If Mama Ain't Happy...

If you were a tree, what tree would you be? OK, maybe I'm not Barbara Walters

The fabulous Neil of Citizen of the Month has once again provided the platform for so many of us bloggers to both ask probing questions and to talk about ourselves.  Yes, it's time again for the Great Interview Experiment.  I interviewed Tatiana, whose blog you should go and read after the interview.

 

What is your favorite aspect of living in the DC area?  What is your least favorite? (I’m a lifelong MD resident, so DC was always sort of in my back yard).

Oh, tough! There are so many great things about DC. To be fair, I’m biased – I’m from the area but ended up coming back, so I have to love it… or I came back for grad school. No, I really do love it here. I can’t drive, so the Metro is a big plus. And I love all the different neighborhoods. Cities like New York are too big for me, so I like that DC is manageable.  Plus, for me, all the museums make it ideal.  (note from MamaKaren: I was so spoiled growing up in the DC area, and all its free museums.  the idea of paying for a museum when I travel just seems so wrong!)

It is hard to say this, moving from Boston, but DC is expensive, too. And people can be pretty snobby about politics. Just because I live in the capital doesn’t mean I understand the nuances of government… nor do I want to discuss them all day.

And I have problems with limits. Obviously.

If there were no cost barriers/scheduling issues/logistical problems, and you given the chance for a last minute trip, where would you go?  You don’t get time to plan stuff out ahead of time, just pack your bags and board the plane right now…

Oh, no question. Ireland. My mom’s family is Colombian and I’ve been there twice. My dad is Irish American and I think I still have cousins twice removed or something in Cork, but I’ve never been. Plus, one of my life goals is to make a man with an accent love me. Family history and make out with a ginger in a pub. Done!

What is your top choice for ‘dead before its time’ TV show?

Oh, lord, I LOVE TV. No joke, I watch it… a lot. Even though I just finished one degree, I’m thinking that I’ll eventually go back to school for a PhD in media and cultural studies. Because all I want to do is watch TV and movies and talk about them. So… I would have to say Pushing Daisies. Everything about that show was perfect – Chuck and the pie maker, Olive’s singing, the detective makes pop-up books! I know most people would say Arrested Development of Firefly, but since there are movies for those and sadly NOTHING for Pushing Daisies, I’ll stick with my original Jim Dale narrated slice of heaven.

What song would best summarize your personality or your life?

Party in the USA! Party in the USA! Haha, no, that’s just my favorite song right now. I do love upbeat pop, especially from the 70s. So, I’m going to say… Shake Your Groove Thing.

Do you have a grammar pet peeve?  If so, what is it?

I v. me! I VERSUS ME! My little sister always says “My friend and me did this” and it drives. Me. Up. The. Wall.

If you had unlimited funding, what kind of museum would you create?

My favorite museum is the National Geographic Museum here in DC. It is like the magazine come to life. Natural science, art, culture, and all exhibits rotating out on a short term basis. So basically, an ADD museum.

What do you consider your best physical attribute?  Your best emotional/personality attribute?

So many to pick from! Haha, obviously, my humbleness. My hair is pretty kickass, but so are my boobs. Personality wise, I think my sense of humor reigns supreme.

 

So, readers, please go visit Tatiana, and visit Neil, and read some of the other interviews.  I will be interviewed by LZ at My Messy Paradise (whose blog I am loving already, btw.)

Posted via email from mamakaren's posterous

20 years

I got a Facebook post on my wall from an old boyfriend, reminding me
that it was twenty years ago this week that we'd met each other. (It's
actually next week, but after two decades, I can cut him some slack
for getting the date wrong. The fact that I know the exact date is
further proof that I'm kind of pathetic.)

