Crazy Jugs

True Confessions from a Consultant

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 15:44:00 +0000

My life and career, all photoshopped. Smile, fake. Resume and lists of achievements, worthless. Jobless. Can't muster the network, the out reach, the benefits of what I can do any more. Damaged from the small minds in the small town where I exist but do not belong. I need to restart in a new market, so "they" say but I'm tired of restarting. I just want a fucking job but I am hireless and the market is jobless so I continue to feel hopeless and helpless.

I feel like Alice in so-called Wonderland, too small to reach the key on the table. Too large to fit through the door. Then too small, too big, repeat.

Rubber tire that hangs over my waistline is distracting me, speaking of too big, too small...

Lonely. Confused. Turning 40 this year and I want a sports car.

After I hit the publish button, I will put my mask back on and keep trying to fake it until I make it. Or fake it until I accept failure, I hope that comes soon because I'm tired.

Mother's Day Tribute

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 12:26:00 +0000

Have you hugged a mom today?

No matter who you are or where you are on your life journey, we all have a unique experience with our mothers. As Mother's Day approaches, no one is able to escape the Hallmarkable date of the first Sunday in May. You may not be a mom yourself but you are a son or daughter of a woman who gave birth to you and raised you the best she knew. Memories of our own moms can stir up a range of emotions, both the good and the bad.

Reflecting on Mother's Day, I realize that it has been two years and two months since my own mother has passed away. My mother and I had a tumultuous relationship throughout the 35 years of our lives together. There were years layered and sandwiched when we were the best of friends, and then other years when we were estranged, on non-speaking terms. Even with the challenging seasons of our relationship, I miss her terribly.

Those of you who have experienced a loss of your mother may understand my grieving process. Although we all grieve differently, you may be on a different grief track than I am on. My grief actually started before her death. I had to realize that she could not be the kind of mom that I had wanted or needed from her. She was limited in her own health and her own needs and nothing I could do could change that. As I matured into my 30s, I realized that I needed to let go of that ideal image of what a mother was in my own heart and mind and I needed to just love her as she was. Our relationship improved. It wasn't the kind of relationship I would have wished for, nor the type she wished for, but it was a mother daughter relationship that had grown to be strong and healthy, finally.

We talked on the phone often. She was a best friend to me in those last days. She would not only listen to all the details of my day, my job, my children, my garden, but she would actually want to know about all the details of my life. No other person has or probably will ever take that role in my life. This void in my heart reminds me of how much I miss her, all the goodness she brought to me.

I was especially reminded of her the other day. I was in Plymouth delivering fliers for some upcoming Tri Kappa events and I ran into some familiar friendly faces of some ladies having lunch at Sisters' Tea and Eatery. As I was walking by them with a smile and a friendly hello, they pulled a chair out for me and graciously invited me to sit with them for lunch. I sat down and listened to them talk about places they traveled to, their favorite places to eat, and shop. It was a short and savory lunch with some stylish and sassy ladies and as I drove home that day, I was tearfully reminded of my mom in that light and lively lunch conversation.

Since moving here to Culver shortly after my mom passed away, I never had the chance to tell her all about this new phase in my life. She hadn't heard about Phil's new job, Savana's new school, Sophia's new playgroup. Yet, there are so many moments in my day to day interactions that still make me feel close to my mom, like that impromptu lunch. I have another friend who last fall called me out of the blue to invite me to go antique shopping with her on a sunny afternoon in her convertible. That shopping day spurred on a new friendship and also rekindled happy memories of my own mom. I have been so blessed by so many new friends, all different ages, fitting different roles that my mom once fulfilled, either by being grandmotherly to my daughters, motherly to me, or just friendly and fun.

I bet these ladies don't even realize how valuable the time was that they shared with me. Likewise, I bet you may not realize what an impact you can have on others by reaching out, spending time, listening others around you. Spending time with others is an investment in not only your relationship with that special person, but also in our community, in our future.

