Daycare Woo Hoos!

Well y'all may know about many of my daycare woes, like here and perhaps the one I unpublished about Daycare Diva. And of course there was the crack about me always feeding them Chicken Nuggets.

This week Boogs started a new Preschool based Center. We were obviously nervous. Why wouldn't we be when Diva always notified us that Boogs spent a lot of time in time outs-other parents always commented that when they saw him, he was in time out. And when I'd ask every day how he'd done, she'd answer "...better..." in a high pitch inflection that suggested that he was barely better.

So imagine our surprise and joy when they told us that he was great! They like him even. That was one of my big complaints about the other place, I just didn't think Diva liked him. They said he is really good, very lovey and wonderfully social. They think he's so cute because he runs up to greet each parent when they come. He's doing beautifully! I couldn't be happier.

And Kiki. Well he is in love with preschool. We got him into the one right downtown three days a week. I've been stressing though. I kept him at Diva's for another two days just having faith that preschool would suddenly have an opening for him full time. On the days he went to Diva's, he was NOT happy. He wanted to go to school. So on Friday, when no spots for full time had opened up, I talked to Boogs's school to see if they could take Kiki other two days a week. They said sure.

But, Friday morning while I stared zombie-like at my computer screen, the Preschool Teacher called me.

Me- Blah blah, this is Sassy.
Teacher- Hi Sassy, this is Preschool Teacher. I'm calling to make your weekend.
Me- Really?? (expectant pause)
Teacher- I'm calling you to offer Kiki a full time spot!
Me-Really!! OMG, I'm SO happy!! Thank you!!
Teacher-Actually I bumped a couple other kids off the list since I knew how desparate your situation is.
Me- You are SO getting a good Christmas gift this year!

Then I called Jim and Kiki. Jim was happy and Kiki screamed "OH!" and threw his arms up into the air (according to Daycare Dad). Today is Saturday and he wants to know why he's not going to school. He's kind of pissed at me.

So everyone is happy, I'm way less stressed and all is right with the world.

Oh, and because Kspin triggered some thoughts on the topic, I'll post something tomorrow. Of course her post is much better than mine, mine isn't all exciting. Just something I found very interesting.
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Who Can You Trust with Your Kids??

As we know, I'm a freak and a worrier. I can't help it. My chief goal in life is to get my children to adulthood without dying or being seriously permanently injured. I feel like something as awful as that happening to them is unlikely, but what I do worry about is their being victimized....

I know when I was in college the stats were 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 10 boys would be sexually victimized by the time they reached 18. Scary. I'm not trying to scare you though. But this is what I know- most of the attention to this is focused on protecting your children from adults...but what about other children?

I feel 100% comfortable with the adults in my children's lives, but not the kids. I don't know the other kids at daycare or school and if they are receiving inadequate supervision, something can happen.

And stuff DOES happen. When I worked in social work I met little kids who did very serious things to other children. Not just innocent play, I promise you. And it's important to know that if a child does perpetrate, its because, most of the time, they are a victim of someone else. They need help.

The reason I bring this up is because I learned that there is some serious lack of supervision at Daycare and some innocent but inappropriate things did occur when my kids were in their care. I'm not worried, I know nothing bad happened to my children. This time. But its time for a very un-fun phone conversation with Diva. And I am now relieved about the decision we made to pull them.

So, have you had that discussion with your children, on who can touch and see their privates and who can't? Have you told them this applies to other children too? How did that conversation go? Do they know its ok to say no to someone, including other kids even if they are afraid it will hurt that kid's feelings? I just did. Sucks doesn't it.
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I Know, Right?

At my new job there is a person whose sole job is to keep the coffee brewing in all the buildings on the campus and in each department.

She makes sure oatmeal, soup and condiments are stocked. She loads and unloads the dishwashers throughout the day.

And on Wednesday she fires up the popcorn machine and makes popcorn for everyone. On Friday she fires up the ice cream machine and sets out toppings.

Last Friday was Root Beer Float Day. Oh, with the YUM!

Right now? I'm eating a donut. There's a birthday being celebrated in my department. Frankly when I realized the birthday boy was born the year I was a junior in high school, I was unable to resist stuffing myself with flour and sugar.

Thank God my new compnay also pays for my gym membership.
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TGIF

Today is the last day that I have to pack Logan's lunch for school until September.

And all God's people said, "Amen".


What are you thankful for today?
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WFMW: Summertime, Kids and Working Moms

Shannon over at Rocks in my Dryer is asking for suggestions for entertaining kids during the summer. I'm eager to hear some good ones myself, because as a parent to an only child, I often am called on to play. And can I just say that after several days of playing H-O-R-S-E with Logan's new basketball hoop, I'm about to lose my mind.

As a working mom, my suggestion is to sign you kid(s) up with a good Summer Camp Program. I'm excited about the one we chose for Logan for a couple of reasons.

For one thing they have themed weeks with activities and field trips to compliment. And the field trips aren't lame Chuckee Cheese outings either. These kids are going to Sleeping Bear Dunes, Great Wolf Lodge, Wilderness Adventure and other really cool places. So that is fabulous in my opinion and Logan should be pretty worn out by the time I pick him up at 4:45pm every night.

The thing that sealed the deal for me, however, is that lunch is provided. I hate packing lunches with ever fiber of my being. But I do it every day and I do it with love. Except for this summer. When I get a much deserved break. (Well, except that I'll still be packing my husband's.) (Every day.) (For the rest of my life.)

When we get home from work and school/day camp we like to play outside. In addition to games like H-O-R-S-E (I'm assuming everyone knows this game. Here's a link for those who don't), we also play 4-Square (link provided. You're welcome.), Tennis, Ride Bikes and Search for Bugs.

We'll also invite his cousin over to play. That gives me a break from having to keep up with my almost six year old, and gives Sassy some alone time with Boogs.

But you know what my kid really likes? Projects. He's like his daddy and wants to be productive. So I'll have him clean out my car. Or help me cook dinner. Or organize my Tupperware cupboard. Or weed the garden. He digs that. And, well...I like to watch BRAVO and sit in the sun and read. So it works out really well for both of us.

