Today was the first day of school. Back to school means a lot of different things to different people. It means school supplies and backpacks, school buses and traffic. It means new clothes, new shoes and sometimes new haircuts. For me it means my baby is getting older.
The first day of school has ALWAYS been just another reason for me to have a good cry. For those of you who know me… I mean REALLY know me; you know that in reality, that doesn't take much. I'm not unstable, depressed or crazy – well, maybe a little crazy- but I am just one of those people who can cry over a good movie, or even a Publix commercial. (DON'T LAUGH unless you've seen it and haven't gotten the least bit teary-eyed!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHkqGgPpQOE
But the first day of school is a little different. It always opens the floodgates for all kinds of emotions and usually accounts for me crying all the way to work, randomly fighting tears throughout the day and crying some more in retrospect when the day is finally over.
In August of 1997 I pulled out of the parking lot of Harvest Christian Academy, after leaving my little girl in the hands of strangers. I never imagined that any other first day of school would be as hard as that one! She was headed off to Kindergarten. As independent as she was – even at only four years old and just under 35 pounds, she didn't even want me to walk her in. She only relented to my begging after realizing that there was no one else to carry in her cubby crate.
Fast forward ten (what should have been) long years…. And believe me when I tell you that almost every year – the first day of school is almost (not quite) but almost as hard as the day I left her at Kindergarten. The first day of middle school ran a very close second until last year, the first day of high school. But every year is hard.
Today I woke her up and true to her nature (most of the time) she looked at me with one eye open, a slight smile and said "Hi Momma." I could have sworn I saw my gapped tooth child through the face of the teenaged girl who I still think of as my baby.
Pulling up to the high school I was reminded of last year, her first day as a freshman. The kids all looked so much bigger and older then. The boys looked like men and the girls were looking for the boys. The parking lot full of kids that drove themselves to school and only a handful of parents dropping their children off. This year didn't look much different, but my daughter looked a little more the part than she did last year.
She and her best friend jumped out of the car the second I came to a stop. With no cubby crate she didn't need my help getting into the school. She kissed my cheek. "Bye Momma!" she said with a true twinkle in her eye and a grin on her face. As she walked away from the car I saw her, my tiny little girl in braids, a school uniform and a 101 Dalmatians lunchbox. Smiling, happy and talking. Not a care in the world, just headed for a new adventure. I blinked and looked again to see my nearly grown daughter. Now taller than me, hair that had taken 30 minutes to straighten, jeans, a t-shirt, a little bit of eye liner and no Disney lunch box.
Maybe it's that she is an only child. Maybe it's that I am a tiny bit protective. Maybe it's that the years have literally felt like minutes and there are some that I really just wish I could have back – even if it were for only a moment.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Women In The Workplace
If you are a woman and have ever worked outside of your home in any type of setting, chances are you've heard at least one horror story about how women tend to treat each other in the workplace. From gossiping to outright physical confrontations, I've heard some of the best of them. It seems that sometimes when women get into work space with other women, they revert to high school like behavior. I don't know if it's a self preservation mechanism or if it's just that those women truly failed to mentally mature beyond the age of 17, but this kind of thing happens – apparently a lot.
Four years ago I left my job of nearly 5 years where I was the only woman to go into a position where (at the time) between my two teams there were several women and only one man. (Bless his heart!) Spending my first five years of corporate life with men, I hadn't really even heard the rumors about catty women in the workplace. However, when I came to my new job and told my friends what my new situation was like, (several women and one man, all working very closely together) they ALL gave me the same warnings. Watch out for the women. Don't let anything get personal, take all your ideas straight to your boss sharing with no one along the way, don't make any female friends at work because they'll stab you in the back the second you turn around. The general consensus was that if I absolutely HAD to trust anyone at my new place of employment, it should only be the lone male on the team. I teased my friends about their lack of faith in womankind and continued on my path with my female led and supported teams and never gave it any other thought.
As the years passed, I saw what my friends meant in other divisions at my company. I saw other women lie, cheat and claw to get what they wanted and needed – even if it was only attention. Somehow, someway, when I would cross back over that imaginary line from wherever I was coming from back into my own department, I knew that the women I worked with were different. I knew that those women would have my back. It was never discussed how other women in business behaved, we were never told by our female bosses that we were to treat each other a certain way, we just did. Over the years we saw some women come and go but our core group remained in tact. We all had very different personality types. Among those, we had a cheerleader, a diva, a peacemaker, a realist, an organizer, a charmer, a comedienne, a mom, a planner, and a few that sometimes shared many traits. On most days we had no problem disagreeing and sometimes even though there was tension, at the end of the day, we were still a team. We've laughed together and cried together – with that many women you can only imagine how often we've cried together. We have been through marital and financial strain, babies, engagements, marriages, separations, illnesses and job losses. Somehow the stars had aligned and the paths of all these very different women had crossed and it worked. Most of the time it even worked well.
