I have been at my present job for a total of five years. In return, I received a certificate and a catalog to choose a gift of appreciation.
At first, I quickly flipped through the household items, and looked for a more personalized item.
A watch? I probably lose the watch.
A ring? Nah
I just get the bracelet, I thought.
I placed the catalog in the drawer. That was a few weeks ago.
This morning, I got a letter on the mail reminding me that I had not chosen the gift.
So I took the catalog again and flipped though it one more time.
No paintings, thank you, my sister’s mother in law, paints and she gave us some stellar art work.
Ok so I had decided to pick the bracelet, but now I was not so sure. Argh why do they give us some choices!!
I thought why don’t a get something more practical: a tent for my family to go our first camping trip, a telescope so I can spend time with the boys looking at the stars, a pair of binoculars so Dominik can look at the birds he loves to watch
Suddenly a bracelet did not make such sense, it might up end up in one of my baskets.
I had originally decided for the bracelet, to remind me of the hard work, the sacrifices that I made. My five year service has been a family affair and they deserve just as much as me. My boys have been hustled every morning, to go to daycare, endured numerous ear infections due to all the sharing of the germs from all the other kids. My husband has been supportive; at times adjusting his work schedule and take care of the boys so I can work extended work hours.
It is difficult to make this choice, it is indicative of my current stage in life. I am a mom; I want to create memories with my boys and husband. But I also want to PROTECT my individuality.
I asked myself
“How is a bracelet going to protect my identity, unless I am wonder woman?”
(which I think, I am at times, I even have a costume, but that is another story!!)
Friday, March 12, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Are you my friend?
The boys and I are this sitting this morning having breakfast
Oatmeal with raisins
boiled eggs
After taking a few spoonsfuls at this oatmeal
roman takes a look a this boiled egg, then looks at Dominik's
Roman: "Dominik, do you want my egg and I have yours?"
Dominik: No!
I am looking at both eggs and they look exactly the same!
Roman tries again
Dominik: No! and he takes a bite out of it
Dominik: Mommy, this is gud!
Roman is still trying
Roman: Well, then you are not my friend!
Dominik continues eating his egg
Silence for a few minutes
Roman: Dominik, are you my friend?
Dominik: No! I am not
Roman: Dominik,,be my friend
Dominik: OK!
Dominik: Want a piece of my egg?as he broke off a piece
I loved to witness my boys's interactions!
Oatmeal with raisins
boiled eggs
After taking a few spoonsfuls at this oatmeal
roman takes a look a this boiled egg, then looks at Dominik's
Roman: "Dominik, do you want my egg and I have yours?"
Dominik: No!
I am looking at both eggs and they look exactly the same!
Roman tries again
Dominik: No! and he takes a bite out of it
Dominik: Mommy, this is gud!
Roman is still trying
Roman: Well, then you are not my friend!
Dominik continues eating his egg
Silence for a few minutes
Roman: Dominik, are you my friend?
Dominik: No! I am not
Roman: Dominik,,be my friend
Dominik: OK!
Dominik: Want a piece of my egg?as he broke off a piece
I loved to witness my boys's interactions!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Thoughts of a 35 year old woman
I recently celebrated my 35th birthday by going to New York City, yes the big apple, over an extended weekend. It was delicious!
I laughed (had many laughing spells on the subway).
I grasped (I'm a grasper according to Nando).
I attended celebrities' parties.
I met wonderful individuals.
I felt revived, loved and valued. I was myself. I could be silly, awkward and be in awe of the powerful and confident women I met. Mr P. a friend of Nando's created an exquisite piece of art, a sculpture especially for me. WOW, I was honored.
When I returned to Iowa, honestly I struggled. I went through a fixed array of emotions. I was confused. I felt remorse, sadness, tiredness. I love my children, my husband, but it was back to the hectic- crazy- demanding schedule. Work, housework, homework.
In NYC, I felt happy. Back in Iowa, I was not me, I was someone’s employee: a number, someone’s wife, someone’s mom, someone’s student, someone’s neighbor, someone’s daughter, and in all that, sometimes I feel lost. Like I don’t have an identity. I'm sure every Mom goes through this phase and ask themselves “Who I am?”
How do you cope with all your roles, but still maintain a sense of individuality?
Jobs can be lost, children grow up and leave you, etc…but the journey of self-discovery never ends, I never want it to end for me. I have always said that on my last breath on Earth,
I don’t want to be full of regrets,
I don’t want to think…what if…
That would be terrible.
I was impressed by Frank, persuading his fashion destiny,
Tawny, starting her own cupcakes business,
Abiola, her endless enthusiasm and energy (I have a crush on her- is that possible to have a girl-crush?)