If you want more suggestions, go see Shannon.



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Ms. Tyrant: Bossland Diaries

Today HB said I could write about whatever I felt like. I guess I could proclaim my love of the not so loved radical film maker (again), or talk about how I am sad about women being treated as chattel in many foreign lands. But instead I think I'll write another installment of bossland diaries. In honor of HB having a better job.

To help her to feel even more happy and grateful for her new employer, lets share some more nightmare stories.

Ok, imagine a wide eyed, bushy tailed Sassy who had just graduated from graduate school. She is working a temp job with a research institute for children, something she really would have loved and enjoyed to stay at, but sadly it was just a temp spot.

While job searching I came across a job working with a Native American tribe in Northern Michigan. Not only Northern Michigan, but about 20 minutes from where HB lived and an 1.5 hours from where JimmyEW and I originally said we always wanted to live. It was a Program Coordinator position for their Tribal Housing Department and I was SO excited. See, we're part native. Just enough to know it, but not enough to access any of the culture. 1/8th. So barely. So I had always had a dream of working with tribal populations so I could someday have a way into the culture without being a big fat poser.

I hounded the HR department, I went down for an interview. It seemed nice enough and the pay was fine, she told me she really liked me but she'd have to fight Tribal Council on it since I was non-native. That was fine. Then I went into a very long wait. I'd call the HR agent and ask for updates, he'd say something like "well, she really wants you, she's impressed with your degree (eye roll, waste of a gazillion dollars) but they don't think they can hire you for this position. BUT there is another position they'd like to look at you for." That happened twice and it was finally the Agency Advocate position that made my eyes grow wide with excitement

It sounded awesome, I am the consummate advocate. After much waiting and hand ringing, they offered me the position. I jumped at it, took the job and moved to Northern Mi. JimmyEW stayed in Detroit (not the burbs, we lived in the city) and waited for the right job to come along for him (it took its time, he came 7 months later).

I started working, but I immediately noticed it. The atmosphere. People were on edge ALL.THE.TIME. And I noticed that people seemed to have a different idea of what my job was than I did. They kept treating me like I was a grant writer. Let me tell you, writing grants makes me cry. I was a social worker, I wanted to work with people, I wanted to empower people.

The boss, we'll call her Ms. Tyrant (which is what people in other departments referred to her as) would constantly try to squelch any effort I made to try to help a tribal member. She forbid me to do it. So I'd resorted to meeting people on my lunch hour to help them.

Finally, I talked to Housing Consultant, he was like the "real" Housing Director who was training my boss to be a better leader. He showed me the job description and as I read through it I kept saying "mine didn't say this, mine didn't say that, wait! Mine said this and this." Thankfully I had a copy and showed it to him. He just shook his head and muttered something about Ms. Tyrant changing it.

Fine. Whatever. In the meantime she, after having interviewed me twice and having seen me every day for two weeks, decided I shouldn't have a nose ring. This infuriated me! My nose ring is so dainty and hardly noticeable. And it was only because of a toxic co-worker who complained about it, that she decided to have a problem. Ms. Tyrant had NEVER EVEN NOTICED IT until Toxic Coworker got loud. So I tried in vain to cover it up and finally had it removed. I cried a lot. I had gotten that nose ring with one of my best friends as a grad school grad present. ...sigh

As if that wasn't enough, she'd go into screaming tirades and she had a weird relationship with her secretary...it was reminiscent of a batterer and victim. It weirder me out. I guess she once went over the edge and thrown files at her cowering secretary. That was before I came. I was miserable, alone without JimmyEW, no friends really and in a job where my pulse would stop whenever I heard my boss clopping down the hallway toward me. On really bad days I'd stop by HB's house and hold a crying Logan, whispering into his ear that I understood how he felt. lol.

Other things Ms. Tyrant would do was purposefully try to break my spirit. We'd have a presentation by the Domestic Violence group, they'd ask for some volunteers to help organize stuff. Ms. Tyrant would say "Does anyone want to help out?" I'd raise my hand and she'd say "anyone besides Sassy." Just so I couldn't do something I enjoyed. She did spit like that a lot.

Finally a position in the department came open that really was working with people. I applied for it. My boss would be my friend Deb, and a buffer between me and Ms. Tyrant. Deb had to fight Ms. Tyrant on it, but finally she acknowledged I was the most qualified to work with the membership. Big sigh of relief.

Not long after I moved over into the new position, Toxic co-worker declared war on Ms. Tyrant, filed a grievance and got her fired. Ms. Tyrant appealed, they had a hearing, they wanted me to testify. I was terrified. I did testify, but I wanted to throw up the whole time. And I sort of lied. They asked me if Toxic co-worker had talked to me about the situation, and she had, but I didn't remember when it was and it had no bearing on the truth of our work environment, so I said no. But I still felt bad.

Afterwards Ms. Tyrant got in the last jab.

She said, "Sassy, its ok. I understand"

I was like, what hell?? I'm certain she was trying to make sure I would feel guilty forever. Certain. It sort of worked.

Anyway, my job got considerably better. Housing Consultant became in the interim director and he was a great nice man. I was able to work with the people, connect to other helping agencies to assure the members had resources for their needs and even helped start and facilitate a neighborhood improvement organization. I was most proud of that.

I was always treated well by the people there, I made some good friends and had access to the culture I had so longed to learn about. But, alas, all things come to an end. The tribe started having money problems and they had too many members out of work. They started to bump people who were not native so they could employ the tribal members. My name appeared on that list.

Housing Consultant guy went to bat for me, he lobbied to change my position to require a masters degree so I wouldn't be in danger. Even though he succeeded with that, I still didn't feel safe. So I told him I was looking for work elsewhere. That was hard. I found a job shortly after working for a woman who was my boss but became a much loved friend. But that is another story.

I'd like to thank Ms. Chic for letting me take and doctor the above photo. Of course she doesn't know I'm sticking it up on the blog. Sorry Ms. Chic.

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Didja Know I'm a Dork.com

I made it through my first week at work. As fabulous as the company seems, and as nice and friendly as everyone is, I still managed to embarrass myself numerous, numerous times. In really awful ways.

