Cory updates

The kid is covered with lice.

We've dealt with the nasty little critters before. It's a pain in the bucket, but with persistence you eventually win your way clear of them. Sometimes we have chosen the easiest route, a super short haircut. Sometimes, we've been more persistent (I had waist length hair the time I got them from Cory).

Cory wants to keep his hair, so we've been going the persistent route.

However, to be conscientious parents and friends, we called the two friends he'd spent the night with in the last month to let them know. The first friend we were pretty sure was the one who'd given them to Cory. He too was covered. His mother wasn't happy to find out about it, but she was glad that we'd let her know about it and that we weren't mad at them. The second friend took it calmly - but his dad had a right royal freak out. Like to the point where he called today, asked me what the doctor said, because he was just SURE I would take Cory to the doctor immediately and considered me a negligent mom for not doing so, and cancelled their plans to have the boys hang out tomorrow.

Cory was crushed.

His friend was furious with his dad.

I tried to take it all in stride. Getting lice doesn't mean you are dirty by any means. After all, they'd prefer a good clean home to a greasy, nasty one too. Getting lice doesn't mean that you are leprous. Yes, they are contagious - if you share a comb, a hat, a bed, a pillow, or hang out places where your heads would be together. Just going tubing... not a big risk. But, they are a pain in the booty to get rid of if they get established, and I would prefer not to have to deal with them again.

Not enough to ostracize a kid.

But that's me.

So, he's had plenty of fuel for his teenaged put-upon angst today. Until he got a letter in the mail from his girlfriend. Which made him really happy. And they might get to see each other Sunday, after being kept apart all summer because her parents don't want her dating someone in person... nothing against Cory personally. It's her age, mostly. And her last choice of boyfriend before Cory was apparently not a winner.

And then he was down in the dumps because I wouldn't let him throw toys across the room and bean Ian in the head. I'm just SO unreasonable.

Just another normal day, really...

-k

Weblog Awards

My sweet friend Melanie gave me this award, which I found very touching, and ever-so-slightly chain letter/multi-level marketing. You see, when you get the award from someone, you put the logo on your site with a link to the person who gave it to you, and you must "pay it forward" to someone else you think should get an award for their blog too.



First, that's a nice way to acknowledge someone who acknowledged you, and to tip your hat to others you feel exhibit excellence. And I'm all about that part. Like I said, I found it very touching. Everyone loves to think that someone actually likes what you write and that you take the time to write it in the first place. I've shared some intensely personal things on this blog over the years, and I love to hear that people read it and care about what I write.



Second, it's a chain letter/multi-level marketing scenario, in that you have to forward it to multiple people so that the effect can multiply exponentially. (You send it back to the person who sent it to you, and to several others... who do the same, expanding out in ever-widening ripples of blog appreciation and increased traffic).



I have no problem with the concept of increasing traffic to Melanie and to the others who I will award in a moment. These are the blogs that I read on a regular basis and I'll be happy to praise them without reservation. But we've all been burned by marketing pyramid scams too many times for me not to point out my cynicism that somehow this is all just a scheme to drive traffic by the dude (or dudesse) who came up with the idea and the logo. But, hey, even if it is there are several blogs I read on a very regular basis, and I welcome the excuse to hype them and compliment their authors. After all, commercialism has certainly exploited the concept of the birthday celebration and the Christmas holidays into gift-giving/overspending bonanzas but I still welcome the dual opportunities to appreciate a loved one once a year, and to be reminded of the incredibly precious gift of the birth of Jesus here on earth. My appreciation of them isn't limited to that one day of celebration, but I do appreciate the annual reminder and not-so-subtle kick in the butt to acknowledge it publicly.



So with here's to you, my fellow bloggers! These are the blogs that I read almost daily: (in no particular order)

Melanie: The thrice mentioned/thrice linked Melanie. You are the first true friend I've made solely by being a reader of your blog. We met through our local freecycle group, then when I kept seeing your name come up there, I saw the link to your blog. It was meant to be, because I was ready to finally learn to knit, and there was your blog - which at that time was largely about knitting. Since then, our journeys have taken us in interesting directions. I admire you more than you know for your determination to be a conscious consumer, a contributing citizen to the local farming economy, a fantastic mother, and for your continued generosity with your knitting talents. I don't make friends easily, but you are so easy to love!

