bullseye

I love my office.  I love going to work. 

I don’t know if it is because I am still in my honeymoon phase where everything is still new and fresh and I am experiencing what we all affectionately call the “learning curve” of day to day tasks, or if I truly am the luckiest woman in the world enjoying the varied dynamic of the office and personalities that go with it.  The common denominator is humor. The motto is “NO DRAMA”.  It is about what we all can bring to the table as a team…

and it works.

One day I walked in from the back parking lot into the kitchen area.  I made my coffee and was heading to turn towards our work area and tackle the day’s new challenge when I stopped dead in my tracks.  Down the long, dark grey , beautifully stained cement -floored hallway was a big, bright hanging of artwork perfectly placed on the wall by the door of the lobby where we greet our candidates for interviews.  This particular stretch of hallway is our zone where we think of opportunities for placement and rehearse our script of what were are concentrating on for the day.  It is a good stretch of walking which takes roughly 25 steps until you reach the lobby door. 

At the end of our "zone" is now a picture of a target, like what you would use to shoot a bow and arrows with.

One brought up a good point that it reminds them of a fun house with the bright spinning wheel at the end of a dark stretch of quiet, making you feel like you are turning as well.  If you saw it you would understand the comparison.  When I first saw it, I was not impressed.  I made a comment of the oddity. My co- workers told me it was a high dollar piece of artwork.  I was quick to think I better get Bilbo started on some tempura paint.

However, as it happens with all works of art; it grows on you to where you understand it and appreciate it’s meaning even more daily.   After over a month of seeing it daily creating some kind of artistic interpretation at least 15 times a day during the “walk of perspective”, it makes me realize there is so much more to it than a simplistic painted target- and I absolutely love it.

I noticed when I am having a great day…the target is a "spot- on" perfect circle with bright colors.  When the day is challenging, I see that the painted circles are rough and somewhat uneven in freestyle strokes.  When the day is a little fogged of optimism, I notice splashes of faded color thrown against the perfect white background.  When I am tired, I see those splashes as a more prominent shade of brown and swear it is coffee.  When I am having a downright, no- holds- barred crappy day, I swear I see splashes of faded red…certain it is a mix of blood, sweat and tears.

So now, every time I walk down the stretch of hallway for my first interview of the day with a colorful candidate, I check myself.  I stare at the artwork and ask myself what I see and that sets the mood for the day.  Here lately, I see a hell of a lot of coffee; but still, I’m always reminded to stay on target, aiming to make it a productive one regardless….

BULLSEYE.

The abyss

The kids were actually in bed with lights out at 8:45.  Handsome somehow found his way to our bed, with Bilbo right next to him.  They are both sound asleep. I’m scared to question anything.  This is the way things are supposed to be, right?  I mean, me? In bed by 9:30? No freaking way! YAY!

So as I creep through the darkness trying to contain my excitement and giddy giggles making sure all the doors are locked, the stairway is clear and the bottles are ready for the next morning’s activities, I do everything but run to the bedroom aiming for a nose dive.

But wait.

 I realize that I forgot to write the check for Endless Pit’s lunch money.  I write the check, and then realize I forgot to wash Man Child’s requested workout clothes patiently waiting in the utility room.  Then I realize I forgot to set out Bilbo’s clothes and single diaper for his day at ‘school”.   I then notice the two glasses on the counter that were supposed to go in the dishwasher before I ran it. I quickly soap, rinse and dry knowing those same two glasses will be used all too soon.

“Crap. The milk is sour.”

“Ugh! The cereal is gone?!”

The refrigerator door is sticky from “someone’s” sandwich after school.

I quietly whisper to myself in exasperation and impatience

“Why is an empty strawberry jelly jar in the refrigerator…without the lid?”

I grabbed the last paper towel and take care of the sticky tracks on the door, the shelf and the counter; then head to the garage to reload the Bounty, also grabbing the extra toilet paper to restock the half bath (boy’s gold).  The pillows need ‘fluffing” in the living area- knowing full well they will be crushed into the couch again by exactly 7:30 in the morning. The remotes are not in their usual place. One is missing, only to finally find it crammed down in the couch.

It’s 10:30. 