I remember now, the early days of our dating. Those were the days
when I could eat a cheesesteak at ten at night with no risk of
heartburn. Meeting somebody for breakfast at 8:30 meant I could roll
out of bed at 8:15. Those were also the days when I changed who I was
to fit in with whoever I was dating, and had no life during the times
when he had something else to do. Once we started seeing each other
exclusively, I stopped going to the dining hall with my roommates or
classmates. We hung out every night, either "studying" (there really
were some trips to the library, but if we'd been as focused on our
books as we were on each other, I think I'd've graduated magna cum
laude) or doing stuff with his fraternity brothers. I cringe at some
of my personality back then, but I also miss some of the freedom and
fun that I had, and my ability to just do stuff without becoming so
hypercongnitive.

But what freaks me out now is that it's been half a lifetime since he
and I split up. And that I thought I knew what life was like, back in
the day. Now that I've gotten old (hee!), I've realized that I don't
know a darned thing.

Sent from my iPod

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Persea americana, wonder food

I saw an article awhile back (probably five or six years ago now) that said that there is something in avocado that mimics the brain's production of seratonin.  I can't seem to find the article again, and the study may have been somewhat spurious, but I cling to the findings anyway.  Any excuse to eat more avocado (which I couldn't stand when I was a kid.  Funny how tastes change.)

 

Hoss had an "elopement incident" during the service project at church yesterday.  I was in the parent meeting about the at-home religious education program, and the boys were supposed to be making cards to welcome back the military personnel who would be coming into BWI airport.  I went to pick them up at the end of the hour, and Hoss was nowhere to be found.  He had slipped out without doing the project, and was among a large enough crowd that his absence wasn't noticed.  We did find him, but not before I fell apart into a hysterical mess and had to field the well meaning (while misguided) reassurances from the adults in charge of the project who don't know the depth of his issues.  I think I will mention this to the school psychologist during the IEP meeting tomorrow morning.

 

One of the primary challenges of my job is documenting highly charged and confidential discussions during meetings.  Striking a balance between capturing the essence of the opinions expressed, yet still being properly diplomatic and objective, is not always easy.  The document I recently finished was reviewed by multiple people internally and the language used to characterize the tenser topics at a recent meeting was tweaked by folks with more knowlege and word-spinning skill than I have.  But, ultimately, the notes are still mine.  So, I was dealt a bit of a blow when one of the meeting attendees to whom the notes were sent for approval simply replied "I do not approve these notes, due to the fact that they do not accurately capture XYZ."  No recommendation for changes, just "Nope. You didn't do it right.  Move along."

 

Hubby is working tonight, so I am on my own to for pick-up, dinner, bath, homework, and bedtime duty.  Let's hope the munchkins cooperate, because this guacamole isn't going to make itself.

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Recharging

I had a difference of opinion with Hubby last week about communication and social networking.  When he realized I have a Twitter account (which I've had for years and never hid from him, yet he is somehow just realizing it exists), he rolled his eyes and proceeded to tell me why the whole Twitter/Facebook/MySpace/constant texting trend is foolish.  He watches his students, who cannot go more than 5 minutes without whipping out their cell phones and who have FB and Twitter accounts full of silly updates.  He opined that devotees of social networking sites are self-centered to think that the webosphere needs to know their every move and thought.   I countered with the renewed friendships I've been able to forge because I can share pictures and stories and thoughts with my high school friends who live halfway across the country, and how many interesting articles or websites I've found because I follow someone who tweeted a link.  I planned my high school reunion on Facebook, with members of the planning committee in three diferent time zones.  I carry my mobile phone with me constantly during conferences, since it only takes a text to be able to let my manager (who could be in any one of about six different places in the hotel) know that I finally got the 1:30 speaker to bring us his slides.  In the end, Hubby and I agreed to disagree about the use of texts and websites and such.  He sees the trend through the eyes of a teacher, and is viewing the use of technology in terms of how it is used by teenagers, I see it through the eyes of a user who now can stay connected to a myriad of people, regardless of the time of day or location.