Candace/my mom: Oh chooch of my heart! Not only are you an amazing mother (and always have been), and an amazing grandmother (and always have been), but you are an exceptional woman entirely in your own right. Your blog inspires me, gives me food for thought, and gently encourages me to continue in my own study of Christian Science. It's often hard to explain to people simply and succinctly what it means to be a Christian Scientist. Your blog is a welcoming way for people to see our lifestyle in action, and a safe place for questions as well. (Not to mention you make the best chocolate chip muffins on the planet from scratch if I drop enough hints. Consider this a gi-NOR-mous hint!)

Heather/dooce: Not that you have ever taken the slightest notice of me... nor do I expect to become drinking buddies (I prefer coffee and you appear to ingest ever-so-slightly stouter beverages), but your blog is amazing. A-MAZ-ING. Your sense of humor in the outrageous things that you say about yourself, your family, and the world around you can actually force a snort or laugh from me involuntarily, and that's not easy for a control freak like me to say. You are an extraordinary photographer and you have a way with words and totally fearlessness to say the most incredible things. I have been fortunate enough that my little blog has never drawn the sort of vitriol that you deal with regularly (ah, the price of fame) but if I ever did, you would be my role model in how to deal with that particular piece of universal delight. If you aren't a regular of this site, you should be. Unless you can't take cussing, in which case, bugger off. (Thought truth be told, if you couldn't take a little of the sailor talk, you wouldn't be reading my blog either, now would you?)

Jennette/the Pasta Queen: Lastly (not leastly, although there is humor in the reference to less-ness you'll get in a moment), Jennette Fulda, the self-proclaimed Pasta Queen. My mother found you first, but hers was a passing crush from seeing you on a talk show promoting your book. Mine has been a more lasting admiration. I have bought your book, talked to many of my friends about you, and regularly frequent your blog. YOU are an inspiration. You are funny as hell. You are another one with a blog that started out about one thing and has evolved into much more. Having achieved your astonishing and marvelous weight goals, you have come to the realization that although the weight loss is wondrous, you and your life are about so much more than the sum of your losses. When I get so tunnel-visioned about the importance of making the damn (see?) scale creep down even another decimal to validate my self-worth, you remind me that it isn't the weight loss that is the true reward, or even the slender body, it's what you can DO with that body once you are healthier, stronger, and more fit that is the real reward. I wish we were friends in real life. Maybe one day... Til then, I am a willing subject of your benevolent dictatorship of the online Pasta Realm.

There are certainly more blogs that I read regularly, but if I had to nominate a few for special merit... those are my choices. (There is someone who very nearly make the list, and I feel guilty for NOT mentioning you... but your life has been so busy with things too personal to blog about that you blog with much less frequency lately... [please know that you are very much loved, if not officially nominated]).

Oooh... double parentheses! You don't get that nested effect every day! Unless you are reading highly technical schematics, or Colbert's book.

-k

NO dammit

Just now, Michael called on my cell phone and when Katie heard his voice, she distinctly said "dada".

Cute, right?

WRONG.

Mama.

This is the word you should know. This is the word you should say. This is the person who carried you inside her body for nine months, went through 23 hours of labor, nursed you for nine months, got up with you every two to three hours of your life until you finally started sleeping, and still devotes nearly her entire life to you!

Not to downplay what a great dada he is. That could be your second word... but not your FIRST.

Rotten ingrate!

-k

Knitting and Hurling

I'm a puker.

No, this isn't a confession of bulimia. I could never be bulimic.

How do I reconcile those two statements?

When I am stressed, I throw up. Not intentionally. In fact, I fight it with everything I'm worth. There are times when you know that if you would just let go and throw up, you'd feel better immediately. I can't. I fight. I struggle. I hold it in until I have no choice.