I am ready to lose it. Not in the sense of a generic “wth?”, but more of a “Dammit!!”  I mean, I feel like I just got home from work! I did my motherly duties…fed and held Bilbo. I held the boys and discussed their day.  I caught up with Handsome’s accomplishments of the day… I even cooked!  How did I miss all this? I thought I was headed for a nose dive into a fluffy pillow by 9:30!

“WHERE IN THE HELL HAVE MY PRODUCTIVE 3 HOURS GONE?!! “

“bing”

The computer is on and calling my name…the flirt.

I left it on while catching up on Facebook.  I answer a few “inboxes”.  I actually “liked” a few things.  I put a few people in their place with direct perspective (some things never change). I celebrated girlfriends’ and their kids’ accomplishments.  Then the mother load…

I FORGOT TO BLOG. (gasp)

Okay, real quick (honestly, this is my Shangri- la).  Tonight it seems to come so easy, probably because my mind is racing- inspired by the slight idea of a good night’s sleep, sort of…right?

11:15…aaaaaand post.

(And the rewarding, repetitive abyss of non- productive productivity continues)

Goodnight !

(pause)

“Crap… Come on Bandit, outside.”

(Kicking his empty water bowl across the kitchen floor)

our gift of showers and sunshine

Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday dear Sweet Girl…..Happy Birthday to You!

My sister and I are very close and just as she has always allowed me to borrow her favorite outfits and favorite jewelry and Love’s Baby Soft; in essence, she has allowed me to borrow her daughter all these years- and I love her just as my own. 

Fifteen years ago, I remember a poochy- lipped baby entering this world, and I was never the same. This was the first time I witnessed a complete birth in all its glory.  This was the first time I had that first glimpse of unconditional love.  I will never forget that look she gave me when I first held her.  A look that clearly told me

“Hello.  I’m new to this world.  I don’t quite understand how it works yet, but I will and I intend to approach it the best way I can...

…and “Ewin”, I promise I will keep you at ease while I am a part of it.”

We have the kind of relationship that doesn’t require high maintenance.  It just takes a smile, or a tone, or a look. Sometimes a pat on the knee or a hug says plenty.  Over the phone, I know the quiver in her voice when there is uncertainty.  If I actually get to spend a little time with her, I understand the way her sweet eyes droop when she is concerned more than a 15 year- old should be. She knows just the right things to say to me when I am feeling unhappy, overwhelmed or self- conscious.  We also can go to the other side of the spectrum when I don’t like the way she is talking to her mother, or if I am seemingly trying too hard to change who I am supposed to be (enter dark blue nail polish and blonde hair- I will never forget that eye roll…EVER). My boys equally love her intellect and perspective on life.  She and man-child enjoy verbal bouts on who is the self- proclaimed “bigger nerd” and Endless Pit can count on her to patiently explain things he does not understand…and he loves her hugs that are consistently strong whether it is a “hello” or “goodbye”.

She inspires, because she is everything I wasn’t at that age.  She is comfortable in her skin, too brilliant for her own good, exceedingly patient when others give judgment, sticks to her guns on any debate and never cowers. Her focus is on how she is going to get through med school, not how she is going to get through the week.    Her mother and I both look at each other then we shrug and laugh because at times, we truly don’t know how to keep her approach on life contained.  Where did this come from?

The sisters are, for lack of a better word, “stumped”.

We can tell by the twinkle in her eyes that she enjoys it when she renders us speechless.  She simply laughs it off without harm or insult.  We enjoy her smile and awe while witnessing the two of us (her mother and her aunt’s overwhelming antics and banter when we are all together).  We also know when to duck and hide when the dark storm cloud approaches, but usually it is a small April shower with a little bit of sunshine and brighter skies afterwards.

She is truly a gift to us, indeed.

the original housewives

As I was cleaning up the house and tending to Handsome, I caught a glimpse of “Housewives of Orange County” as my husband was flipping through the channels.

“Hold it here a minute”.

I sat on the bed paying attention only to confirm the worthy question of the day.

“Okay, is it me and where I am right now, or do these women look like they are fighting fifty by acting thirty; while morphing their faces and bodies, wearing skimpy dresses, and while admitting they are moms, do not embrace the role?  Does that look good?  Is that what men want us to do?”