But then I started to think about why that connection is so important to me.  I have friends and family who I do see on a regular basis, and who I can call on the phone if I want to share a funny story or if I need some advice and support.  Before message boards and social networking sites and picture messaging on the cell phone, people connected and communicated.  They called each other, they sent letters, they looked at each other's photos, they met for coffee.  But somewhere along the line, I started to need something more than that.  When I was pregnant with Hoss, I joined a message board with other women who were due in the same month I was.  We were able to talk about the stages of pregnancy, the first time moms could ask questions to those of us who'd been through it before, we complained about the stuff that our husbands didn't want to listen to anymore.  And when he was born, these were the ladies who talked me down off of my sleep-deprived ledge and reminded me that there was light at the end of the tunnel.  When Hubby was at work, and I was at home with a potty-training daughter and a son who was hungry AGAIN (Good God, does this baby ever stop eating?!), they were there.  And one post from me would result in a dozen responses.  A phone call is great, but it can't get that information out to so many people, and get so much response at one time.

I would never have described myself previously as being an extrovert, since I always considered myself kind of a social misfit.  But I've come to realize that being an extrovert doesn't mean that I'm comfortable or confident interacting with all people, it just means that I get my energy and become revived by being with others.  After a day of classes at my institute training last summer, some folks just wanted to go back to the hotel and chill.  I was in the group that wanted to hang out until all hours, talking and laughing and having a few drinks.  Same situation at conference- even after a fourteen hour work day, the best way for me to unwind is to grab dinner with colleagues, not order room service.  And having online connections has added a connected element to the more solitary times in my life.  With three children and a full time job, there are fewer opportunites for happy hours or group trips to events than when I was single or newly married.  I don't mind sitting on the couch watching a cable movie alone now that I can post an offhand comment about the movie and end up in a live chat on Facebook with someone on my friends list who loves the movie as much as I do.  I can't always pick up the phone to call my sister if I see an article or video she might think is funny, but I can send her a link.

I'm not saying that Twitter is some noble enterprise, or that Facebook is going to save the world.  I'm just saying that it's one more way for someone like me to feel like they can recharge their batteries, instead of burning out.

Posted via email from mamakaren's posterous

21st century co-parenting

I was away last week, from Saturday morning through Friday night, to attend a work conference.  I've done this every September since Hoss started preschool, so it's nothing new.  Yet every year, I spend half of my small talk conversations answering questions about who is taking care of the children.  My husband's work schedule is mostly predictable; perhaps it's not normal (concerts and back to school nights and such don't lend themselves to a M-F, 9-5), but we know what's coming, so we do the best we can to compensate for his need to solo parent during the week I'm gone.  My solo parenting tends to be of a shorter duration, but happens far more often over the course of the year.  In the eleven years since we became parents, I don't ever recall anyone asking who was taking care of our children when Hubby was working.  We contributed equally to the creation of the kids, so it's a bit out of line to be shocked that we'd both be expected to raise them.

 

I was Hoss' age when my dad started taking business trips.  Those were the days before free long distance minutes on cell phones, or emails and texts to compensate for time zone differences or tough scheduling.  Keeping up with the goings-on at home is much easier thanks to technology, but that same technology enables me to fall into a mentality that makes me feel as though I should still be on top of the homework and the evening activities and the communication with the school the same as I would at home.  There is something endearing about a Gmail message waiting for me at the end of a 14 hour workday, and the letdown that goes with my day ending after the rest of the family has drifted off to sleep is mitigated by being able to send a return message.

 

Maybe this means that when Princess is old enough to travel for business and fear that her own kids feel neglected, she'll be able to pull up the virtual Mommy to leave at home with them, and they'll never know she's gone.

 

 

Posted via email from mamakaren's posterous

Helloooo, out there in the interweb

My friend Francine thinks I am a techno/social networking guru.  I was among the first of my friends and co-workers to use Twitter, and still get blank looks if I refer to hashtags or retweets, but I post infrequently and my tweets are far from earthshaking.  I use Facebook fairly often, not just to see what everyone is reading or laughing at, but also to plan reunions and such. 

