I am tired.

I tried to think of some cute title for this post, but that seemed like a lot of work, so I gave up. I considered "Yes, I'm still alive" and "Yes, I still have a blog and I remembered the login" and "Hey, mom, here's that post you've been waiting for," but in the end I just went with something simple and true.

Last Friday was my worst travel experience ever, of any kind, and that includes the time I went to St. Louis and got a cab that the driver had to start with a hammer. Somewhere in hour three of the six-hour drive my colleague and I made from Charlotte, NC to Nashville, TN in our desperate bid to get home to Illinois, I started seriously questioning my career choice. And when I had to walk into class after my epic journey without even going home first, wearing clean socks and a clean t-shirt brought to me in the parking lot by my wonderful husband and child, I started seriously questioning my school choice. I have gotten over all this serious questioning, but am left feeling very overwhelmed, very tired, very inadequate as a spouse and mother and very uncertain of how to get myself out of this in one piece.

In case anyone I work with or for has happened to notice that I have a blog, and has somehow found it, I would like to be clear that I do, most of the time, like my job, and I do think I am basically good at it. But the amount of work has reached a critical mass that makes me feel like I'm not doing as well as I could at any of it, and I find that very frustrating. I like to be really good at things. I am a little weary of spending my days running from one meeting to the next, each about a different topic, throwing in a few business trips, trying to get homework done to some reasonable standard and still do a decent job of just being married, being a mom and occasionally cooking food or cleaning the bathroom.

One day last week, I had eight meetings. Eight. And I had a trip the next day (the fateful trip to NC), and I wasn't near being done with what I needed to do, and B had to work late because I was going to be gone the next two days and he wasn't going to get another chance. So I did the only thing I could think of, which is pick the kid up from school and take her back to work with me, at 6:30, so that I could finish my stuff. And she was beautifully well-behaved, wonderful in every way, as usual. But I felt like utter crap about it. I was getting ready to be gone for two days and I couldn't even spend some nice time with my kid watching Looney Tunes or building Legos or who knows what. She sat in a chair in my tiny cube and watched me work while she ate goldfish crackers.

So I went on the trip, then ran into travel insanity, and found myself finishing my homework for school while balancing my laptop on my knees while my colleague was driving to Nashville. I emailed the sorry thing to the professor at midnight that night when we finally got to the hotel. Thank goodness he was very understanding and didn't make me try to present my work after I stumbled into class 3 hours late, having flown in Saturday morning and driven straight to school. He even let me resubmit my homework so I could look it over to be sure it was coherent.

Yesterday was Father's Day, and while B said he had a great day, I wished I could have gotten it together to do more for him. He's been pulling all the weight at home lately, and he never complains or questions any of my travel or homework or anything. He just adjusts his schedule and makes things work, and even knows how to do ponytails so he can do Hannah's hair when I'm not home. He is wonderful. He is amazing. And I wanted to do something really great to show him how much every single thing he does means to me, and I couldn't get it together. I got him a t-shirt. He said, "Well, you've been busy." Which is true. But is it an excuse?

Then today at work was insane again, and I am just tired. And I have another trip Wednesday to Thursday. At least class is over on Saturday and I have the rest of the summer off. Let's not talk about the final project that's due in 5 days that I haven't even started...I guess that's what the plane ride is for.

But I have officially hit the wall. I am trying to do too much. And yeah, I get the next two months off from school, but what am I going to do in September when it all starts up again?

My surprise 30th birthday (Or, Why I have the best husband in the universe)

We went to visit family right after Christmas...and there were some extra friends visiting, too, which was wonderful. Little did I know they were all there to celebrate my birthday!!

On Sunday, one week to the day after my birthday, we all went out to lunch. I asked where we were going, and my mother-in-law said, "Oh, there's this new place I thought we'd try." So we got there...and it was a surprise birthday party for me, all organized by my awesome, wonderful, amazing, thoughtful husband! It was my very first birthday party, because I never had one when I was little - my poor mom would try to plan them for me, and then I would get sick (because I was born on the first day of winter!), and then she'd have to cancel. So I finally told her to stop trying...but had I known having your own birthday party was so very fun, I might have kept up the good fight a little longer. I had an awesome time!