Mother's Days come and go. Make this Mother's Day more momentous than just buying a card this year. Reach out to someone who has been motherly to you, or a younger person who may have lost his or her mom. Invest in that special place in someone's heart where the childhood needs and memories still live. Reach out and be a mom or hug a mom today.

Born Again Again

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 12:23:00 +0000

It has been 14 years since I have become a born-again Christian. I attended a conference where Adolph Coors III, the owner of Coors Brewing Company was a key note speaker. Mr. Coors shared his Christian testimony with the crowd of college students and I found myself in a pool of my tears. I was ready to submit my life to Christ. I was ready to give up my own will, my own life and all it's loneliness and frustrations over to God. I wasn't sure how to do that. But, I was ready. All I wanted to do was cry; ball my eyes out, call out to God in prayer.

Prior to that evening, I was the party girl in a party sorority. I was carefree and a daily risk taker, binge drinker, pill popper and pot smoker. The only reason I agreed to attend the Christian conference was because I thought there would be nice boys there and a friend of mine was having a keg party following the first night of the conference. I attended the key note presentation because, after all, he was the owner of a beer company, maybe he might have some tasting samples to share! Little did I know that God was wooing me all along.

The morning after I cried out to God to take me and my brokenness, I was changed. I spoke with my mother who became a born again Christian several years prior to this time and she claimed that my voice sounded different over the phone. Returning to the sorority house, I was no longer the one planning the ladies party night on a Monday evening, I was busy searching God, studying the Bible. I had a hunger for the Lord that I was filling with boys, toys, booze and drugs. Now, without the distractions of those empty fillings, I was able to concentrate and fill my empty heart with God's word.

About a month or so passed from that evening of submitting my soul to my creator and although I had no desire to hold on to the crutches of my past lifestyle, I still was struggling with accepting the truth of the tangible man of Jesus Christ. I was not able to accept the historical account of this person, or the story of the cross and how the resurrection impacted me personally.

Finding myself at a Christian camp in upper peninsula Michigan, I was asking another new Christian if she actually believed in Jesus and the story of the cross. She responded with a curt "Why of course, don't you?"

When I replied with a quivering struggle from my heart through my voice spoken with full throttle honesty, "No, I want to believe in Jesus, but I just don't understand it."

She was quick to tell me that I was not a Christian.

Devastated, I ran away, through the woods on this cool morning in this Christian camp grounds. I was running away from the confusion, the pain. I was suicidal on this day. I felt a sense of rejection that was so deep that I thought I couldn't go on. All I could see was me as a big fat failure, both in my own life and then as being a new Christian. I felt hopeless. I found a large stone along the shoreline of a lake, away from the 'good Christian believers.' While sitting on that stone, I cried my broken heart out to God. I asked for guidance.

As I searched His voice, I was distracted by baby birds tweeting nearby in a tree. The chirps of these birds were musical and then, I heard the splish splashing near my feet. As I looked around, I was enamored by the truth God was speaking to me as these baby birds tried to fly and kept dipping in the lake shore. They were so happy and excited and yet they must have been frustrated as they were learning to fly.

With every attempt to fly, they would fail and fall into the water. As they would skip, flap and flutter around, I felt like a Disney princess in their midst as they were encircling me. Entranced in that moment, a large wing-spanned bird, royally flew in from the north. With a sense of prestige, as if I needed to salute as the Air Force One was soaring in for a landing right in my own back yard, this large slender bird arrived, poised on top of a large stone in the center of the lake.

God spoke to me that moment at Cedar Campus. He was telling me that I was just a baby bird, learning to fly, learning to live as a new lil birdie. And someday, I would be a graceful bird gliding in from the north able to perch proudly in the center of the waters. Someday, but not today. Today, it was ok that I didn't understand the eternal truth of God and His rescue plan for me. God had taken my desires of alcohol and drugs and given me a desire to know Him more. If He was able to do that, He was able to raise a man from the dead.

