Packing Up

It's time to move on from this place.

5 years is a long time, and I'm finding that I'm just not the same person I was when I started this blog.  I've moved on and started another - but am somewhat cautious about inviting everyone I know to it.  If you wish to follow, simply send me an email at hthrmyr (at) gmail (dot) com.

Blessings!

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Oh, the things I've NOT been doing!

It has been awhile, dear readers, since I've had much NMM fodder...but this weekend the past 2 weeks?  FULL of it.  (For those of you who are ignorant to how NMM works, click the button!)

I absolutely did NOT, after a full day of Screech's incessant and ear-piercing, uh, screeches, find myself an incoherent, brain fogged mama.  And I did NOT decide to pack us both into the car a little after 2, hoping a change in scenery would jolt his temperament back to the peaceable one he used to bless us with, only to find the clock, glaring 2:15 at me.  And, because glares are seen and not heard, I did NOT seem to hear the aforementioned glare hissing tick-tocks at me, accusingly.  I did NOT have to mumble to myself, "2:15, why is that sticking in my mind like a bad idea?" repeatedly, and I most certainly did NOT panic when it suddenly came crashing into my consciousness that Middleton's OM team was doing  a dress rehearsal of their problem in front of the school at their assembly and he'd told me their curtain time was 2:10.  I did NOT utter a swear that starts with S, because such language is absolutely NOT a residual struggle of my childhood influences for me.  I did NOT gun it straight to the school and did NOT feel a flood of relief upon seeing that the assembly was only just beginning.  You see, since I was NOT actually late, none of that earlier stuff mattered.  I made it to see my special little guy perform, and he was none the wiser!  Phew.....

I did NOT freak out when Special Ks birthday cake (yes the party was almost 2 weeks after her birthday, thank you to the Over-Scheduled School-Aged Children stage in life) failed to rise, instead sinking into layers with miserably gnarled topography.  Said cake's failure to rise was NOT due to my stubborn inability to drop the SuperMom attempt at creating memories that really wouldn't be all that different had I made a cake mix that I knew would turn out reliably.  Because I do NOT have any motherhood issues...at.  all.  I did NOT attempt to fix the cake's lopsided layers by strategically placing the low ends atop the high ones, nor did I try to level them with obscene amounts of frosting.  Nope, the cake turned out perfectly, if I say so myself...picture evidence is not so easily shared....it's on my FB acct and my Droid and has not been uploaded to my lappy.

I also did NOT lose my running shape this summer, dropping from a 6 mile avg run, 3+x/wk, to a less than 3 mile avg run, 1-2x/wk.  Because I'm harder-core than that!  I did NOT, therefore, entertain* the idea of running the Sharin' o' the Green 5k last week because it was 1.) Just hours immediately preceding K's bday party and 2.) a stretch, given my current lack of running.  *Entertain = go to the online registration for the race, only to abandon the thought prior to hitting submit....or maybe you actually do hit submit and subsequently talk yourself out of it, forgetting you had hit submit.  Uh, yeah...  My memory is shot, y'all!  Because, 1.) I, again, have NO issues with needing to prove myself, and therfore feel NO need to put myself in such an overcommitted frenzy that only SuperMom can master, and 2.) well, let's just say I know my limits.  Because I was NOT so silly to register for this race, I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning.  And failed to hydrate.  Then, mere hours later, I did NOT chug some water, put my running duds on and get the dog all excited, grab my phone (b/c I cannot live without my iMapmyrun app!) only to find an e-mail from Active.com wishing me luck at my race just before I set out the door.  I did NOT frantically run upstairs to rouse Mr. Fixit and tell him, "Uh, I guess I did register for that race and I gotta leave NOW!"  I did NOT speed to the race site only to get there when registration check-in was supposed to close, and I certainly did NOT revisit my unwholesome talk when I couldn't find a parking space.  I was NOT simultaneously Relieved (ah! not LATE) and Frustrated (I'm gonna have to jet back for the party!) that registration was running 15 minutes behind schedule.  I did NOT have to walk for approximately 3 mins after 2.5 miles, because I'm In Such Great Shape I've Run A 10k Before!  And I did NOT lose the full-on sprint to the finish line from the last corner to a woman who had a good 15 years on me, but most certainly, I did NOT puke seconds after crossing the finishing line when I began to put the brakes on.  I mean, heck if I ran a 5k in a sub20 time, then I'm entitled to puke, but 37 minutes was not really puke-worthy...it wasn't even a PR for me.  I did NOT walk immediately to my car, arrive home, and proceed to rapidly sponge bathe, apply deodorant and change clothes only to get everything gathered up for the b'day festivities, arriving at the party less than 40 minutes after crossing the finish line.  Because that would require SuperMom.  And I?  Am so NOT her.  But maybe I am, sometimes.