Handsome didn’t even look at me (keep in mind he was feeling pretty hazy with 2 Lortabs after a procedure to make sure he was not almost 50 bringing baby number 4 in the mix).  He quietly slurred out

“They look and act ridiculous.”

I continued…

“It just seems like a whole lot of effort to “play 30”, until they turn around and lose all credibility with a 50 year- old ass.”

Not quite sure where that came from.  It wasn’t about insecurity with myself, or personally attacking anyone else; but more about what I remembered growing up in Oak Forest South with the moms that started the whole trend of what was cool, and social, and sexy- all while being thrilled with the role called  “Mom” and embracing the joy that being a mom entailed.

It was a late summer evening- perfectly dark due to the street lamp being out in our cul de sac.  We had a SERIOUS game of WAR going on (a game of teams and strategy; an awesome mix of hide and seek, tag and Marco Polo all wrapped into one awesome game of chasing each other where home base was the single burned out” street light).  It was an intense game and we knew it was getting late when we noticed our moms gathering with lawn chairs sitting in a circle by home base.  They all had t- shirts and cutoffs or sun dresses or swimsuit cover- ups on, but ALL had a cup of their “beverage of choice” in one hand and either a glowing cigarette or a snack in the other. We all loved it when they came out to watch us enjoying ourselves.

The group usually consisted of the following:

1) The Creative Supermom. She has twin boys and two daughters. She loved social events and laughing.  This was the mom who usually organized all the other moms to come out and visit, had ALL the kids over at her house and was the hit among the neighborhood due to “chocolate chip pancakes” or “potato pancakes with applesauce” for dinner.

2) The Culinary Nurse.  She also has twins and an older daughter and son.  She never took any crap from anyone when it came to defending her friends and always amazed how she cooked delicious meals every night without a cookbook, had the table set and ready to eat when her husband came home at night while going nursing school in her late thirties during the day to prove that she would always have something to lean back on if necessary.

3) The Sporty One.  She has a daughter and a son.  The original work out mom.  She loves soccer and was a fierce businesswoman with her own business.  She was never one to sit still- always on the go- always one to tell you what she really thought, no holds barred.

4) The Lake Dweller.  She has 2 boys.  She spent a lot of time sailing and staying in her house on Grand.  Cerebral and encouraging, she had the perfect Grand Lake mentality of knowing how to chill with great conversation and always had GREAT stories for the ones who couldn’t get out much (gasping and shaking heads were a given).

5) The Doctors Wife.  She has a daughter and a son. She always seemed like she was either very shy or very angry.  She never really said much, but was always willing to soak in the banter among the other moms and they enjoyed her presence.  We were pleasantly surprised when we saw her smile and it was usually around the company of these women.

These five women were the originals…The Housewives of Oak Forest South.

They were wives, mothers, and ultimately friends with a genuine interest in one another and their children.  They were never tardy to the party planning cd release parties and guest appearances at outdoor concerts.  Their spa day usually happened AFTER they picked up the kids from dance class or soccer practice.  These were casual conference calls about their husbands, children’s activities, birthday parties, bridge parties, housecleaning and the weekend’s plans.  Injustices in the world were discussed gracefully when it came to living up the “supermom” mentality.  I’m sure there were many tragedies and “behind closed door” discussions; but ironically compared to today’s drama network, we (the kids) never heard about them- we weren’t supposed to.  They kept their housewife drama inside the circle and that circle was never broken. It was not a constant cat fight. It was not a “front and center soap box” complaining to deaf and numbed ears, but a true support system. This was their Skype, Facebook, The Village, and The Blog before the internet was just a slight whisper.

Although I was just a child trying to get to home base before the huge neighborhood boy pummeled me in the process, I always go back to these five women.   I think of what I learned from them and how I apply those lessons to my role as being a mom.  It was not always rosy being raised among this group of dynamics, but it made me who I am today.  I remember pieces of each persona respectfully, wanting to honor them in a way.  I refer to them often as I form my own circle of friends; while trusting my friends’ example and what lessons they can offer to my kids, and so on….

….because they too, will remember.