This moment of truth flashed within my soul and has taken root for the past 14 years. However, I have admittedly been so distracted in my journey ever since then. I am thankful that God is faithful and patient with me even when I though I have been greatly distracted with the day to day details that stem from my parenthood, marriage, career path, friendships, church and the health of my family members and me.

This past month, I got involved in a Bible study at my church. It is a Beth Moore study called, Stepping Up: The Psalms of Ascent. These past couple of weeks I have been experiencing a renewal within my soul. I am excited to report and write about some new ways that God has been speaking with me through this study. More to come on this!

One of the reasons our economic climate has been weakened is...

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 17:20:00 +0000

I was answering a question about advertising and I wanted to share it here too to see what your thoughts on the subject of the advertising industry may be...

The question was posted from AdWeek and it was based on a poll:
How will the economic downturn most affect advertising?

Well, it struck a cord in me. I needed to rant about it for a quick moment. I can elaborate if anyone might be interested... I welcome your insight on the issue... I know this is way off my typical topic that I write about but, just wanted to share this side of my mind too!

Here is my response about how the economic downturn will most affect advertising.

Many advertising ~~dinosaurs~~ professionals were commenting about the downturn of advertising money spent was due to the lack of ROI or the need to target better... blah blah blah...

These comments reminded me of the same chatter that has been going on in conference rooms with marketing and advertising departments for way too long. There is a reason that Sun Times has filed bankruptcy and there is a reason that my husband and I just completed a Nielsen Media survey and showed zero hours of TV watching this past week. Maybe it is because we get our news, our coupons and watch TV programs ONLINE. DUH!

* * *
Online advertising is a wiser investment. Period.

It is the key to a more defined target while providing instant tracking and immediate call to action from its customer. The true innovative corporations and firms can separate themselves from the dust of dying businesses, bail-outs and lay-offs, through their use of savvy advertising. Through the use of smart new mediums, or social media, thriving companies share their message. Advertising is in the midst of an enormous paradigm shift as technology changes the means in which people communicate, commute, work, think and purchase. One of the reasons our economic climate has been weakened is because the older generations of paper-pushers and gasoline wasters just don't "get it." It takes a major downturn in profits before the fat cats will start to take notice and respect new and improved ideas. Forward thinking businesses can only succeed when they allow innovation to drive their products, services and brand.

I want to get back to "Simple"

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 12:00:00 +0000

One of the reasons I left corporate America, moved away from the windy city and embarked this new chapter in a small midwestern town was to simplify.

I had visions of writing in my journal more, playing with the kids outdoors, baking with fresh foods not boxed foods, learning about birds, reading books, scrap booking maybe even making soaps. I know, the soap dream may be a little ambitious, but my approach was to take it easy, slow down, care for myself so that I can care for my children.

It's been 20 months since we have moved. In the beginning, I did slow down. It was like I was on vacation. We rode our bikes everywhere, spent many morning hours at the beach and afternoon hours napping. I managed the home easily with simple lists that I would write up that would remind me which days I needed to dust, clean bathrooms, floors, laundry. For some reason I was able to manage all of my responsibilities and my life was happy.

I am not sure what happened though. At what point did it all go awry? When did I stop making lists? When did the laundry pile up to the ceiling? When did my calendar go from clean white boxes to scribbles, arrows and abbreviations that I can't recall and people's birthdays that I still forget to acknowledge? When did I go from feeling like my feet were strong to feeling weak in the knees and a strong desire to sleep in even though my children wake with the sun? Why do I make plans to do all these wonderful activities then dread the days and minutes leading up to them and then resent the moments following each appointment?

It all started last night, my realization that this wasn't the life I signed up for. Perhaps this isn't my first ah-ha moment at realizing the dysfunctions in my life and it certainly will not be my final epiphany either. Sienna, my first grader's spring break started this week. Feeling like there is nothing that my daughter enjoys other than her devotion to her Nintendo DS, I made the decision to do something special with her in hopes to draw her attention away from her DS. We were going on a date, a mom and daughter date. We would get our nails done then go out to dinner together, just she and me.