Nearly everyone I know deals with stress in some routine physical way. Some people get headaches. Some people binge eat. Some people smoke or drink. They all feel driven or trapped by these physical reactions that are the physical manifestations of their stress.

I get sick to my stomach and stop eating. Then the throwing up starts. I won't get graphic.

I just saw the sick humor today that I've been knitting and hurling lately.

-k

p.s. if you don't get it, this is a sick knitting joke...

Knitting group

This is one of the few social things I do. I knit with a group of the coolest women about every two weeks. Last night, I learned to knit on double pointed needles, in order to knit a seamless tube. It was something I had been wanting to do, and my sweet friend Melanie took time out of her knit group experience to teach me. I get the knitting part totally, I get the casting on part a little... and I'm not sure I could start another project without her help again... but I have one very workable item going. And I taught myself one of the essential things to be able to do as a knitter... the single stitch decrease where you basically knit two stitches together.

I'm sure that if Michael actually ever READ my blog, he'd be scratching his head and looking befuddled at this moment. It's the same look I get when he watches those shows where they tear apart the car and get all crazy technical about what they are doing... and I'm like "I recognize that those words are all in English, but they may as well be Swahili".

But when I got home to work on the knitting... he was happily soaking in "Dog the Bounty Hunter"... and I had to suffer through the rest of the insanely long and wretched episode or leave my own room.

It was a toss-up.

I'd have preferred it was in Swahili.

Not that it's any advantage to speak English watching that particularly intellectual treat.

-k

Ch-ch-ch-choices

So much of life is choices. Intensify that by a thousand and you have a glimpse of parenting.

As a parent, I've grown to accept and even embrace the concept that 90% of parenting is arbitrary. Your bedtime is when I say it is because that's the bedtime I feel is best. Your dress code is what I say it is because I said so. You attend the church I attend because I want you to have a spiritual upbringing and this is the one I encourage. Does that mean that when my children get older they have to go to bed at this bedtime, wear what I would pick out, and continue to attend my church? Not at all. But if I gave them no guidance, I would be grossly negligent. Refusing to give them any guidance is also making a choice regarding what they will learn and get to experience. Love without Principle isn't Love.

As a parent, over the last few days I was presented with an offer for Cory that I had to refuse. It was tempting for me as his parent. Someone offered me a roundtrip airfare for him to get to go visit my brother in California. Cory didn't get tennis camp this summer, and it's been a ROUGH summer for all of us. A visit would be a chance for him to have a little independence, a chance to have an experience with my brother that I would love for him to have, and a little break for us from the angry, mopey, teenaged demographic that has been killing our approval ratings in the polls.

Maybe if it had been a one-way ticket, I'd have felt differently.

As it is, there is a catch. Isn't there always a catch? The catch is that the ticket was being offered with strings. And they were strings I couldn't agree to.

And I got a ton of flack for it. Not from Cory, who has been kept largely in the dark. Not from Michael. We are completely in agreement on this one.

No, I heard about it from someone who feels that I am making Cory's decision for him, and I should let him make up his own mind about the strings attached to the offer.

Nope.

Not gonna happen.

You see, children are natural born, highly trained opportunists with no sense of the larger perspective of things... no sense of the ramifications of things. Cory is not capable of reasoning through the consequences of things like an adult... because he isn't an adult yet. And to ask him to think that through when you are dangling a large juicy tasty carrot out in front of him is the same as saying that I should just do it. There isn't a chance that he would have been able to see things objectively.

What makes me think I saw them objectively?

Well, I will admit that you can't ever see something totally completely truly objectively because you are always "the observer" - but in so far as you can try to see things objectively, I am his mother and it's my JOB to look at all possible sides and think through all the consequences of things before I make choices for Cory, or Ian, or Katie for that matter. It's part of what a good caring parent has to do.

And you make your best choices, which amount to nothing more than your best educated guesses. And they are largely arbitrary based on acting according to your highest sense of right. Which leads us back to the start of this blog.

I made what I felt was the most loving, principled decision that I could and although as a parent I don't have to explain my decisions to anyone who isn't Cory's other parent, because of my great love for my brother and my desire to remain friends not just siblings, I did try to explain it to the best of my ability. And we fought to an amicable standstill.

For now.

But I'm sure I haven't heard the last of this yet.

Bring it on.

When it comes to my children, I do my absolute best. Better than I do for myself. At nearly ANY cost. Regardless of the popularity of those decisions with my children or anyone else. Because being their mother is the single most important thing that I will do in this lifetime and I take that seriously.

I'll end this blog with a quote by Jill Churchill:

The most important thing she'd learned over the years was that there was no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one.

-k

Katie's new trick

Okay, so she doesn't say her first word yet... and she still won't let go and walk on her own, although she MOTORS around with her little walker toy thing... but this morning she did something that really impressed me. To get the full impact you have to realize that it took Ian nearly a year to figure something out this something that is probably simple, so the fact that Katie did it on her first try impresses me... but most people, with normal children, probably take for granted that their children will do this quickly and easily.

She drank through a straw! I didn't have to teach her or ease her into it. I just put one in her mouth and she sucked it right up.

Okay, it's a small thing. But it means that we can get her into other drinks and away from bottles. And that's a good thing. Small victories, people. In a year this filled with challenges, stresses, tensions, and awfulnesses... I am thrilled by the little things like never before.

-k

What the Bleep Do We Know Anyway?

"Every age, every generation has its built-in assumptions - that the world is flat, that the world is round. There are hundreds of hidden assumptions, things we take for granted that may or may not be true. In the vast majority of cases, these conceptions about reality - which belong to the prevailing paradigm or worldview - aren't accurate. So if history's any guide, much that we take for granted about the world today simply isn't true".

-John Hagelin, Ph. D.

That's basically the concept of this movie in a nutshell. If you haven't seen it yet, you should REALLY REALLY see it. Then either email me, write to me on FB, or call me. This is one movie everyone should see and needs someone else who has already seen it to talk about it with once they have...

-k

Rough week

Haven't had much worth sharing.

Sorry.

-k

The More Things Change

The more they stay the same.

It's a famous cliche. It's true.

Over the last few days, I've been going back to look over my old blogs, adding some labels to classify things into groups and I've seen similar theme developed over and over. I've seen a lot about my kids, which is a large part of the point of blogging for me. I've read a lot about insane money stress and the continuing strain that puts on my relationship to Michael. I've read a lot about how tough it is to have your own business. And I've read a lot about me being determined and confident that I was really going to lose weight and how I was doing it.

And I have to admit that although the stories change a little, they do have a certain sameness to them. The journal of my life is not making as much progress as I'd like in some very crucial areas.

Reading back stories about Ian at the age that Katie is now impressed me with all the little things I've captured, all the little stories. We went through so many of the same challenges with him. You can't remember things with rose-colored glasses if you wrote about it in detail. You can't exaggerate as much if you have an account of it either.

Money does just get tighter and tighter. It seems that the longer you carry a particular burden, instead of getting used to its weight on your shoulders, it gets heavier and harder. Although there are great and wonderful things going on it our lives that I am so happy about, this particular strain gets harder to live with. It casts a shadow over things. A few years ago, at least the vacations were more relaxing. Now, even on vacation, we just can't unwind and get away from it and there are fewer and fewer breaks too.

And the weight? Well, that's just frustrating beyond my ability to put it into words. Yes, I'm losing weight AGAIN. Yes, it's slow. No, I can't really figure out why. Yes, I need to do something more about it. No, Michael honestly doesn't seem to mind. Yes, I think he would find me more attractive if I lost all the weight. How could he not? It's just the fact of the matter. People who are at a healthy weight are more attractive. No, it wouldn't solve all my problems. Yes, it would take me a long time to see myself as truly having lost the weight anyway.

