O is for Optimistic

O is for Optimism.

Last year, on December 2 I learned that my company would be moving all operations to Birmingham, Alabama. I was pregnant. I was really scared. And hey, the holidays were right around the corner - so basically, I was a hot mess.

All is well today - I found a job when Ingrid was 18 weeks old. December 2, 2010 seems like a million years ago.

As I was tidying up our home office last night, I found an old file folder, creatively named JOB. I went through the documents that made the cut - resumes, cover letters, resume tip articles, job interview articles and networking articles - I mentally noted to stop printing so many random articles. Then, I thought about that trying time and what "stuff" I took from my old job to get my new job. No, not the colorful office supplies (although I do miss those fun binder clips...) - the "stuff" I learned at my old job was critical to scoring my new gig.

I won't go into the details of my old role - but basically, I supported a sales force of outgoing, friendly and above all, optimistic women. As time went on, this positive-thinking-optimistic-attitude rubbed off on me. Through observation and personal success - I came to learn that being optimistic is that special magic glue that makes a good idea stick. With a healthy dose of skepticism and an optimistic outlook - you figure out that everything has a way of figuring itself out. I know, it all sounds so "quotey" so "eye-rolly" but, I kid you not - I finally lost weight when I became optimistic about losing weight.

I'm not advocating for bubbly, annoying levels of positive thinking. But in order to land this job - I made sure that I didn't come across as needy (I desperately needed this job), fake (bubbly, annoying levels of positive thinking) or a pill to work with (will not complain).

Sometimes being optimistic isn't really an option - like, when you need to vent - or better said - bitch.

Sometimes you need to bitch to figure out what's really grinding your gears. Sometimes you need to bitch to bitch. And sometimes, you bitch to drag yourself and others down.

The last reason is the worst. And I've been doing too much of it lately. Bitching about money and then buying things. Bitching about my intake of nonsense - then drinking coffee all day. Bitching about my baby weight (hate that term) - then proceed to eat treats.

In order to keep with the season of merry and cheer - I'm attempting to keep the bitching to a minimum and keep the levels of optimism at a (reasonably) appropriate level.

Do You Know What Today Is, It's Our Anniversary...

If you recognize this song title, you may have worked at a fabulous retail location (such as Walgreens) during your formative high-school-to-collage years. You know those loved-but-hated songs that somehow played during every shift. Well, my hated-favorite was Tony Toni Tone's It's Our Anniversary. It's sticks in your head like caramel on an apple and it's terrible. Don't take my word for it:



Moving on to a less annoying note (ha!), Dan and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary this weekend.

It's no secret that I love birthday celebrations and I think I'm going to like this whole anniversary thing too.

First we rented bikes from the Urban Ecology Center (hidden gem!) and headed north on the Oak Leaf Trail. Enjoying the sunshine while talking and peddling like kids - perfect! Next, we headed to The Pfister for a couple's massage. Amazing. Or should I say, spAH-mazing. Now, Dan's only spa exposure to-date was our Kohler babymoon getaway back in January. As we enter the historic, breathtakingly beautiful Pfister spa, he turns to me and says "So, do they have like a pool or fireplace here?" Who knew he'd be such a spa snob. 

No, we didn't enjoy a pool or fireplace - but we did enjoy a relaxing, quite massage and I took my sweet time standing on the heated floors following the blissful experience (add this to my dream house checklist).

Then, we headed home, dressed Ingrid like a little bumble bee and handed out candy to our BayView trick-or-treaters with Grandma Carolyn. Ingrid was the sweetest little bee and as she snuggled up next to me as we watched the older kids cruise by - I thought about how she'll be joining them in a few years - but for now, she gets to snuggle with me and has no idea how processed sugar tastes (watch for pictures coming soon!).

Finally, we wrapped up the day with dinner at Roots. It was a little fancy without being fancy and the food was better than expected. I had the Mushroom Terrine, Dan had the steak and in keeping with celebratory traditions, we actually ate dessert and toasted with adult beverages. All and all - an anniversary success.

On our way home from dinner, Dan and I joked that our second year of marriage won't possibly be as dramatic or unpredictable as the first. I think we're both looking forward to a little stability and normal-ness this year. Then I remembered that we have an almost-seven-month old at home and we have no idea what the next year will be like, or sound like or feel like.

This weekend was about us, not Ingrid, and I'm so thankful we were able to pause, enjoy time with one another and indulge - here's to another year of fun! Broast!

The End. The Beginning. The Now.

I love fall. Who doesn't right? The colors, the Pumpkin Spice lattes, the boots, the sweaters, the comfort food. They are all welcomed changes. But yet, I always get a little bummed. No more flip flops, no more day-long sunshine, no more leisurely trips to the lake. Bummer. 

I wish I could say I loved change. Wouldn't that be lovely? To just roll along with the ups and downs with a smile on my face. 

The only thing that's constant in life is change. 

Ugh, it's so true and annoying! 

Truth is, I could stomach change if it didn't come with an "end." My marriage meant the end of Zache. My due date meant the end of being pregnant. My baby meant the end of limitless freedom that I didn't even understood I had. My job acceptance meant the end of my maternity leave/unemployment. 

I think that's why I'm drawn to multiple book sersis (Hunger Games? Anyone?) - the end is met with the anticipation of another wonderful beginning. 

I know, I know. My marriage means I jump from Z to A(tkinson). The end of my pregnancy meant actually having Ingrid. Ingrid now means everything (not in that annoying "I'm a mom now" way but in a "my heart is stretched and I can't believe anything can be so beautiful" way). My job means learning a new industry - in a good way.

This weekend I'll be packing up my summer clothes and happily bust out my sweaters, scarves and boots - while reminding myself to enjoy - and be in - the present moment rather than focusing on how lovey/awful the past was/how fun/scary the future will be.  

Daycare.

Tonight's a big night guys - we're meeting Ms. Chrissy and getting a tour of the ever-so-popular Caterpillar Room at Ingrid's new "school/daycare." I still remember that fateful day when I received the call that we indeed did "get in" to our number one daycare choice. What a weight off of our shoulders. Here's how it went down:

During my pregnancy, we toured one daycare, fell in love and stopped searching because A: I didn't have a job. B: We loved this particular center. Easy right? Not so fast Go-Go-Gadget.

Ingrid was about six weeks old when I learned that our number one choice was EVERYONE'S number one choice and our odds of getting in were slim-to-none. The rejection confirmed that we indeed, didn't get in. Oh well, I was unemployed.

Then I got a job offer. Fuck. Now what? When does she need to go? What can we afford? When is Dan going to work? Ahhh! We were manics. Hitting up every reputable daycare in the Oak Creek/St. Francis area Anything central to downtown was bat-shit expensive. Dan hit his breaking point when he toured four centers in three hours. This one didn't have the flexibility we need, this one was 20 miles away, this one just wanted a deposit, this one had a year long waiting list and this one had three kids in a corner crying with a TV blasting away. This one didn't feel right.

With a little persistence, I worked with our number one choice daycare to come up with a schedule that worked for Dan, Ingrid and myself and now - phew - SHE'S IN! Great ratio, great reputation, flexible, affordable. Check, check, check - love it!

Now the anticipation mounts. Will we like these teachers? Will Ingrid be happy? Be safe? Have fun? Be stimulated? Will I be a hot mess dropping her off next week? Will I cry at work (dreading that one).

I know that sending her to daycare part-time is the best decision for our family, right now. I'm curious to know how we'll all feel knowing that someone other than a close family member or friend is watching her - she'll be in good hands, just not ours for a few hours a week.

Hours in a Day...

I remember reading a Fitness (or was it Glamour?) magazine in college where a reader posed the question: "I don't have anytime to workout? What should I do?" - LoveHandles in Louisville. Or, the ever-popular "My family goes out to eat four nights a week. Help me with easy recipes!" - T.G.I.Friday's Addict.

I remember thinking that this poor women was really lacking in the organization department. How hard is it to find 45 minutes in the day, slap on some shoes and go to the gym - or talk a walk? Or, just hit up the grocery store of spending your money on at Chili's (or worse...Applebees. The horror!).

Well, Dan and I did our fast-food equivalent this week - we treated ourselves to a Veggie Pizza (plus sausage...) at Papa Murphy's. Doesn't that make us sound like a couple of food-snobs? In reality, we both gain about .2 pounds just looking at the Golden Arches.

Back to the issue at hand.