Most of my good friends from college were there, some having traveled great distances to do it...I only missed one friend who had conflicting plans and couldn't make it. My friend Vic came, and I hadn't seen her since her wedding reception two years ago. That was a pretty great surprise. And of course, all my family was there (except my dad, who was sick!). Pretty much everyone interrupted their Christmas breaks to come to my party, and I was just blown away that they would all do that for me. I got some lovely gifts (Swarovski crystal necklace) and some very funny gifts (a hula hoop, which I was completely hopeless at using), and just had a fantastic time with everyone.

But the best part? My party was at a place called Bounce About, which is a big room full of those giant moon bouncer thingies you see at kids' parties...but these were big enough for "big kids," too, so we all ran around and bounced and ate pizza and cake and drank way too much pop, and had a terrific time. I have got to be the only person in the history of birthdays who had her 30th birthday at a moon bouncer place. It was AWESOME, and the best, most creative idea for a 30th birthday party, and I could not believe my fantastic husband did all of that for me. He started planning it in October! He made sure everyone could come! And he thought of the very most fun place ever to have a party. (Hannah loved it - she ran up to me when we first got there and said, "Mom, I LIKE your PARTY!!")

It was the best day ever. I have rarely, if ever, had that much fun. I am so lucky to have the family and friends that I do!!

Thanks to everyone who came, or helped, or had anything to do with pulling it off. I was completely floored. I never suspected anything, and have never been so surprised. I like surprises when they're good. :)

7 things about me

Thanks to Vic for tagging me! Here are 7 things about me you probably don't know:

1) One of the reasons I'm glad Vic tagged me is that I like talking about myself. I know that's supposed to be a bad thing, but it's true. I like talking to other people about themselves, too...but I am a sucker for those emails where you fill out four jobs you've had or what you eat for breakfast or whatever, and then send it on to all your friends. I know no one cares what I eat for breakfast, but there's something fun about writing down things like that. (For the record, this morning I had oatmeal mixed with granola, brown sugar, cinnamon and dried cranberries - a concoction of my own creation that I call "oatnola.")

2) I do not keep liquor in my house. This is because I like it very much, especially vodka, and I am concerned about the possibilities if I had easy access to it all the time. Because I am a comfort eater, I think it stands to reason I would be a comfort drinker, so it's just better not to tempt myself.

3) The top 4 days in my life have been the day I got engaged, my wedding, the birth of my daughter, and when the Indianapolis Colts won the Super Bowl. The 5th best day in my life will be when Barack Obama wins the presidency. I'm excited for that.

4) I harbor a secret desire to be a stand-up comedian. I won't ever, ever do it, and in fact have never tried, but it's the fantasy job I go to in my mind when my real job really gets on my nerves. Of course, since this is not grounded in reality, in my daydreams I am already wildly successful as a comedian and also never have to travel. :)

5) I think I might only want one kid. I am just so incredibly happy with the amazing one I have, and I really, right now, feel absolutely no desire to expand our family further. (Sorry, parents.) Also, I strongly doubt my ability to handle any more kids - it would require seriously compromising the attention I can give to my husband and my career, and I'm really not thrilled about that prospect. The poor cats are already getting the shaft. This is not to say that I wouldn't adapt if modern medicine should happen to fail me.

6) I have devolved in my organizational skills. I used to be hyper-organized. Now I can't really face filing. Brock does all of it at home, and at work I only do it when the piles of paper on my desk get to the point where I can't remember what's in them. I also haven't balanced our checkbook in approximately 4 years, or maybe more, because banking online is awesome. But Brock handles that too. I never keep receipts. My email inboxes (both personal and work) are muddled disasters of old messages that I will never use, but they're so out of control that it would take too much time to clean them up. I hate this about myself. But I also have to let some stuff go.

7) I am really proud that we moved out of Indiana and are making a life for ourselves here. I will always love the place I grew up, but I really love my home now, too. And when I think about the fact that we moved here when we were 22 and didn't know anybody at all, I am amazed at what we've done since then. I can't believe it never occurred to me to be nervous about moving away from everyone we knew. Now I would be absolutely terrified to move, but I can't really think of anywhere I'd rather live, either.

