he understood if I needed to make some phone calls. It would have been a very cold day in hell before I would have made any calls about this in front of him.** I spent the rest of the day telling myself it was not okay to cry. I want to go out with them thinking that they made a terrible mistake.

I have a week to make a decision and I have no idea what I'm going to do. Right now I'd just like to crawl into a hole.*** We can't get by with my making $15,000. It took me six months to find this job and I really don't want to look for another one. I think that I'm going to have to go back to work full time and the idea of that literally makes me sick.

I'm starting to get really angry about all of this. BCFG is doing really well financially. The company's profits have been shared openly at those stupid Monday Morning Meetings that I am forced to attend, and their revenue is up significantly this year. There is no financial reason for them to pay me less--they are justifying it because of the reduction in job duties, which I don't want. I proposed MORE job duties at my review. BCFG is a Boys Club. I've worked in a male-dominated industry my whole career, but this is the first time that I feel that there is discrimination because I'm a woman and a mother.

I'm also mad at myself. I let myself get pigeon-holed as this review creator and I didn't show my full potential. I'm second-guessing everything I've ever done and wondering if I had been more vocal about what I knew if things would be working out different.

BCFG is hiring a full time person to support Mr. X. I don't think that's an option for me anymore. I got the feeling during the "Strategy Meeting" that there is another candidate for that position. Someone is waiting in the wings to take my Triangle.

In addition to all of this, tomorrow is Sweet Pea's doctor's appointment to start the ADD drugs. I explained to her about the medication this afternoon--she did not take it well. I have bribed her with breakfast at Bob Evans**** prior to the doctor's appointment. Although I think it's the right thing to do, I'm having a really hard time with the ADD drugs. I am afraid she will lose too much of herself.

I know that lots of people are out of work right now and that in a lot of ways my life is pretty good, but I can't really see any of that now. I haven't even been employed for a year. This just feels so unfair.

*I did send several text messages, however that's not that far off from a normal day.

**Triangle = no privacy

***When I finish writing this, I will put my pajamas on, lay on the couch and try not to cry in front of my child.

****Prior to having children, I never thought that Bob Evans would become such a viable dining option. I used to make fun of it and call it "Barf Evans," which was an extremely mature name.

When God Closes a Door, He Opens a Triangle*

Yesterday, after two previous cancellations, I had my first review at BCFG. I haven't had a review in five years (The Man didn't believe in them), so I was slightly nervous. I think that I am awesome at my job, but you never really know what others are thinking about you. My review was with both The Big Cheese and Mr. X. To quickly sum up my review, and get to the good stuff, I am averagely-awesome . Their only criticism of me is that I don't share more of my knowledge. Mr. X said during the Monday Morning Meetings he can frequently see the wheels turning in my head and gets frustrated that I don't say anything. I agreed to share more. I'm quiet because I'm not quite comfortable there yet and because I've seen these people go 10 rounds over what to put in a Christmas card and frequently I don't want to get involved in that. This made a very nice transition and allowed me to talk about how I'm not challenged. With the previous cancellations, I've had about two weeks to figure out both what I want to say and how I want to say it. It took 12 years in the workforce, but I think that I'm finally old (or maybe mature) enough that everything came out right.**

After my review came the true awesome-ness... In the past several years, Mr. X's responsibilities have expanded to the point that he's basically at the breaking point. Originally, I was hired to take a lot of stuff off of his plate, but somehow I morphed into the Review Guru***. I'm clearly unhappy with this role and was able to articulate it in a positive way. Two things are going to happen--they are planning to hire a full time person to truly take some stuff over from Mr. X and to prevent him from having a heart attack. I was offered this position, which was flattering, but I don't want a full time job, and that was okay with everyone. The second thing (which is more exciting to me, because it's about ME) is that I will soon get a real job that uses my skills and isn't something that I could train a high school intern to do. I'm going to start controlling the client meeting calendar for Mr. X, Mole and the Godfather (so they can no longer pile their shit on me all at the same time). I will still do the reviews, but then I will also handle all post-meeting follow up and client communication, which will take advantage of my skills and allow me to use my brain on a regular basis. During my review I said "I feel like I'm getting stupider" several times. (I realize that "more stupid" is grammatically correct, but I felt like "stupider" got my point across better.)

After that was settled, we discussed even more awesome-ness.........I'M GOING TO GET TO WORK FROM HOME AGAIN! This is literally due to my Triangle. I work in a triangle because our office is full to capacity and the corner of the hallway was the only place to put me. They have 7 more years on their lease in the building, so moving to a new office isn't practical. Since they are going hire someone full time to support Mr. X, that person will inherit my Triangle and because there is no place to put me, I get to go back home. And............it looks like I'm going to GET TO GO BACK TO MY THREE DAY A WEEK SCHEDULE. When we were talking about all of this, I brought up the fact that I think that I get more done in full work days, as opposed to the short days, so we talked about my going back to my old schedule, with a full compliment of connective devices, so I can check in with the office on a regular basis. I don't care about that--I'll get to be home again. This will mean that I don't have to worry about what to do with Sweet Pea when she is sick or there is a snow day and I'll get to help out at school with lunch again. I never thought that I'd miss lunch so much.