I think LoveHandles in Louisville was really struggling with was the guilt of spending yet another hour away from the house - and, away from her family. When I was home with Ingrid, I didn't feel an ounce of guilt when I would go to the gym, a coffee shop or over to a friend's house for a few hours of Bravo (ugh, when does Top Chef return!). I spent 24 hours a day with Ingrid - spending 23 or heaven-forbid, 22 hours was fine with me.

Now that I'm working full-time I seriously don't get how I'm supposed to make everything happen. Dan's a champ and does a better job than I do with keeping the house in order - I'd just like to go to the gym a few days a week, take a yoga class (or 12) and make dinner a few nights a week. Doesn't sound hard, but when you slice away eight hours a day for working, plus nursing, plus sleeping - I seriously don't get it. As much as I love being hyper-organized and have my "ducks in a row" (oh no - here come the work-phrases...) - I don't want to be chained down to a schedule and feel forced to go to the grocery store or the gym.

I feel like a whiny-snob complaining about this too - but it's a tough balance. Invest time in yourself or take away time with the family? I guess one viable option would be to stop putzing on the internet and do a yoga DVD at home. Like right now. But, I'd rather watch this week's Project Runway.

Preparation.

Confession, I'm a hoarder. An information hoarder. 

When I develop a new interest I tend to gather information to a fault. Cooking, sewing, yoga - you name it. Example - Dan gave me a sewing machine last year for my birthday and I have only created three items in over a year. I was too bogged down with checking out books from the library and scouring the internet for inspirational blogs to actually...sew. Information gathering, to a fault, at it's finest. 

Around Ingrid's 10th week, I started receiving emails with tips on going back to work. This was yet another painful reminder that I was unemployed. But, I happily deleted these emails and thought about how lucky I was to hang with Ingrid (and stay in elastic-waist pants all day long).

I'm pretty sure that Ingrid is now 18 weeks old (it's getting hard to keep track...) and with my start-date looming, I decided to hop online and search for "nuggets of wisdom" from other healthy, balanced, normal, quirky, fun, working (out-of-the-home) moms (if there isn't such a thing...). 

After ten minutes I wanted to throw my laptop out the window. Based on what I read, I prepared for the worst. I should just buy stock in Kleenex, because apparently I'll be sobbing the day away. Then at night, I'll be frantically running around the house trying to find clothes that fit. How appealing. Why am I doing this again? Oh yeah, to put food on the table and pay bills. 

Then, I came across this wisdom-nugget. The skies parted and there was hope of normalcy in my life. I found this on Real Simple's website:

 

Stop thinking of yourself as split into separate but equal roles: mother, worker, me. 

Listen to philosopher John Locke, who said that a person recognizes himself as the same being throughout his life, in different times and places. You are one person, indivisible, who just happens to wear many hats. And while I get that the weight of all those hats can wear you down, at least be happy you’ve got something important to do.

Exactly, I have something important to do. Be a good mom. Be good at work. Have fun. And be a good role-model to Ingrid. And have time to work out, read and be normal. Easy, right?  

New Gig.

After "my company" moved to Alabama - and after I stopped frantically applying to any job labeled "marketing." I sat back, looked at my edited resume and started applying to realistic opportunities that sounded like a good fit.

My "wish" list for the ideal job definitely changed since having Ingrid. I didn't want to spend 45 minutes a day in my car commuting to and from work. I wanted to be close to Ingrid's daycare. I didn't want to be a cog in a big corporation. This became apparent after two phone interviews with Milwaukee-based corporations. I couldn't even speak their language. I wanted to do something fun, something new, something challenging. I knew that this would be hard to do and with unemployment on the rise yet again (ugh, aren't we all sick of this yet?) - I couldn't be too choosy.

I start my new gig in a few weeks and I'm excited. I'm excited to be contributing to my household.To stop claiming unemployment benefits, to stop searching for new jobs, to stop creating cover letters, to stop receiving rejection letters. Lesson learned: keep updating your resume and stay in touch with your contacts.

This job meets the majority of my "wish list" items. Now, I'm preparing for new challenges:

I'm entering this job as a mom. Weird! I've attempted to read a few parenting blogs/websites for tips about going back to work. It sounds like I'll be a hot mess at first. Please feel free to share any tips for success. How do you balance the two and keep stay sane?

And challenge number two. Finding work-appropriate pants that fit.