That's it from me. Now, I tag Robin and Brock to talk about themselves on their blogs, too! This is fun!

In memory

I learned this morning that my grandmother passed away yesterday. We weren't at all close, which is something I regret, and I am sadder than I thought I would be now that she's really gone. I thought I had long ago worked through the fact that I wasn't going to have a grandma the same way other people have grandmas, and that when the end did come it would just sort of feel like the final detail in a relationship that wasn't really a relationship at all. But I am sad that things were the way they were.

Still, I've spent the day reflecting on some of the happy memories I do have of my grandma, and even if you didn't know her, these are amusing. And they're a fun way to honor her and to remember that once upon a time, things were different. Here we go:

• To the best of my knowledge, my grandmother invented "stuffed celery," which is raw celery stuffed with a combination of cream cheese, chopped onion, pepper and more salt than seems reasonable. It is one of the great taste sensations of all time, and I believe could be considered one of my grandma's best contributions to society. To this day, it does not feel like Christmas or New Year's to me if I do not have stuffed celery to eat.
  
• Aside from the triumph of stuffed celery, my grandmother was not a very good cook. My dad has great stories about her trying to make mashed potatoes with melted ice cream because she was out of milk, or SPAM sandwiches with that weird jelly stuff still on them. But my own personal memory of my grandma and cooking revolves almost entirely around Jell-O. I hate Jell-O, and really pretty much always have, but she was one of the great supporters of Jell-O's sales figures when I was little. I vividly remember one of her kitchen cabinets was literally filled with boxes of every kind of Jell-O.
• One year, she gave me a kazoo on my sister's birthday (you know, so I wouldn't feel left out). I know my parents were greatly displeased by this, but I thought the kazoo was pretty awesome. I think she may have also been the source of the harmonica I had, but never learned how to play properly. Harmonicas sound horrible if you don't know what you're doing, but they are pleasantly noisy if you're 6.
  
• She was a great beer-drinker. When I was very little I said to her (and I have no idea where I got this notion), "Grandma, ladies don't drink beer." And she laughed and took another pull from the bottle. *chuckle*
• One year she gave my dad pajamas for Christmas. My dad hates pajamas, and I told her so. In front of everyone. From this experience I learned that it sometimes it is better not to say what you're thinking, even if it's true...and this life lesson serves me well to this day.
• Another food-related memory: my grandma's lake cottage is the only place in my life I ever remember having Tang to drink, and it was horrible. On the plus side, though, she would get those little individual-serving boxes of all the super-sugary cereal we never were allowed to have at home, so we got to eat Coco Puffs and Sugar Crisp and whatever that really sweet honey cereal was that had a frog on the box. That was really awesome, especially for a kid from a decidedly Grape Nuts and Cheerios family.

But the very best thing I have to say about my grandmother, and the thing I will always be most grateful to her for no matter what flaws she might have had as a grandmother, is that she gave the world my dad. And that, my friends, is an amazing contribution. :)

Busy busy busy

The last few of weeks have been pretty crazy. I made it through a very rough week at my new job, in which I was convinced I had made a huge mistake and should just go cry in a corner instead. But I came out on the other side of that, and while I'm still kind of overwhelmed and feel like I don't know which way is up, I'm making incremental progress on some things and am starting to feel like I'm accomplishing something.

I had my first business trip with the new job last weekend. Thankfully, it was short - but it also encompassed Saturday and Sunday, so today is my first real day off in a couple of weeks. Also, I came back from the trip with a stomach bug and spent Tuesday lying on the couch eating crackers, 4 at a time, in shifts of every few hours. What was completely bizarre about it was that exactly 24 hours after I started feeling horrible, I got ravenously hungry and ate tacos. And I've been totally fine ever since. Really weird.

Brock is off with some friends this afternoon seeing The Dark Knight, because I refuse to go see it in the movie theater. At some point, I want to see it because it's supposed to be really good - I told Brock I felt like I'd be missing out on a cultural experience if I didn't eventually watch it - but I can't handle it in the theater. Too many scary clowns. And I'm scared of clowns that aren't even supposed to be scary. So Brock's "screening" it for me and when we do eventually watch it together, it'll be on DVD in the safety of our own home, and he can tell me when I need to hide my face.

