Happy Birthday To Me!

Facebook friends...

I love Facebook. I admit it. I might actually be addicted to it.  I like checking in places, scanning friend’s photos, being nosey and reading people’s comments to each other.  Besides what else are you supposed to do when waiting at the doctor’s office? 

My phone was broken for an entire week and I went into FB (that’s Facebook speak) withdrawal.  I mean, how was I supposed to keep up with friends? See what their plans for the day were? Check and see who is “liking” what and follow what links they clicked on?  I tell you it was a long week.

Previously, I had found myself falling into the FB trap.  You know, being in a conversation with someone and bringing up a fact that they didn’t actually share with you, but you ‘read’ about it online.  Like – “Hey, your vacation to Aruba must have been awesome! Love that red dress you have.” And they are just looking at you like you are a crazy stalker chick.   You can casually brush it off and say something like “well your photo popped up in my feed” or something smartly technical like that.  But really, it’s creepy and you need to come up with some fancy back peddling ASAP.

Another FB danger to worry about is getting too involved in FB land.  I find myself starting to worry about my FB friends.  (Those people you are FB friends with, but if FB didn’t exist you probably wouldn’t have actually remembered them)  All of a sudden my circle of friendship has blown up to 824 friends and 50 followers. That is a lot of worry for one chick.  Now I am curious as to how every kid’s first day of school is, what the results of friend’s Dr. visits are, how did everyone’s vacations turn out, and of course what did my 824 friends eat for dinner?!

Don’t get me wrong – I am one of those people who really does click on the links, read the posts and follow your recipes.  I told you, I’m addicted to FB, there are days when I don’t get out of bed until I check my FB Newsfeed.  I even adjusted my schedule, tried new places and shopped at new stores at the advice of my FB friends and their FB feeds.

However I need to draw the line at those ‘virtual’ world things – no Farmville for me, no sorority life, nothing that requires an avatar or login.  I find that FB land is virtual enough for me. I’m overwhelmed enough with interacting with my 824 friends, what would happen if I started a farm or became mayor of Starbucks – that is just too much to think about.

But, I do have a doctor’s appointment soon, if the wait is long I just may try farming….

What Mom's Can't Do...

My son has a book that is called “What Mom’s Can’t Do.”  It mentions things like Mom’s can’t keep lizards in their pockets, can’t give quick hellos/goodbyes, and can’t eat frosted flakes for breakfast.  Lately I feel as if the author left out some important pages of “What Mom’s Can’t Do.”

Yesterday I was sitting at my desk updating my calendar of to-dos, when an email popped up on my screen from Coach Chris – our now infamous baseball coach who insists on ten push-ups and ten sit-ups a night.  The subject was protection – Not Helmets, Not Sex Ed, but a CUP.  What the!?  He would like all parents to make sure their little men where their cups from now on at practice.  Ok.  I think to myself, I can do this.  But first, how does one by a cup?   Is there a size chart?  A tape measure?  Do you think the lady at Victoria Secrets who sizes me can do the same for a cup?  Once I am able to get a cup, what do I actually do with it? How does it stay in place?  There aren’t any strings or fasteners.  And then I fast forward to the obvious Mom question – how do you wash it?  UGH!

I am sure this subject has been tackled before and the questions I raise are not unique.  But, where is the Mommy book on subjects like these?  There are moms all over the world whose Daddy counterparts are working, in the military, secret agents, deadbeats, what have you.  Moms are single handedly raising little men and we need a HOW TO BOOK!

A few other suggestions I have for a how to book on raising a boy.

1.        Skateboarding 101.  My theory on skateboarding was start them young, so if and when he falls on the ground he is much closer and therefore the impact wouldn’t be as rough.  It was a good theory and kind of worked, however I have no clue how to skate board.  How did my son learn?  I borrowed every kid in the neighborhood, boyfriend of my girlfriends, and generally pleaded with people at the park to teach him.  Sometimes it just takes a village…

2.       Surfing/Riding the waves.  I found the most fantastic surf instructor ever. But, did not realize that if you are 4 and take a break of a few months in between lessons, you may develop a fear of the waves.  So, one particularly choppy day my bikini clad body was forced to swim out to sea and ride a few waves in to show my little man that it wasn’t all that scary.  Honestly – I was scared to death! It was cold! I fell a lot, and I hate seaweed.  However, when you are the only parent around you have to suck it up and jump on a board and smile your way into your wipeout.

3.       Pee standing up.  Ok, this is where I draw the demonstration line.  I relied on some creative parenting skills here.  Drop a few Fruit Loops in the commode and teach your little man to aim.

On the last pages of “What Moms Can’t Do” the book ends with saying “What one thing Mom’s CAN do is LOVE YOU.” And yes, that is true.  It is because of love that I will happily go out and buy my son a cup… 

I think you need a husband...

Son: “Mom, I think you need a husband.”

Me:  “What?”

Son: “Yes Mom you need to find a husband”

Me: “O.K. Where does one shop for a husband?”

Son: “Dick’s of course!” 

Me: Trying really hard not to laugh at the obvious pun of my 6 year old. I know he is thinking of the sporting goods store, but my brain tends to wander.  “And what would someone who needs a husband look for?”

Son: “A football guy”

Me:  “Ok, besides a football guy, what else would I look for?”

Son: “Batman”

Me:  “Ok, so I’ll go into Dicks walk to the football aisle and find a guy that is batman and he will be my husband?

Son:  “Yep”

If only life were that simple….

Seriously? Who IS This guy? 

Priorities....

Labor Day...