I did NOT forget that the Mother's Day Out program Screech has been going to when I work was closed for the Neighboring School District's spring break (which is different from our school district's spring break and therefore, not on my radar) last Tuesday.  Therefore, I did NOT get all ready to go, drive down there, only to see it was a ghost-town and be slapped with the realization that I'd Failed To Plan.  I did NOT go to my contracted agency's office with baby in tow whilst he slept.  And he did NOT wake up while I was trying to transfer files, and proceed to cry while other people may have been in therapy.  That will NEVER happen again.  Ugh....

So....per Almond Joy and Mounds, somedays you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't.  Lately, I'm on a nutty streak.

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

A Synopsis...of Sorts

Sort of in that I just don't do short stories all that well, right?

So....

This week I had an assignment for my class to:

1. Interview the finance person for a non-profit/government/healthcare organization; and
2. Get them to reveal their most pressing financial challenge for the coming year[s] to me; and
3. Write a BRIEF (one order of Heather's Kryptonite coming right up!) memo to the instructor detailing said organization and their respective challenge, as well as my 'penetrating analysis, offering sage advice."

Because either the instructor didn't get the memo that we are all students, many of whom have never had direct financial management experience outside of casa del :insert last name here:, or he uses sage advice with license looser than the tooth my daughter refuses to just. pull. out. already!

I digress...as usual.

Anyway, the caveat was that we were to pick complex situations, and organizations for whom we didn't currently work.  Hmmm....Well, he didn't say we couldn't pick an organization for which we used to work, so I shot off an e-mail to the CFO of the organization that hired me fresh out of college some 9 years ago.

Dear CFO dude who used to really intimidate my 22 year old self with both his physical stature and his intellectual command of numbers,
Hi!  Remember me?

I really hoped he didn't actually remember me, as in actually working together with me, because I was really young, green, and well, I shot my mouth off at him on my last day.  To my credit, he was being a jerk at the time and I was later praised by others for my boldness.  Perhaps he remembered me for my work with the homeless count, or other such community presence.

Blah, blah, blah - hey, I'm doing an assignment for grad school, and could you do me a favor by interviewing with me? 

His response was, yes of course he remembered me, yes, he'd love to help me out, yada yada, bada bing, we set a date and time.

The other day I set out to interview him and as we reacquainted ourselves, he pretty much told me that I'd left a good name with the agency and if I'd like to help them out with some grant-writing while their development director was out on maternity leave, they'd love to have my help.  Remember when I said that whole deal about breaking the nets?  Yeah!

Then we get down to business.

Except he paints this totally rosy picture for me about the agency's fiscal outlook.  Bottom line is that legislation being implemented re: Medicaid eligibility, not to mention the impact of our craptastic economy, has increased the number of folks eligible for their services, and since that is the bulk of their budget - business was booming.

We talk a few other details and I get kind of stuck.

I say, wrinkling my nose in quiet frustration, "Well.....the assignment was for me to identify your challenges and then," I go into air-quote mode, "offer my 'sage advice' on what to do to address those challenges.  But it seems like you guys have already had your challenging years and are now rebuilding.  Hmmm..."