 

This week I ended up meeting up with a number of folks who use social networking and online communication way for effectively than I do, and I started to wonder if I have much worth saying that just gets lost in my laziness of trying to remember to log onto TypePad.  So I'm going to attempt to resurrect this blog and not depend on my life boiling down to 140 character bites.  I discovered Posterous, and will see if the ability to to everything (FB, Twitter, picture posting, blogging) within my email will make me better about writing.  I don't ever expect to have mad skillz and influence among the webosphere, but maybe it'll keep me in touch with the folks who do take the time to pay attention to me.

 

Stay tuned...

Posted via email from mamakaren's posterous

I should be depressed, my life's a mess...but I'm having a good time

Just for the record, I am officially in my late 30's.  I can't claim "mid-decade" anymore.  Pushing 40.  I'm just saying.

Hoss started a new outpatient program at the beginning of the month.  The novelty wore off for him after about eight sessions.  He still has a good three or four weeks (at least), at three days apiece, before it is likely that he's deemed ready to function with the school's regular intervention and biweekly sessions to keep him on an even keel.  But at risk of bringing everyone down with all of the things that go with parenting a special needs child (or, let's be honest, special needs childREN), I am not going to talk much about Hoss' treatment anymore.  I've been given an opportunity to write for a site centered around mental health.  Starting...sometime soon, I will be spewing my thoughts at RealMental.  Stay tuned for a button on the sidebar, if you want to keep up with the tougher side of my life. 

I spent the morning of my birthday finishing the back to school shopping.  You'd think that composition books would be easy to find, since they're all over the place most of the time and get used year-round.  Imagine my frustration when all I could find at Staples were a lot of flowery and pastel plaid covers.  I did finally find a few non-OTT-girly ones that Hoss could use.  In one of the aisles, I saw a dad who had been in the same boat I was, and we compared notes on what notebooks we'd found.  And his wife too one look at me and said "Where can I get one of those?!" as she elbowed her hubby.  Hubby rolls his eyes whenever I wear my Hot Wife t-shirt, but he can't stop me from doing it...

My sister texted me on Friday night to ask if we had plans for my birthday, offering to babysit if Hubby and I wanted to go out to dinner or something.  Since Hubby had made no plans whatsoever, we jumped on the opportunity for a dinner somewhere that doesn't have crayons on the table, and a movie that doesn't involve talking sealife or the voice talents of John Ratzenberger.  We went to a local brew pub, then saw The Time Traveller's Wife, which I kinda liked.  It required a fairly decent suspension of disbelief (a genetic anomoly that causes him to time travel?  seriously?  and he managed to hide his rapid disappearing tendencies from most of the people he came in contact with?), but also featured a lot of unclothed Eric Bana (bonus!). 

I had all sorts of other things I meant to post, but...poof.  Gone.  Forgotten.  C'est la vie.

Update: I've been doing stuff, which you know about if you are on Facebook. Also, I am old.

Sometimes I wonder if Facebook is a blog death knell.  I'm so bad about updating, although I post status updates fairly often.  But at my 20 year high school reunion (an event that needs more than 144 characters to chronicle), I found out that some people actually still read my blog (even if they are also on FB with me).  I'm not just talking into an empty blogosphere.  Who'd a thunk it?

So, reunion.  It's been two decades since I graduated, which I know because I am aware of the progression of time (and I can count to twenty), but I am not willing to accept because I remember my mom going to her 20 year reunion so it can't be time for me to have one.  Also, I was not all that popular in high school.  I wasn't all that unpopular either.  I was just sort of there.  I did my thing, I interacted with people, then I went on my merry way.  So why was I so gung ho about planning and attending a reunion?  I don't know, I just was.  Roll with it, people.

Thanks to the wonder that is Facebook, we had a reunion committee with members spread all over the country.  Periodic webchats and the use of a local planner meant that we could put all the pieces into place without ever being in a room together until the event itself.  Because of a brain fart on my part early in the planning process, the rest of the family had left for vacation the morning of my reunion (I thought our beach week was the first week of August, not the last week of July.) My parents and sister agreed to drive the kids to the beach, allowing Hubby to do some golfing on the Eastern Shore early in the day.  So, I had an entire day to laze around in preparation to party.  I meandered around a shopping center that was not around while I was in high school, catching a movie and doing some shopping, grabbing a late lunch (since the reunion didn't start until 7:30).  I had my parents' house to myself, except for the dogs (who guilted me into a walk before I showered and got ready), and I held out hope that the rain that started right as I left the house wouldn't keep folks away. 