Of course, none of this is set in stone, but it seems pretty likely. It's not going to happen overnight, but I think it will happen. My new job responsibilities are starting already and should be fully implemented by the time that 4th quarter numbers are released in the middle of January. I'm thinking that I may be able to go to the three day a week schedule sooner rather than later. I probably won't start working from home***** until they hire someone to take my Triangle, so I see a light at the end of my tunnel.

I truly felt like crap when I lost my job last October and even though it's been over a year, I was still feeling crappy**** about it. I was lucky to find my job at BCFG in this economy, and especially since so many good people in my field are without work. I should have been happy to be in my Triangle, but I wasn't. Yesterday I started to feel hope again. I used to really like work. Now I think that I could again. I haven't felt like the kind of person that good things happen to lately, but (although it took awhile), I think that this was a case of God closing a door and opening a Triangle.


*I was going to write this yesterday, because it is very exciting for me, but I had to finish my stupid continuing education and take my Anti-Money Laundering course, which was due December 1--I got done 2 whole days early! Although, after completing the course, I feel like I know more about how to integrate dirty money back into the economy than I know about how to recognize and stop money laundering. Damn Patriot Act...

**Rehearsing several things in my car for two weeks didn't hurt either. I'm a big believer in saying things out loud. I used to practice before difficult client meetings. I also just enjoy listening to myself talk.

***The Big Cheese's term, I think I prefer Review Bitch, although I wouldn't use that at the office.

****I know I should work to come up with better adjectives than "crappy."

*****Want to know one of the things that I'm most excited about? It's not having an intimate knowledge of the bathroom habits of all the men in my office. My triangle is much too close to the bathroom and these guys are just gross. Really really gross.

I could really use a drink

We went out for Mexican (at an order by number because no one speaks English and it's really tasty) restaurant tonight, partly to celebrate my being done with work crap and partly because I'm exhausted and refused to cook. And we have no food... Anyway, everyone around me was getting margaritas and I was so close to saying "liver be damned--I need a drink." Actually, I would kind of like to drink myself into oblivion and wake up after Thanksgiving. That is a bad idea and I won't be doing that.

I would also like to sleep all weekend, waking up only to get a haircut and to go shopping for a better fitting pair of jeans. That might happen...

Today was the meeting with the psychologist at Sweet Pea's school. Right now the only positive thing that I can think about the meeting was that I didn't cry while it was going on. Later I will realize that they said a lot of really good things about my daughter. Right now, I'm not really hearing those. The Husband forgot the meting, despite it being on his calendar, my reminding him last night and this morning and Sweet Pea's teacher reminding him this morning. It was both better and worse because he wasn't there, but that may be a story for another day.

For some good news... Abby scored right in the middle of average on the IQ/cognitive testing. The dyslexia testing was inconclusive. She shows a lot of the symptoms of dyslexia, but right now her reading is too good. Apparently, letter reversal is still normal up to the third grade. They are going to repeat the testing either at the end of this year or the beginning of third grade.

Now for the stuff that I'm handling less well... The psychologist and Sweet Pea's teacher think that the ADD is significant enough that it warrants medication. I know that the ADD drugs are a lot better than they used to be and that they help tons of kids, but the idea of medication is really hard to process. I want her to be perfect with no need for medication.

In addition to the IQ, dyslexia, and ADD testing, they also did some "testing" (if that's the right word) of Sweet Pea's general mood and behavior. At school she is socially awkward*, gets picked last in gym and other activities when the pick partners. She is a loner and the other girls seem to have little patience with her because she is in her own world. She also seems sad, depressed and extremely anxious a lot of the time. Again, the words "I'm bi-polar" were on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't get them out. It doesn't seem quite as bad at home, and I would disagree with a lot of this stuff if I didn't really trust her teacher and if I hadn't seen how upset she is when she talks about the girls not playing with her at recess sometimes. She has a lot of really negative self-talk where she tells herself that she's stupid or ugly. I had no idea that started at seven.

The fact that she's having such a hard time strengthens the need for medication for me. My hope is that if we can fix the ADD then all the other stuff will fix itself. That's all I can hope for right now.

I could write a lot more, but I'm just warn out...

One more thing that also made today suck...since The Husband didn't come to the meeting I had to tell him about it. When I told him about the psychologist and her teacher's concerns about her mood and behavior, his first words were "do they think that she's bi-polar?" Way to rub some salt in my wounds Husband.

I'm sure I'll write more about this, but Sweet Pea wants me to watch "Wizards of Waverly Place" with her. I want to go to sleep and to have this have never happened.

*Yes, they used that word--no need to spare the mother's feelings or anything

My Little Pony--UPDATED with EVEN MORE Ponies

This post really is about My Little Pony, which we watch pretty regularly at our house.

Eric Whitacre is my favorite living composer and one of the coolest things about him is that he enjoys when people do things with his work. He has joined the list of people that I'd like to have to my house for dinner. Anyway, this is a Pony Music Video* to his song "What If" from his "musical"** "Paradise Lost: Shadows and Wings."*** Anyway, I thought that is was amazingly cool, and fits surprisingly well with My Little Pony, so I thought that I would share. It may not be your cup of tea, but I like it.