He says, "Yeah....I might challenge you to talk to another non-profit and compare and contrast...."

I look at him and tap my pen on my notepad a few seconds.

Something clicks.

"So, you basically have said that due to the bad economic conditions more people are becoming Medicaid-eligible, due in part to unemployment or under-employment, and that has benefited you.  What happens when the economy rebounds, and those consumers who came to you in their unemployment find new jobs, with insurance, and say, you're not in the insurance's network so they leave?  What do you do then, I mean it seems like you might be in a 'bubble' like the housing market was in, right?"

He looks at me and smiles, in concession.  "You," he says pointing at me, "You always were a pain in my side with your questions, weren't you?"  And it seems like some of the memories of my days with him are returning.  He clarifies, "I mean that in a good way, ya know?  It means you're smart, and that's good - really good.  But for someone like me, it is SO ANNOYING!"  He laughs and nods his head.  "That right there, that's our biggest challenge over the next five years.  Bing-O."  It was such a fraternal way of paying a high compliment - and with the earlier job offer, I was practically floating on the clouds!

I smile and tell him, "See, I can make this assignment work after all - just had to dig a bit!"

We talked some more and wrapped up.  Then he took me to meet the development staff person who wasn't on maternity leave - whom I actually worked with, albeit only via e-mail, while I was at the city.  Then he told on her that she had once confided in her co-worker that CFO Dude really intimidated her too and that she didn't like to work with him!  We laughed and talked some more and I really began to see CFO dude in a new light, one that made him look less like a bogeyman who could chew me up and spit me out.

Then, he asked Development #2 if she could take me to the clubhouse (a vocational rehab site for the consumers) and give me a tour, which she did.  It was amazing and I was truly proud to have had some affiliation with such a meaningful organization.

And, cut!  This is so long, and yet it has virtually none of the she-said-and-then-I-said details that my hubby and friends got to hear - thus, I stand by my title.
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday Fragments + FREE!

* It only took me a year, but I finally landed my first review/giveaway gig.  Please click over to my first ever giveaway post and enter to win a free natural lip balm!

* This morning Screech spilled my coffee on my laptop.  I was horrified.  I've already been having problems with the memory (needed a BIOS update, but not sure that was all as it was acting up again this week), and if I lose my stuff, there goes my business!  Thankfully most of my stuff is accessible via my e-mail.  Note to self: invest in external hard drive.  Now I'm en route to a computer repair shop to get it fixed.  I love my children, love them, love them, love them!

* Parent teacher conferences + President's day = 5 days in a row of all 3 kids, sans break.  Pray for me

* Parent Teacher Conferences revealed that my kids are doing great academically, but Middleton is.... "I wouldn't say de-FIIIIIIIII-ant per se...." said his teacher, "but there's something there."  To which I said, yes, and it has been going on for some time (within weeks of his birthday - which was in July - he began acting like a moody little teenage girl and Mr. Fixit has since been known to say, "That boy needs a Midol!") and it seems like he's taking on a victim mentality where it is Certainly Not My Fault and Life's No Fair all the time.  We're working on it.  And Special K has had some run in with the whole Queen Bee/Wannabe dynamic it would appear. 

Stream of Consciousness

I hate getting behind.  But last week Special K and Middleton were out of school for not one, but two non-snow snow days.  The weather was below zero with wind-chill, but the roads were clear and not hazardous in our area with very little actual snow, so I didn't really get why they got two days off, seeing as it IS Colorado and things do get cold from time to time, but hey, whatever, right?  We mostly did alright, with little to no altercations, save for the incessant undoings of anything I attempted to do domestically, which then resulted in subsequent RE-doings to the power of x, x being that mysterious value of "you will never get anything accomplished today, bahahaha!"  Quality time with the kids, good.  Falling behind in laundry, housework, my Finance Mgt for Non-Profits class, and life in general: Bad....very bad.  I'm digging out.  Slowly.  Obscene amounts of caffeine are predicted in the forecast.

