I have been babysitting since I was 12 years old. In fact, my best friend and I had a "Neighborhood Kids Carnival" on our deck when we were about 12, and collected money for Children's Hospital. All $41 that we collected went to dramatic research that I am sure helped in a break through for some horrible disease. They even threw us a party for our efforts (and I bet they used that $41 for the cake and ice cream!!)
The point of this blog is that I have always loved being around kids. I just think they are hilarious and always have a fresh perspective on life. I recently starting babysitting for the kids whose mom I met at my previous job. They are adorable little tow heads who are 2 years old and 9 months. The 2 year old turns 3 July 5, and the family is going to Disney World for her birthday. I walked into the house and it looked like Disney World had come to them. The little girl was running around with 3 or 4 balloons clipped to her dress. The best part was that every time one of the balloons touched the ceiling, it started singing "Happy Birthday!" The mom told me that the ballon was going to "accidentally" meet its demise that evening. There was also a princess dress sitting on the floor. The family is going to have a birthday breakfast at the castle, and the little girl will be wearing her princess dress.
I was keeping the kids for a few hours while their mom ran some errands. She suggested that I take them to the park in the stroller and let them play in this humongous sprinkler. Once we got the kids changed into their bathing suits and in the stroller, we headed for the park. I had already run 6.5 miles that morning, but didn't realize how difficult it is to push 2 children up and down hills in 90 degree weather. My hair was quickly up in a ponytail.
Once we got to the park, I couldn't figure out where the sprinkler was. The three year old kept telling me that we were headed the wrong way, and that I was supposed to stay on the sidewalk at all times. (Oops.) My favorite part of the day is when I asked "Guys, do you think we are going the right way?" The little girl replied, "Miss Jenny. We say y'all. We do NOT say 'guys!" Hilarious.
We finally got to the sprinkler and I realized that I was not dressed for the occassion. My new shirt from the Limited and khaki shorts were soaked and filthy in a matter of seconds, but it seemed like the kids were having fun. Then the breakdown began. I didn't give the baby anything to eat before we left and he started screaming. He may very well have been hot, tired or hungry, but thoughts of him dehydrating started flying through my head. I loaded up the kids, and the three year old was NOT happy because she didn't get to play on the swings. As the oldest, I understood her pain.
Walking back was exhausting. I had on cheap flip flops that kept digging into my feet, and we were headed uphill the entire way. I even heard a "Faster, faster!" from the little girl! When we got home, I saw mascara smeared all over my face, noticed that the girl only had one of her two bows in her hair and was pretty sure that we lost one of her pink shoes. Of course, as soon as I tried to feed the baby, he wanted nothing to with it.
We played "push Jenny down" for a little while, which was loads of fun. Honestly, if you can hear a little kid giggle that hard for rolling me onto the ground, it really is worth it. I was so tired when I got home I could barely keep my eyes open until 9 pm. These kids are adorable and so well behaved, but I don't know how you moms do it! I only had them for 3 hours!!
I used to tell Mike that I wanted 4 kids...time will tell.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Bachelor Pad
When I moved to STL, I was lucky enough to move into a beautiful condo that Mike purchased when he moved here. His mother is a wonderful interior decorator and decorated the place as well as she could with Mike's constant concern that the rooms would be too "girly." When I moved in, I brought lots of pictures and girly things that were suddenly ok to put out because "now a girl lives here." How a girl living in the condo makes it suddenly ok to own a magazine rack, I don't understand, but I went with it.
I have slowly been trying to add some warm touches to the very oatmeal and tan area. I wanted to paint some accent walls, but since we will be selling in close to a year, it seems as though it is not worth the trouble. I would have to paint the walls back to a neutral color as soon as I painted my maroon wall! I did get to go to Target the other day and buy some curtains which I am excited to put up, and always try to keep flowers on the table.
Ok, sorry if you are falling asleep, but I have to show you the part of the bachelor pad that Mike is most proud of, and that I cannot get rid of! This is what hangs in our bedroom.
It is hard to see through the pictures how monstrous this thing is. Aside from the fact that it is bigger than the television we have in the den, this movie screen extends and rotates on a metal arm. "This way we can see it perfectly from the bed!" Mike tells me. Yes, and so can everyone else that lives on our street.
I did not have a tv in my room growing up, and have to have complete quiet and darkness when I am trying to fall asleep. Clearly, this television poses a problem to my demands. After me complaining constantly about how loud the television was, I went and bought ear plugs. I have tried a variety of kinds, which also help with my significant other's constant snoring. In addition, I specially ordered an eye mask off the internet! The first one I bought was from Target, but was not thick enough to block out all the light from this television! I am happy with the one that I have now. (And it smells like Lilac, which is an added bonus!)