When I mentioned my idea to her, at first, she became angry. Why? I don't know. I have no idea. So, I just dropped the idea and decided that we would just stay at home - again! Oh well, after all, I have mounds of laundry to tend to.

Then, later in the afternoon, she walked up to me, hugged me and asked if we were going on our date. I said sure! I wanted to grab my keys and leave at that instant, happily wanting to bond with my little girl. We waiting for my husband to get home and the second he pulled in the drive, off we went. I realize that Sienna gets stirred up if I talk too much, and when I am excited, I tend to chatter on and on, so on the drive, I tried to distant myself from her and listen to the radio softly. The sun was glowing and the spring birds were dancing circles around our van as we drove past the fields on a country road into town. Not sure what happened in the back seat, but for some reason, Sienna instantly became demanding and had her angry eyes on. We had a heart to heart and then she said she was grumpy but didn't know why. That seems to be a running theme in her life these days. Mine too.

We pulled up to the nail salon, she walked up to the window, smashing her face into the window. I opened the door for her, warned her that the smells would be strong and then tried to distract her by asking her what color she was going to pick for her nails. She instantly told me she had changed her mind and decided that she DID want a pedicure too. Originally she was afraid of sticking her "feet in boiling hot water." But, when she spotted the fancy leather chairs and colored glass foot tubs, she experienced the powerful temptation of a glorious pedicure. A temptation that will revisit her as she continues her life journey past adolescence and into womanhood. She selected glittery polishes. I selected a basic dark rose color. We both sat in the chairs, quietly smiling and enjoying the sights, sounds, smells and the vibrations coming from our massage chairs. As we sat comfortably on our pedicure thrones, the asian ladies doing our toes just kept giggling at my daughter's expressions. It was one of those motherhood moments that was priceless to share with anyone who witnessed it.

Almost two hours of pampering, and $80 later, we slipped on our shoes and coats and headed to Pizza Hut where we would enjoy a free pizza Sienna earned from her Book It Reading program. As we were waiting for a table, there was a group of young girls also waiting for a table. They were a group of fifth graders we recognized from her school. It isn't like she flinched when she saw them, but she did change her demeanor in a flash. She started talking like a baby, tried sitting in the high chair that was next to us. She jumped up and down, she pulled on me and in trying to help her I compassionately told her that I understood that she was nervous. I suggested she stand like a lady who just had her nails done and be proud and happy to be on a girls night out with her mom. But, she couldn't hear a word I said because she would jet out her jaw and pout out her lips and whine like she was a toddler not getting her way. I asked her if we should just leave and she shook her head saying "no no no no no no!" as if she was having a panic attack or a nightmare. In hindsight, I realize I should have left at this point.

But, the hostess redirected us, handed her some crayons and walked us to our table. My daughter insisted that I sit with her on her side of the booth. I agreed and at first we enjoyed playing some of the games on the back of the paper placemat. Then, the group of girls walked by our table and were seated close to us. Sienna instantly jetted her jaw out again and speak in baby language, while banging her crayons. Again, I warned her to act appropriately or else we would need to leave the restaurant.

Was I too hard on her? At what point do you allow your children to be just children, faulty and quirky and when do you do what ever you can to help them to conform in attempt to help them?

She shut down. She tried melting down to the floor, I sternly told her to sit up, bottom on the seat, feet on the floor. She obeyed but still managed laying down on the booth seat. I decided to move to the other side of the booth, sitting across from her. She acted like I rejected her and went into full vicim mode on the verge of a tearful pout.

This was a familiar experience I used to have with my own mother. I was still playing the mother role then, and she would act out like Sienna. So many scenes were caused with her. Too many public embarrassment moments to mention or even to remember. I do recall the big ones, like at my highschool play, my graduations both from high school and college, my wedding, my pregnancy and delivery with my first born... When I was a child, I was the mother to my mother.