Shoshy an empowering, confidant diva,
Shannon, four children FOUR and a successful blogger,
Kim, started her own wonderful lip- gloss company,
Su, with WINK (she was so pleasant!)
I guess, meeting all these people forced me to ask myself “what are you doing to follow your passion?” and that made me very uncomfortable, uneasy.
I was and am still scared to answer that question......
I laughed (had many laughing spells on the subway).
I grasped (I'm a grasper according to Nando).
I attended celebrities' parties.
I met wonderful individuals.
I felt revived, loved and valued. I was myself. I could be silly, awkward and be in awe of the powerful and confident women I met. Mr P. a friend of Nando's created an exquisite piece of art, a sculpture especially for me. WOW, I was honored.
When I returned to Iowa, honestly I struggled. I went through a fixed array of emotions. I was confused. I felt remorse, sadness, tiredness. I love my children, my husband, but it was back to the hectic- crazy- demanding schedule. Work, housework, homework.
In NYC, I felt happy. Back in Iowa, I was not me, I was someone’s employee: a number, someone’s wife, someone’s mom, someone’s student, someone’s neighbor, someone’s daughter, and in all that, sometimes I feel lost. Like I don’t have an identity. I'm sure every Mom goes through this phase and ask themselves “Who I am?”
How do you cope with all your roles, but still maintain a sense of individuality?
Jobs can be lost, children grow up and leave you, etc…but the journey of self-discovery never ends, I never want it to end for me. I have always said that on my last breath on Earth,
I don’t want to be full of regrets,
I don’t want to think…what if…
That would be terrible.
I was impressed by Frank, persuading his fashion destiny,
Tawny, starting her own cupcakes business,
Abiola, her endless enthusiasm and energy (I have a crush on her- is that possible to have a girl-crush?)
Shoshy an empowering, confidant diva,
Shannon, four children FOUR and a successful blogger,
Kim, started her own wonderful lip- gloss company,
Su, with WINK (she was so pleasant!)
I guess, meeting all these people forced me to ask myself “what are you doing to follow your passion?” and that made me very uncomfortable, uneasy.
I was and am still scared to answer that question......
Monday, February 15, 2010
It is the grape juice!
One Saturday I was running around in my house. Since my husband and I work full time, there is not time really to do house-work in the weekdays. Weekends are typically allocated to doing dishes, ironing, cleaning, organizing.
That morning, I did not have breakfast, so I drank a glass of grape juice and continue working around the house.
Shorty after, as I was talking to Mr. S (my husband) was talking to me, I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.
No, it was not my husband’s conversation or morning sickness… nooooooo!!!
As I ran to the bathroom, I heard Mr. S, called out…”It was the grape juice!”
As I bent over the toilet, vomiting, I started thinking of a particular occasion when I had gotten sick and my dad, had made the same diagnosis: grape juice
What is it with men and grape juice?
Apparently there is something in the grapes!
A few weeks later, I sat down to have the dinner Mr. S has prepared. I took a sip of my drink. Ummm something citrusy…….
As I was trying to determined what it was,
Mr. S said
“It is lemon. I squeezed fresh lemon on the grape juice, so you won’t get sick”
I was so touched. I looked at him as he took a bite of his seasoned chicken drumstick.
He is NOT the “romantic type” He is a logical thinking kind of guy. But it is things like these that he does that I find so endearing.
I thank him and enjoyed my lemon-grape juice!
That morning, I did not have breakfast, so I drank a glass of grape juice and continue working around the house.
Shorty after, as I was talking to Mr. S (my husband) was talking to me, I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.
No, it was not my husband’s conversation or morning sickness… nooooooo!!!
As I ran to the bathroom, I heard Mr. S, called out…”It was the grape juice!”
As I bent over the toilet, vomiting, I started thinking of a particular occasion when I had gotten sick and my dad, had made the same diagnosis: grape juice
What is it with men and grape juice?
Apparently there is something in the grapes!
A few weeks later, I sat down to have the dinner Mr. S has prepared. I took a sip of my drink. Ummm something citrusy…….
As I was trying to determined what it was,
Mr. S said
“It is lemon. I squeezed fresh lemon on the grape juice, so you won’t get sick”
I was so touched. I looked at him as he took a bite of his seasoned chicken drumstick.
He is NOT the “romantic type” He is a logical thinking kind of guy. But it is things like these that he does that I find so endearing.
I thank him and enjoyed my lemon-grape juice!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Clifford
Yesterday I went to Target with my two boys: 4year old Roman and Dominik 2 years old to purchase them some puzzles. I stopped a moment to look at the dolls when a small dark baby caught my attention. I gave one to each of the boys.