Hannah has a cold...which stinks...but this morning at 4:45 when she woke up crying we really thought it might be bronchitis, so we'll take the cold. She's been doing all right today. Dimetapp is helping.

And now...I need to go do some stuff for work. Bleh.

Confessions of a working mom

My new job is insane. It's insane partially because I think that's just how it's going to be, and partially because I am trying to learn it while simultaneously doing my old job (because there's no one else to do it). I had seven meetings today, and there were two times where two meetings overlapped. It's that kind of crazy. I left work late and Hannah was the last kid left at daycare, which doesn't happen often but still makes me feel like a horrible mother when it does. It's been bugging me all evening.

It occurs to me that because I had a child while still on the upward climb of my career, I have set myself up for many years of internal conflict and guilt over pursuing career advancement. I thought I'd already understood it, but with this job I think I've hit the point where it's really going to be something that weighs on me. While my family will always be the most important thing in the world to me, my career is still important, too. I hope that in the long run this will be a really good example for my daughter - that you can do all the things you want to do, and have success in your own right while also being a good wife and mother. But I think the key is marrying well; that is, marrying someone who supports that, and plays an active role in the daily running of the family. I'm lucky my husband supports my ambition, and that he is an active dad who would never, ever refer to spending time with Hannah as "babysitting." But I still have guilt.

The other day, I was talking to one of my friends, who's expecting a baby. I said to her that I felt like the decision to be a working mom is a catch-22: if you stay home, people may undervalue you because you're not "working" and you may feel like you should be doing more (which is a crock); if you work, some will judge your career dedication negatively, and you'll feel guilty for not staying home (also a crock). None of this is fair, but as my mom always said, "Who ever promised fair?" The answer, now as it was when I wanted a Whistle Pop at the grocery store, is "nobody."

I know that I would not be a very good stay-at-home mom. I mean, I'd be okay at it, but I don't think my daughter would be as well-rounded if she were stuck with me all the time. In fact, judging by the few times we've been on our own for a few days when her dad was traveling, I'd say we'd get pretty sick of each other. I've said a million times that she wouldn't know how to do half the stuff she knows how to do, because it wouldn't occur to me to teach her. We're always so impressed when she starts doing something new - and one of us usually says, "Did you know she could do that?" And then we start working with her at home, too...but it takes a little kick in the pants to get us started. I also know I wouldn't be one of those moms who's really good about arranging activities and crafts and things, and I don't think I'd like "mommy & me" classes very much.

At the same time, I wonder about being a working mom and if my drive for success is going to affect Hannah. She's already good about applying the guilt when I travel, and it's awful. It makes me feel selfish - but really, although we certainly need my salary and it helps a lot, the real reason, deep down, that I work is for me. I need it. I need the interaction with people, and the intellectual stimulation, and the ability to feel like I'm accomplishing something that's just mine. I've said before that I was the first person in my family to graduate college, and I went to college for a reason, and that reason was to have a successful career. So I guess it is a bit selfish. But I also think that's probably okay.

What I can't figure out is why there's guilt, anyway. I mean, who ever said I have to be the one to pick up my kid from day care every day? Who said I'm the one who has to get up first in the morning, and get everyone else moving? Who said I'm the one who has to make dinner? Certainly not my husband, who is more than willing and able to share all these responsibilities. Not my parents, both of whom always worked when I was growing up. Even my grandmas worked. Sometimes I think it's a function of moving to a different geographic area, where there seem to be more stay-at-home moms than I ever encountered where I grew up. I don't think I had any friends when I was younger whose moms didn't work. Everybody's mom worked. They had to, and that was that. So you'd think that moms my age would have purged all that guilt and second-guessing, because even their moms worked and they turned out just fine.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I just always feel like I should be doing more.

Sorry to be so pensive. I just needed to get all that out.

Cats can growl

It's true. When they are truly, really, awfully furious beyond recognition, they growl just like dogs. At least, our cat Lewis does.