In four years through industry ups and downs our teams have gone from 20+ to eight. Sometime we are more like siblings, some are closer than others and of course we all have our favorites – myself included. But it seems we are a closer now than ever, as we've seen the rest of our team, taken apart by the mighty bottom line.
Thursday night, winding down an extremely hectic day (preparing for ANOTHER buyout) I went into my boss's office and knew she had been crying. I asked if there was anything she needed and she began to cry. She was told earlier in the day by her boss that I had been added to the list of countless people in our company who had already lost their jobs – there would be fifty more and I was one of them. She wasn't asked, she was told.
Friday morning at 6:45 AM tears rolling down my face, I looked around at the place I call home for some 40+ hours a week - my office. The office I had grown to love. The pictures, the funny notes and sayings that lined my collage of a corkboard and the other random things that would jog my memory of some really, truly good times I have had at work. And I cried. I cried out of fear, I have never lost my job. I cried because I am a single income household with a 14 year old daughter. I cried out of anger, I knew we were facing layoffs and sought out other employment and was offered a decent package from a global company but after the EVP of our company looked me and the rest of my team in the eyes and said he could personally guarantee each of our jobs through the end of the year, I decided to hang on until late fall for the sake of my bosses and our dwindling teams. Turns out he couldn't truly guarantee anything. I cried because as of Monday, July 9th I won't have a commute, or an office, or a job.
I cried because for four really great years, my life has been touched every single day by a group of truly amazing women.
So now there are seven…
Four years ago I left my job of nearly 5 years where I was the only woman to go into a position where (at the time) between my two teams there were several women and only one man. (Bless his heart!) Spending my first five years of corporate life with men, I hadn't really even heard the rumors about catty women in the workplace. However, when I came to my new job and told my friends what my new situation was like, (several women and one man, all working very closely together) they ALL gave me the same warnings. Watch out for the women. Don't let anything get personal, take all your ideas straight to your boss sharing with no one along the way, don't make any female friends at work because they'll stab you in the back the second you turn around. The general consensus was that if I absolutely HAD to trust anyone at my new place of employment, it should only be the lone male on the team. I teased my friends about their lack of faith in womankind and continued on my path with my female led and supported teams and never gave it any other thought.
As the years passed, I saw what my friends meant in other divisions at my company. I saw other women lie, cheat and claw to get what they wanted and needed – even if it was only attention. Somehow, someway, when I would cross back over that imaginary line from wherever I was coming from back into my own department, I knew that the women I worked with were different. I knew that those women would have my back. It was never discussed how other women in business behaved, we were never told by our female bosses that we were to treat each other a certain way, we just did. Over the years we saw some women come and go but our core group remained in tact. We all had very different personality types. Among those, we had a cheerleader, a diva, a peacemaker, a realist, an organizer, a charmer, a comedienne, a mom, a planner, and a few that sometimes shared many traits. On most days we had no problem disagreeing and sometimes even though there was tension, at the end of the day, we were still a team. We've laughed together and cried together – with that many women you can only imagine how often we've cried together. We have been through marital and financial strain, babies, engagements, marriages, separations, illnesses and job losses. Somehow the stars had aligned and the paths of all these very different women had crossed and it worked. Most of the time it even worked well.
In four years through industry ups and downs our teams have gone from 20+ to eight. Sometime we are more like siblings, some are closer than others and of course we all have our favorites – myself included. But it seems we are a closer now than ever, as we've seen the rest of our team, taken apart by the mighty bottom line.
Thursday night, winding down an extremely hectic day (preparing for ANOTHER buyout) I went into my boss's office and knew she had been crying. I asked if there was anything she needed and she began to cry. She was told earlier in the day by her boss that I had been added to the list of countless people in our company who had already lost their jobs – there would be fifty more and I was one of them. She wasn't asked, she was told.
Friday morning at 6:45 AM tears rolling down my face, I looked around at the place I call home for some 40+ hours a week - my office. The office I had grown to love. The pictures, the funny notes and sayings that lined my collage of a corkboard and the other random things that would jog my memory of some really, truly good times I have had at work. And I cried. I cried out of fear, I have never lost my job. I cried because I am a single income household with a 14 year old daughter. I cried out of anger, I knew we were facing layoffs and sought out other employment and was offered a decent package from a global company but after the EVP of our company looked me and the rest of my team in the eyes and said he could personally guarantee each of our jobs through the end of the year, I decided to hang on until late fall for the sake of my bosses and our dwindling teams. Turns out he couldn't truly guarantee anything. I cried because as of Monday, July 9th I won't have a commute, or an office, or a job.
I cried because for four really great years, my life has been touched every single day by a group of truly amazing women.
So now there are seven…
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Jesus, please protect me from SOME of your followers!