Roman exclaimed, “Baby” followed by Dominik’s shrieking voice “BABY!”I glanced around at the shelves and noticed dolls with a milk bottle included and it appeared as if the doll was drinking the milk. I also noticed all the merchandise was geared for little girls "little mommy" was the label on almost every box, “what about little daddy”, I thought. All the dolls were "baby girls" and of course pink was the color of choice.
I looked at Roman and he was quite entertained with the doll as he was talking to it and replacing the little hat that had fallen off.
Dominik was looking around with an expression that said, “Can we PLEASE move on to the puzzles?”
We finally made it to the puzzle aisle and each of the boys chose their own puzzle. As we were heading to the checkout counter I asked Roman if he wanted to take a baby home. His reply, “Can I pleaseeeeeeee?” I had originally intended to only buy them the puzzles, but I gave it a second thought, “why not it would be good for them to have a baby around the house to play with”. I nodded OK. Dominik on the other hand didn’t want a baby doll so we only purchased one.
When we got home, I started cooking dinner and the boys played in the living room. I had visions of Roman nurturing the baby. But to my surprise he was slamming the doll on the pillow. “OH LOOO”, I thought and went back to cooking dinner.
But later that evening Roman was tightly holding his baby. As we prepared for bedtime I pointed to the baby and asked, “Is it a BOY or a GIRL?” Roman inspected it, removed the hat then said, ‘it’s a BOY!” I asked, “Why do you think it is a boy?” He pointed to the bald head (daddy has a bald head, so he assumed he was a boy).
Then I asked Dominik the same question and after inspecting it and removing the doll’s clothes he exclaimed, “It’s a BOY” and he mumbled, “He is dark, LOOK, dark here”. Dark there as he pointed to the legs, face and arms of the doll.I had intentionally purchased a darker doll. So I guess Dominik assumed since the baby was dark then just like daddy he must be a boy.I asked Roman “what are you going to name the baby?” he thought for a while then responded, Clifford!”
The next morning, when I took them to school, Roman took out his Monkey (his favorite toy) from his blankets and replaced it with the baby. When asked, “Roman are you going to sleep with the baby during your naptime?”
Dominik interrupted and said, “MOMMY, it is NOT a baby, it’s CLIFFORD.
Yesterday I went to Target with my two boys: 4year old Roman and Dominik 2 years old to purchase them some puzzles. I stopped a moment to look at the dolls when a small dark baby caught my attention. I gave one to each of the boys.
Roman exclaimed, “Baby” followed by Dominik’s shrieking voice “BABY!”I glanced around at the shelves and noticed dolls with a milk bottle included and it appeared as if the doll was drinking the milk. I also noticed all the merchandise was geared for little girls "little mommy" was the label on almost every box, “what about little daddy”, I thought. All the dolls were "baby girls" and of course pink was the color of choice.
I looked at Roman and he was quite entertained with the doll as he was talking to it and replacing the little hat that had fallen off.
Dominik was looking around with an expression that said, “Can we PLEASE move on to the puzzles?”
We finally made it to the puzzle aisle and each of the boys chose their own puzzle. As we were heading to the checkout counter I asked Roman if he wanted to take a baby home. His reply, “Can I pleaseeeeeeee?” I had originally intended to only buy them the puzzles, but I gave it a second thought, “why not it would be good for them to have a baby around the house to play with”. I nodded OK. Dominik on the other hand didn’t want a baby doll so we only purchased one.
When we got home, I started cooking dinner and the boys played in the living room. I had visions of Roman nurturing the baby. But to my surprise he was slamming the doll on the pillow. “OH LOOO”, I thought and went back to cooking dinner.
But later that evening Roman was tightly holding his baby. As we prepared for bedtime I pointed to the baby and asked, “Is it a BOY or a GIRL?” Roman inspected it, removed the hat then said, ‘it’s a BOY!” I asked, “Why do you think it is a boy?” He pointed to the bald head (daddy has a bald head, so he assumed he was a boy).
Then I asked Dominik the same question and after inspecting it and removing the doll’s clothes he exclaimed, “It’s a BOY” and he mumbled, “He is dark, LOOK, dark here”. Dark there as he pointed to the legs, face and arms of the doll.I had intentionally purchased a darker doll. So I guess Dominik assumed since the baby was dark then just like daddy he must be a boy.I asked Roman “what are you going to name the baby?” he thought for a while then responded, Clifford!”
The next morning, when I took them to school, Roman took out his Monkey (his favorite toy) from his blankets and replaced it with the baby. When asked, “Roman are you going to sleep with the baby during your naptime?”
Dominik interrupted and said, “MOMMY, it is NOT a baby, it’s CLIFFORD.
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