Vacation Time

First, a giant thank you to all of you and your kind comments.  I love hearing from you so good, bad or indifferent--keep 'em coming!

Second, just imagine it--a white sandy beach...crystal blue waves lapping at the beach...bright yellow sun overhead...a guy named Armand who looks shockingy like George Clooney (or Giselle--I don't judge) bringing you booze all day long...Johnny Depp recreating the latest Pirates movie on a raft in the surf, simply for your enjoyment....

That's right--it's the world's second greatest vacation!  Why is it the second greatest?  Well, first, because it isn't going to actually happen.  Second, because the world's greatest vacation happens to be...wait for it...NAP TIME!  That's right, the most wonderful mini-cation (oh, I said it) is right in your own back yard.  Or front yard.  Or bedroom. 

Look, I love my kid.  I love spending time with him.  But, truthfully, I sort of suck at it.  By 9am I am completely exhausted.  And there are things that have to get done--bills to be paid (or properly ignored), showers to be taken (or properly ignored) and toilets to unclog (I don't recommend ignoring this one).  And this stuff only gets done during nap time.  Unless, of course, you are an ace at the art of walking with 30 pounds clinging to your right knee.  So is it really so wrong that I count down to nap time?  Is it a problem that, when he doesn't feel like napping, I weep along with him in solidarity?  Does this make me a bad person?

Don't answer that.  Just know that, like Dorothy, sometimes what you're looking for is right outside your own front door.  And right now what I'm looking for is my coffee and some time with ComEd.  I think this should also apply to Internet time at work.  Ahhhh, how desires change when you are an adult, or at least are pretending to be.  Happy travels, folks.  Happy travels.

The Greatest Grandpa

Easily the #1 best part of being here is the fact that my son and I get to spend time with my dad.  And while I love this, it doesn't come close to how much my kid does.

We currently have screen doors on both the front and the back of the house.  We also have Grandpa's office in the back.  So every morning, my son wakes up and runs to the back screen door and waits.  He takes his coffee and donut (ok, fine, his apple juice and waffle) and sits at his post until it is time.  As the sun comes up over the backyard fence, he gets more and more excited.  Soon, sure enough, his buddy comes up the back walk.  And my kid goes insane.  He is so excited to see Grandpa, he starts pounding on the door.

I happen to have (in my humble opinion) the world's greatest dad.  I also know that there are many who would agree with me.  So having this man in my son's life every day is pretty incredible.  And watching them wander around the backyard or play on the computer or fix the door brings tears to my eyes every time.  And part of it is shame.  I am ashamed to acknowledge what a baby I have been about all of these recent life changes.  Because, as it turns out, they are really, really good for two people that I love. 

Maybe I should just shut up.  Yeah, that's not going to happen.  But with each passing day, I do appreciate more and more how things out of our control can sometimes be good.  Sometimes.  I'm not saying that is the case for me.  Just saying.  Maybe, possibly, sort of, kinda, it is possible that I was wrong.  Maybe.

I Hate Walmart

Hi folks.  Sorry for the lack of posts last week.  The site was having trouble.  But we're back on track!

Before I continue, please let me say that people who shop at Walmart on a regular basis are far smarter than I.  The prices there are WAY lower than other stores.  And for the same things.  Not to mention, of course, the fact that most are now "superstores" of some sort, at which you can purchase everything from cat food to your child's first prom date.

I, however, hate Walmart with a vengeance.  Some of it has to do with once being denied much-needed alcohol on a Sunday in a state that does not sell alcohol on Sundays.  Not exactly Walmart's fault, but I hold grudges.  Part of it has to do with the fact that I am a complete snob.  Target is my haven.  I could spend weeks and billions of dollars there.  Were I Bill Gates (oh, sorry, I'm dating myself--I mean that Facebook guy), I would have one in my backyard, complete with $30 swimsuits and a half-crazed checkout girl.  But Walmart?  WAY beneath my standards.  Why?  No clue.  Could be the decor.  Could be the size.  Could be the old people.  No idea.  But the number one reason why I hate Walmart is that I have had to deal with their attorneys before.  And let's just say the store's policy on lawsuits isn't exactly the stuff worthy of admiration.  It makes logical sense, sure, but it isn't exactly what you want your kids to grow up to be.  So there you go.