Have you seen the infomercial where the older couple is laying in bed and the wife is yelling, "Turn that down!" That is what our relationship was turning into. Thank goodness Mike's parents were gracious enough to give us their cordless headphones. These things have been a god-send. Only problem, the battery seems to last for about 5 minutes. We are still working on that small issue.
There are multiple other issues I could write about, that relate to turning a bachelor pad into a place where a girl WANTS to live, but I will save it for another day. Let's just say that right now we have a wall that is completely covered with pictures of outerspace. As my Grandma always says, "A woman's work is never done!"
Hope you have a wonderful Monday!
I have slowly been trying to add some warm touches to the very oatmeal and tan area. I wanted to paint some accent walls, but since we will be selling in close to a year, it seems as though it is not worth the trouble. I would have to paint the walls back to a neutral color as soon as I painted my maroon wall! I did get to go to Target the other day and buy some curtains which I am excited to put up, and always try to keep flowers on the table.
Ok, sorry if you are falling asleep, but I have to show you the part of the bachelor pad that Mike is most proud of, and that I cannot get rid of! This is what hangs in our bedroom.
It is hard to see through the pictures how monstrous this thing is. Aside from the fact that it is bigger than the television we have in the den, this movie screen extends and rotates on a metal arm. "This way we can see it perfectly from the bed!" Mike tells me. Yes, and so can everyone else that lives on our street.
I did not have a tv in my room growing up, and have to have complete quiet and darkness when I am trying to fall asleep. Clearly, this television poses a problem to my demands. After me complaining constantly about how loud the television was, I went and bought ear plugs. I have tried a variety of kinds, which also help with my significant other's constant snoring. In addition, I specially ordered an eye mask off the internet! The first one I bought was from Target, but was not thick enough to block out all the light from this television! I am happy with the one that I have now. (And it smells like Lilac, which is an added bonus!)
Have you seen the infomercial where the older couple is laying in bed and the wife is yelling, "Turn that down!" That is what our relationship was turning into. Thank goodness Mike's parents were gracious enough to give us their cordless headphones. These things have been a god-send. Only problem, the battery seems to last for about 5 minutes. We are still working on that small issue.
There are multiple other issues I could write about, that relate to turning a bachelor pad into a place where a girl WANTS to live, but I will save it for another day. Let's just say that right now we have a wall that is completely covered with pictures of outerspace. As my Grandma always says, "A woman's work is never done!"
Hope you have a wonderful Monday!
Friday, June 26, 2009
Transformers
I am here to give my critique of "Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen" or something like that. Last night Mike surprised me with an impromptu date night. We grabbed some pizza, returned some things back to the mall (the mall is giving us a lot of money back these days) and then went to see a movie. Since I "chose" the last movie (Angels & Demons) I was given a choice between Transformers and Terminator. Ugh. First of all, its not like "Angels & Demons" is some sort of sappy, romantic comedy that Mike had to sit through for 2 hours while the predictable lovers encounter a problem, but find they are meant for each other by the end. But somehow, I am now forced to choose between two movies where I am pretty sure the main characters are made out of metal.
Let me set the atmosphere for you. We were early so we were able to watch everyone file into the theatre. We had forgotten that it was summer and school was out. Where do you go when you can't drive? Ding, ding, ding!!! You are correct - your mom drops you off at the mall/movies. Mike and I were at least 15 years older than most people there. The other super great part was that they all seemed to know each other. They were running around, yelling across the seats and showing off for each other. Of course, three pre-teen boys sat next to me. Thriller. (That was a tribute to the late Michael Jackson.)
I am very strict with my rules when I am watching a movie. I must get to the movie before the previews begin. Check. I HATE it when people talk while the movie is playing, and quite honestly, I don't like it when they talk when the previews are rolling either. There have been too many stare downs between me and the person behind me when I ask them to please be quiet, so I am trying to loosen up, at least during the previews. Another thing that drives me crazy is when people pull their cell phones out to check their missed calls, or texts, during the movie. I feel like there is a spotlight coming from their seat into my eye and it really distracts me. Besides, if you are already there with friends, who else do you need to talk to? I understand an emergency, but I didn't see any tweens running out of the theater in a panic. They were probably texting each between each row!
So, once my new found 15 year friends sat down next to me, one of them started yelling to his friend, "Carter" across the room. Just the name, and for no obvious reason. I thought he might have Turrets Syndrome, because "Carter" was not answering back. Maybe this guy made up a friend. Who knows, but three different times during the movie, "Carter" was called. Next my buddy opened and closed his phone every minute of the 2 hour 30 minute long movie. Don't know who he was texting because "Carter" was just in the other row, but that drove me nuts. Mike taught me later that this was the 15 year old's way of "asserting his masculinity." Good thing he didn't ask me. I thought he looked stupid.
Now this is all BEFORE the movie even starts. Once we get through the previews and the movie begins, I think, "this may not be so bad. It seems humorous, and I got through most of the other one before I fell asleep." Suddenly Megan Fox comes onto the screen, straddling a motorcycle, wearing cut offs that didn't even look like there was anything left to cut. The ENTIRE movie theatre moaned. It was disgusting. I felt like I was in some dirty movie, when actually, Harry Potter was playing in the theater across from mine. "Carter's" friend beside me started to use some language that is not appropriate for a blog, a teenager, or really anyone. Mike and I just looked at each other and started laughing.
For the most part, the movie was fine. I would not suggest that you run out and see it, but if you do, please use your student discount as we do. (Hope you haven't thrown that away!) By the end I was getting tired of the incessant moaning and cursing next to me, and I couldn't tell who the bad metal monsters were in comparison to the good metal monsters. And why were they fighting again? Of course, Mike walked out thinking it was the most wonderful movie. Why do guys love movies with no plot, as long as multiple things are getting blown up? Who knows, why do we like dramatic movies, where someone dies at the end? Mars v. Venus. At least I get to pick the next movie!
Let me set the atmosphere for you. We were early so we were able to watch everyone file into the theatre. We had forgotten that it was summer and school was out. Where do you go when you can't drive? Ding, ding, ding!!! You are correct - your mom drops you off at the mall/movies. Mike and I were at least 15 years older than most people there. The other super great part was that they all seemed to know each other. They were running around, yelling across the seats and showing off for each other. Of course, three pre-teen boys sat next to me. Thriller. (That was a tribute to the late Michael Jackson.)
I am very strict with my rules when I am watching a movie. I must get to the movie before the previews begin. Check. I HATE it when people talk while the movie is playing, and quite honestly, I don't like it when they talk when the previews are rolling either. There have been too many stare downs between me and the person behind me when I ask them to please be quiet, so I am trying to loosen up, at least during the previews. Another thing that drives me crazy is when people pull their cell phones out to check their missed calls, or texts, during the movie. I feel like there is a spotlight coming from their seat into my eye and it really distracts me. Besides, if you are already there with friends, who else do you need to talk to? I understand an emergency, but I didn't see any tweens running out of the theater in a panic. They were probably texting each between each row!
So, once my new found 15 year friends sat down next to me, one of them started yelling to his friend, "Carter" across the room. Just the name, and for no obvious reason. I thought he might have Turrets Syndrome, because "Carter" was not answering back. Maybe this guy made up a friend. Who knows, but three different times during the movie, "Carter" was called. Next my buddy opened and closed his phone every minute of the 2 hour 30 minute long movie. Don't know who he was texting because "Carter" was just in the other row, but that drove me nuts. Mike taught me later that this was the 15 year old's way of "asserting his masculinity." Good thing he didn't ask me. I thought he looked stupid.
Now this is all BEFORE the movie even starts. Once we get through the previews and the movie begins, I think, "this may not be so bad. It seems humorous, and I got through most of the other one before I fell asleep." Suddenly Megan Fox comes onto the screen, straddling a motorcycle, wearing cut offs that didn't even look like there was anything left to cut. The ENTIRE movie theatre moaned. It was disgusting. I felt like I was in some dirty movie, when actually, Harry Potter was playing in the theater across from mine. "Carter's" friend beside me started to use some language that is not appropriate for a blog, a teenager, or really anyone. Mike and I just looked at each other and started laughing.
For the most part, the movie was fine. I would not suggest that you run out and see it, but if you do, please use your student discount as we do. (Hope you haven't thrown that away!) By the end I was getting tired of the incessant moaning and cursing next to me, and I couldn't tell who the bad metal monsters were in comparison to the good metal monsters. And why were they fighting again? Of course, Mike walked out thinking it was the most wonderful movie. Why do guys love movies with no plot, as long as multiple things are getting blown up? Who knows, why do we like dramatic movies, where someone dies at the end? Mars v. Venus. At least I get to pick the next movie!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I Have a Confession
I am dating a boy from New Jersey. How in the world a southern belle like me fell in love with the typical Jersey boy is still something Mike and I laugh about, but it happened. I watched The Real Housewive of New Jersey this season, and I am here to tell y'all, this stuff is real!