<--- This is me. I'm professional, and gracious, and very cool, if I do say so myself. I usually walk through life feeling pretty darned OK about myself. And sometimes? Sometimes God decides to be all funny and put me in my place. There is just no other explanation.

I'll just go through the list of the most embarrassing things I did. This is-by far-not a full accounting of all the faux pas of my first week at my new job. Not by a long doggone shot.

1. My first couple of days consisted of company orientation and training on our intranet, phone system and the like. After lunch Monday afternoon I had a three hour session and I was going to be a few minutes early. I decided to just go down early and get settled in and wait. I got to the training room and saw that there were already a few people also waiting for our session to begin. I strolled in all,

"Hi! How are you all doing? Looks like we're all a bit early, huh?"

Which was met by stares. Proceeded by a voice saying,

"Um, we'll be finished up here in just a few minutes then your class will begin."

Oh.

2. I sat down at the conference table for my first departmental meeting. I was feeling pretty good about how the day was going, how much I will enjoy working in this department and what I will eventually have to offer my team. Then. THEN. I felt a breeze, if you will. I looked down and realized I had some XYZ-PDQ going on. Allll the waaay down. Nice.

3. My new boss had me accompany her to a meeting so I could get a taste for the company, our goals and how we operate. I was hungry. My hunger made itself loudly apparent. During the meeting. In front of everyone. Including my boss. Did I mention how loud it was?

4. A guy in my department was sick. He was blowing his nose, taking medicine, looking a bit like death warmed over. His eyes seemed a bit watery-you know how eyes look when you're sick, right?

I wanted to commiserate with him because I'm the new girl and I need to make some friends. Plus, I felt bad for him. As we were chatting, I said,

"Yeah, I can tell you don't feel good because your eyes are all glassy."

And he said, "Well, one eye is fake."

I am making such a great impression.


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Gone Fishing

I started my new job this week and I am in the midst of deep training. I am loving every minute of it too.

This company is amazing, my friends. Every day I learn something new about it and am a little more grateful that they chose me.

I have worked for companies that treat you like a number. Produce the results, screw the people. It chipped away at morale, my happiness and my confidence. This company really cares. They have perks unlike any I have ever heard of or seen.

To show my gratitude, I'm going to actually, you know, work. Therefore, posting may be limited for awhile. I need to get settled in, learn my job, come home and be with my family. Sometimes this ol blawg here can really suck up my time. And my life.

Whether you work full-time, or stay home with your kids, answer me this: When the heck do you find the time to write your posts? And when do you find the time to read your favorite bloggers? My reader is so bogged down with unread posts it's about to explode.

I was tempted to mark them all as read, but I'm afraid of missing something. Like maybe June had another bout of noisy gas in front of her new boss. I need to know stuff like that. Plus, I don't want to miss any of Dr. M's rants or Ashlee's basement updates or Saintseesters Crap on Her Desk Wednesdays. And I've gotta stay on top of Nester's move. She may give something away.

And don't forget about my love of TV. I'm just sayin'.

So, help a sister out. How do you do it all?

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In Which I Am A Freak.

Many of you have asked how my interview went last week. I wasn't going to post about it until I either a) get offered the job, or b) am told they never want to see me again thankyouverymuch.

But doggone Sassy keeps bugging me to let you all know how it went, and we all know that I do whatever-the-heck she tells me to. It's the beauty (and frustration) of our relationship.

My interview was last Friday. Of course I had not one appropriate piece of clothing to wear so I went shopping. My seven year old niece Brea was in town visiting, so I took her along. Now, I hate shopping. A lot. It frustrates me to no end.

As I was wandering around the store (unable to see anything I liked), Brea trailed behind me and in her sweet voice she would say things like:

"Aunt HB. If you had your choice between a brown and pink skirt, a yellow and green skirt or a white and lavender skirt which would you want?" and,

"Aunt HB, isn't this the most beautiful dress? Why don't you try it on?" also,

"Aunt HB, I think my mom would LOVE this shirt. Can we call her?"

She was in her glory as any seven your old girl would be. I only wanted to cry or shoot myself in the head. We browsed a little more and I took her home for lunch with promises of going swimming later at Uncle Tom's hotel. She was satisfied and I escaped Mall-Hell.

When we got home, Tom was there and he could see I was rattled. He understands what a freak I become when I shop. Although he was busy digging holes (or something) in the yard, he decided to come to my rescue. My straight guy whipped out his queer eye and we got in the car and drove to Macy's.

There he was walking around the store in his dirty jeans, work boots and baseball cap in the women's section acting all "Tim Gunn". Within 10 minutes flat Tom spied with his little eye perfection in a swing jacket with 3/4 length sleeves. I tried it on, loved it, bought it.

During the interview, I felt good and I looked good. My answers were smart, I was gracious and confident. I made them laugh.

They seemed very impressed with my experience and qualifications. Then. Then, one of the Human Resource ladies said, "HB. You are a very high-energy person. Do you think you would be happy with this position?"

Goodbye Mojo. Where I once felt I was rockin' the old interview, I now felt like this:

I addressed their concern to the best of my ability. While they feel I exude energy, I know I am really just a lazy-butt at heart. When I get home, I'm counting down the minutes until it's time to watch Rock of Love or Top Chef. I'm not running around being the life of the party. I was really thrown by that question.

When I talked to my friends though, they said that I do put off a high-energy vibe. Is that such a bad thing? I don't know.

Anyway, they are doing a few more first-round interviews this week and then calling back their favorites for second interviews next week.

I'm praying I get a call back. I just believe this job would be perfect for my life and I know I would be an asset to the company.

And if I do get called back, I'm looking for someone to hook me up with some Xanax so I don't freak anyone out with my crazy-energizer-bunny-self.

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Sometimes you need a little "Come to Jesus"

We celebrated all weekend. We ate, drank, laughed, smoked candy cigarettes and played WII until the early hours. We were massaged, facial-ed, manicured and catered to. And the entire time I was unable to relax and enjoy my time with my sisters the way I wanted.