Here comes the updated part....

This morning while I was taking a shower, I was thinking that I had seen some more My Little Pony art somewhere. Take a look.

This morning I was also trying to psych myself up for what was arguably the most difficult day at work that I've had in a while. So, naturally, I listened to the above song while watching the "My Little Pony" video. (Some how the ponies enhance rather than detract for me.) I think that most of us use "psych up songs" in some way or another, however I think that I may be the only one who uses this song with My Little Pony images. I kept hearing the line "I yearn to soar, so there has to be much more. Yes, there must be another way." I think that it's a sign of how much strain a person is under when they start crying at song lyrics and visions of ponies getting wings to "soar." I feel firmly tethered to my triangle. I do have my review on Monday (unless it get canceled again). Maybe I should play this video on my phone to try and explain what I want.

I did get all my work done. I feel both manic and exhausted. I would feel good were it not for the meeting at school tomorrow morning to get the results of the testing that they did on Sweet Pea. That still feels like a sword hanging over my head. This time tomorrow I'm hoping to feel really good.


Right now I'm trying to decide if I'm a bigger drama queen for using My Little Pony music videos to psych myself up, or comparing myself to Marianne Dashwood, as I did in this post. I'm thinking that the ponies win out.

Sweet Pea has asked that I listen to a different song and also for me to find the "real" ponies video to load on her iPod (that she inherited from me when I got my iPhone) for the drive to New Jersey next week.

*Pony Music Videos (or PMVs) are quite the thing, apparently. There are tons of them on YouTube. I'm watching one of "Defying Gravity" right now.

**Not the right word, but "opera" isn't the right word either. Operetta also isn't right. That reminds me too much of Gilbert & Sullivan, which this definitely is not.

**Which is about the children of angels after their parents have taken their wings and built a fortress to protect them. The main character sings this song, dreaming of getting her wings back.

Worm Nurses

I never thought that I would be grateful for worms, but today I am. Sweet Pea has been having a hard time at school where none of the other girls would play with her, but today that changed because someone invented the game "Worm Nurses." "Worm Nurses" involves triaging worms and basing their care on their condition--the worm nurse cares for each worm based on its health. Healthy worms are placed in the grass. Baby worms are placed on a leaf, and then covered with another leaf, like a blanket. Finally, the injured worms are placed in a puddle for extensive rehabilitation. Sweet Pea is immensely popular when it comes to playing "Worm Nurses," because, according to her, she is one of the only girls who will touch the worms. It seems that all the girls like to play "Worm Nurses," but most prefer a "hospital management" roll where they don't have to come in direct contact with the patients. Thankfully, it is supposed to rain and stay damp all week, so there should be ample worms to play with.

I have asked who the brain child behind "Worm Nurses" is, but haven't gotten an answer. I would like to shake her hand, but only after she washes them.

And then I broke my favorite bowls

This week sucks. This is the culmination of all the reviews--I have more to get out than I choose to count. I was in the office for over six hours this weekend and finished 4 reviews, however when I got to work this morning it didn't seem to have made a dent. For better or for worse, this will all be over on Friday. All the reviews are due on the 18th, so come hell or high water they will be out the door. I foresee at least one night at the office this week. This better all come back with a really positive stinking personal review.*

This week feels kind of like finals, however unlike finals there will be no real sense of accomplishment when it is over. Also, unlike finals, when it's done I don't get a nice long vacation. We are going to my in-laws for Thanksgiving, which is not relaxing for me. The Husband and I have been married for 10 years and I still really don't like it there.

Thanks to everyone for all of your kind words--they mean the world. I have decided that my depression is environmental, not chemical. I think that once this week is over (or possibly when I get through Thanksgiving) I will feel better. Knowing that I can pull myself out of this didn't stop me from laying on the couch and crying last night (while watching "The Next Iron Chef"), but I feel like I lack the total abject despair that comes with the chemical depression that comes on for no reason. I'm enjoying a full compliment of psychiatric drugs right now and I understand that I may need to add an antidepressant to get through the winter. I'm also using my light box daily to mimick the sun. One of the nice things about my triangle is that I have one whole wall of windows, so I get a lot of natural light during the day.

I am trying to keep positive this week, or at least light-hearted. When The Husband brings home semi-rotten bananas from the store, you don't pout about it**; you make banana bread. Unfortunately, in the making of the banana bread I broke my two favorite bowls. (Only I could manage to break 3 bowls at ones--two were my favorites, one was just utilitarian.)

One foot in front of the other. Now I have to keep working on dinner. Sweet Pea has requested that I not burn the chicken.

*My review got canceled at the last minute--did I tell you that already?

**or you don't pout that much

The Thing that I Fear the Most

I haven't been feeling very well lately. I feel thin*, brittle, stretched to the breaking point. Every morning it's such a effort to get up, get ready, fix Sweet Pea's hair, supervise the putting on of socks, go to work, come home, figure out something to make for dinner, practice violin, put Sweet Pea to bed and then go to bed to start the whole damn cycle again the next day.