She would give the same looks to me when I would try to set boundaries with her. Such a life that I am more than willing to leave in the past yet still creeps up when I least expect it and least need to be reminded of it.

Anyhow, the pizza arrived and I found myself catching the stares of the people around us. Trying to not accept their judgements, although they did consume me in the moment and I felt as though I was an overstrict mean, terrible mother, not allowing my child to just be a child from some glares from fellow diners. From the other glares, I felt the conviction of not being strict enough and allowing my child of getting away with poor behavior. Public opinion on my parenting is a never ending never winning jury so I decided to take a recess, box up the pizza, tip the waitress and put my daughter's coat on her since she was unable to do it herself - at age seven. As she barked and made mild puppy noises, we exited from the restaurant and were safe from a possible scene, or did we make a scene? I can never tell anymore. The lines are fuzzy. All I know is that when the door closed behind us, the experience was also behind us. Finally. A nice moment to be shared between a mother and daughter in hopes of laughter and bonding, was now turned into an experience that finally had passed. Whew! Regretfully, whew.

We walked in the cool evening to the car, both glad for the change of scenery. Our happy toes and fingers smiling at us with each step. As we approached the van, I reached for my keys awkwardly with my left hand into my right pocket so that with my right hand I could hold on to the moment of holding Sienna's soft, tender hand. She hopped into the van and we both cheerfully buckled up. As we drove home, I told Sienna, "Thanks for going out on a date with me. I had so much fun with you!"

She replied, "Mom? Are we home yet?"

Whoa! Not expecting that tone of disrespect, I thought I would take a deep breath and use this moment as a teachable time. I told her, "If someone tells you that they had a nice time with you and then they even thank you for the time that you shared with them, you could say, "Thanks," or "Shucks, I had a good time with you too" but you don't change the subject with an angry tone. That is rude. Do you understand what I just said?"

With rolling eyes, Sienna replied a hasty "Shucks... Are we home yet?"

"Sienna, I loved spending the evening with you so much. But when you are rude like you are being right now, do you think that will make me want to plan something special like this again?"

She replied, "I said shucks, just like you told me to say." Why did I feel like I did something wrong? What just happened, I thought...

Then, she cried and screamed from the back seat of the van, "I was looking forward to this day for a long time and you ruined it for me. You made me so sad." Where did this drama come from? What is happening here?

Thankfully, we were pulling in our driveway. I opened the garage door, walked inside the house. I felt a familiar confusion, a resentment that a mom is not supposed to feel towards her beautiful little girl. I needed time to process it all. After my husband tucked her into bed, and he and I started talking about the evening, guess what the first thing my husband asked me?

"A two hour manicure and pedicure? How much did that cost?"

I used to get manis and pedis at least once a month at a spa. I used feel so lost in the mounds of confusion not to mention laundry. My life used to be more predictable, goal setting and achieving, rewarding. I used to just be a girl who fought a lot with her mother. I had stresses with being a woman in corporate America. Now, my mom has passed away. And now, my daughter has Aspergers, ADHD and Mood Disorders. I don't understand how to be a good mom to her. I fail so many times at my new role as a house wife. I fail at caring for myself like I want, like I need.

I take it a day at a time. I manage what I got. I cope through writing. Thanks for reading this long narrative.

My life as a parent is like swimming in scalding hot waters, then sometimes freezing waters. I don't even know how to detect the temperatures any more. I don't even try. At times, I even forget how to swim. At those moments, I quit kicking and I cry out to God, "Calm these waters Lord. Help me to endure. I'd ask you to help me to swim, but I would rather you just let me float right now. I am weary, wasted, wet with worry and the waters are too much for me." I glance at my earlier phases of life, I had a great suit, good form, I swam even labs, took even breaths, I was swimming and swimming. I just kept going without knowing where. Now, here I am. How did I get here? What is all this laundry doing in this water?

