I'm published!
I actually wrote the article - pimping myself out. So. So. Weird.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Eat your Frog!
So I've got a friend. . .and we'll call her Banana. Banana and I are great friends, with zillions of things in common. Strange obsession with organization - check. General rule follower - check. Loves books - check. And she once told me about a book, called "Eat That Frog", which is basically a book about how to stop procrastinating and get done the things you need to get done. I've never actually read this book, but the title and premise has always stayed with me. The idea is - if you have a laundry list of things you need to do and one is terrible and you hate the thought of doing it (for example, eating a frog), the best way to make progress through your list is to do the terrible thing first. So first thing in the morning, you get up and eat that frog. It will make your day go better after that as well as make you feel like you've accomplished something great. Some days for me, just getting out of bed is the frog I have to eat.
ANYWAY. I mentioned before I started my own business. And to say that it is slow going would be an insult to turles everywhere. I have one (that is 1, singular) client that has come to my studio. So I'm feeling moderately to severely bummed and monumentally stupid. But I'm trying hard not to give up and I know that advertising and networking is key. Which is something that I truly, truly suck at. Really. I can talk all day about someone else, something else - but tell me I've got to talk about how Fantastic I Am and how you Really Must Come See ME is my idea of horrible. That isn't to say I can't talk about ME - I can talk about a project I'm working on, something I've done or am doing. . .just not with the idea of Selling myself. Interviews or reviews of any type are nail-bitingly uncomfortable for me.
So now, what the heck does this have to do with eating my frog? Well, I joined the local chamber of commerce - lovely folks, really - and they recently had an "After Hours Get Together". Which was Luau themed. Really. So I go - BY MYSELF - to an event where I know absolutely NO ONE. I dress so that I look smoking hot, totally confident and in fantastic shape. I feel none of those things. I laugh at slightly inebrieted gentlemen smirking about getting "lae-ed". I introduce myself to random strangers only to discover they work at their jobs way too much to have time to work out. I tell people about how fantastic Pilates is for their spine, posture, balance and overall health. I nibble on strange foods and pretend I have to take a phone call in order to not look like a totally out-of-place nimwit. I win a doorprize - a book I already owned. I hand out business cards to people who show a flicker of interest in health and wellness. I take business cards from people. Right back pocket - my business cards. Left Back pocket - the cards of others. I pray I remember to take them all out before I wash my jeans. I wave goodbye to people whose names I do not remember, but to whom I have been introduced. I walk, head high, with purpose and confidence to my car, close the door behind me and exhale - realizing I have been practically holding my breath for 2 hours. Home I go.
And that my friends was my enormous, warty bull-frog that I ate. I couldn't do it first thing in the morning, but I did it, none-the-less. I was so FREAKING proud of myself. I don't know if anything will come of it or not (I had several people give me great tips, ideas and offer to take flyers to their offices).
So - have you eaten your frog today?
ANYWAY. I mentioned before I started my own business. And to say that it is slow going would be an insult to turles everywhere. I have one (that is 1, singular) client that has come to my studio. So I'm feeling moderately to severely bummed and monumentally stupid. But I'm trying hard not to give up and I know that advertising and networking is key. Which is something that I truly, truly suck at. Really. I can talk all day about someone else, something else - but tell me I've got to talk about how Fantastic I Am and how you Really Must Come See ME is my idea of horrible. That isn't to say I can't talk about ME - I can talk about a project I'm working on, something I've done or am doing. . .just not with the idea of Selling myself. Interviews or reviews of any type are nail-bitingly uncomfortable for me.
So now, what the heck does this have to do with eating my frog? Well, I joined the local chamber of commerce - lovely folks, really - and they recently had an "After Hours Get Together". Which was Luau themed. Really. So I go - BY MYSELF - to an event where I know absolutely NO ONE. I dress so that I look smoking hot, totally confident and in fantastic shape. I feel none of those things. I laugh at slightly inebrieted gentlemen smirking about getting "lae-ed". I introduce myself to random strangers only to discover they work at their jobs way too much to have time to work out. I tell people about how fantastic Pilates is for their spine, posture, balance and overall health. I nibble on strange foods and pretend I have to take a phone call in order to not look like a totally out-of-place nimwit. I win a doorprize - a book I already owned. I hand out business cards to people who show a flicker of interest in health and wellness. I take business cards from people. Right back pocket - my business cards. Left Back pocket - the cards of others. I pray I remember to take them all out before I wash my jeans. I wave goodbye to people whose names I do not remember, but to whom I have been introduced. I walk, head high, with purpose and confidence to my car, close the door behind me and exhale - realizing I have been practically holding my breath for 2 hours. Home I go.