Mr. Fixit and I had a date night on Friday.  The first since.....our anniversary???  Which would have been July.  Sad, I know.  It was GLORIOUS.  My BIL and his wife had given us a gift card to The Outback for Christmas, and some friends had graced us with a gift card to the movie theater, also for Christmas.  Last month, after a snow storm during which Mr. Fixit had done his usual neighborhood snow-blowing, I came home to a note on the door from our neighbor which had a gift card in it - also for the Outback!  We had a friend's daughter come sit our kids since she is saving money for a missions trip this summer (also - tangential side note....14 years ago, if someone would have told my 18 year old self that the then toddler with the cute blonde hair and brown eyes would be babysitting my own children - kids, me? and plural no less? - in what would seem like a blink, I would have laughed at them maniacally).  So we ate at Outback in conversation that was blissfully absent of whining, pinching, or some other activity warranting parental intervention, and then went to see 127 Hours.  It was a good movie.  But, I was unprepared to be hit with torrential emotions as I seem to have drawn some keen parallels between Aron Ralston's plight with that of my own glance at mortality nearly two years ago.  Vastly different settings and details, but that familiar roller coaster of hope and despair, coupled with a mutually experienced, primal, and determined will to survive, left me shaking in my seat as the credits rolled, hands fanned out in a vee and my thumbs attempting to dam the tears.  PTSD's adrenaline had been coursing through me, unbeknownst, and culminated at the scene where he finally knew he was going to make it, for reals, as the helicopter hovered over him....at first just a few tears flowed down, but then I was sobbing and shuddering, borne of something extremely similar to that very potent cocktail of joy and adrenaline one experiences moments after giving birth.  *sigh*  life is good, eh?

I got my first paycheck as a free-lancing, independent contracting, non-profit consultant on Saturday!  And I now have me a fancy-pants business account with a registered trade-name and DBA and everything.  I'm so excited about what the future holds for this endeavor and just know that 2011 is going to be a great year for us.

I don't remember how I landed on this article about extended nursing awhile back, but I swear, it rings so true to my life, particularly this part:

...They are his breasts now. He strokes them lovingly through my shirt and cups them with his palms. He blows raspberries on them and giggles. He nurses in a toddler variation of Downward Facing Dog while simultaneously thumbing the pages of Goodnight Moon. He slaps my chest with both hands and shouts....

I don't know that I'm as embarrassed as the author of the article says she was re: Screech's extended nursing, but we've definitely cut out nursing in public at this point not because I worry about what other people will think, but 1.) his acrobatics are mutually exclusive with any attempts for modesty, which is MY preference, and 2.) there has to be some sort of balance around teaching him boundaries, no?  I still enjoy the quiet moments, the cuddles.  Though it did a number on my body's balance of supply/demand, I had incredible peace of mind when he had 2 GI bugs back to back because I knew through nursing he was getting nourishment as he simply would not eat any food or drink other liquids.  But there are times, like Saturday night in bed, when I get tired of always having an unwieldy toddler stretching my breast into positions once filed in the erstwhile mental category of  "humanly impossible."

French's yellow mustard has something going on.  Special K is something of an anomaly for kids when it comes to her tastes in sandwich spreads - that is, she is a mustard and lunchmeat only kinda gal.    Same goes for burgers, hot dogs, and other condiment-requiring foods.  She'd do great in TX, no?  Last week at the International Festival, Middleton just about popped a gasket b/c the mustard at the concessions stand, French's yellow, was too spicy.  I tasted it, and sure enough, it had the vinegary twang of yellow mustard but the heat of the hottests of Chinese mustards.  I assumed it was an isolated incident.  Until today when I was making lunches and Special K insisted that I NOT use the mustard I used yesterday because it burned.  Sure enough, the brand new bottle I bought was not the same taste we've relied on for years.