Wow... Where to even begin this blog...
I began my day with a voicemail from an irate client - who (for the record) does not know me. We have never met, and we have never spoken on the phone. The voicemail droned on for about 30 seconds and ended with, "someone better call me - right F*@#ING NOW!" I laugh, go meet with my boss who lets me know he's already gotten to her and that this is his standard means of communication. (NICE!) Standard means of communicating... In a business setting!!
A few hours later I get a voicemail on my personal cell phone from a self employed aquaintence that I was trying to contact to send some business her way. As she's leaving me a voicemail she is yelling at someone else and using some rather colorful language that also included a quick F word or two. She asks me to return her call at her office. So I proceed to call her back at her office. (HER OFFICE = HER COMPANY..the company she actually owns) Of course, I get the automated phone message. After all the basic B.S. who we are, what we do, I hear, "Although we are family owned and operated, our true boss is a Jewish carpenter. May the Lord bless and keep you."
WHOA! Back the boat up! WHAT? Does Jesus know you are referring to him as your boss?? Does this imply that Jesus wants you dropping the "F Bomb" on random voicemails? I mean...He is your boss and all....
This lead me right up onto my soap box... What is with the people that claim to be followers of Christ that do these things that are seemingly so un Christ like?? I am perfectly fine with religions of all kinds and all walks of faith and spirituality, but if you are going to stick a whole school of little fish on the back of your car, don't you think you should refrain from using your middle finger to rudely gesture to other drivers? If you are going to have a bumper sticker that says, "Know Jesus, Know Peace" that maybe, just MAYBE you should not drive down the road screaming at your kids in the back seat, swatting at them with your free hand? Or my very favorite - which I actually witnessed first hand. The woman in the grocery store, with a shirt on that had a picture of a newborn in what was assumed to be the hand of God / Jesus and the shirt read, "Jesus Loves The Unborn." I am literally reading her shirt as she is grabbing her child (pre-teenage girl) by the arm and says in the talking through your teeth Mom voice... "I swear to God, I'm gonna kill you if you roll your eyes at me one more time." I wanted to stop and ask her if her Jesus loved teenage girls too? Or is just the unborn?
My point is... if you have these things on your car, on your clothes or in your office... and you REALLY want people to think you are a devout follower of the Christian faith... Go back and read up on Jesus Christ... Make sure He'd want you proclaiming to be one of His "employees."
I began my day with a voicemail from an irate client - who (for the record) does not know me. We have never met, and we have never spoken on the phone. The voicemail droned on for about 30 seconds and ended with, "someone better call me - right F*@#ING NOW!" I laugh, go meet with my boss who lets me know he's already gotten to her and that this is his standard means of communication. (NICE!) Standard means of communicating... In a business setting!!
A few hours later I get a voicemail on my personal cell phone from a self employed aquaintence that I was trying to contact to send some business her way. As she's leaving me a voicemail she is yelling at someone else and using some rather colorful language that also included a quick F word or two. She asks me to return her call at her office. So I proceed to call her back at her office. (HER OFFICE = HER COMPANY..the company she actually owns) Of course, I get the automated phone message. After all the basic B.S. who we are, what we do, I hear, "Although we are family owned and operated, our true boss is a Jewish carpenter. May the Lord bless and keep you."
WHOA! Back the boat up! WHAT? Does Jesus know you are referring to him as your boss?? Does this imply that Jesus wants you dropping the "F Bomb" on random voicemails? I mean...He is your boss and all....
This lead me right up onto my soap box... What is with the people that claim to be followers of Christ that do these things that are seemingly so un Christ like?? I am perfectly fine with religions of all kinds and all walks of faith and spirituality, but if you are going to stick a whole school of little fish on the back of your car, don't you think you should refrain from using your middle finger to rudely gesture to other drivers? If you are going to have a bumper sticker that says, "Know Jesus, Know Peace" that maybe, just MAYBE you should not drive down the road screaming at your kids in the back seat, swatting at them with your free hand? Or my very favorite - which I actually witnessed first hand. The woman in the grocery store, with a shirt on that had a picture of a newborn in what was assumed to be the hand of God / Jesus and the shirt read, "Jesus Loves The Unborn." I am literally reading her shirt as she is grabbing her child (pre-teenage girl) by the arm and says in the talking through your teeth Mom voice... "I swear to God, I'm gonna kill you if you roll your eyes at me one more time." I wanted to stop and ask her if her Jesus loved teenage girls too? Or is just the unborn?
My point is... if you have these things on your car, on your clothes or in your office... and you REALLY want people to think you are a devout follower of the Christian faith... Go back and read up on Jesus Christ... Make sure He'd want you proclaiming to be one of His "employees."
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Teenagers....
Have I mentioned that I have a teenage daughter? Did you know that it is a universal law that once puberty strikes a teenage girl MUST disagree with everything her mother says?