The first person I saw when I arrived was our planning committee chair, a woman I've known since we were in elementary school.  We served as greeters for the first hour or so of the reunion, and I was amazed at her ability to recognize everyone despite having been out of touch for so long.  We did hear some groaning about the nametags having our senior yearbook photos on them (one of my classmates noted that paying the extra $10 at the door was worth not having his 1989 hairstyle on display all night).  I put my yearbook on an empty table, which led to a lot of laughs as everyone looked through it.  I can proudly say that I did not embarrass myself by dancing too much (and even if my dancing was excessive, the breakdancing exhibition from one of the other graduates overshadowed it), and the candid photos of me that ended up on the CD at the end of the night were only mildly unflattering.

A handful of people went to a local bar at the conclusion of the party.  Coincidentally, it was in the shopping center where I'd hung out earlier in the day, so I got to sound as though I had a clue when one of the out of town guys asked for directions on how to get there.  One of my former classmates, with whom I was acquainted but not really friends with back then, approached me in a boozy haze.

"I remember you," he said.  "You were really smart.  I was kinda a jerk.  Not to you, I guess, totally, but I was just a jerk then.  You know, just most of the time.  But you were OK."  Um, thanks, I think?  Luckily, he was off to another conversation before I was able to formulate much of a response.  I felt as though I should tattoo "Yes, I have three kids" across my forehead, considering how many times people expressed disbelief over the course of the evening.   I stayed out way later than is typical for me (ah, the beauty of being on my own for a night!) and came to the startling conclusion the next morning that I can't run on as little sleep now as I did twenty years ago.  I made it out of the house and hit the road by 8:00 a.m., but needed a nap before the day was over.  God help me when it's time for my 25-year reunion.

Then I was on vacation, which is a rambling post all on its own, so I'm going to shut up now.

It's the happiest place on Earth, damnit!

I am slowly recovering from having taken the kids to Disneyworld.  We spent just under a week in Florida (arrived mid-day on June 27, flew back home on the afternoon on July 3), and I can faithfully say we did what we wanted to do.  This was the boys' first trip to Disney, Princess's second (although she was not quite 2 when we last went, so her 'memories' are actually based on pictures and other peoples' accounts) and my third, so I think Hubby is the only one who if fully indoctrinated.  Don't get me wrong, I love Disneyworld.  I went there for my honeymoon, and I like a lot of the Disney movies (animated and live action), but I don't quite buy into some of the hype.  Some of those folks are just a little too anxious to be wishing me a magical day.  I'm just sayin'.

Frankly, I was nervous about this trip.  Hoss had been expressing discontent about leaving home for a few weeks leading up to the trip, and I feared that assuming that he'd have a wonderful time or commanding him to have fun would be a recipe for disaster.  Hubby reassured me, insisted that Hoss was just being contrary and that as soon as we arrived, he'd  have a great time and forget that he'd ever resisted.  After all, who doesn't love amusement parks?  And gigantic versions of cartoon characters?  Lots of folks, if we're being honest.  (Seriously.  Larger than life mice and ducks and aliens and monsters and what-ever-the-hell-Goofy-is-supposed-to-be could qualify as "creepy.")  Hoss has sensory issues and is easily overstimulated, with a history of running away as a coping mechanism.  So let's take him on an airplane then set him loose in the Magic Kingdom, shall we?