So...what am I doing today?  I am going to Walmart to pick up a sandbox I ordered for my kid.  It was a style that I had admired in posh kids magazines for months now.  I am very excited.  But what kills me is that I am getting it for literally half the price of those other magazines and for even less than normal sandboxes.  At Walmart.  Same product--half the price.  I could say "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" and all that.  But the truth is, I sold out.  My completely irrational "standards" have fallen.  Look out world, it's a whole new (though still bitchy) me.

The Willing Chef

I'm sure I have mentioned that I love to cook.  I love everything about it.  I love the mixing of ingredients, I love the use of fun kitchen tools, and, of course, I love the eating part.  I love it!

So, needless to say, as I was contemplating an undetermined time with more...well, time...I thought "ok, this will be a good opportunity to cook."  I envisioned making homemade tortillas for my son's lunches.  I thought of lavish dinner parties on the back deck for friends and family.  I considered tasty treats for playdates.  Ah, what a grand visionary I was.

The reality?  Yeah, we've had fast food for lunch most days.  And dinner has resulted in more frozen foods than I care to recount.  It's not that I haven't wanted to cook, it's that things just haven't worked out that way.  First, lunchtime sneaks up on us.  And I typically am running errands between morning and afternoon naps.  Second, my friends have crazy lives and getting them to come over from 4 to 5:15 for a dinner party is not exactly happening.  Third, it's been raining and cold so the deck is out of commission.  Fourth, I have found that the cookie dough that you break off into pieces (yes, I am even too lazy to scoop or mix) has received higher praise than I could get.  It's pathetic.

I haven't given up the dream, though.  Each week I buy stuff that would work for a great feast.  And I hold out hope that my veggie garden will some day produce a bountiful harvest.  Which will look nice on my counter before it grows mold and is tossed.  Sigh.  Great intentions, my friends.  Great intentions.

The Feminist Mystique

From http://www.sheknows.com/

The other night, I caught part of the brilliant film Tootsie on TV.  I hadn't seen it in years, but I remember thinking it was funny when I was a kid.  30 years later, I still think it's funny, but it really hit me this time around how avant garde the movie really was.

Sure, Dustin Hoffman dressing like a woman was somewhat "new" in the early 80s.  But this wasn't what surprised me.  It was the message that women working and being in charge was "new" that really set me off-kilter.  And I realized that it pretty much was new in the early 80s.  Sure, women had been in the workplace for decades, centuries even.  But because I am a child of the 80s, I hadn't really considered the fact that lots of women in high positions of power in the workplace has been something that has taken place within my lifetime.  That's totally surprising to me, because I was of the generation where I was taught that I could do anything and everything.  I assumed it was status quo.  So seeing how close in time things were different was a shock to me.  But perhaps I should have paid more attention as a kid.  Because what came as a big surprise later in life was that there are many who still disagree.  And what surprises me more is that I take no position on the subject.

A good friend of mine is brilliant.  She has a prestigous degree, does great things with her education and, without being overdramatic, she saves the world (literally) on a daily basis.  She also has an adorable, awesome kid and is thinking about staying at home with him for a while.  The problem?  The guilt.  She, too, was told she could do whatever she wanted.  And she set out to conquer the world.  May I add--she succeeded brilliantly.  So why is she made to feel guilty because she wants to focus on her family?  Why should she feel bad because she did it for 5 or 10 years instead of 30?  This one I can't figure out, but I feel it too.  The concept of either of us not working 24/7 (something we have been thrilled to do in the past) is distasteful to us because it is a HUGE change in mental focus.  Moreover, based on the responses of others, it is distasteful to those around us.  Sure, in my situation, I had no choice.  But it doesn't change the fact that, now that I spend time with my son on a daily basis, I get a lot of "when are you going back to never seeing him?"

Sounds a lot like "damned if you do, damned if you don't" to me.  Stay at home moms are skewered for not being "feminist" and working moms are chided for being horrible mothers.  Is there a middle ground?  For all of us, I certainly hope so.  Did we bring it on ourselves?  Probably.  But I wouldn't go back to the 50s, either.  I loved my job and loved working hard.  It's a strange quagmire that, if you really think about it, hasn't been present like this ever in the past.

I guess the answer is that life is long.  Maybe we should view it as a "work in progress."  At a minimum, we should do so to keep our sanity.  It's scary to think that there isn't full security-in a job, in a person, in a belief system.  But it's also freeing.  So, who do you want to be today?