Mike and I met through mutual friends. My roommate was friends with his roommate, and both these roommates were from SOUTH Alabama. I just assumed that Mike was also from the South. He didn't ever have the eye swoop haircut that many southern boys have, but he went to University of Alabama, and how would you get there if you were from up North? Although he told me he was born in New Jersey, and that his entire extended family still lives there, it really didn't phase me. I had never been to visit the Garden State, but seriously, what could be so different? Oh there are differences. The first red flag was when he picked me up for our first date. He was super cute, dressed to a tee, and you could tell he was very nervous. I gave him a tour of our house, introduced him to my three roommates and then we headed to his car. I knew my roommates were watching from the upstairs window; a routine we practiced when any roommate was taken out by a new suitor.
First mistake. Mike did NOT OPEN THE CAR DOOR FOR ME! I stood outside waiting, and realized he was already inside with the car on. "Oooh, I thought." I am going to hear about this later. We had a lovely dinner and he later dropped me off. I think the roughest patch we had was during out first year of dating. While most couples are going through that lovey-dovey infatuation phase, I was trying to figure out if the things Mike was saying to me were really "just joking" or if he was meaning to hurt my feelings. I can't recall any of the comments, but I stuck through it. I grew up with no brothers for goodness sakes! I don't what to do when people start teasing me! Even this summer, Mike's father said to me, "OH! She can take a joke!" Yes, I can take one, I just have to know when it is being offered!
If you have been watching the New Jersey Housewives, you may remember that they are all Italian, and have this "blood is thicker than water" mentality. I was never physically nervous that Mike's family wouldn't like me until I started watching the show 6 years after we started dating! Mike's mother is 100% Italian and she is phenomenal. She cooks, she cleans and she takes care of her family like it is nobody's business. When Mike and I started taking trips together, he would ask me to pack his suitcase, or pick out his outfits. WHAT?? I had never heard of this before. My feminist side was screaming that this was completely out of character, and most of the time the request led to a fight. Now, I do pick out his clothes when he asks because, let's be honest, he can't really dress himself! (sorry babe.)
Another thing that is serious in the Italian, New Jersey family is cooking. Oh lord. Maybe that gives you some insight into why I have been trying to be "Top Chef" since I moved in. Half the time the things we eat are acknowledged this way. "I really like it, but it isn't really like my mom's...." So I call up "mama" and get the recipe. I figure that is the easiest way to deal with it. Only a few months ago, a received a letter in the mail from Mrs. C. Inside was the "secret family sauce" that traces back to Southern Italy, or "The Old Country." This was a BIG step in our relationship!
After I saw the Housewive's episode where one of the females FLIPPED a table, I called Mike in a panic and asked if anyone in his family had ever done that. "NO!" he says. "That show is over the top!" "Really?" I asked, "because it sure seemed normal for the people involved up there! They said everyone flips a table once or twice in their life!!"
I have now been to Jersey for 2 weddings, which were incredible. Beautiful and elegant, probably two of the nicest I have ever been to. However, it was the experience of being in the state that was tough for me to handle. I bought a shirt that said, "New Jersey: Only the Strong Survive" but Mike wouldn't let me wear it because he said people would probably throw things at me. WHAT? Where was I going? Both times we went to visit, it was winter, with snow on the ground. (You know I am not used to that!!) As soon as we got out of the airport, the inner Jerseyness of Mike's family was no longer dormant. Accents and phrases came out that I have never heard before...I wish you could hear them. "Pain in the Ass" is a time honored one. Additionally, we are weaving in and out of traffic, while people scream and honk their horns for no reason! Again - where am I??
Mike and I stopped at a deli to get something to eat. I remember trying to figure out what I wanted and hearing a lot of "Alright already! Hurry it up!" This very well may have been my boyfriend in all his Jersey glory, but after that I was pretty much scared to talk in public. The locals couldn't understand my southern accent, and half the time, I couldn't understand them. It was just better for everyone that I stayed quiet.
Now I am writing this with only from the what I have gathered from people I have met in NJ, and the always realiable source on Bravo, The Real Housewives. I am sure (maybe) that there are people in New Jersey that do not fit into this stereotype, but I have to say, if you do, it is pretty hilarious. It is a whole other world that I just don't seem to fit into!
Mike and I met through mutual friends. My roommate was friends with his roommate, and both these roommates were from SOUTH Alabama. I just assumed that Mike was also from the South. He didn't ever have the eye swoop haircut that many southern boys have, but he went to University of Alabama, and how would you get there if you were from up North? Although he told me he was born in New Jersey, and that his entire extended family still lives there, it really didn't phase me. I had never been to visit the Garden State, but seriously, what could be so different? Oh there are differences. The first red flag was when he picked me up for our first date. He was super cute, dressed to a tee, and you could tell he was very nervous. I gave him a tour of our house, introduced him to my three roommates and then we headed to his car. I knew my roommates were watching from the upstairs window; a routine we practiced when any roommate was taken out by a new suitor.
First mistake. Mike did NOT OPEN THE CAR DOOR FOR ME! I stood outside waiting, and realized he was already inside with the car on. "Oooh, I thought." I am going to hear about this later. We had a lovely dinner and he later dropped me off. I think the roughest patch we had was during out first year of dating. While most couples are going through that lovey-dovey infatuation phase, I was trying to figure out if the things Mike was saying to me were really "just joking" or if he was meaning to hurt my feelings. I can't recall any of the comments, but I stuck through it. I grew up with no brothers for goodness sakes! I don't what to do when people start teasing me! Even this summer, Mike's father said to me, "OH! She can take a joke!" Yes, I can take one, I just have to know when it is being offered!
If you have been watching the New Jersey Housewives, you may remember that they are all Italian, and have this "blood is thicker than water" mentality. I was never physically nervous that Mike's family wouldn't like me until I started watching the show 6 years after we started dating! Mike's mother is 100% Italian and she is phenomenal. She cooks, she cleans and she takes care of her family like it is nobody's business. When Mike and I started taking trips together, he would ask me to pack his suitcase, or pick out his outfits. WHAT?? I had never heard of this before. My feminist side was screaming that this was completely out of character, and most of the time the request led to a fight. Now, I do pick out his clothes when he asks because, let's be honest, he can't really dress himself! (sorry babe.)
Another thing that is serious in the Italian, New Jersey family is cooking. Oh lord. Maybe that gives you some insight into why I have been trying to be "Top Chef" since I moved in. Half the time the things we eat are acknowledged this way. "I really like it, but it isn't really like my mom's...." So I call up "mama" and get the recipe. I figure that is the easiest way to deal with it. Only a few months ago, a received a letter in the mail from Mrs. C. Inside was the "secret family sauce" that traces back to Southern Italy, or "The Old Country." This was a BIG step in our relationship!
After I saw the Housewive's episode where one of the females FLIPPED a table, I called Mike in a panic and asked if anyone in his family had ever done that. "NO!" he says. "That show is over the top!" "Really?" I asked, "because it sure seemed normal for the people involved up there! They said everyone flips a table once or twice in their life!!"
I have now been to Jersey for 2 weddings, which were incredible. Beautiful and elegant, probably two of the nicest I have ever been to. However, it was the experience of being in the state that was tough for me to handle. I bought a shirt that said, "New Jersey: Only the Strong Survive" but Mike wouldn't let me wear it because he said people would probably throw things at me. WHAT? Where was I going? Both times we went to visit, it was winter, with snow on the ground. (You know I am not used to that!!) As soon as we got out of the airport, the inner Jerseyness of Mike's family was no longer dormant. Accents and phrases came out that I have never heard before...I wish you could hear them. "Pain in the Ass" is a time honored one. Additionally, we are weaving in and out of traffic, while people scream and honk their horns for no reason! Again - where am I??
Mike and I stopped at a deli to get something to eat. I remember trying to figure out what I wanted and hearing a lot of "Alright already! Hurry it up!" This very well may have been my boyfriend in all his Jersey glory, but after that I was pretty much scared to talk in public. The locals couldn't understand my southern accent, and half the time, I couldn't understand them. It was just better for everyone that I stayed quiet.
Now I am writing this with only from the what I have gathered from people I have met in NJ, and the always realiable source on Bravo, The Real Housewives. I am sure (maybe) that there are people in New Jersey that do not fit into this stereotype, but I have to say, if you do, it is pretty hilarious. It is a whole other world that I just don't seem to fit into!
Monday, June 22, 2009
And My Role is...?
If you have been reading my blog, you know that I am recently unemployed. This leaves me at home as a...what? I am not a housewife, as I have no children and am missing that little legal document that would confirm my status as a wife. So, I have become a house co-habitator. This is an interesting role, as it is very boring, yet stressful at the same time.
I have no idea how mothers run households. I called my mother today to tell her that running a household was tough. She didn't say anything, but I'm sure she was thinking, "What exactly are you running up there?" I am suddenly in a role where I have no excuse not to complete tasks because I have been at work all day. Suddenly, the laundry is there, waiting on me to fold and put it away. I actually love to iron, so that is not much of an issue, but what about this whole cooking thing?