See, aside from our human kid, we have two feline kids. And I spent two hours at the animal ER with one of those feline kids last night. Poor Lewis. He's a mess. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that there was a great deal of cat vomit going on at our house. Not good for us, not good for our carpet and certainly not good for Lewis.

So the poor guy got shoved in his cat carrier at 8:45 last night, and we drove to the animal ER. He was actually quite calm for the first portion of the visit. He just camped out on the scale (where it was learned he'd lost 3/4 of a pound in just a few days) and even let the nurse take his temperature. If you pause to think about how they take cat temperatures, you will be as amazed as I was at his calm nature.

He had a fever, but they couldn't figure out what was wrong. He got x-rays. Nothing. Then he had bloodwork. Nothing serious, except that he was dehydrated. It was decided that he probably had some sort of infection and they would give him an injection of fluids under his skin, as well as an injections of antibiotics and anti-nausea medication.

That's when it all went downhill. I, sitting alone in the exam room reading Cat Fancy - which, by the way, is the most disturbing magazine I have ever read, but it was the only thing in there other than the Veterinarian's Oath - heard noises coming from the back room that sounded vaguely like a cat might be making them, but not really. I've never heard noises like that. The vet came back in and said, "Okay, he's had enough. We can't handle him anymore." I said, "That was MY cat making those noises??" Poor, poor Lewis. He must have been so mad and confused. They brought him back into the room in his cat carrier, and he was FURIOUS. If there's a level beyond furious, that's what he was. And he growled at me. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he was a rottweiler. I felt really bad for him.

Since they were unable to give him injections, they sent us home with antibiotic pills and anti-nausea liquid medicine, with instructions that he shouldn't eat or drink anything for the night. It took us about 30 minutes to get him to take his medicines. Brock swaddled him in a towel and did a full body bind so he couldn't get away, while I pried his mouth open and crammed a pill in approximately 87 times. The liquid was marginally easier. Poor Lewis.

He's eaten a little today and seems to be doing a bit better. His nose is cold again (last night it was warm). So hopefully he's on the mend. Thankfully, Hegemon doesn't seem to have gotten it. We think Lewis might have picked up some germs at the vet's office last week, when we had to take him in for his seasonal allergy shot. (Yeah, he has allergies and asthma, too.)

So, does anybody have any good tips for getting a cat to eat pills?

P.S. There was an article in Cat Fancy about alternative medicine for cats. You'll be interested to know that acupuncture can be beneficial, but you shouldn't pursue chiropractic treatment because cats' frames are too small. Seriously - cat acupuncture? Catupuncture? I really, really love our cats, but that magazine freaked me out. Why have so many specialty breeds of cats when there are thousands and thousands of little mutt kitties who need homes? I don't get it. And I am not getting catupuncture for Lewis...unless maybe it would help his asthma? KIDDING!

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there...including me. :) (I don't think there's anything wrong with giving yourself props for raising a pretty fantastic kid.) Thanks, especially, to my mom for raising me, and to Brock's mom for raising him. You made us both just wacky enough to be perfect for each other. :)

And, especially if you're a mom, check out this blog post on the Cookie magazine website. I just found this one last week, and it does a really good job of explaining why one of my Mother's Day gifts - a day at the spa - is absolutely perfect. Sometimes, moms need to not have to take care of anybody or anything. Time that's all about you becomes this magical reset button that lets you go back to making it all about somebody else with renewed energy.

My family rocks. I'm so glad I get to be a mom, and that I have a husband who appreciates the job I do. He made me a really complicated breakfast just because it's my favorite. How awesome is that?

Life is a highway...

...and mine has been traffic-filled lately.

I went to California for work last week, which was difficult because Hannah is finally old enough to really miss me, understand that she misses me, and make me feel bad about it without even really trying. She was really excited to see me when I came home, though. :)

Our lives have become quite focused on the challenges of potty training a three-year-old. We seem to be making some progress. I got a manicure & pedicure before I left for California, and the women doing my nails gave me a hard time because my daughter isn't potty-trained yet. Seriously - what is it about having a kid that makes total strangers assume they can tell you what they think about the job you're doing? Meh on them.