Did anyone but me read the fabulous children's novel "From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L Konigsburg**? I read it many times and then we discovered that our library had a recording of the book on records. My mom transferred the records to tapes for me to listen to in the car, which is why I remember parts of the book so well. There is a line in the beginning that resonates with me right now: "She was bored with the sameness of each and every day, and with the monotony of everything."

Work has a lot to do with my unhappiness right now. I am just stuck on this never ending*** wheel of reviews. I feel like if work was better everything would be better. I found out today, quite by accident, that I have my annual review with The Big Cheese tomorrow afternoon. I have no idea what I'm going to say--I'm hoping something will come to me while I'm sleeping because there are several things that I need to say.

I can't tell yet if my feelings of sadness and listlessness are the start of another cycle of depression or just a manifestation of a crappy job. I'm going to have to wait it out. It is the right time of year for a depression cycle to be starting again. My first major bout of depression started just after Thanksgiving and the holidays have been hard for me since then--stress and unfulfilled expectations along with less light and dealing with relatives... My doctor is a big believer that light and circadian rhythms play a big part in depression and bipolar disorder and it does seem to be true in my case. I hate waiting and seeing. Patience is not one of my virtues.

Today, though, the thing that I fear the most happened. Today was Sweet Pea's conference at school. The school has performed some pretty rigorous academic and behavioral testing and we'll get the results of that on the 18th, after the psychologist observes Sweet Pea in the classroom one more time. Because that meeting is coming up, the conference did not focus on academics, instead Sweet Pea's teacher discussed Sweet Pea's mood, social interaction, and disposition. The teacher showed us several of Sweet Pea's journal entries where she had written about being sad and lonely and the teacher commented on how Sweet Pea seems like a loner at school and sometimes seems depressed. When you have a mental illness, "depressed" is the last word that you want to come out of a teacher's mouth, especially in conjunction with your second grader.

A lot of this could be related to academics. We're 99.9% sure that Sweet Pea is dyslexic and she's already been diagnosed with mild ADD by both my psychiatrist and her pediatrician. I'm sure that it's reasonable to think that if Sweet Pea is feeling bad about her school work that she could be lonely and sad at school. I am trying**** to believe that if we fix the academic problems that the other problems will go away too.

But what if they don't?

Although there is no definitive genetic research, there is a lot of empirical evidence that bi-polar disorder is genetic. My family tree is a great (or horrible) example of this. I have worried about passing this disease on to Sweet Pea from the moment I was diagnosed. My diagnosis was the final nail in the coffin on my decision to not have any more children--I couldn't risk anyone else having this.

Today I almost told Sweet Pea's teacher about my diagnosis, but I choked (almost literally) on the words "I have bi-polar disorder. I am terrified that she is depressed." Although I love Sweet Pea's teacher this year, and actually feel closer to her than any of the other teachers that we've had, I worry about gossip and I worry about this stigma of mental illness. I am very free with my crazy here, because I have to hide it in the rest of my life. The Husband won't talk about it, which is the main thing that is putting an incredible strain on our marriage. (That, and his horribly dishonest, life is happy rainbows, Facebook posts--but that's a subject for another day. It's amazing how much his Facebook posts can irritate me.) No one at school knows, and while I really think Sweet Pea's teacher would keep my confidence, I can't trust her. Not when I feel so guilty.

I hate being sick and I am so worried that I have passed my worst trait on to my daughter.

*Sadly, I am not thin in real life.

**Yes, I Googled the author's name. Seriously, if you haven't read this book and enjoy children's literature (or books in general) you need to read this.

***Actually ending on November 18, which I know isn't that far away, but it feels like an eternity, especially when you see how many reviews are left to be completed.

****"Trying" is the operative word. Anyone who has tried to do anything while depressed knows how hard that can be. Speaking of that..if anyone has ever wondered what my depression feels like, this blog tells it both better, and more humorously than I ever could: Hyperbole and a Half: Adventures in Depression

Too tired...

I was going to write about all the things at work that are irritating me right now, but I am tired and I have to roast a chicken.

Why, you may be asking, did I bother to post at all, since I don't have anything to say.

I found this...http://youmakemetouchyourhandsforstupidreasons.ytmnd.com/ and wanted to share. It's an audio file, and headphones are probably recommended if you at work or around your kids.

I'm thinking of writing a letter like this to The Godfather. It would probably make me feel better.

Tallyho!*

*I have no idea while I just wrote "Tallyho," it just seemed like a good way to end things today.

Are my organs curling?

Today was my first visit with my psychiatrist since my hair started curling*. We had a brief phone call where he assured me that I wasn't going to die before my appointment today. I did ask him if my organs were curling too** and we had a long talk about my drugs. The short version is that no one knows the long term implications of the drugs that I am on--they haven't been around long enough. This is why every month I have blood work done to make sure that my liver is still working. (Blood tests are bad for people with anxiety disorder--we spend the 48 hours waiting for the test results positive that our livers are failing.)

So far, my liver is fine and I am fine. My doctor reminded me that I went on to my current regiment of drugs when I was in the hospital and that they were instrumental in turning my life around. Everything is a kind of calculated risk. I take drugs that make me feel okay and hope that there aren't any long term effects. I don't drink (which makes me really sad sometimes), I'm careful with other medications, and I hope for them best.

I do still wonder if my organs are curling, though.