It never phased me when our family of 5 sat down for dinner and immediately 4 voices chimed in complaining that they didn't like something, or that "We just ate this the other day." My youngest sister refused to eat anything green and/or crunchy (that is every vegetable.) I'm sure my mother loved it when I began gagging on something that she made for dinner. (That really did happen..and I never had to eat THAT dish again!) As a co-habitator, I feel it is important to provide a healthy dinner for myself and my other co-habitator. Does anyone else feel that if you have proceeded to plan out a week's worth of recipes, go to the grocery store and create a new dinner each night, that complaining about the food should not be allowed? (Mom - I am so sorry.)
Tonight I made pesto, and added chicken and tomatoes to the sauce. I poured it over pasta, whipped together some bread and a salad and felt pretty good about my creation. I think this is the first night we have really had a dinner bomb. I looked over and Mike was pushing his food around his plate like a 5 year old. He had consumed his entire salad (this is rare) and still looked as though he knew he had to eat the pasta and wasn't sure how he was going to get out of it. When he asked me, "Is this algae?" I didn't know how to respond. I actually started laughing because it really wasn't that good in the first place, but that was not the thank you I was expecting!
In addition to providing balanced meals, a co-habitator also takes on the role of all correspondence and any other projects that do not include manual labor. (I have been banned from putting up curtain rods, although I am quite sure I would do a fabulous job.) I return phone calls, answer wedding invitations, and mail out packages. Let's be honest. How exciting can this position get? I think if I had a little one to run around with it may be a different story. My mom reminded me that babies don't talk. I don't need anyone talking to me - I talk to my cat! It would just give me something to do!
Today I drove out to T.J. Max to return some clothes for Mike. It was only when I was 30 minutes out that I realized I was following directions for a place I have to go tomorrow! I called Mike in a panic, and he was able to find a T.J. Max close to me. After all that drama, I had to get myself a Frosty from Wendy's!
I apologize that this post seems to be a stream of consciousness, but that is the way my life feels right now. I am making small lists of things to do each day. Tomorrow - return my new white jeans (apparently fashion is not of high importance when you are poor) and hopefully find Nordstrom's to return another item Mike did not like. Maybe I will even attempt a new recipe.
I think it is time for me to find another job.
I have no idea how mothers run households. I called my mother today to tell her that running a household was tough. She didn't say anything, but I'm sure she was thinking, "What exactly are you running up there?" I am suddenly in a role where I have no excuse not to complete tasks because I have been at work all day. Suddenly, the laundry is there, waiting on me to fold and put it away. I actually love to iron, so that is not much of an issue, but what about this whole cooking thing?
It never phased me when our family of 5 sat down for dinner and immediately 4 voices chimed in complaining that they didn't like something, or that "We just ate this the other day." My youngest sister refused to eat anything green and/or crunchy (that is every vegetable.) I'm sure my mother loved it when I began gagging on something that she made for dinner. (That really did happen..and I never had to eat THAT dish again!) As a co-habitator, I feel it is important to provide a healthy dinner for myself and my other co-habitator. Does anyone else feel that if you have proceeded to plan out a week's worth of recipes, go to the grocery store and create a new dinner each night, that complaining about the food should not be allowed? (Mom - I am so sorry.)
Tonight I made pesto, and added chicken and tomatoes to the sauce. I poured it over pasta, whipped together some bread and a salad and felt pretty good about my creation. I think this is the first night we have really had a dinner bomb. I looked over and Mike was pushing his food around his plate like a 5 year old. He had consumed his entire salad (this is rare) and still looked as though he knew he had to eat the pasta and wasn't sure how he was going to get out of it. When he asked me, "Is this algae?" I didn't know how to respond. I actually started laughing because it really wasn't that good in the first place, but that was not the thank you I was expecting!
In addition to providing balanced meals, a co-habitator also takes on the role of all correspondence and any other projects that do not include manual labor. (I have been banned from putting up curtain rods, although I am quite sure I would do a fabulous job.) I return phone calls, answer wedding invitations, and mail out packages. Let's be honest. How exciting can this position get? I think if I had a little one to run around with it may be a different story. My mom reminded me that babies don't talk. I don't need anyone talking to me - I talk to my cat! It would just give me something to do!
Today I drove out to T.J. Max to return some clothes for Mike. It was only when I was 30 minutes out that I realized I was following directions for a place I have to go tomorrow! I called Mike in a panic, and he was able to find a T.J. Max close to me. After all that drama, I had to get myself a Frosty from Wendy's!
I apologize that this post seems to be a stream of consciousness, but that is the way my life feels right now. I am making small lists of things to do each day. Tomorrow - return my new white jeans (apparently fashion is not of high importance when you are poor) and hopefully find Nordstrom's to return another item Mike did not like. Maybe I will even attempt a new recipe.