Work has been insane, but I am not stupid enough to publicly write about why. Let's just say that I am "between bosses." Work has been really busy for Brock, too...he's had to work quite a few late evenings lately. I don't know how he does it; I just wear out at a certain point and can't think anymore, but he can keep plugging on something until he gets it completed/fixed/updated/whatever. It's impressive.

I only have a month of school left, and I haven't really started rocking either of my final projects. I should be doing that instead of this (or at least cleaning the bathroom instead of doing this), but I lack motivation. But...please take my survey if you haven't already! I am taking the summer off, which I'm sure I'll regret when I'm stuck in school and everyone I started with is finished, but I need a break.

I went for a nice walk with Robin on Sunday, which was good...we hadn't done that in awhile and it was nice to catch up. We walked around my neighborhood, and it made me think about how my mind is shifting into "move" mode. We've always known we'd want to try to move before Hannah starts school. Hopefully the market will recover a bit before then...but our stroll around the neighborhood made me realize that I never want to live anywhere with chain link fences ever again. I love our house so much, but I'm starting to hate the chain link fences around here.

The weekend was beautiful here, which was refreshing after so many cold, awful winter months. We broke 60 degrees for the first time! Wahoo! There's hope for us all.

Okay, enough procrastinating. My ethics paper is calling me...

Hooray for Dad!

My dad's surgery went great! Everything went according to plan and he's doing really well. He will most likely be able to go home from the hospital tomorrow - yippee! He'll have several checkups in the next weeks and months to make sure the stint the doctor put in to reinforce his aorta and cut off the blood supply to the aneurysm is doing what it's supposed to, but right now all signs point to "Wahoo, it's over!"

I'm back home after a very tiring trip (we left my parents' house at 4:50 a.m...which wasn't so bad until my car, which lives on Central time, told me it was really 3:50 when I started it up this morning), but not for long. I leave first thing in the morning for a (thankfully short) business trip. It will be much easier to focus now that I know my dad's doing okay.

Thanks to everyone who said prayers or thought happy thoughts for my dad today. They worked! :)

Whew.

Tests and papers

I realize I post a lot about school here...but it's a major new force in my life, so that's why.

This weekend I had my third class, at which I had to hand in a paper, give a presentation based on the paper, and take a midterm. I think the paper and the presentation were okay. I studied like a maniac for the test (or at least, I tried to remember how to study) and it seemed to go okay, too. However, I did have kind of a breakdown Friday night that involved wailing, "There isn't room in my head for all this information! There's nowhere for it to go! I can't do this! I'll forget it all and I'll fail! I should just quit now!"

Brock handled all this extremely well. He told me I should go to bed and get some sleep, then get up early and study. He turned out to be quite right about this, as the early morning studying was way more effective than the late night studying, and all that info was perched at the front of my brain come test time - perfectly poised to spill out onto my test paper and away from my memory. I'm waiting to see how I did, but I don't think it was awful so I was fairly pleased. Considering I had to absorb seven book chapters and about 10 hours of lectures in just two weeks and then take a test, I didn't think I could have done any more to prepare, anyway.

I have to say, though, that I really have to learn APA style. We didn't have to use it for this paper, but we do have to use it for another paper. I used MLA as an undergrad and now at work I use a weird hybrid of AP style, corporate style and "Jessie style," as appropriate. So when I sat down to write my paper for school I was questioning all kinds of things...like do you put one space after a period or two? Do you indent your paragraphs or just put an extra return in between them? How do bold and italics (two of my favorite writing tools) work on a college paper? It just amazes me how much my writing style has changed in the past seven years.

On another note, for those of you who read this but whom I don't get to talk to very often, my dad is having surgery for an aortic aneurysm on Thursday this week. I will be down for that so I can hang out at the hospital with my mom and my sister, and then I have to drive home and be ready to catch a plane for a business trip early on Friday morning. So that's going to be kind of crazy. We're all just hoping surgery goes smoothly and Dad doesn't get too cranky without food or coffee in the morning. This is a real danger that I don't think the medical team fully understands. He seems like a really sweet, easygoing guy until you take away his caffeine, and then bad things start to happen...so please think happy thoughts for my dad on Thursday that all will go well.