I had that constant, anxious feeling in my stomach. You know the one I'm talking about. It just gnaws and depresses and fills you with a big ol ugly ball of dread and worry. You try to pretend it's not there, put on a happy face and go through the motions.

And if you're lucky like I am, you have someone like Sister Big who has a "come to Jesus" with you before you get in your car to drive home.

Big said "Honey Bunch, I want you to take the next month and focus on getting a new job. This one is sucking the life right out of you." It seems that she found my behavior a tad bit worrisome. I've lost my mojo and instead of partying like a rock star (Who am I kidding? Partying like a rock star's boring older sister) I sat back and watched everyone else have fun.

We discussed how different I've been since I had Logan. How my postpartum depression threw me off balance and I lost my self-confidence. I continually sell myself short. I Accept jobs that are not a good fit or below my level of qualifications. I get bored or stressed and look for something new, which means constant change and little peace. (Ya'll wish you had your own Sister Big, don't you? She's good at the little "sit-downs".)

It has become a vicious cycle that needs to stop. Now. Because I am ready to enjoy my life. Experience the moment and not feel unsettled and worried. I'm ready for change.

So, today I will begin networking. I will assume I will get a position where I can make a difference. Today I will believe that I will find the best job where I can have the biggest impact. Where I can build a fulfilling career for a long time to come.

I believe positive thinking makes a huge difference. I believe in the power of prayer. Who's with me?


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Bossland Diaries: Internship from Hell

Last night I received no less than 2 texts and one phone call from Honey Bunch asking for me to please find her another job. She's on the road and doesn't have a Blackberry so that leaves me to do her bidding. As much as I am her Svengali, I declined, opting to snuggle with my darling husband who I hadn't seen all weekend long. But she got me thinking about some crazy work experiences we've had, and I've decided to share one of my more awful ones.

Currently I love where I work (the picture to the right is me working in my basement dwelling). I work for a technology company which has absolutely nothing to do with the degree I have. I have a Masters in Social Work which I got from a very prestigious school (that was way over rated in my opinion) and paid about a gajillion and five dollars for it. But while working on my practicum, and after starting my career in Social Work, I came across three of the worst bosses I've ever had in my entire life. I guess I should put out there that one Boss had nothing to do with social work and was just a crazy woman someone gave a job to. I'm not kidding.

My wonderful supervisor during my second internship placement would say that social workers are either people who really do want to help and make a difference or they have been very hurt themselves and tend to lean a bit toward crazy. They are often wounded birds. I think she was on to something there.

Anyway, one of my bosses was my first placement supervisor, and this woman was in charge of a school based program in inner city Detroit. She was a very overbearing woman who had a degree in engineering but apparently found her calling doing community work. That is all fine and good except that she had absolutely no social skills at all when it came to lording over supervising her slaves student workers. She is the cause of one of my most horrifying experiences.

A Christian Jordanian woman (I'll name her S) came to the school seeking shelter after her husband beat her up. Evil Supervisor takes pictures of her bleeding and bruised body then suggested to me that this woman, who had just fled her home with her children, should PAY for the development of the pictures as "a way to empower her". Could I roll my eyes any louder? I nixed that fast, but that should have been my first warning about Evil Supe.

S had no place to go, spoke very little English and since I used to work at a domestic violence shelter while in undergrad she became my sole responsibility. So S goes into hiding while I spent much of my time trying to assist her as best I could with the meager resources in the community. I drove her to her appointments and spent a million dollars in cell phone minutes calling her cousin who could translate for us. It was exhausting and draining being her sole advocate and attending grad school so I made it my goal to locate an agency that she could go to that would help her better than I.

One morning I got an email from Evil Supe telling me she's made an appointment for me with S's battering spouse at 1pm. Ok, its bad enough that she's making an appointment FOR me but making it with a batterer when I am his wife's advocate...that was another thing. It's near 11 when I read this and S had planned to come meet me at the school to fill out some paperwork. Well, guess who shows up at 11? Yep, Batterer.

So I'm freaking out because she's there, the kids are there and he's there! Well chaos ensues, he gets a hold of the kids and I ended up playing a pretty good game of liar with him while my fellow students sneak S out of there. But now she doesn't have her kids and for the most part I'd like to thank Evil Supe for that.

Later, I had the displeasure of meeting Batterer in court while trying to get a Personal Protection Order for S. That was terrifying! He was in my face shouting at the top of his lungs and two armed guards had to intervene. Did I mention I'm only 5 foot zero and no match for a large angry man? He even had a lawyer with him. Thank god his lawyer was a jack ass and pissed the judge off, that worked in our favor.

After chaos happened I decide to have a boundaries conversation with Evil Supervisor. Her answer to what happened was this.

"Sassy, Sassy. You have to understand, I meant to hit 11 but the #1 key sticks and it only typed one of my 1's. "

She said as if I would say, "Oh? Well alright then. As long as it was just a sticky key..."

However I said back, "Evil Supervisor. You should NEVER be making any appointments for me with the batterer of a woman I'm advocating for. EVER EVER EVER. You just don't do that in Domestic Violence. He could have talked to any of the other slave students you lord over supervise."

"Well Sassy, I don't have the experience in DV so I didn't know."

"I understand Evil Supervisor, but when you don't know you ASK FIRST!!!! Oh, and I'm leaving and never coming back."

Ok, that wasn't exactly what I said. I'm sure I was meek and terrified when I explained what was wrong with what she did and why I was leaving. And I wasn't the only student who left after her awful treatment. Just before I left another quit after she verbally abused him in front of all of us.

But telling her I was quitting was one of the scariest things I've had to do. The look on her face made me want to flinch because I swear I could see in her eyes the desire to hit me. I cut out of there so fast and never looked back. That woman scared the ever loving spit out of me and it became terribly obvious when, a few weeks later, I had a dream that she tried to rape me. Awful huh? It was terrifying and I guess it just spoke to how awful she made me feel while I was working there.

After I left I still worked with S until I found an organization that would be able to help her. She cried when I handed her off and to this day feel like I didn't do the best of job passing her along as I could have. Another skeleton in my closet. I often wonder if she made it to Florida where she had family, if the kids were ok, if he ever found them. I worry she went back. I worry about a lot of the people I've run into through my course of working in the social work field. Are they ok, are children safe, will the girls grow up strong and the boys grow up gentle or will they all repeat the cycle they've been exposed to. All these questions, no answers...only hope for them.

During this brief experience I think God sprinkled people around me to help me, like the Victims Advocate at the court who went up on our behalf to talk to the judge and the Parking Lot Prince who, not only let me park for free, but gave me a Ten dollar bill to give to S (I told him what he puts out there will come back to him three-fold so the next time I went there I tipped him $30). Those of you who think there are no good people in the world, or in a city like Detroit, I beg to differ.

Image provided by this guy. I have taken this same picture however it was with my film camera so I had to borrow his.

So, do share your most awful work stories in our comments. Lets make HB feel better about working for a lying liar who lies.
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Working Parent VS Stay Home Parent

Picture above pretty much sums up my weekend

I know this can be a touchy topic for some, but this isn't what you think. Just keep reading. Ok, I've done both. I'm currently a working mom and I was a Stay Home Mom (SAHM) for a year. And let me tell you it is SO much harder, at least for me, to be a stay home parent. I mean, working full time has a lot of struggles, don't get me wrong. But working almost seems like a vacation sometimes. Now granted I don't do grueling work that requires me to be on my feet 8 hours a day, so please keep in mind I'm just speaking for myself, a woman who works an office type job. This is just the difference between the two worlds as I experienced it.

When you stay home you have someone hanging on you every second of every minute of every hour of every day looking to you to meet all of their needs. It is exhausting to be utterly responsible for every whim and desire of a little one.

And I don't fall all over myself spoiling them and giving them whatever they want. But I do fall all over myself mediating arguments, wiping noses, getting them dressed and undressed, trying to keep them occupied with something other than the TV in my small condo, keeping them out of the puddles and getting them to and from the car with both boots still on. They demand constant attention and if you have kids like mine they are very loud and rambunctious from daybreak until they talk themselves to sleep at night (which Kiki does).

And let me say that my kids are very good kids, I get nothing but glowing reports from daycare, but they have tons of energy and they wear.me.out. I don't care how many people work under you, how much you're responsible for how many deadlines you have. They cannot be more demanding than two young kids. And at least you can go to the bathroom whenever you want to without little eyes prying or hands trying to open the door.

Now obviously I'm not a stay home mom anymore, but every other weekend I feel like one in the sense I'm mostly on my own that entire weekend. JimmyEW works from when they get up, till time for me to go to bed and is gone the next morning before sunrise. I know its grueling for him, (if you want to feel sorry for him instead of me you can read about his working weekends here). But staying home is exhausting for me in a whole different way.

And this is why its so exhausting. Kiki talks ALL.THE.TIME. and when he isn't talking or singing he's meowing...or cock-a-doodle-do-ing. God love him. And Boogs, well, he's two. Need I say more? Not old enough to talk well, too young to do a lot on his own, but wanting to be just like Kiki or Daddy and do everything. Usually the outcome is him going slack and screaming on the floor.

I deal with his freak outs in stride but it was way more fun last weekend at the mall when I became the lady people look at and whisper "she should spank that kid". If you'd been in our little mall you would have witnessed me walking with a big smile on my face and a screaming kicking two year old flung over my shoulder. As he screamed, I laughed and just said over and over in a sing song voice, "I Love you, I Love You."

They probably thought I was terribly permissive but oh well, I really didn't care what people thought. He was mad we were leaving the play place and we had to leave, so since I'm bigger I exerted my will on him. I am the Queen Mother after all.

On weekends like these, when I find myself awash in the stress and chaos of the being locked alone with them all day, I have a little trick to keep me sane and I'm going to share it with you.

This is my iPod, the best Mothers Day gift EVER! Thank god for this little gadget. I don't totally plug in and ignore the kids, I always have one ear bud out, but I play my calming soothing music and it helps keep me sane. I'm able to listen to the sweet sounds of Regina Spektor and sing along while meeting my children's demanding needs. And my NPR podcasts allow me to have a little adult companionship when I crave and need it most. So iPod+Stressed Sassy=Happy.

I think because I had my stint as a SAHM I am able to see how much of a better mother I am now than I was before. Because of this I get to bypass one of the biggest symptoms Working Moms have. Working Mom Guilt. Just read Sister HB's posts. I have none of that.

Sometimes when they're sick I have it, but for the most part I know they are well cared for and are having fun with two people who love them (Daycare Diva and Daddy) and when I get to chit chat, play with pictures and write blog articles in my email when I should be pretending to work. Sure I'd love to work less hours, but I really do need a full time job and high paying jobs working part time are few and far between. So, until I become a Rock Star in...something...and find myself independently wealthy, I am content.

In Summary (my 9th grade English teacher would be so proud of that transition!), my two carrier monkeys are part of why I lean toward crazy. Many days I marvel at myself for the level of patience I have with them. Mostly because I'm on the inside screaming "LEAVE ME ALONE FOR A MOMENT", but I am curiously able to remain relatively calm during my crabby moments. And when I don't, a few minutes later I'm always apologizing for being crabby and telling them I love them no matter what. Even when I'm mad and even after they have a French Fry throwing game in the car. I tell them no matter what I love them, and I think they believe me or else they'd stop being naughty.

So (oh crap, I guess Mrs. Bargo would've failed me for messing up that transition!) as much as we talk about the struggles of being a working mom, I truly truly appreciate and respect those that stay home because I couldn't hack it. If you want to read a blog of a truly amazing stay home mom that I've know and admired for four years, visit Melz Midnight Brew. She's cute, spunky and has a gaggle of adorable children she cares for daily! Or you can visit my Sister 7.

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It Seems Our Job Here is Done

Tom and I like to joke about how Logan pretty much raises himself. We're here just in case of fire.

I struggle to stay one step ahead of my kid. He often trips me up and catches me sleeping on the job of being his mom.

He reminds me to help him with him homework, makes sure I am planning to attend a meeting with his teacher, remembers things I miss on the grocery list and lets me know that his car seat straps aren't nearly tight enough. While it's all very helpful, it tends to make me feel a little bit like crap.

One day I was driving through McDonald's to get a diet coke. When it came time for me to pay, I could not find my money anywhere. I looked all through my purse, my briefcase, my car. It was no where to be found and I was certain I had put cash in my bag that very morning.

I pulled into a parking space (which I am sure thrilled the hungry people behind me waiting for their Big Macs) to continue the search. Finally, I did the one thing I had been putting off. I called my (then) four year old son for help.

Logan was at Sassy's house being watched by his Uncle Jim. It would be a lie to say I was not a whole lot embarrassed to have Uncle Jim ask Logan where I put my money that morning. Jim kept asking me if that's what I really intended for him to ask. Finally he did.

And sure enough, my boy had the answer. He got on the phone and let me know that I had thrown the cash in my red lunch bag. Then he went back to playing with his dinosaurs. I felt very foolish, and yet I was thrilled to be able to get my fountain pop.

Tonight I took Logan out for ice cream. As we sat at the table chatting about the importance of football and hockey jerseys (they are critical to his happiness), skiing (he wants to be on the bunny hill a little bit longer thank you very much) and Spring break (he called his grandma and sisters Big and Redd and made plans to spend it with them) he looked at me and said "Mom, if there is a fire, I will grab my coat and you get your purse, OK?".

I started to worry that perhaps my work here really is done. But then I looked at my kid with chocolate ice cream glommed all over his face and his shoes on the wrong feet and his hand that always needs to be touching me and realized we still have a long road ahead of us, thank you God.

It will just be easier during an emergency. He'll be able to remind me to grab my photo albums and purse on our way out the door. And there's nothing wrong with that.
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WFMW: My Boss is a Lying Liar who Lies and then asks me to Lie too.

Earlier this morning, I published a Works For Me Wednesday question asking for help remembering birthdays. It's not an issue that is really important in the grand scheme, I know. Which is why I am posting again with a different crappy problem.

I inherited a mess when I accepted my job in December. Angry condo owners whose needs have been ignored. Disgusted business owners who are not being paid for work performed. Realtors annoyed at the future of the development.

Being the Mary Sunshine I am, I assumed it was all just a big misunderstanding and I could fix it all and make everyone happy. LalalaLalala...

The developer of my property (my boss) informed me that most of the condo owners were severely delinquent and that I need to collect the cold hard cash immediately. After dealing with angry residents who really did not owe us any money, I decided to do my own fact-checking. I found approximately 25% of the owners on the list were carrying a balance. And that amount was very small.

I updated my boss on my findings and found it odd that he didn't seem surprised with the news, just angry.

Last Friday I walked into my office to find 9 shut-off notices from the light company, and service suspension from the waste removal company.

I can't get warranty work done on appliances because we haven't paid the bills. I can't advertise the property for the same reason. And our snow removal company was refusing to come out because they hadn't been paid since October. I'm. In. Michigan. 'Nuff Said.

Yesterday, I was preparing to invoice the condo owners for their quarterly water and sewer bills. Many of them have already paid, estimating the amount they thought they would be assessed. My boss told me to bill those same owners the full amount anyway. When I questioned if I should carry the credit to the next quarter, or have them subtract the amount they already paid, he told me to do neither. Bill them the whole amount. Collect the whole amount. Unless they ask, don't tell.

Of course I have no intention of doing anything so unethical. But I am a working mom and I do need my job while I look for a company that won't screw over the people they serve and the people who serve them. What would you do?


Now go help others solve their WFMW problems at Rocks In My Dryer.





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Cooking with Sistah Honey Bunch and her kid.

It's really important to me that my family start their day with a good breakfast. Tom used to think a good breakfast meant a waffle. A frozen waffle. Every. Single. Solitary. Day.

I have since taught him to appreciate the beauty of good old fashioned oatmeal, eggs and toast and bran cereal. (I haven't been able to bring him around to Big Mama Jean's gravy and eggs or grits.)

Much to Logan's great disappointment I am not a pop-tart or sugary-cereal kind of mom. He never fails to remind me how his Uncle Russ and Aunt Sister Big gave him Fruit Loops when he spent the week end at their house.

Every time the commercial comes on I get to hear how I am unfair and basically ruining his life when it comes to his breakfast choices. Whatevah.

I hate crabby mornings and try to avoid them at all costs. We struggle over what to wear (apparently I am awful for not buying my son the appropriate sports jerseys) and what to eat while I am trying to get myself ready for work.

By the time we head out the door to wait for the school bus so I can leave for my office, I realize that I have forgotten to eat my own breakfast. And I am feeling awful that the morning was not peaceful for any of us.

In order to solve this problem AND spend some fun time in the kitchen with Logan, we made a de-li-cous breakfast casserole to enjoy for upcoming week.

We also made blueberry muffins (for a snack in the evenings) and mmmm-mmmm-YUM! Turkey Chili Cornbread Casserole (Stay tuned until next week for this recipe. You'll be glad you did.)

Logan loves to cook. In the grocery line yesterday he told me and his dad that he thinks he just might become a chef. While I think that's fabulous, I wonder how he'll be able to afford the lifestyle I plan on him providing for me in my old age.

Our breakfast casserole will last most of the week and will be so easy to pop in the microwave in the morning while I curl my eyelashes.

The ingredients are simple. The recipe is quick and easy. I'm no P-Dub or Sister Big, thank you very much.

But I am fancy enough to add a little dollop of salsa on top. It's not ready to eat at our house until the hot sauce or salsa has been applied.

It is really good, ya'll. And very easy. If you need a protein-rich breakfast to kick start your day, I highly recommend you make it. It'll let you sleep in an extra few minutes too.

CHEESY SAUSAGE & EGG BAKE

Isn't this a great picture? Sassy took it with my crappy camera while our kids destroyed my house. Hey, as long as they stayed out of the kitchen, I didn't care what they were doing.

1 pound pork sausage cooked (while this was cooking, Logan said the smell reminded him of Mackinac Island. We vacation there every August and I'm not sure if he is referring to the daily breakfast buffet or all the horses on the island. Weird.)