As I sit making my deviled eggs and marinating my chicken for our Labor Day BBQ I reflect on my past work history.  It is no secret that a year ago I entered the world of “Consulting”.  You know “Consulting Land” it is the place between working full time with benefits and getting a new job working full time with benefits (some call it unemployment).  The difference for me is that I truly like Consulting Land.   I get to pick my clients, set my price, schedule my own work hours and spend a lot of time with my son.  

However surviving on the mean streets of Consulting Land you have to develop some thick skin.  You may put all of your time into updating your resume, picking out the perfect suit/jewelry/hairstyle combo, proofreading your proposal and manicuring your nails all to find out that there is no money in the budget, you are overqualified, under qualified, too female, too white, too young, and too old.   And you have to suck it up, move on and find the next gig that will be the perfect fit for you.

I think I am able to live happily in Consulting Land because of my past experience of looking for work. I’ve been working for over ½ my life – yes people my mom did not believe in child labor laws and my sister and I started at the ripe age of 13 bussing tables at the Diner.  We got paid under the table in cash so it was a win-win relationship.  Call me a capitalist, but I actually liked working.  Well I liked having cash in my wallet more than I liked the work.  So I cheerfully filled coffee cups, served up pie and smiled my way through my shifts. 

Currently I could use a bit more cash and I’m still pounding the proverbial pavement looking for work.  I get high praise and shut down in equal amounts.  My skin is growing thicker and I’ve fined tuned my presentation skills over the year.  I also have learned to up my standards and not take any job that jumps at me.  Here are a few of my top interview Duh moments:

Me to Lt. Governor of Unnamed State while interviewing:  “Yes Sir, I have a lot of experience, I look forward to doing blah, blah, blah”

Lt. Governor to Me:  “Look Dana, I know your husband, I know he makes enough money.  Why don’t you just stay home and have babies.  You don’t need to work.”

Me to Lt. Governor: Nothing! I was speechless! 

Me to prospective Client:  “Yes, I’ve worked with U.S. Presidents, U.S. Senators, Diplomats, well known actors, NFL Athletes, National Charities and successfully raised millions of dollars…”

Prospective Client to my Current Client: “But, how does she act around men?”

Me to Myself:  “What the Hell!?  Is he looking for an escort or a fundraiser? I think I want to kick him in the balls – that’s how I act around men you gross old man!”

Me:  “Sir, I treat everyone with respect and dignity no matter if they are male/female, wealthy or poor”

Me to Myself: “Jerk!”

Me to prospective employer’s Receptionist:  “I’m here to speak with the manager about applying for a position”

Receptionist:  “She is way too busy to handle that right now.  She is on a conference call, the assistant manager called out and two other girls are sick today.  She has no time for you.”

Me to Receptionist: “It sounds like now is the perfect time to hire someone.  I’ve worked here before and can fill in immediately if you need me.”

Receptionist:  “I’m sorry you will need to come back next week to talk to her - try Tuesday or Wednesday.”

National Vice President of a HUGE Non Profit:  “Dana I really like you and your energy, but I think you think outside of the box too much.”

Me to myself:  “What the hell!? Is this 1984?  What kind of company is this?”

Me to Vice President:   “You may be correct; I am a forward thinker and like to create new and innovative ways to accomplish a goal.”

So with that, I am still looking for something that fits perfectly allows me to think outside the box, interact with people and just generally enjoy life!

The things we do for love...

There is nothing I despise more than spending my Saturday morning at the little league field – really nothing tops the discomfort I feel. 

My people skills and personality have helped me get far in life and I’ve successfully conquered closed societies like the High School Cheerleading Squad, a Southern Sorority (new member of the year and President), secret societies (sorry, you won’t get the name out of me), the local HOA, and even the PTA.  But for some unknown reason the cliques of the Little League leave me shivering with uneasiness.   I am not sure who scares me more; the clusters of happy moms sipping their Evian and pushing their strollers, or the groups of Dads scouting the players and predicting who the ringers will be, or the groups of grandparents in their pop up chairs trying to hold on to the toddlers who are too young to play, but are dressed like their older siblings anyway.  Either way, each group is an unwelcome challenge that leaves me dreading Saturday a.m.

…this leads me to my little man. 

 I honestly have never said no to my son (ok, yes I say NO to things like No new pets, No you can’t eat that, No you cannot jump off the roof).   However if the request is reasonable and no one is going to be harmed, than I generally go along with it for the happiness of my little man.  I’ve taken him on trips, we’ve tried new adventures, I’ve enrolled him in every sport you can imagine and I’ve happily been the snack mom.  I’ve gone as far as coach the cheerleaders for his flag football team, because no other mom would and I had a few pom poms and spirit dust in my closet.  But, I draw the line at Little League. 

I’ve pawned off the practices and games to everyone I can think of. I’ve corralled my parents into helping, let my ex husband have him extra days, scheduled Drs. Appointments, anything I can think of to NOT have to go the dreaded little league field. 

So imagine my dilemma when my little man comes home from baseball practice asking me to be the dugout mom.  WHAT?!?! How did the devil get a hold of my little man and play games with my baby?!  There is NO WAY I can be the dugout mom. 

I tried to stall.  “Mom, the coach really needs you now”. 

I tried to deflect.  “Don’t you like Karate more than baseball?”

I tried to play dumb.  “I don’t know anything about baseball.”

Then he hit me with the knockout punch.  “Mom you would get to spend time with me and be the coolest mom on the team.”

Ouch!

He got me.  He hit me where it hurts. 

Of course I’ll be the dugout mom.  Of course I’ll label all your bags, memorize the line-up, figure out  which kids have peanut allergies and make sure you all get bathroom breaks.  Of course I’ll bring coffee, have band aids and smile while all of the dads yell at me about the line up and the moms question me about this week’s snack.

At least I won’t have to deal with the Evian sipping moms or the grandparents in their pop up chairs.

Go Cubs!