And that my friends was my enormous, warty bull-frog that I ate. I couldn't do it first thing in the morning, but I did it, none-the-less. I was so FREAKING proud of myself. I don't know if anything will come of it or not (I had several people give me great tips, ideas and offer to take flyers to their offices).
So - have you eaten your frog today?
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
The end of the world as we know it
Remember that day? 6 Years ago - insane isn't it? I can literally close my eyes and remember every emotion I felt when I heard. Disbelief, shock, despair. I was 1 week past due with Drama Queen and I remember sitting at home with my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law just unable to tear myself away from the TV. Calling everyone I knew to make sure they were ok despite the fact that we live a thousand miles from Ground Zero. Praying that I wouldn't go into labor and my daughter have this infamous birthday. Crying myself to sleep positive that I'd made a huge mistake deciding to bring a child into this terrible, messed up, insane world.
Its crazy how different the world looked the next day. How different we acted. It was the end of the world as I knew it. But I sure as hell didn't feel fine. People were momentarily nicer, more caring, more polite. We took time to check on our friends and family, and reach out to those we didn't even know. But slowly - we became numb once again. Going past the 5 year mark last year seemed to signal something, an end of something. Its been more than 5 years, the remembrances are briefer, the number of American flags flying is smaller. Life has gone on. Its insane actually, how the world ended, and we kept going.
There is a blog I read constantly despite the fact that I've never met the author. She lives in New York and was actually in the financial district that day and watched the towers fall. This is her story - its a long read, but totally and completely worth it.
Its crazy how different the world looked the next day. How different we acted. It was the end of the world as I knew it. But I sure as hell didn't feel fine. People were momentarily nicer, more caring, more polite. We took time to check on our friends and family, and reach out to those we didn't even know. But slowly - we became numb once again. Going past the 5 year mark last year seemed to signal something, an end of something. Its been more than 5 years, the remembrances are briefer, the number of American flags flying is smaller. Life has gone on. Its insane actually, how the world ended, and we kept going.
There is a blog I read constantly despite the fact that I've never met the author. She lives in New York and was actually in the financial district that day and watched the towers fall. This is her story - its a long read, but totally and completely worth it.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Apocolypse Now #2
Signs that the end is Nigh
I have opened my own business. I swore I'd never. I don't want the hassle, the frustration, the responsibility. I just want to go work my job and leave in the afternoon and be done. But sometimes, life doesn't just throw you the lemons to make lemonade - sometimes the 5 lb bag of sugar and the glass pitcher hit you on the head as well.
I have opened my own business. I swore I'd never. I don't want the hassle, the frustration, the responsibility. I just want to go work my job and leave in the afternoon and be done. But sometimes, life doesn't just throw you the lemons to make lemonade - sometimes the 5 lb bag of sugar and the glass pitcher hit you on the head as well.
Sometimes the one who leaves for work
Gets the good end of the deal.
For the most part, as a "stay at home mom" (which somehow implies that I don't work, which irritates me to no end, and is the subject of an entirely different rant), I consider myself lucky. I don't get up at O-Dark-Thirty to sit in traffic on Hwy 400 and then spend the day in a small cube similar to that of a veal and deal with big business red tape or small business stupidity. I sleep a bit later. I get to watch my kids wake up and be snuggly. I get the good bye kisses as I drop Drama Queen off for school and the "I love you this much" smooches from Pee Pot for no real reason. For the most part - when it comes to F and I, he got the short end of this arrangement.
But on Tuesday, he was the lucky one. And I would have traded with him in less than .2 seconds.