It was fun to reread my journey as it relates to Christian Science. A lot of my high school and college friends have left Christian Science for a lot of the same reasons that I did. Whether they ever return to it or not, I like having left behind my trail of breadcrumbs. Hey, the Truth is the Truth wherever you find it. I don't care where people find it, and I certainly don't think any religion has the corner on it. I just want people to find what they are looking for, and what they need.

And I rediscovered my favorite poem of all time, which I have certainly never forgotten... but which does seem really appropriate to close this entry with.

The Heart

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upong the ground
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.

I said, "Is it good, friend?"

"It is bitter - bitter," he answered,
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart".

- Stephen Crane

My part

One of the little things about Michael that I both love and hate is that he gets sucked into television instantly. I love this because he isn't a compulsive channel surfer. I love this because it's cute to see someone so easily captivated. I love this because it's part of him. I hate it because it means I suffer through more secondhand CRAP television than any one person should have to endure. My brain is being rotten away with secondhand crappy B-grade movies, made for TV schlock, and hideous reality shows.

My part of this is to read in the same room, or play facebook games... or write snide blogs about it.

I do my part.

-k

Hancock

Michael and I went on a date tonight - so we thought we'd see Hancock. You know, Will Smith's new summer blockbuster that looks so funny in the trailers? You know... about the superhero who is also like a slacker and dresses all ratty and throws the beached whale back into the ocean and hits the ONLY thing in sight? Yeah... Hancock. Only, here's the thing... Hancock's totally not a comedy.

Don't get me wrong. There are funny moments. It even arguably starts off as a dark comedy. But it isn't. And it is FAR from light, fluffy date material for a couple under serious stress and strain who needed a fun date. It's a much better movie than that, but not the stress relieving escapism I signed on for.

I HATE that. I hate it when Hollywood decides to spin a movie a certain way with a trailer that markets a movie a certain way, and then you go... and lo and behold, what you get is a totally different movie. And I particularly hate it when the movie you get is better than the movie they teased you with in the trailer... and you would have really loved it... if you weren't expecting the movie they'd sold you on with their trailer. It's like when you pick up your drink and take a big swig, only it isn't soda... it's iced tea. And you like iced tea, but not when you were expecting soda. Yeah, like that. You know. You just had the sense memory with me.

I really liked Hancock... but I really didn't like that it was sold to me as something else, something that I needed today, something that it wasn't. Under other circumstances I would be telling you about what a good movie it was, and I guess in a strange sideways manner, I still am. Instead, it was very unsatisfying. Which does the movie an injustice.

It's a good movie that I predict will not do well in theatres at all because it was marketed all wrong. I can completely see why Will Smith signed on for the movie. I can see why Charlize Theron did it, and I think this is the most beautiful she's ever looked. Hell, Jason Bateman stole the show. Yet, I am left unthrilled. I want my date back.

Although, oddly, because of the kind of people that Michael and I are... having that experience together and BOTH feeling about the same way about it, and having started a big conversation about it was a good bonding experience, which is what a good date does for you.

Did I like the movie? Read my complicated answer above. Do I recommend the movie? ABSOLUTELY, but go into it knowing you aren't getting a comedy. And don't take a date. Well, unless it's a serious date that you want to have a serious conversation with. Seriously.

-k

Previous Crushes Pt 1

I don't remember her name. We called her "Fajita Hair". She was a gorgeous waitress with long, curly hair at a place that rhymes with "Shplennigans". And as with the greatest of waitresses, she made us feel like she enjoyed waiting on our table, joked with us like friends without being phoney, and kept our drinks full without us having to remind her or wait for refills. (That's Michael's VERY VERY favorite thing about a waiter or waitress. It is the big Tip Decider in his book). And although it was years ago, I remember her and that meal and I'm sure Michael does too.

What? Why Fajita Hair? She joked with us about the awesome smell of the fajita platter at Shplennigans and how whenever she would get off work and go somewhere, when she passed, people would comment that she smelled like fajitas because the smell clung to her hair. In a good way. Like that recent ad where the girl was attracting the attention of guys in the bar by keeping freshly cooked bacon in her purse.