*The doctor was aware of the "risk" of hair loss and hair curling, however I'm his first patient to ever experience it. I'm special.

**Those are the exact words that I used. I like to keep the doctor on his toes.

The Bad Seed

I am the Bad Seed...

The Godfather got a review for his non-existent client, but he didn't get a complete one. I made one phone call trying to track down the missing information and then gave up and did the best I could. He should consider himself lucky.

Today has been an extremely long day. It's 5:19 and I'm thinking about going to bed.

To start things off on the wrong foot (literally), Sweet Pea would not put on her sock and shoes when it was time to leave for school this morning. She has been getting worse about listening, so I've decided that it's time for serious consequences without warnings until she can get her act together, so this morning I sent her to school with bare feet. (I did pack her shoes and socks--I'm not that mean-- and I think The Husband let her put them on in the car.) Last weekend she was one fit away from missing both a birthday party and a Halloween party. I know that something needs to be done, but I hate when this stuff happens in the morning and then I go off to work feeling like total crap.

Continuing my crap-tastic day, when I got to work, a review that had been done and bound and crossed off my giant list when I left yesterday had been un-done by Mr. X. It took over an hour to fix this morning and that was an hour that I didn't have. Because I am Super Triangle Girl, I fixed that review, cobbled something together for The Godfather, and finished another review for Mr. X. There is no end in sight... This is my life from now until Thanksgiving.

My rebellion against The Godfather was fun today*. It makes me want to do things like that more often. When I was working for The Man I used to do things to irritate him on a regular basis. I'll have to finish the missing pieces of that review at some point, but I was glad to not bend over backwards today.

Now I'm going to shred my pork that has been cooking all day in the crock pot, eat dinner, and go to sleep. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. For everyone.

*It's the little things that we Bad Seeds enjoy so much.

I'll get you my pretty...and your lavender sweater too!

Before I begin, take some time to enjoy these Awkward Halloween Photos.

I am really irritated at The Godfather. He is rarely in the office, so usually I am just bothered by the burning sensation of his powerful cologne as he walks past my triangle, but now he is on my list.

It's review season in my triangle. I think I spend about 75% of my time working on reviews, which is boring, repetitive, and frequently nerve-wracking work. I provide reviews for three people, and while this quarter I have done a better job of scheduling, I'm still working within a really tight time frame. Putting reviews together takes up a very small space in my brain, so this morning while I was working I was thinking about how I miss thinking--critical thinking. I don't get to problem-solve any more and I miss that. (I was also practicing vocal runs from a Handel piece that I've been working on--there was lots of extra room in my head.) I've always had an extremely good memory, which applied to work and the rest of my life, but I feel like that's slipping away because my brain is used so rarely. I'm not sure how to tell my employer that I can do so much more. I overhear phone calls and want to say "call on me--I know the answer," and I do try and work in my answers as much as possible, but frequently people just forget I'm there. Or see me as their review-machine.

This brings us to The Godfather. He needs a review tomorrow and he's not going to be very happy, but I don't think that he is going to get it. In our system, the client that he's wanting me to review doesn't exist. I've reminded him of this several times--if I don't have the data, I can't pull the review stuff. Right now we are basically out of time for most of the pieces. This is so frustrating because I don't want it to reflect badly on me when it's not my fault. I'm not really sure how to tattle tale on one of my superiors. I've never been late with a review (frequently having to work late to put them out), but I can't do stuff without him in the office and HE'S NEVER THERE*.

ARGH!!!

Also today, The Godfather was wearing a lavender sweater that looked like it came from the ladies department at Macy's. What is up with lavender? First the Department of Labor is using it for their slides, then The Godfather is wearing it.

Watch out for tomorrow--there may be some kind of show down. I'd bet on me though--especially against men who wear lavender.

*Yes, I did mean to yell there.

Almost Famous?

(The alternative title for this post was "Ghost Whisperer.")

Today was a Monday Morning Meeting worth getting up for. The meeting started out as usual, however I was enjoying it more because Mr. X, Guy, and Mole were all out which means that I actually got a seat at the table, instead of hovering around the filing cabinet while sitting on my desk chair. Towards the end of the meeting, things got interesting--Al Gore proposed that The Big Cheese write a book. From the conversation, it sounded like this was the re-proposing of an old idea, but we had a full discussion about it. The Big Cheese already has 9 chapters outlined. The book, will of course, be ghost written, since The Big Cheese is much to busy and important to write his own book. (If anyone is wondering, you can charge $1,000 a chapter to ghost write someone's business book--I'm thinking of moonlighting in that field.)

Let me say that The Big Cheese is exceptionally talented in his field and very well respected. He speaks at national events and works harder to improve his sales process than anyone I have ever known. I have been blown away with the quality of the work that comes out of BCFG, however no one is going to buy this book. In fact, I think that people will make fun of him, like I make fun of the guy who came up with this great idea...



















Ask yourself, would a guy wearing an orange vest that says "401(K) ANSWERS" strike you as a trusted advisor? What would you think if someone wore one during a sales presentation? They would certainly show the decision makers that they are unique, however in this instance, I think "unique" is a nice way of saying "crazy." I would laugh anyone wearing this out of the room, yet I am considering getting it for Mr. X for Christmas. He would appreciate the ironic humor, which is why I can work for him without scratching my eyes out.

Anyway, I like The Big Cheese. I'm even starting to admire him a little, but he can't (ghost) write a book. That's just silly.

Finally--happy birthday to my bed resting friend. This one's for you--I hope you liked it.

(Did anyone notice that I didn't use any footnotes--weird.)

I've been doing this wrong my whole life.

I was having a crap night and then I watched this...



Make sure to click the "CC" button because it's in Finnish.

On a side note, I've been reading "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" books which are translated from Swedish. Because I can be an ignorant American, I can pretend that Sweden and Finland are the same.

You can't steal babies.

Today Will's wife brought in baby Juliette* to the office. She is two weeks old and weighs less than Sweet Pea did at birth. I can't remember the last time I held a baby that small. I want a tiny baby, probably not to keep, but just to borrow for a little while. I had to remember that you aren't allowed to steal babies. Also, they know both where I live and work.

In other news, one of my very good friends had this posted on his Facebook page today:

I think this is fabulous!


*No, Juliette is not her name. But since I named her father after William Shakespeare, I thought Juliette was an appropriate code name.

Sticker Shock

Tomorrow is school picture day for Sweet Pea and tonight I took her to Justice to pick out a new outfit. This was our first trip to Justice and I'm hoping that such shopping trips will be limited to once a year, or we will no longer be able to pay our mortgage. I knew their clothes were expensive, but I was not prepared for the price tags--I spent more on her picture day outfit of pants and a top than I spend on most outfits for myself. What was killing me inside was that last week I went to this giant used children's clothing sale and got 4 outfits and a dress (with all but one thing brand new with the Gymboree tags still on them--what's up with that*) for less than I spent today on one outfit. I guess it's good I got all the rest of her clothes at that sale, or we would need to move to a nudest colony, and I think our climate is too cold for that. We did get two "save $25 when you spend $50" cards from Justice, so I'll use that for Christmas, since she picked out about 50 more things that she'd like. I am thankful for school uniforms again, so there's not the pressure to wear clothes like this every day for school.

In other clothing news; I wore my suit to our workshop this morning and must have past inspection, since no one told me to leave. Once again K's clothes baffled me. She was wearing gray pants (pants, not even what I would call a trouser), a top of some kind and this weird black and gray oversized short sleeved cardigan along with her standard 6+ inch crazy platform heels. She did not get the "navy blue pinstriped suit" memo. In addition to being the hall monitor, I'm the workplace clothing monitor, and I wonder why no one has ever said anything to her about her clothes. She's the first person people see when they walk in the door and her outfits are crazy at least 80% of the time. Other than that, the workshop went well and I am exhausted. I am ready for a normal day of work tomorrow.

Sweet Pea had another violin lesson today and it seems like things have started to click. She's got the notes down for about half of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and today she started to learn the rest of the Suzuki rhythmic variations which she picked up really quickly. Honestly, today was the first lesson when I didn't think "Oh God, what have I done?"


*I am extremely thankful for the new clothes with the tags still on them at used clothes prices, but I can't figure them out. Who has size 8 and 9 clothing that they forget to have their kids wear? I guess some people have that much money and that many clothes that they don't notice when stuff goes unworn, or they are too lazy to return gifts that they don't like. Either way, good for me.

Do I dress that badly? Wait...maybe don't answer that...

I'm still going to write about being the hall monitor. I haven't forgotten, I just haven't felt like writing it lately. I feel bad too, because one of my very dear friends is on bedrest and I think I should be writing things to amuse her.

That brings us to today in my triangle, which is hopefully a little bit amusing. Tomorrow is BCFG's big fall breakfast workshop thing. We have 147 guests that have responded and the Department of Labor is one of the featured speakers. (That sounds a lot cooler than it really is, as you can ask the Department of Labor, the IRS and the Social Security Administration to speak at any number of events and they'll do so for free, as long as you give them enough notice.) This workshop is a big deal, and Mr. X and I have been working on it for a long time. I am kind of confounded by this, but when we received the Department of Labor's PowerPoint slides they were on a lavender background. Lavender? Seriously? You're the Department of Labor, one of the most feared entities in the government, and you're going to present with lavender slides? One of my jobs for the workshop was to completely rework the DOL's presentation, first changing the color scheme to BCFG's navy and gray and then editing a lot of the content down so it flowed and would fit in 45 minutes. The lady from the DOL is happy with what I did (I was a little worried that she would be really attached to both her lavender and her content--I got rid of a lot of her clip art and you never know how attached people are to their pictures of stacks of dollar bills). The reworked slides are my gift to her.

Anyway, so I've been reworking slides and then for the past few days I've been putting together all the booklets and other stuff. Yesterday I was at FedEx/Kinkos 4 times because the logo on the cover pages they were printing looked all smeary. Today, with the help of Mama X (which was so appreciated), I put together 120 booklets and I now have Kinko's Shoulder*; a repetitive injury caused by our binding machine.