I woke up a few minutes later than I should have and it made the morning a little crazy to begin with. However, I knew we could make up for the time if I just hurried. I woke up Drama Queen and moved her toward her bathroom to get ready. I headed to mine to brush my teeth. All is well - for about 35 seconds. Cue the screaming. "MOOOOOOOOM - you need to come here! I need you RIGHT NOW." Being as her name IS Drama Queen, I wasn't overly concerned. Yes, dear, be there in a second. NO - NOW. I enter the bathroom to find Drama Queen marooned on the potty with her feet off the floor staring at a small(ish) swarm of tiny black ants doing the cha-cha on the bathroom floor. Its like Mardi Gras for ants in the bathroom - someone left a small(ish -again) pile of cereal crumbs in the floor and they are partying like its 1999. One had colorful beads and was offering to flash the other ants for another string. Crumbs to the left - crumbs to the right, gonna stay up late and party all night! So I found the bug killer, and a roll of paper towels and proceeded to spray, and squash, and spray, and smoosh, and lift rugs and stools and spray and mush some more. At last they seemed to be all gone. At which point Drama Queen felt it as if she could finally feel safe enough to venture off of the potty.
And I ventured downstairs to make her lunch. This one portion of the morning was uneventful. But just as I start, I hear Pee Pot talking in her room. "Mommeeeee - I need to go potteeeeee". And the adventure begins anew. Pee Pot is potty training. Soon we will officially change her name to something more appropriate like "Pees in the Pot". But for now, we are at the stage where she goes if she is on the potty, but sometimes she goes even when she is not. And at night time - we are still in diapers. So I wasn't too concerned and just hollered back up the stairs - Ok sweetie - be right there. I finished making Drama Queen's lunch and headed up to check on her progress - diagnosis: slow. I fuss at her a bit to hurry up, what HAS she been doing (looking for more ants) and head into Pee Pots room. Before I even get the knob on her door turned, I know something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Its the smell that hits you first - a pungent odor of something I can't even begin to describe if you've never had a kid - poop. Not just regular poop - but poop that isn't in its localized, enclosed, able to be contained, um - container. And its not - localized, contained or enclosed. It is everywhere. Poo on the walls, poo in her hair, poo in the bed, poo in her hands. Everywhere - except the diaper. She has a handful in each hand and is looking at it like its some kind of amazing play-doh that she can't quite get to hold its shape. She looks up at me and says "Poopy Mommy" - with an absolute seriousness, that can only indicate she thinks I am either an absolute moron lacking the ability to identify such an object, or the look on my face has clued her in to the fact that I am in absolute shock - and lacking the ability to identify such an object.
This is not in the game plan for our morning schedule. A few minutes of oversleeping - yes, a fuss over what clothes to wear - yes, ants in the bathroom, not really - but we'll handle it. My youngest child debuting her fantastic artistic poo abilities - NOT REMOTELY IN THE SCHEDULE. I look at my watch - I have 10 min to get these kids out the door before Drama Queen is late. I scoop up Pee Pot and drop her in the tub, while screaming at Drama Queen to hurry it up, brush her teeth, brush her hair and find her shoes. I grab the hand soap off the counter and proceed to lather, rinse, repeat all of Pee Pots body in about 30 seconds while the water just runs over her - no time to fill up the tub, just let the water run like some sort of defective shower over her hands and toes. Pick her up, sniff - still smells like poo. Soap her up again and yell at Drama Queen again. Pick her up, sniff - less like poo, and we've got to go now.
Dry her off, toss a dress on her, and grab Drama Queen.
Where are your shoes I ask?
Today is Tennis Shoe Day she says. I need help.
Too bad I reply - wear your crocs (yes they are ugly terrible shoe-like creatures that should never grace the foot of an adult outside of gardening and boating, but they are awesome in a time crunch with kids).
MOOOOOOM - its a pattern, yesterday I wore crocs - today is tennis shoes.
Too bad. Crocs again. Out the door.
Don't forget your backpack and your lunch.
Hush - you'll eat what I packed, its fine.
Pee Pot, don't stop to pick that up - go go go.
I dropped of Drama Queen at 7:59 - one minute later and we'd have officially been "late". I'm exhausted, frazzled, drained. And my day is just beginning.
For the most part, as a "stay at home mom" (which somehow implies that I don't work, which irritates me to no end, and is the subject of an entirely different rant), I consider myself lucky. I don't get up at O-Dark-Thirty to sit in traffic on Hwy 400 and then spend the day in a small cube similar to that of a veal and deal with big business red tape or small business stupidity. I sleep a bit later. I get to watch my kids wake up and be snuggly. I get the good bye kisses as I drop Drama Queen off for school and the "I love you this much" smooches from Pee Pot for no real reason. For the most part - when it comes to F and I, he got the short end of this arrangement.