I think it is time for me to find another job.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Happy Father's Day Daddy!
My father and I have an interesting relationship. My mother always says that we are the same person, just the male and female version of each other. As you can imagine, this could lead to some butting of heads (especially in my teenage years!) But, instead of focusing on the crazy disagreements we may have had, I want to focus on how much my father has positively influenced my life.
As the oldest child, I like to consider myself my father's favorite. (This has not been confirmed by either parent but this is what I tell myself.) Ever since I was little dad and I have had a special bond. I think this partly because we mentally process things in the same way. When I was given the opportunity to be in the kitchen learning how to cook, or outside learning the difference between a Phillips Head and a flat head screwdriver, I opted for the latter. Because there are three girls in our family, my father never had the opportunity to show his son how to throw a baseball or play football. That's where I came in. Unfortunately, I played softball, basketball and swam, but never was the athlete a Blackburn son may have become. (They made up a position for me in softball.)
But my father continued to be my biggest fan (along with my mother!) He has always encouraged me in everything I have done, and been there for me when things didn't really work out the way I expected. We have a closeness where I feel comfortable talking to him about boys and relationships, which I think is rare between a father and daughter. I truly feel that I can come to him with any issue in my life and he will give me thoughtful and truthful advice.
Again, living in a home with 4 women cannot have been easy for my father. I think he was subtly influenced with all the estrogen and doesn't blink an eye when spontaneous crying breaks out. Once I left home, I was surprised to find that the majority of men are not wired this way.
I have many fond memories of my father, which would take too long to write. I just want to acknowledge that my dad has helped mold me into what I am today. (You can decide whether this is for good or bad! :-)) He has cheered me on, sat while I cried on his shoulder, and listened while I tried to sort out what choices I needed to make to get my life in order. One of the most important things my father taught me is that he believes I can do anything I set my mind to. This may have resulted in stubborness on my part, but also taught me to never quit, because eventually I will succeed in the goal that I have set for myself. My dad has been my hero for the last 28 years, and I have held every boy I have ever dated to this standard. (Thank goodness Mike and dad clicked immediately!) I love you daddy and hope you know I am
As the oldest child, I like to consider myself my father's favorite. (This has not been confirmed by either parent but this is what I tell myself.) Ever since I was little dad and I have had a special bond. I think this partly because we mentally process things in the same way. When I was given the opportunity to be in the kitchen learning how to cook, or outside learning the difference between a Phillips Head and a flat head screwdriver, I opted for the latter. Because there are three girls in our family, my father never had the opportunity to show his son how to throw a baseball or play football. That's where I came in. Unfortunately, I played softball, basketball and swam, but never was the athlete a Blackburn son may have become. (They made up a position for me in softball.)
But my father continued to be my biggest fan (along with my mother!) He has always encouraged me in everything I have done, and been there for me when things didn't really work out the way I expected. We have a closeness where I feel comfortable talking to him about boys and relationships, which I think is rare between a father and daughter. I truly feel that I can come to him with any issue in my life and he will give me thoughtful and truthful advice.
Again, living in a home with 4 women cannot have been easy for my father. I think he was subtly influenced with all the estrogen and doesn't blink an eye when spontaneous crying breaks out. Once I left home, I was surprised to find that the majority of men are not wired this way.
I have many fond memories of my father, which would take too long to write. I just want to acknowledge that my dad has helped mold me into what I am today. (You can decide whether this is for good or bad! :-)) He has cheered me on, sat while I cried on his shoulder, and listened while I tried to sort out what choices I needed to make to get my life in order. One of the most important things my father taught me is that he believes I can do anything I set my mind to. This may have resulted in stubborness on my part, but also taught me to never quit, because eventually I will succeed in the goal that I have set for myself. My dad has been my hero for the last 28 years, and I have held every boy I have ever dated to this standard. (Thank goodness Mike and dad clicked immediately!) I love you daddy and hope you know I am
thankful for you everyday, not just once a year!!
.
Friday, June 19, 2009
I Quit....
So I am once again unemployed. After a lot of thought and rehearsing what I was going to say over the dinner table, I quit my job. When we were notified that our store was closing about six weeks ago, we were told that we would either receive a severence package or be relocated to another Pottery Barn store. A number for our regional manager was posted "To please call with any questions" but when my co-workers called, she never seemed to get back to them. Additionally, I began to hear rumors that there were no openings at any of the other stores, so relocation was truly not an option.
Almost every day for the last month, we have asked our store managers what our severence package would look like, but no one seemed to have a clue. I understand and am realistic - I know that I have only been working with this company for nine months, but I did expect some sort of compensation, as we are all being thrown back into the world of unemployment. (By the way, I was employee of the month in April! Shouldn't that count for something?)
I began to think about what I wanted to ask this manager when she came for her visit. I felt like I had been told lies to maintain my employment with the store until it closed. When I got to work today I asked to speak with "Jane." I asked her about my severence package and she said that she had no idea what the amount would be. When I reminded her that we were promised a two week notice of what the compensation would look like, she suddenly was able to tell me. 10 hours. That is what we are getting paid. This is based on the "average employee's work week." I tried to stay calm and explain that I was working at least 20 -30 hours a week, and this was not a fair package. I understand that life is not fair, but come on! This was a slap in the face.
I also confronted Jane about the lack of jobs available for relocation. She apologized and then tried to tell me the economony is not doing well, so it is hard to place people in new environments. Now my blood is boiling. Does she not think that I am aware that the economy is crap? Does she know that I have a graduate degree and cannot find a job anywhere?? Of course she doesn't, but I felt like she was being very condescending.
Finally, I asked why I was scheduled to work 25 hours next week when our store is supposed to close on Sunday. (The store looks like a flea market, and people are treating it as such. There is a strong possibility today would be our last day open to the public.) "Oh!" She replied. "You will be cleaning floors, and driving merchandise back and forth between this store and the other store." Nope. That's when I told her today would be my final day. Are you kidding me? Scrubbing floors? I don't think that is what I had in mind when I signed my contract, and I can assure you that I would rather be scrubbing floors at home (I don't do that anyway) than doing it in the mall for a 10 hour compensation package.
I stayed for a few more hours until it was evident that there were enough employees to take care of all 2 customers that were in the store. As a final "kick you while you're down" moment, my manager asked for my discount card on my way. I told him I lost it. I am sure that you can find a way to stop me from buying towels at a discount through the computer.
I came home and started pacing around the house. Did I do the right thing? What in the heck am I going to do with myself now? I was still walking around and stopping to stare at random spots in the condo when Mike got home. As soon as he came back, I fell apart, and then decided to get in the bed. (What else could I do? We didn't have any ice cream!) So, now I am going to take a night to relax and deal with my semi-dramatic life in the morning. All I know at this point is that I am glad we are stocked up on Raman Noodles.
Almost every day for the last month, we have asked our store managers what our severence package would look like, but no one seemed to have a clue. I understand and am realistic - I know that I have only been working with this company for nine months, but I did expect some sort of compensation, as we are all being thrown back into the world of unemployment. (By the way, I was employee of the month in April! Shouldn't that count for something?)
I began to think about what I wanted to ask this manager when she came for her visit. I felt like I had been told lies to maintain my employment with the store until it closed. When I got to work today I asked to speak with "Jane." I asked her about my severence package and she said that she had no idea what the amount would be. When I reminded her that we were promised a two week notice of what the compensation would look like, she suddenly was able to tell me. 10 hours. That is what we are getting paid. This is based on the "average employee's work week." I tried to stay calm and explain that I was working at least 20 -30 hours a week, and this was not a fair package. I understand that life is not fair, but come on! This was a slap in the face.
I also confronted Jane about the lack of jobs available for relocation. She apologized and then tried to tell me the economony is not doing well, so it is hard to place people in new environments. Now my blood is boiling. Does she not think that I am aware that the economy is crap? Does she know that I have a graduate degree and cannot find a job anywhere?? Of course she doesn't, but I felt like she was being very condescending.
Finally, I asked why I was scheduled to work 25 hours next week when our store is supposed to close on Sunday. (The store looks like a flea market, and people are treating it as such. There is a strong possibility today would be our last day open to the public.) "Oh!" She replied. "You will be cleaning floors, and driving merchandise back and forth between this store and the other store." Nope. That's when I told her today would be my final day. Are you kidding me? Scrubbing floors? I don't think that is what I had in mind when I signed my contract, and I can assure you that I would rather be scrubbing floors at home (I don't do that anyway) than doing it in the mall for a 10 hour compensation package.
I stayed for a few more hours until it was evident that there were enough employees to take care of all 2 customers that were in the store. As a final "kick you while you're down" moment, my manager asked for my discount card on my way. I told him I lost it. I am sure that you can find a way to stop me from buying towels at a discount through the computer.
I came home and started pacing around the house. Did I do the right thing? What in the heck am I going to do with myself now? I was still walking around and stopping to stare at random spots in the condo when Mike got home. As soon as he came back, I fell apart, and then decided to get in the bed. (What else could I do? We didn't have any ice cream!) So, now I am going to take a night to relax and deal with my semi-dramatic life in the morning. All I know at this point is that I am glad we are stocked up on Raman Noodles.
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