You may remember that BCFG hosted another workshop this past spring, which I wrote about in this post called "Bitter Pants". To summarize, after working on the previous workshop I did not get to attend, although K did, even though the subject matter has nothing to do with her job, she did not do any work for the set up, and I asked to attend. This time around I decided that I was going, so instead of asking if I could help out, I said "what time should I be there tomorrow?" Even with that direct question Mr. X still had to think about it and then asked me if I wanted to go. I thought that was kind of a stupid question, but I answered in the affirmative.

After that was settled, Mr. X proceeded to tell me that everyone wears "the full regalia"** and the "blue pinstripe suits" to the workshop. I answered that I wasn't planning to wear jeans and a t-shirt, however he did not laugh. First, this pissed me off, as I do know how to dress myself and have been meeting clients for over 12 years. However, now that some time has gone by I've gotten really insecure and am wondering if everyone in the office thinks that I dress badly. I think that I dress regular, but maybe women are supposed to wear sequined tank tops and crazy high heels, like K does. If this is the expected dress code, then I will not be following it. I no longer own a "blue pinstripe suit," so I'm hoping that my black pantsuit with a white blouse will suffice. Right now I need to get out the sticky roller thing and make sure I'm dog-hair free for tomorrow.

I feel like I used an excessive amount of commas in the post. Thoughts?

UPDATE: The white blouse is out, because it has a zillion buttons which lay weird with my suit jacket. Instead, I will be wearing a plum colored ruffled tank, with matching necklace, so I will be all kinds of fancy. Take that!

*A new aliment coined by my bedresting friend

**I'm 99% sure that's the term he used--I should have written it down

TEN!

My tenth wedding anniversary with the Husband is coming up on Thursday. As with most couples I know, this has not always been an easy ten years, yet here we are. I read this excellent article on marriage today--a lot of these thing are things I wish people would have told me a long time ago.

In other news, we have a kitty who is living in our daisy patch out front. I have been feeding her because she is really skinny. Yesterday she finally let me touch her and you can feel all her bones. I have almost convinced the Husband to adopt her. We are worried that she'll die if she has to live outside all winter.

My Hall Monitor-like qualities are getting even worse in my triangle and tomorrow I'll write you a detailed report with K's comings and goings.

Now it's time to feed my outside cat.

If you've been waiting with bated breath

So (I can't stop starting this way) before I started writing my post, and after I had decided on the title, I had to decide on "bated breath" or "baited breath." I Googled and it came down to two choices...In "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, " J.K. Rowling uses "baited breath." However, in 1596 Shakespeare used "bated breath" in "Merchant of Venice." Bated is supposed to come from "abated" meaning to bring down lower or depress, so I'm going to go with Shakespeare.

Do you feel like you've gotten smarter?

Anyway, I'm sure that you've all been waiting with bated breath to hear about Sweet Pea's second violin lesson*. Her teacher was very pleased with her progress, especially with her ability to support her violin "hands free." Her bow hold is also improving and he took a picture of just her fingers on the bow when they were perfect so we could compare everything at home. I'll post the picture when he emails it. There was something about the fact that he took that picture that made me like him more. Sweet Pea also seems to like him and has started telling him really long, and kind of rambling** stories about school or TV. Unfortunately, a half hour goes by really fast, so she may have to limit her number of stories. She was really happy today and I'm hoping that we are going to have a fresh start with the violin this week. She was singing the Twinkle Variations that anyone whose ever done Suzuki will have imprinted on their brain forever, in the car on the way over today which also made me really happy. Sometimes I'm easy to please.

Moving on to news from my triangle--yesterday I thought that there was going to be a throwdown at work between R and K. I am excusing R's behavior 100% because her husband is doing worse and I can't imagine the amount of strain that she is under. K is just annoying. At BCFG we have about a million different kinds of paper and stationary, each with a specific and separate use. Stationary usage was one of the first things that I learned when I started there. I also learned what could be put directly into the drawers of the printer/copier and what had to be fed (one sheet at a time) through the document feeder. Mr. X has another big workshop coming up, so on Tuesday afternoon I was going over all of the special supplies that I needed to order with Mama X when R came into the workroom, examined the copier and started screaming at K (who was at lunch, as usual)*** for putting the heavy slick letterhead in the drawer. The slick sheets must be form fed. K was trying to cut corners and save time because she had a lot of printing. This was scary screaming. I've never been particular comfortable with confrontation and I was wondering how to sneak back to my desk unnoticed. Mama X, who has been there for a lot longer than me, looked really uncomfortable as well. R said that she was going to "talk" to K when she got back, which I took to mean that she was going to punch her in the mouth. It seemed like we were in for a serious cat fight show down. Mama X even went to Mr. X's office to fill him in, in case he was needed as the referee. But this was the throwdown that wasn't. R must have calmed down in the time that it took for K to come back because they just ended up having a slightly strained conversation.

I overhear a lot of strange phone conversations at work too. People either forget that I am there or they don't care. Mr. X got a phone call from his wife yesterday afternoon where they talked about scabs. The whole conversation was about scabs.

Weird.


*Or, more likely, you haven't thought about it at all because you have a life--it doesn't matter, I'm going to tell you about it anyway.