I take no pleasure in having my suspicions confirmed.  The fact that Hubby's solution to calming Hoss down after getting freaked out by the 3-D experience of Mickey's Philharmagic was for us all to go on It's a Small World didn't help.  I like Disney and respect Walt's vision and all, but given the opportunity I think I'd run screaming from that incessant song and never ending boat ride, too.  The ads talk about Small World being a "must-do," but I firmly disagree.  I do take a small amokunt of pleasure in the fact that my kids thought it was boring.  And I highly praise the Disneyworld security force for their quick action and comforting words in that really, really long five minutes or so when I couldn't find him.  They probably deal with situations like this everyday, since it's very easy for a child to wander away and get misplaced in a park that is the size of a small city.  They had no way of knowing how big of a deal with was to me, that I wasn't just another freaked out mom with a normal kid. 

But, don't let me make this out like the trip was a disaster.  Oh, no.  Once reunited with the family, and given a chance to calm down and regroup, Hoss was happy to stick by us and continue with the merriment.  He rode his first rollercoaster while we were there, while I took Little Joe to get a picture with Mickey and Minnie and to ride the teacups.  And we returned to Big Thunder Mountain Railroad later in the week, so Hoss could show it to me.  Everytime the ride paused, he'd look over and say "Didya like it?  Well, guess what?!  It gets even better!"  He relented on his "no pictures with characters" stance for one family shot with one of the Princesses at dinner one night and for a family shot with Mike Wazowski.   He marvelled at the fireworks displays, and climbed all through Tom Sawyer's island, and got waterlogged on the kids' raft ride at Typhoon Lagoon ("I don't know how many times I went down this thing, but it's gotta be at least fifteen!").  On the plane ride home (during which we couldn't get seats all together because we were in the final boarding group), Hoss regaled the woman behind me with the account of how it was the Best!Vacation!Ever!  Which either means it was a good trip, or that I need to adjust on the bipolar meds for fear of pushing him too far into the manic half of the cycle. 

And lest I forget that there were two other children on the trip, I must say that I'll have a hard time topping birthday celebrations for Princess from now on.  Her birthday was the third day of the trip, and she got to wear a button proclaiming that fact as we walked through Animal Kingdom.  She also got a $75 gift card to use in any of the Disney shops on her birthday, and we had dinner at Rainforest Cafe, where they stuck a candle in her ice cream and sang to her.   She also rode her first rollercoaster, but whether her ride was precipitated by desire or by being shamed into it by her little brother, I'll never know.  She enjoyed the roller coasters, and the milder rides, and insisted upon wearing her Minnie Mouse ears on the plane ride home.  Joe would have been content to spend the entire trip on the Mad Tea Party ("Mommy, dontcha wanna go on the teapot ride again?") or in the water park, but he was happy to take part in the rest of the offerings as well.  Space Mountain was closed for restoration, which didn't phase the kids at all but made Hubby grumble a lot, and the kids didn't believe that the Mouseketeer uniform in the display case was mine (it said "Karen"!).

Truth is, though, now I need a vacation to recover from my vacation.  Or maybe just a big glass of wine, since it's a lot cheaper to drink at home than it is in the land of mouse ears. 

Why I want to work for Ree

Don't get me wrong, my boss is pretty awesome.  But the following list of work commandments from the Hotfessional solidified that she is someone whose work attitude is one that meshes so very nicely with mine.

1. Thou shall not have speakerphone conversations with thy door open and thy volume turned to high.
2. Thou shall not make for yourself smelly lunches and leave the trash in thy trashcan to stink all afternoon.
3. Thou shall not take the name of thy boss or coworkers in vain unless thou are willing to dish all of the details.
4. Remember the quitting time, to keep it holy.
5. Honor thy administrative assistant and mail clerk.
6. Thou shall not leave the copy machine empty of paper.
7. Thou shall not take the last cup from the coffee pot at 9 a.m.without making new.
8. Thou shall not steal your co-worker’s very favorite pen.
9. Thou shall not erase the whiteboard that clearly states “Do not Erase” - asshole.
10. Thou shall not take credit for something thou did not do; thou shall not sabotage another’s efforts, nor refuse to give information, nor refuse to suggest another time for a meeting thou cannot make, nor covet thy neighbor’s office, nor her administrative assistant, nor her chair, nor her coat hangers, nor anything that is thy neighbor’s.

Who am I to argue with that?