Today, I did a coffee soak on my hair. It was, in theory, supposed to take the red out of my hair due to our hard water here. I don't think it did that. But I SMELL AWESOME.

-k

No, There was no Day Three

I agonized over it, but in the end, I couldn't do it. I wanted to be Gandhi, and be the change I needed to see. But for the incredibly crappy wage I was making... I could take my virtue to someplace more appreciative of my skills... like my local Dairy Queen. I wish I was kidding about that.

I called the woman in HR who hired me and explained my decision to her. She was flattering and that was all good, but I just couldn't do it. After a nice conversation, she asked me to put down the things I'd said in an email to serve as my "exit interview" and because she hoped that my leaving would make a statement. Apparently, my hire was a conversation starter with management and they were all interested in what would happen with me. Me leaving like that was something she hoped would make a difference there. That's grand. My two days of hell are a little experiment and it might turn out to do something positive for that particular level of Dante's Inferno.

Well, I hope something good comes of it. It was a low point for me personally.

In fact, it still is. I won't lie. It hurts. It hurts to have been working all these years, building up experience and skills only to learn that I am not as marketable as I'd hoped. It hurts to have taken an entry level job. It hurts to have had to leave it because it was just unspeakably awful. It makes me feel a little diminished.

I was newly appreciative of the small miracle of playing with my own children during the day, even settling their little squabbles. I loved watching my daughter learning to walk. Ian is a RIOT, and I'd missed that. I love watching my children interact with each other... okay, not ALWAYS, but most of the time. I love being home with them, and although I launched myself back into the job search with the same obsessive compulsive need to overachieve that I tackle everything with, it's so bittersweet. I don't want to leave them. I am feeling defeated by the job hunt. I am frustrated that we've worked so hard for years now at independent businesses only to learn that the great untold secret about owning your own business is that "independent" means BROKE AS HELL.

This is the part where I rally and say something clever that makes you realize that although I'm upset, in the long run, I'll be fine.

Well... this should be that part.

It is, instead, the part where I take my sad, tired, grumpy, pitiful, and overly large ass to bed. So that I can get up again tomorrow morning and do it all over again.

Sigh.

-k

Day Two

It's hard to put Day Two into words. It was a sensory experience. If you'd seen it on television or in a movie, you would have thought it was a horribly overdone cliche and completely unbelievable. And as I sat there, in the hairy scary midst of it, it did take on a surreal quality. One of those moments in your life that you honestly draw back outside of yourself and ask yourself "How the hell did I come to this?" and "Can this really be happening to me?"

The morning training session was just bad. Unprofessional. HUGE room for improvement on their part. The poor little trainer girl is in way over her head. She isn't professional at all. She's a one-upper. She is abrasive. She says completely inappropriate things in her angry, self-defensive need to prove herself as tough and a badass. She wants the people in the class to like her, to be impressed by her, and she also likes to put people down. I largely ignored her and bit my tongue.

That part I was prepared for. I'd gotten a clear sample of it the day before and figured it was just one of those things you go through in a new job.

But today, oh... today we went to "the call center". I call it that loosely because I still think it might have been the set of some crazy reality show that is part candid camera, part horrible joke on the customer, part wretched torture summer camp for untalented, rude underachievers who only excel in their apathy and sarcasm. I shadowed with a very nice young man who was incredibly patient while we ran through the gamut of predictable cliche callers. I mean, if I hadn't been watching him take all the notes, I'd have SWORN this was a set up because we faced every single awful scenario. The first caller was an irate redneck who screamed obscenities at him. There was the mother with several screaming children. There was the elderly woman who couldn't even answer who she was, wandered away from the phone, and simply never came back. Next to us was another cliche... the smart aleck kid who literally played his handheld computer game the ENTIRE time, not even pausing to listen to himself blow off the customers. He would push the mute button, make a derogatory comment, unmute, say something unhelpful to the customer, mute it again, make another comment, rinse, lather, and repeat... while never breaking his concentration on Prince of Persia.