Well...this has been days of SoC writing, best to hit publish and get to work.

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

So, How's it Feel to be Jealous of a Muppet?

Sidenote: I decided to return to using nicknames for my family members...I just like the whimsy it lends to my stories.

Today was a rare day that Mr. Fixit was home with me, without one of us being deathly sick.  He'd worked Saturday and was beat.

So, because we are old and boring anymore, and because we still had little Screech with us and thus could not just spend the day in wild abandon with each other, we set out on some errands, and the promise of a quiet brunch, together.

First, we went to get Screech caught up on his vaccinations.  Let it be noted that I am NOT one of those moms who thinks that vaccinations are bad, mmkay?, nor have I EVER let my kids get off schedule with their immunizations before, but Screech kept getting sick whenever I had the idea to get him in (and vaccinations during suppressed immune functions ARE bad) and the universe only just now aligned for him to get his 18 mos appointment stuff done.  3 months late.  Anyway, so we got that done.  I do hold vaccinations in poor regard just because of having to reckon with seeing my little ones in pain and anguish, especially when they are wearing that betrayed look on their face of "Mother!!  What in Hades are you letting this wretched nurse do to me?  LETTING her?!?  I thought you loved me!"  Of course, less than 5 minutes later, all was forgiven, I think....

Then we moseyed along, cautiously, as the then-light dusting of snow that looked harmless was quickly turning into black ice with a skiff of the white stuff atop it and accidents were popping up all around us, to Target, where we were hoping to acquire a new backpack for Special K since hers had long since decided to abandon any semblance of functional zippers.  Turns out?  Backpacks with any quality to their design are not so affordable these days.  I mean, we were talking minimum of $30 for packs that were still pretty flimsy!  So after a lot of hemming and hawing, Mr. Fixit and I just decided that we'd let Special K use my Swiss Gear daypack for her use.  Because we are all about the practical on the cheap.  We laughed at ourselves after that as we'd just spent an hour of our time shopping for something only to leave empty handed.

Next stop, Sam's Club.  For the purpose of scouting out truck tires - a purchase that is inevitably coming up the pike but I keep wanting to put off.  Truck tires are EX.PEN.SIVE!!!!  We priced things out, taking mental notes as Mr. Fixit said he would do some online research and compare costs at home.  We found some really nice Osh Kosh winter coats for $5.33 - which was 50% less what I paid for Screech's USED coat from Once Upon a Child this season!  So we got one for Screech to sock away for next winter (wish they would've had sizes big enough for Middleton and Special K, but alas! no such luck), grabbed a giant tub of parmesan cheese and went to the check out.

Wouldn't you know it that it was one of those mornings where all of the checkout aisles not only had some serious lines, but it was like time was suspended for all of them as various price checks and other obstacles stalled them out.  While we waited, I people watched.

And grew increasingly self-conscious of the fact that, while I had showered before we left (since I'd pleaded to get one in before we headed out, on the grounds that showers are NOT guaranteed for SAHM's, and especially newly WAHM's, with toddlers, and I SO needed one), I had not styled my hair after blow-drying it, applied any makeup and was wearing my frumpy clothes thanks to it being my bloated week of the month. Normally, I don't care about that kind of thing - normally, I am confident enough to wear no makeup into the workplace, knowing that the only time I need to take the effort is when I want to.  But today was an anomaly.

There were fit, perfectly made up, beautifully dressed, well coiffed women in abundance this morning.

Well, I have an anti-poker face, in that whatever is going on inside my head is totally apparent to even the newest of acquaintances.

Mr. Fixit noticed and asked me what was up with the frownies.

I told him that I was feeling a bit below average in comparison to those around us, leaning my head toward the gal in designer jeans and boots ahead of me.  She was dainty and petite in frame, naturally olive in complexion with perfectly highlighted platinum locks and had a structural beauty to her face with prominent cheekbones and pouty, collagen-filled lips.  Minus the boobs, she looked, to me, like Pamela Anderson.

