Project: Life Change. Enough about me, let's talk about my career

I made a big old deal about quitting one of my jobs. And it was a big deal. I talked about it for at least a month before I actually took a deep breath, exhaled my worries out into the universe and just did it. And then, as I was typing in the final words on my final posts, I got an IM from my boss. She wanted to know if I'd be interested in a promotion and in one abbreviated, acronymical sentence a flurry of "more money! more validation! more stress and responsibility!" flew through my thoughts.

Because, well...as we all know, that's how the universe works.  I was feeling so good about my good-bye, about sending myself off toward a week with a little extra time and a few less deadlines, maybe even a bit more sanity, and then there it was. An offer. An idea. A possibility.  It was so there that, a few minutes later, I realized my hand was paused in mid-air above my touchpad and I hadn't yet hit the publish button on those last posts.

 

Click to read more ...

New day, new week, same old mommy

I am ready for the new week. It is the first Monday in...who knows how long?...that I've actually said that, let alone really felt it. But tomorrow Lil E starts a new daycare, a loving place run by a warm and talkative woman where four other boys his age play, and I think that will be a good change. I have two fun work assignments to bite into and I'm excited to spend some time catching up on all the blogs I've had to set aside for a bit while I take care of myself. I am ready.

***

A few tiny weekend moments stopped me in my tracks. Early on Saturday morning (well, early to me, which is 7:20 a.m. but is practically lunch for many parents...I know, I know), Bruce was at work and Lil E was awake, so I pulled him up into my arms and nestled him into bed with me. I was hoping for a few extra minutes of sleep before a big day of a bridal shower and family get-together and actually blow drying my hair for those events and all that weekend business. I faced him and he curled himself into my arms. I closed my eyes for a few quiet moments but I could tell his eyes were open and watching me closely. I thought maybe, just maybe, if I breathed in a slow, steady rhythm, it would lull him into relaxation. Instead, I felt his little fingers and freshly cut nails tracing my lips, then pulling gently at my lips, then outlining my eyebrows and making circles on my cheeks.

I squeezed his little body just slightly and, with my eyes still closed, said, "Honey, please don't do that. Please don't play with my face. Shhhhh..."

He was quiet and he pulled his hand away and then began again with the lips and the eyebrows and my cheeks and now my nose.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. He was only inches away.

"Lil E, sweetie, please don't play with my face."

He batted those long eyelashes over brown, brown eyes, then squinted slightly in a pause of great worked-up sincerity and said, "But mommy, I'm doing it because I love you. I just love you so much."

I smiled and squeezed. I know well where he heard those words as a justification for something he probably has found just as pesky -- tickles or kisses all over the face or being swept up in a hug in the middle of playing monster trucks. So I got it. And I got it back. And no matter how much of a negotiator or drama queen that boy is, I got it.

So we climbed out of bed, poured orange juice and made our way to the couch. There, we stretched out next to each other watching the Today show. Lil E's heart, racing from jumping off the bed and running into the living room, quieted as he settled into the throw pillows. I pulled him in just a teense closer, partly so we'd both fit on the couch and partly just to smell his hair. And then, well, of course, I closed my eyes. But only for a few minutes.

Click to read more ...

Thoughts for a Saturday morning in October

The changes I am making are good. They are that deep inhale of icy cold air you feel when you step out the front door into snow and ice and sunshine and winter. The changes keep me huddling into myself protectively, moving forward.

But in our home and in our family right now, it is like the radiator heat is cranking on and the windows can't be opened. We are all hot and irritated and fragile and restless. There is turmoil inside of us all.

I heard Elizabeth Gilbert on Oprah yesterday say that one of her mantras, given to her by her Texan friend Richard, goes something like, "don't let your wishbone stand where your backbone should be." I let that wrap around me and as I walked Lil E to Wiggleworms music class in the hot and humid and bright sun of yesterday.  I thought of those words and actually stood up taller and straighter. I felt the inhaled breaths flare out into my chest and up my spine and down into my toes. I felt a bit stronger just remembering that my wishes and my perseverance are often very different things.

My brother's words are walking that other mantra and I'm saying it over and over and over to myself: In the end it will all be OK. And if it's not OK, it not the end.

These things are comforting me, covering me, propelling me through the storm of the last two weeks.

I'm working hard here, for my family, for my husband, for myself. The little words -- small thoughts with big meanings that just keep expanding for me day after day -- are keeping me moving. Steps at a time.

I'm not even sure if any of this makes sense, but that's OK. It's time for coffee, lots and lots of coffee, and it is what's rattling around this morning.

Click to read more ...