Yes... It's true. Sad, but true.
I love being a Mom. Always have, probably always will. From her birth until last Friday night, I have loved every single second of being her Mom. There were no late nights with a sick or crying baby. The terrible two's were a myth in my house. Three and Four were fascinating and wonderful for both of us and the years that followed were equally fantastic! Even when other mother's warned me to prepare for middle school and I did… Like Y2K… Nothing. So admittedly…. I let my guard down.
Then she turned on me. How could this have happened? How did she go, in what seemed like minutes, from being a sweet, loving, fun, cheerful and carefree child to becoming an argumentative, sulking, petulant little brat???
The rolling of the eyes, the look as if to say, "Mom, you are a complete idiot," the big sigh with the arm cross in front of the chest and the disagreeing with EVERYTHING I say -- all mothers of teenage daughters know exactly what I am talking about… Don't get me wrong, all of those things combined don't begin to compare to the other stories I have heard and in some cases seen. With some teenage girls rapidly turning from happy kids who love life, to angry young women who are cutting, starving and acting out sexually… Admittedly, it could be a lot worse. But still… WHY?? Why my daughter?? Was it too much to ask for her to be different than EVERY OTHER TEENAGE girl to ever have walked the planet??
In retrospect, having a teenager has quickly begun to resemble my labor and delivery with said child. I was a young mother and took all the childbirth classes I could handle. So when the time came, I just knew my own labor and delivery was going to go as effortlessly as any good Lamaze Movie. I had fully prepared myself for my contractions to begin 39 minutes apart, causing so little irritation that I would be able to continue doing dishes and animatedly laughing with my (then) husband. The contractions would over the course of several hours increase both in number and intensity but this time span would allow me to build up my tolerance and would surely allow for a smooth, happy and fulfilling Labor and Delivery. Enter my amazing unborn child. Two weeks past due... nearly nine pounds and not exactly wanting to give me the time I thought I needed to "Build My Tolerance."
I thought I had time to prepare. I thought wrong. My first contractions were a mere three minutes apart, not the 39 minutes I had envisioned, and were lasting over a minute a piece. There were no dishes to be done and the only thing I wanted to do with my husband in that moment was put him through a slow and tortuous death!! As quickly as it began, it ended and she came into my world with a vengeance just under eight hours later.
So I guess in hindsight, I should have been preparing for this moment for 14 years… And I am still shocked that it has happened so quickly.
Yes... It's true. Sad, but true.
I love being a Mom. Always have, probably always will. From her birth until last Friday night, I have loved every single second of being her Mom. There were no late nights with a sick or crying baby. The terrible two's were a myth in my house. Three and Four were fascinating and wonderful for both of us and the years that followed were equally fantastic! Even when other mother's warned me to prepare for middle school and I did… Like Y2K… Nothing. So admittedly…. I let my guard down.
Then she turned on me. How could this have happened? How did she go, in what seemed like minutes, from being a sweet, loving, fun, cheerful and carefree child to becoming an argumentative, sulking, petulant little brat???
The rolling of the eyes, the look as if to say, "Mom, you are a complete idiot," the big sigh with the arm cross in front of the chest and the disagreeing with EVERYTHING I say -- all mothers of teenage daughters know exactly what I am talking about… Don't get me wrong, all of those things combined don't begin to compare to the other stories I have heard and in some cases seen. With some teenage girls rapidly turning from happy kids who love life, to angry young women who are cutting, starving and acting out sexually… Admittedly, it could be a lot worse. But still… WHY?? Why my daughter?? Was it too much to ask for her to be different than EVERY OTHER TEENAGE girl to ever have walked the planet??
In retrospect, having a teenager has quickly begun to resemble my labor and delivery with said child. I was a young mother and took all the childbirth classes I could handle. So when the time came, I just knew my own labor and delivery was going to go as effortlessly as any good Lamaze Movie. I had fully prepared myself for my contractions to begin 39 minutes apart, causing so little irritation that I would be able to continue doing dishes and animatedly laughing with my (then) husband. The contractions would over the course of several hours increase both in number and intensity but this time span would allow me to build up my tolerance and would surely allow for a smooth, happy and fulfilling Labor and Delivery. Enter my amazing unborn child. Two weeks past due... nearly nine pounds and not exactly wanting to give me the time I thought I needed to "Build My Tolerance."
I thought I had time to prepare. I thought wrong. My first contractions were a mere three minutes apart, not the 39 minutes I had envisioned, and were lasting over a minute a piece. There were no dishes to be done and the only thing I wanted to do with my husband in that moment was put him through a slow and tortuous death!! As quickly as it began, it ended and she came into my world with a vengeance just under eight hours later.
So I guess in hindsight, I should have been preparing for this moment for 14 years… And I am still shocked that it has happened so quickly.
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