**I wonder where that comes from

***K, her excessive lunches, and my hall-monitor-like tendencies will be another post another day.

Why I am a terrible mother OR Why I should not teach the violin

Today we (and by "we" I mean "me") learned that violin teacher is not a good second career choice for me. Sweet Pea is learning Suzuki violin, which is how I was taught both piano and viola, and in the beginning of the Suzuki process the parent has to be able to demonstrate everything because there is no music book for the child to look at. Wow, is this frustrating. I know that I'm overreacting since today was the first day of practicing, but I'm really good at overreacting. Given that it is the first day, Sweet Pea is actually really good at the playing part. She can isolate one string at a time, which I remember being difficult and I was two years older than her when I started playing. However, it's the "easy" stuff that she can't do and it's driving me crazy. She is supposed to practice moving her feet from rest position (shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent) to playing position (taking a slight step out with the left foot and turning the foot out--kind of like third position in ballet). This is really hard for her. She also has a hard time with bringing the violin up and setting it on her shoulder and then holding it there with just her face. She's supposed to work up to being able to hold it for 30 seconds.

I am a terrible mother for two reasons:

1. I yelled (many times) during her first practice. I wasn't upset that she couldn't do things, it was that she kept getting so distracted by stuff like the cat sitting on the dining room table. I am going to make her hate playing, which is the opposite of what I want to do. I want her to grow up loving music as much as I do. Now she doesn't want to go to her group class on Sunday so I need to do some major fixing of things before I ruin everything.

2. This stuff is going to be harder for her and I know that. We have known for awhile that Sweet Pea has a delay with both gross and fine motor skills. She's had occupational therapy in the past, which has helped, but we probably need to look into doing again. Her hands and her body just don't work like other kids her age and I know that. I know it so much that I'm working with the school on a regular basis trying to get as many public school benefits as we can get in the private school. On top of the motor skills, she's been diagnosed with mild ADD and is probably dyslexic. I advocate for advantages for her all the time, yet I can't be accommodating during her first practice. I am like the Tiger Mom on crack and soon I will start freaking out about wire hangers (although I think I use more wire hangers than anyone else in the house).

You might be saying "Have The Husband practice with her." This will not work because I am a control freak and he has never played a stringed instrument. If Nice Mommy comes to practice, she will progress faster, since I can actually play.*

This is another one of those times when I take stock and think that I never realized that parenting was so hard. I have so many hopes for her and they go much further than the violin. I don't want to get in the way of the lovely little person that she is, but so many times I don't know how to do that. I want to make things perfect for her, not because I value perfect more than imperfect, but because I think life will be so much easier. I was going to write "there should be a book or something," but then I realized that there are millions of books, blogs, websites and relatives that tell you exactly what you should and shouldn't do with your child.

At the end of the day you just love them as much ass you can. And you don't yell at them the next time they practice their violin.

Also, no meat to report today--Big Cheese and Mr. X were both out golfing all day.

*I've been playing her tiny violin and it's kind of amazing how it's all coming back to me. I am toying with the idea of getting myself a violin so I can really play with her. Maybe then I won't be so critical. Maybe it would go easier because I could really show her what I mean.

No Meat to Report

Today was Sweet Pea's first violin lessons and it carried with it all my musical hopes for my child. It's so weird how we put things on our kids. I never thought I'd do that, but I admit I was sitting there listening and daydreaming about her as a future musician. She did well, with the exception of not being able to tell her right hand from her left hand, which is kind of a big thing when it comes to playing an instrument of any kind. Her teacher is so patient, much more than I would be, which is why he is teacher and not me. She's actually able to produce a pretty good sound, provided she remembers what hand to hold the bow in--who knows what will happen. Her teacher, who is currently the Concert Master of the local philharmonic orchestra (so he's really good) plays for his students at the end of each lesson and he is making me remember how much I really like the violin.

To totally change the subject, one of my very good friends from Germany* has got me started reading The Bloggess again, which is a wonderful blog that everyone should read. Right now there is a great post** which reflects a lot of what I'm feeling right now. The post comes with this great song, which you must watch. It's a departure from my usual music, to give you a little variety... In the interest of full disclosure, this song includes the f-word, if you're listening at work or around small children. Also, no matter how much I like this song, I will continue to shave my armpits.



So, that's it for today. Oh, there was no mid-morning meat, as you probably gathered from the title of this post.



*who is actually Chinese-American, but spent much of her childhood in Hanover and I met her when I was studying in Berlin, so she's my friend from Germany even though right now she lives in Washington DC

**See how I made the link without putting the actual web address. Aren't I getting fancy?

Mid-morning Meat Time

I'm thinking of making this a regular feature on my blog--I'll tell you the cold, mid-morning meat that the Big Cheese walks around eating. Today it was cold meatballs out of a tupperware (with a fork). Less disgusting than the giant pork chop, but still weird. Does he have some unknown protein deficiency?

Sadness

The Husband has crushed my dreams of teaching the Brownies "Once In Royal David's City." I even played him the much simpler version from the hymnal and he still said no. He is no fun as a troupe leader.

In the spirit of Girl Scouts, I found this (posted on one of my friend's Facebook walls, so it wasn't like I had to look very hard.)



This little girl looks exactly like one of Sweet Pea's friends (who will be a Brownie), so this picture is funnier if you are me.