Did I mention that it was dark and grimy? That the floors were stripped to the bare concrete? That the cubicles were just the metal shell without the panels, plexiglass or anything? That it isn't an assigned desk... just wherever you are assigned on a given day? That even the so-called team leaders are completely indistiguishable from the rest of the slovenly herd?

I can't imagine going back tomorrow. There HAS to be a better answer for me than this. There HAS to.

I'm not the kind to walk out. A part of me wants to take over the training department, write a better training program, and turn this place around and make it a class establishment after all. Most of me wants to run screaming into the night and never look back.

I hate to think that the best thing I got out of this otherwise harrowing experience is a wicked cool totebag makeover... but it's shaping up that way in a hurry.

-k

This evening's project

Today I realized that I needed a tote bag to carry my work things. So I looked around this evening and I had one. But it had an unacceptable logo on it from a previous employer.

I looked around. I had felt. I had scissors. I had a needle and thread.

And then I had this...

Pretty groovy, huh? And you may be thinking this doesn't look terribly professional for work. But the company that I'm working for now values individuality, personal expression, and creativity. They don't judge on what would be considered a typical professional appearance. You see, it's a call center environment. The customer never sees you. So, the company wants their employees to be themselves, and judges their professionalism by their performance, their attitude, and their results.

I like that. I like that a LOT.

-k

Day One: The jury's out

First day of training consisted of 1.) new hire paperwork, a necessary evil, 2.) a new-to-the-company automated training program, and 3.) endless crashes and lengthy reloads of previously mentioned program. Not stellar.

1. As seems standard in modern new employee orientations, they spend the first hour or two telling you all the many and varied ways to get fired. In great detail. Then, having hammered the bad news at you repeatedly, they try to give you the little "this is a great place to work and it's really hard to get fired here" pep talk. I may or may not actually have snickered into my coffee mug audibly at this point.

2. The training program was obviously a beta version. It bounced erratically back and forth between insanely obvious to the point of being condescending to overly technical and coma inducing. There were functionality issues, such as needing to pause and unpause it repeatedly to get it to continue to play. I believe it was designed to allow you to follow along with everything in realtime, but since they never told you to do that... it confused nearly everyone in the room. There were lag issues between the sound and the display to further complicate things. As a former corporate trainer, let's just say that I saw lots of room for improvement.

3. The training program was obviously a beta version. I know I already said that. It bears repeating. Anytime the program crashed, which mine did four times, it took 11-12 minutes to reload. During which... you could contemplate your navel, rethink your decision to accept this job, reassure yourself that the first few days always stink, and refill your coffee with the hideous varnish they had in the employee break room.

And, to top off the magnificence of my first day on The New Job, there was a test at the end of the day.

The starting pay is actually insulting, but this does still appear to be a good opportunity. It seems to be a good company. They are all about promoting from within, and I can clearly advance rapidly if I choose to stick it out instead of telling them where to stick it.

Now, the intangibles. I was able to stay home with Ian for the first year. Then we bought the candy store and he went to daycare. And he went from adoring me and tolerating Michael, to permanently attached to Michael and hardly putting up with the distaste of my presence. For TWO YEARS. Until I came home with Katie and he stopped going to daycare again. Then I got to stay home with them both for Katie's first year. During this last year, Ian has become my loving little boy again and Katie has been my sweet darling baby love. So, going in to work, I carry the awful weight of worry about how going to work will affect my relationships with them and their behavior.

In this last year, I've focused on the kids, the house, being a wife/cook/mother/errands runner etc. I've tried to make everyone's lives better and easier. Now, my focus has to change. And it isn't like those needs go away. I'm adding new responsibilities but I doubt I get to relax on those previous ones. I know most people have to work and balance family so my situation is far from unique. That does not make it any easier.

Once the money improves, it will make it easier to justify. For now, I'm paying my dues, proving myself, or being a naive boob who should chuck this crappy gig and get a better job. Here's hoping it's not option #3.

Tune in for more updates...

-k