But on Tuesday, he was the lucky one. And I would have traded with him in less than .2 seconds.
I woke up a few minutes later than I should have and it made the morning a little crazy to begin with. However, I knew we could make up for the time if I just hurried. I woke up Drama Queen and moved her toward her bathroom to get ready. I headed to mine to brush my teeth. All is well - for about 35 seconds. Cue the screaming. "MOOOOOOOOM - you need to come here! I need you RIGHT NOW." Being as her name IS Drama Queen, I wasn't overly concerned. Yes, dear, be there in a second. NO - NOW. I enter the bathroom to find Drama Queen marooned on the potty with her feet off the floor staring at a small(ish) swarm of tiny black ants doing the cha-cha on the bathroom floor. Its like Mardi Gras for ants in the bathroom - someone left a small(ish -again) pile of cereal crumbs in the floor and they are partying like its 1999. One had colorful beads and was offering to flash the other ants for another string. Crumbs to the left - crumbs to the right, gonna stay up late and party all night! So I found the bug killer, and a roll of paper towels and proceeded to spray, and squash, and spray, and smoosh, and lift rugs and stools and spray and mush some more. At last they seemed to be all gone. At which point Drama Queen felt it as if she could finally feel safe enough to venture off of the potty.
And I ventured downstairs to make her lunch. This one portion of the morning was uneventful. But just as I start, I hear Pee Pot talking in her room. "Mommeeeee - I need to go potteeeeee". And the adventure begins anew. Pee Pot is potty training. Soon we will officially change her name to something more appropriate like "Pees in the Pot". But for now, we are at the stage where she goes if she is on the potty, but sometimes she goes even when she is not. And at night time - we are still in diapers. So I wasn't too concerned and just hollered back up the stairs - Ok sweetie - be right there. I finished making Drama Queen's lunch and headed up to check on her progress - diagnosis: slow. I fuss at her a bit to hurry up, what HAS she been doing (looking for more ants) and head into Pee Pots room. Before I even get the knob on her door turned, I know something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Its the smell that hits you first - a pungent odor of something I can't even begin to describe if you've never had a kid - poop. Not just regular poop - but poop that isn't in its localized, enclosed, able to be contained, um - container. And its not - localized, contained or enclosed. It is everywhere. Poo on the walls, poo in her hair, poo in the bed, poo in her hands. Everywhere - except the diaper. She has a handful in each hand and is looking at it like its some kind of amazing play-doh that she can't quite get to hold its shape. She looks up at me and says "Poopy Mommy" - with an absolute seriousness, that can only indicate she thinks I am either an absolute moron lacking the ability to identify such an object, or the look on my face has clued her in to the fact that I am in absolute shock - and lacking the ability to identify such an object.
This is not in the game plan for our morning schedule. A few minutes of oversleeping - yes, a fuss over what clothes to wear - yes, ants in the bathroom, not really - but we'll handle it. My youngest child debuting her fantastic artistic poo abilities - NOT REMOTELY IN THE SCHEDULE. I look at my watch - I have 10 min to get these kids out the door before Drama Queen is late. I scoop up Pee Pot and drop her in the tub, while screaming at Drama Queen to hurry it up, brush her teeth, brush her hair and find her shoes. I grab the hand soap off the counter and proceed to lather, rinse, repeat all of Pee Pots body in about 30 seconds while the water just runs over her - no time to fill up the tub, just let the water run like some sort of defective shower over her hands and toes. Pick her up, sniff - still smells like poo. Soap her up again and yell at Drama Queen again. Pick her up, sniff - less like poo, and we've got to go now.
Dry her off, toss a dress on her, and grab Drama Queen.
Where are your shoes I ask?
Today is Tennis Shoe Day she says. I need help.
Too bad I reply - wear your crocs (yes they are ugly terrible shoe-like creatures that should never grace the foot of an adult outside of gardening and boating, but they are awesome in a time crunch with kids).
MOOOOOOM - its a pattern, yesterday I wore crocs - today is tennis shoes.
Too bad. Crocs again. Out the door.
Don't forget your backpack and your lunch.
Hush - you'll eat what I packed, its fine.
Pee Pot, don't stop to pick that up - go go go.
I dropped of Drama Queen at 7:59 - one minute later and we'd have officially been "late". I'm exhausted, frazzled, drained. And my day is just beginning.
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