1 1/2 cups sliced mushrooms

1/2 cup green onions

1 1/2 cups chopped tomatoes

2 cups mozzarella cheese

1 1/4 cups Bisquick mix (See! I told you it was easy!)

1 cup of milk

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

1/2 teaspoon pepper

12 eggs

1. Heat oven to 350. Grease 13x9x2 baking dish. Layer sausage, mushrooms, onions, tomatoes and cheese in dish.

2. Stir in remaining ingredients until blended. Pour over cheese.

3. Bake uncovered 30-35 minutes or until golden brown.
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I'm Getting Out of My Own Way.

I am my own worst enemy. It's true. If it wasn't for me, I would be thin. I would have more money. My skin would glow. I wouldn't have bags under my eyes. I would be more successful. I wouldn't be tired.

Why am I not all this?

Because I don't put the Doritos down when I know I should. I don't drag my fat butt off the couch and go for a walk.

I choose jobs that aren't necessarily the best fit.

I don't drink enough water, I eat too much processed crap and I forget to buy my Eucerin Q10.

I don't take chances , speak up and show my talents, close my eyes and jump.

I don't go to bed on time.

Why don't I do these things? Because I am an idiot. A lazy-ass. I am comfortable being "just enough".

I want to read that last chapter, watch Frasier and check out the latest on TMZ. Popcorn sounds good at 9:00pm and Diet coke sounds good all day long.

I don't want to make waves. I don't want to consider before deciding.

Living my dream sounds scary because what if it's just that? A dream. So instead, I do "just enough".

It's not that I'm unhappy though. I'm not miserable. I just know there is something missing. I know that I can be happier, love more deeply, help more who are hurting.

I know that there is a HUGE plan for my life and I can't keep ignoring it. I can no longer accept mediocrity when I know I was made for greater things. We ALL are made for greater things.

I'm going to take a breath, close my eyes and JUMP. I'll still enjoy my chips and diet coke with a little stoli thrown in once in awhile. But I'll also be living my life ON purpose. Because I'm 40, and it's high time.

Along the way I plan to achieve this:

And not to sound all Oprah-ish (I am certainly not a fan) but are you living your best life. Are you living on purpose?
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Woes of the Working Parent

As we all know I really like working. I've worked since I was old enough to work and really enjoying the interaction and task related joys of my job. I did have a brief 1 year stint as a SAHM and almost went the same way as Sylvia Plath. But that had more to do with cabin fever than anything so maybe it'd be different if I did it again.

But one of my struggles as a working parent is what to do when the kids are sick. My carrier monkeys start dripping around November and don't clear up till April. Its one cold after another with them as you'll remember in my post Weekend in the House of Sick. I only have so much time off and I'd much rather use my vacation hours spending real quality time with my kids instead sitting at my computer trying to work from home while they lethargically watch TV. This is how I spent part of both Thursday and Friday.

Kiki woke up and felt warm to JimmyEW so he texted me (I was running at work YEA me!) that he needed to stay home. Luckily it was a Thursday and HB was off so the three of us split up the day. But when I took the 2pm shift he seemed fine, no fever and was fine the rest of the night. Next morning he seemed fine to JimmyEW (I was running again, YEA me!) but at around 10:30 Daycare Diva called to say he had a 102 fever. Just a weird random fever and no other symptoms. So after being shot down by my germaphobe boss when I suggested I could make him a nest in my office and let him watch the portable DVD player I just went and picked him up.

This dilemma is one that I spend most of my winter worrying about. Scrutinizing every sneeze or looking at runny nose goo under the microscope to see if it is clear or the color of Ick. When my cell phone rings and the word DAYCARE pops up I immediately go in to a panic.

Notice the cute picture of him, I told him to look sad. What a little actor!

I always sound like a big dumb excuse maker when she calls me "But... but he didn't feel warm this morning. But he slept fine last night." I am secretly worried that she will think I just dropped off my sick kid and hoped she wouldn't notice he had the Black Plague.

In my mind people look at me and like I'm one of "those" parents. The ones they say send their kids to daycare or school sick because they're lazy and don't want to take time out of their day to care for their poor sick kids. I'm not just being paranoid, I've heard this said out loud. Not to me, but still said in assumption about another parent just the same.

Its like they think I get to daycare and slow the car down just enough to push my kids out of the car at the end of the driveway, tossing out their blankey and hitting the gas before Daycare Diva notices the dark circles under their eyes and the river of green and yellow snot pouring from their noses.

This is Kiki eating lunch on the couch

But let me spell it out. I do not toss my kids from moving vehicles. And I've only sent my kid to daycare once when I knew he was sick and this is the reason. I didn't know what else to do!

I had to take JimmyEW to get his wisdom teeth pulled and they specifically said I needed to be there with him the whole time. I don't have a grandma or grandpa who lives in town, I don't know very many people here and the ones I do know work. I didn't know what else to do. And let me tell you right now I did feel guilty that my kids might be exposing other kids to the Black Death, but really what kid doesn't have a constantly running nose.

But that is me, yes I need to find a back up and I think I may have found one in the old lady friend of Honey Bunch...but that is only until she finds steady work. And then what? But that's just it, I can afford to pay a babysitter on top of the week of daycare if I have to. But a lot of people can't.

They don't have days off, they can't call in to work anymore or they'll get fired. Or they've missed so much work because of sick kids that they're afraid they'll lose credibility and the company will grow to think they're not reliable. They don't have an option, they don't know what to do, jobs are precious in this economy so sometimes they might dose their kid with Tylenol and hope for the best. Its not because they're lazy jerks but because they are desperate.

I do acknowledge that there may be parents that knowingly send their kids to daycare because they would really rather not have to deal with them when they're sick. But when you see a child at daycare or at school and he has a runny nose and is coughing, don't assume that his mom doesn't care. Don't assume that she pushed her child from a slow moving vehicle in order to get to her much loved job. Consider that she may be at risk of losing her job. Or if she doesn't go to work, she won't get paid for that day. And that day's pay is what provides the groceries, or the light bill, or the gas for the car that gets her to work. So if you were in her shoes, what would you do?