Source: Life.com

Mr. Fixit immediately quipped, albeit in a hushed tone so that only I could hear him, "You mean her, the one that looks like the chick from the Dark Crystal??  She looks like a damned Muppet, Heather!"

Source: Henson.com

No sooner did he say that than I was able to see the uncanny resemblance.

And couldn't stifle the ridculousness of my up-til-then feelings of inferiority.

Nice to be reminded that beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder - and so much nicer still that my beloved's eyes are so discerning.

Hello, Right Hand? Meet Left Hand, and Please Take Heed of What the other is Doing

I've been dreading this week....

Particularly because my inner Grover insists there's a monster at the end of it.  Particularly on Saturday.

It's a scheduling cluster#@$%, erm, nightmare.

Kelsey's Girl Scouts troupe has been working very hard on their display on Korea that will be part of the annual International Festival.  Kelsey digs learning about new cultures and ethnicities.  A lot.  Earlier in the month I was planning out my calendar, and at some point I had a jotted a note reading:

So I got about it and lo!  The Girl Scout Council of our town had scheduled the International Festival on January 29th.

But wait, Kelsey had another commitment on the 29th.  As in, my little Special K (my newest nickname for her!) had earned herself a place in the district spelling bee after kicking some booty in the school bee.

Now, some of you know that in my former career, I was something of an executive scheduler, and as such, am a little O-to-the-C-to-the-D when it comes to those pesky little things called details...so, when organizations that work with school-age children schedule major events fail to consult the academic calendars, respective to the population they serve, it grates on my nerves much like the waitstaff at the Olive Garden manage to do with the parmigiano.  Because clearly nothing says, "We're training your girls up to be short-sighted leaders - but it will be meaningful and fun along the way!" than a myopic planning maneuver such as this.  Oh, the other pet peeve is that our town's IF is not listed on the Events Planner portion of the GS COLORADO website, but the neighboring town's is listed as if it is the only one for our region, in February....seriously, these people need some admin skillz!

So there was my visceral reaction - but then Kelsey's was somewhat heartbreaking.  She quickly melted down into her woebegone state that is fairly common anytime anything deviates AT.ALL  from how she expected things to be (I feel for my future son-in-law, how I feel for him and pray for a gentle, long-suffering soul to step into that future role!).  Then she said, "Well, then I just won't do the spelling bee - I'll do the International Festival instead!"

At this point, the tiger mom in me - who normally pushes the snooze button and stays in hibernation as long as possible - came out and said, "No ma'am.  You most certainly are not going to forsake an academic activity for some fluffy little foreign fair.  You're going to spell like a champ, like it or not.  This is not the first time you'll have to make a decision in a conflict, so put on your big girl panties and suck it up, buttercup."  Because I have principles, and academics are important in them.  So are actual leadership/service learning opportunities - if they were going to help out at Habitat for Humanity that Saturday, I'd have probably let her skip the spelling bee.  But to forsake it just to go hang out with a group of girls, many of them the mean girl types at that, gabbing about Bieber and Taylor Swift and what clothes are in while they go and participate in a Cliff Notes version of world travel?  Nah.....

So....after that it stood that our weekend schedule would look like this:
Saturday:
Leave the house at 7:00 am in order to get from our northern-most district home to the southern-most district school by 7:30
7:30 - check-in at the spelling bee
8:00 - 9:30 Wait as Kelsey completes the written spelling bee exam - if she makes the cut, then we go on to oral round at 10:00
10:00-noon - Oral Round .... OR if she gets cut, make a mad dash to the other side of town and get her to the IF

Meanwhile, I will have both of the boys because Seth was informed at the beginning of the month that this was his Saturday to work.

And I'm on deadline for some grantwriting.

And holy cow am I realizing just how diligent I have to be with the time management trying to get this all done....

Also?  You extracurricular people who can't plan to save your life are putting a big rain cloud on my parade!


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved