Home?

The house I never lived in, but it always felt like mine.

The land, the courts, the Pine Forest.

Heaven for a kid.

Home?

 

The skyline to which I never gave a second thought while I was there.

But now each time I see it coming in I get a warm sense of belonging.

I never realized how pretty that water tower is.

Home?

 

The road upon which I traveled more times than I can count.

The restaurant, the farms, the hills we passed each time which comprised our over the river and through the woods.

Can it really have been 15 years ago? It feels like yesterday.

Home?

 

The houses of those so dear who are still there, even though mine was gone years ago.

The houses that will always welcome, no matter how far I go or how long I stay away between visits.

The houses of my family, from where I came.

Home?

 

A new house where I now rock my own babe.

One new face with one the same.

The next generation to be raised.

Home?

 

Home.

 

 

 

Let’s talk about hold music

Shall we? You know, that crap “elevator” music you must endure each time you’re put on hold on the phone. Now riddle me this… WHY on earth must it be so terrible? Always??

 

A few weeks ago while on hold I had to listen to “That’s Just the Way It Is” by Phil Collins, which on its own isn’t too obnoxiously unbearable, but throw it into a never-ending string of mind-numbing shit songs and I was ready to chuck my phone across the room by the end of the first refrain. Then this morning I again found myself on perma-hold, being serenaded by the worst light jazz channel I’ve ever heard.

 

Why do companies think their customers, patients, etc., want to hear note after note after note of horrendous music, when they’re probably already in a bad mood about whatever it is that’s causing them to call in and be stuck on hold in the first place? And who picks this stuff out anyway? I’d like to meet the person who decided that oh yeah, EVERYONE wants to listen to Kenny G for 45 minutes while we ignore their call. I would swiftly kick him/her in the shins and duct tape headphones on them to pump in their nauseating choice of songs.

 

Come on, mix it up a little for us! I don’t know about you guys, but personally, I would LOVE to hear some Snoop Dogg for my “on hold” station. That is my JAM! I would rock the socks off some hold time if I could be rollin’ down the street sippin on gin and juice. Or rockin rough and stuff with my afropuffs – hey rage, rock on wit yo bad self! Yeeeaahh, I could be on hold all day listening to Doggystyle.

 

Seriously, throw us a bone here, on hold music administrators. Like I said, chances are pretty good that we’re going to be pissed off when you finally decide to answer our call in the order in which it was received since we’ve been sitting there so long waiting to either chew you out because some worthless product failed us again or to make an appointment for a procedure that no one in their right mind would enjoy. So it would be in your best interest to not enrage us further by making us want to pluck our eyebrows out with your god-awful music, but maybe try to soften the blow to your eardrums a bit by lightening our mood with a little rock ‘n roll, hip hop, or even some Christmas carols this time of year.

 

But please, for the love of god, PLEASE don’t make me listen to any more Phil Collins. Cuz that’s just not the way it is in my book.

 

 

 

7 years + 1 week ago

7 years and 1 week ago today, I started my current job. I meant to write about it on the actual 7 year anniversary, but then I just never quite got around to it. So I figured 1 week late isn’t too bad, right?

 

7 years. That sounds like a long time. Does it feel like it’s been 7 years? Yeah, I guess it actually does – R and I got married, we bought a house, we had a baby, and a bunch of stuff in between. My company has been through a lot of changes since the day I started, too. A LOT. We grew immensely. Then the markets around the world crashed and we shrank. Immensely. We’re now going on what, 4 years of cutbacks in my office? 4ish I’d say. And yes, I know how fortunate I am to still have my job. Trust me.

 

This is the job for which I’ve worked my entire financial world career so far. It’s what I longed for when I started on Wall Street, what I found myself daydreaming of when I took that year off to bartend and play, and what I worked my way up to each year since beginning at this company. To be perfectly honest, I don’t see myself going anywhere from here. And that is 100% ok with me.

 

I have the flexibility to leave early enough in the afternoons that I don’t feel like I never see R and D, I get a nice chunk of vacation time each year, I get over a week of paid sick days annually, and we have outstanding benefits. And I don’t want the added responsibility a move up the next rung in the ladder would entail. I don’t want to manage people, I don’t want to manage a portfolio, I don’t want to deal with investors. I’m good at what I do, and I like being right where I am.

 

Funny, though, how now my daydreams are constantly away from my office. Of spending days at home raising D, of not worrying about how many sick days I have left for the year, of not having to make sure there’s someone around who’s capable of covering my work when we go on vacation or I need a day off.

 

Will there be 7 more years for me here? We shall see…

 

 

 

A mama in the darkness

Tiny hands explore my face as I rock you with your bottle.

The left one grazes my chin and cheek, searching for a strand of hair to twirl. The right one feels my ear and finds my earring. Usually it twists your own hair, but tonight you want mine.

I hope I always remember their touch, their tiny strokes.

Will there be more someday? Right now it is just me and you, and you have all of me.

Your legs dangle off my lap, not kicking about tonight. Calm, ready for bed. You’re getting so big.

Your warm head, fresh from a bath, nestled in the bend of my left elbow. It fits perfectly.

I rock, you drink. It’s early, but you’re tired already and I can tell it’s time.

The snuffles and grunts as you swallow the last milk of the day soon turn into the slow breaths and little snores of your slumber. Sleep comes easily tonight.

I watch you, breathing in every second and trying to etch the memory in my mind for all time.

I smile down at you in the darkness, your eyelids having fluttered shut for the final time for sleep. Tears well up in my eyes, for I know this era is fleeting.

I don’t want it to go.

They say we have to give this up soon, but not tonight. Not now.

You don’t need to be burped anymore, but I put you on my shoulder when the bottle is done anyway. I love when you sleep up there. You fit.

Your little left hand falls to rest on my left shoulder as you turn yourself around, getting comfortable in your dreams. I kiss it, then your cheek as I lay you in your crib. Face down, knees pulled in underneath you, bottom up in the air. Your favorite position.

I love you. Every piece of you. Every fiber of your being and every sparkle of your soul, wherever it may take you. Hopefully not too far away.

I will always love you like this. Forever.

 

This was originally intended to only be a little ode to D, but it just so happens to fit in with a couple writing prompts. So I’m linking up at both Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop and Heather’s Just Write.

 

 

We have lost our manners

I heard that on the radio the other morning, and I could not agree more. We seriously have lost our manners. “Please.” “Thank you.” “May I?” “Excuse me.” (without being immediately followed by “excuse you” from the other party) Opening and/or holding the door for someone. You know, simple common courtesies that have unfortunately become less-than-common.

 

My sisters and I were raised to use good manners. You say “please” and “thank you”. You address adults by “Mr.” and “Mrs.” You say “excuse me” after you burp or fart. That is, after we were glared at for daring to let out said burp or fart within earshot of others in the first place. You do not chew with your mouth open or talk with your mouth full. You do not rest your elbows on the table while you eat. You write thank you notes after receiving gifts. You look people in the eye when being spoken to. You do NOT talk back, especially in public. You do not lie. And you are overall generally obedient to your parents.

 

And I’m sure this will garner many groans and eye rolls, but for the most part we complied. We were, I think, pretty well-behaved children, and have grown into well-mannered adults. I’m sure my mom can provide plenty of instances to the contrary, but I’m speaking on the whole here. Mom.

 

I’ve noticed so often, though, that kids these days are just shitty. They’re rude, they’re disobedient, they’re immature (yes, even kids can have a certain level of maturity for their age), they’re violent, they’re mean, they’re beyond disrespectful, and they’re just plain jerks.

 

How has this happened? Have manners really become so passé that parents can’t possibly be troubled to instill them in their children? Have we become so technologically advanced, absorbed, and jaded that it’s ridiculous to think we would bother to teach children such basic organic processes as good manners? Just leave it up to the computer or cell phone to do that for us? Is it really that hard? Nope. I don’t think so.

 

And when did this happen? When did it become so taxing to insert an extra word or 2 into your sentences here or there? When did it become uncool to be polite? When did we stop smiling at people as we pass? And god forbid anyone actually nods hello. No! Grumble, grumble, shuffle past. What the? Where are we living?

 

Am I the only one who feels this way? Am I the only one who orders by saying, “May I please have…?”; or says “thank you” to a compliment or good deed; or says “you’re welcome” to another’s “thank you”; or holds the door for someone behind me or someone who needs assistance; or hands someone something they dropped instead of walking by pretending not to see; or actually does try to look people in the eye as I walk by and say “hello”, or maybe just “hey”, but still, it’s better than staring blankly past them like they don’t exist? Am I crazy for doing all these things? I guess it doesn’t really matter if I am, for I’ll still do them. I was taught it’s just what you do. It’s not some big, unusual occurrence, not something that needs to be rewarded with a gold star each day. You just do it.

 

Anyone want to join me on a crusade to re-manner the world? Ok, maybe not the whole world, but at least re-manner our own little corners of it? I fully intend on raising D to use good manners. Nothing would crush me more than to see her growing into one of the foul-mouthed, ill-mannered, bad-tempered little hoodlums I see running around, pissing me off. Because really, that’s not the sign of a truly bad kid. I don’t think kids themselves are inherently rotten. That’s the sign of an extremely poor parenting job.

 

Thank you.

 

 

1 year

As of today, that’s how long I’ve been back at work after having D. 1 entire year. Hmm, how do I feel about that?

 

Well, I’d still much rather be either working from home or staying home period so I could be with her full-time instead of having to use daycare. So there’s that. Fortunately we do love her daycare, and I know she has a great time there, as evidenced by her smiles and waves good-bye most every morning. Plus she’s learning a lot, so I’m definitely not complaining about the caliber of daycare. It’s just needing it period that I’d rather not have.

 

How is work? Well, in some respects it’s better than when I first came back. As in I no longer feel like I’m fighting for my own goddamn job every single day. In other respects it’s worse, as in see paragraph above… So I guess the answer to this one is my standard “Work is work.”

 

How is D? Awesome, of course. The difference between November 8, 2010, and November 8, 2011, just in her alone is astonishing. A little photographic comparison for you… Then:

 

11-8-10
11-8-10

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And now:

 

10-30-11

 

For those 2 pictures from last year I had to search all the way back through my text messages from R from that day, which I found amusing. All you working mamas know how heart-wrenching that first day back at your desk and away from your baby is, so here’s a little peek at how I was feeling that day:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A whole year, eh? Crazy. I will tell you 1 thing that hasn’t changed since that first day back last year, though, not even in the slightest. The moment I get to leave work to go pick up D, see her smiley little face again, and know we get to spend the rest of the night all together at home is still the highlight of my day. I have a feeling that won’t ever change, either.