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Come Play Inside My Big Box: A day in the life of a retail manager

We welcome guest blogger JimmyEatWorld. Thanks for the submission!

As my dearest Sister Sassy has previously mentioned, I work. A lot. I mean over 50 hours a week a lot. [Before I go any further, I do understand that if you are a SAHM, there really is no end to your day and if you added up the hours..... well lets not.] I work for a giant big box retailer one of the big three that you probably visit on a weekly basis (of the biggest three, Wal-mart, Kmart, Target - I work for the one that ends with a T, weird eh? ;)

So this is why I am writing; my beautiful, adoring, great love of my life, Sister Sassy, will sometimes "seem" to trump me when it comes to taking a lunch or talking on the phone. She'll say about 1/2 hour into our lunch, "ya, I really got to get back to work, I got a lot to do today." Ok, and what am I? Chopped liver????

So I thought I would give a day in the life an assistant manager to entertain the masses and show my adoring wife what it's like on the other side.

First we are a 10 million dollar per year store. Now 6 million of that is from my half of the store and from that about $400k in profit. Of the 65 people that work in the store, 5 full timers report directly to me and another 15 part timers, depending on where they are scheduled for that day. That means I'm responsible for $6,000,000 in sales and about 20 people in a space the size of 2 football fields.

6:30am - The sprint begins; I mean getting the kids off to daycare AND not being late for work. Quick shower, shave, and then a go at waking up the boys. Get them in front of some Sesame Street, breakfast, and everyone dressed. Although there are days when even though they are dressed, they aren't-but who hasn't gone to school in a long sleeve polo and sweats before? huh? Come on, cut me some slack here.

8:00am - Morning Meeting: everyone available in the building at the time (5-20 ppl) will come together for a quick update about what's going on in the store and company. Today, after the big boss talks, I use the opportunity to talk about payroll. I know people hate it when we cut their hours and always feel like maybe the company isn't doing well and that's the reason. To re-assure them that this is not the case I say "My last company was the same as here. If we thought we were going to have a bad quarter, then they would cut off spending from everything. Everything. I mean you couldn't buy a freaking box of staples. You were told to make do and wait till next month." Its true and I hope it helped others to show its not just us.

8:30am - Quick tour of the building. The whole management team, yes all 3 of us, walk around and take notes of things to fix.

9:00am - Very quickly after the start of the tour, my boss (and I do love and respect the guy) will say "I'm bored with this, lets stop touring" and I say Amen, brother, lets get to work!

9:05am - My first task it to make sure that my peeps are ok. I will grab a schedule and go talk to them and find out what they planned for the day and then make adjustments to their plan. I make this quick and as painless as possible before I go to work.

9:30am - After spending most of that last 1/2 hour walking (I sometimes wonder how much walking I do - but that's another blog for another day) its off to work. I first get out my notes from the morning and find out what has to get done that no one else can do or isn't here to do.

Today it is ad changes. We get a ton of stuff in early for the ad that breaks and this means finding good places to put it all. It also means getting on the forklift and having fun. (The most fun is the summer. Oh how I love being outside. I can actually hear the vitamin D being made in my skin as it's brief time in the sun during the day. I think fluorescent lights actually suck your will to live :) )

Today I got 4 pallets ready and then I break out the pallet jack (see pic at right) to move them from the very back of the store, that's right, to the very front. The two pallets of paper are fine, but the two of water and bleach, I'd guess around 1,000 pounds each, is not a cake walk.

11:30am- Gotta go and see my soul kisser, the one whom I adore above all others, Sister Sassy. Today we sit in front of her desk and watch 30 Rock; Its really very funny and I nearly spit my ham sandwich out laughing. Then the last 1/2 hour we spend looking at houses. I sneak a few not so innocent kisses in before I go; yeah you need to learn to kiss better at work BTW Sassy ;)

1:00pm- 1 1/2 lunch? Yeah, just wait. Now since I am the default 'credit card' guy, I have to talk to all of our cashiers about why we suck so bad and find out why. So I retrain 4 people today and give them a warning that if they don't at least ask everyone, then, oh yeah, trouble will be had. Actually today, during the last 'meeting' the overhead lighting flickers, and a bulb goes out. I look at the girl and say "I hope that's not a sign." I hate riding people, but I'm good at it and since I have to....

3:30pm - Now is the fun. We got shipped in these aisle stackers, like you see in grocery stores. Unfortunately nobody has the time to put them together, so I get to have all the fun myself.

I get a pallet of parts, instructions written by someone whom the English language left a very long time ago, and a screwdriver. They actually sent in a screwdriver, just in case one of the nearly 1,500 stores out there doesn't have a screwdriver in the building. Here I show off my mechanical skills (did you hear that Sister Sassy) and I have proof. See those 12 lovely racks to the right, yep all my work. And on the left the pallet of parts it came in as proof.

5:00pm - Ok, I finished that project just in time - for more work. Yes my friends 5:00 is NOT quiting time tonight. Tonight I get to 'close'. That means I work from 8:00am until 10:30pm. So I do get a two hour lunch. Why not come in like an hour later and only get an hour lunch? Don't ask, just don't.

Now from 5-10 I get to direct 10 people to put all the strays away (those items that people leave behind or put in the wrong spot) and to straighten the entire building. Yes I get the fun of telling 18 year olds that they have to go back to the dog food b/c they missed a section or didn't get it as straight and neat looking as it should be. Fun. Pure Fun. Because its usually not enough time or people to do it, I usually end up straightening for 1-2 hours every night to pitch in as well. Lots of fun. I think to myself, as I am moving almost every box of tampons to get them all to line up, THIS is what I went to college for 5 years for!!! Yahoo!

11:00pm - Home, finally. Now because this is my weekend to work, I get to open tomorrow. So if I hurry up and fall asleep by 11:30 then I will get exactly 5 hours of sleep

4:30am Get back up. That's right, I have to open the building so that means leaving at 5:30 to get there at 6:00am. (That's my 'I'm pissy for working these F***ed up hours look to the left)

Well there you have it. A day in the life of a retail manager. Next time I'll share some of the 'fun' stories I have of my 6+ years in dealing with customers.


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