Happy Patrick!

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 12:18:00 +0000

This morning I woke up before my alarm went off, eager to make my little girls a special St. Patrick's Day breakfast in bed filled with an assortment of green yummies! Green eggs and ham, mini bagel with green cream cheese and a glass of green milk were all served on green plates and a tray covered with a green cloth napkin. Each girl was awakened with her own tray and smiled when they sleepily gazed at all the green fun.

While munching down on their lucky and charming chowdown, Sienna was excited to wear her new shamrock t-shirt that I surprised her with last week when I came home from Target. And Sarah, experienced a morning of many firsts. Today was the first time Mommy had served her breakfast in bed. Now that she is three, I thought she was ready and would enjoy true princess treatment. I also was leaning on my Irish luck that she wouldn't spill or end up feeding all the goodies to Clio, our very non-Irish but very leprechaun-like, pug! She also was exposed to her first mommy-food-dyed green eggs and whatnots. She tried each of them reluctantly then after she took a mini bite from her mini bagel, her eyes were as large as the mini saucer the bagel once sat on. She said, "Wow! Mommy! This is delicious!" I smiled at her enjoyment, amazement, sense of adventure and her use of fantastic vocabulary at only the age of three! I mean, do other three year olds say "delicious" with such awe and articulation?

The morning rushed on like any other morning, though with hints of green and extra "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" kisses from mommy who will find any excuse to kiss her little girls when ever she can on any day, especially trite little holidays like St. Patty's Day! Sienna rushed off to school, green shirt, green pants, blue-green jacket and as many green items I could find to pack in her lunch. What? So! I know! I am a nerd when it comes to cheesy holidays. Being the merry maker that I am allows me the proper liberty to be over the top on days like today! As I tell Sienna to have a wonderful and happy St. Patrick's Day, I turned my full attention to my little tot. At age three, can I still call her a tot? I mean, she's not in preschool YET! Hmmm. How bout a tween totter, or a wee-preschooler. Or, a pwee-scwoo-wa! I digress.

It was then time to change a craptacular sensation that filled our living room like a puff of green in a Loony Tunes cartoon. The odor was coming from none other than the tot's diaper. It was time for a change. Changing, is one of my least favorite parts of being a mom, unless you are talking about changing the economy, changing your attitude, changing my flat tire, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera! (That is a quote from the King & I, just so ya know!) (Not the entire tid bit about change, that is from me, just the et cetera part, just so you know!) Now, I know what you are thinking, you think that I am going to use the green theme here while ~~disgusting~~ discussing her diaper. ~~Butt,~~ But, I am ~~snot, what? snot. It's green too!~~ not, so get your head out of that green gutter! As I change her diaper, I realize that having a three year old who is still in diapers counterbalances her use of extraordinary vocabulary. She then interrupts my internal dialogue I was having in my head, my head that is adorned with a headband and two glittery green shamrocks popping up like antennas from a very large Irish bug. She grins at me and says, excitedly, "It's Patrick Day!"

I reply with a relaxed Irish smile, "Happy St. Patrick's Day Sarah!"

She says, "Is tomowwo Sponge Bob Day?"

Trying to keep a straight face I said, "No hon, I don't think Sponge Bob is Irish. And, I know he is not a saint."

"Ahh. Poor Sponge Bob," she sadly responds with a heart of gold.

Have you found your treasure today? Look for the rainbow, believe in the promises that there is a pot of gold to be found in your day today! Happy St. Patrick's Day! There's more to your day today than just getting pinched if you don't wear green!

Happy Birthday Sarah!

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 13:32:00 +0000

Today I celebrate more than the way your blue eyes smile and can light up a dark room. I celebrate your giggles, your cuddles, your empathy. I love the way you laugh. I love the way you love me and remind me to be nice, to play and to have fun. I love holding your little hand. I love when you share a sticker with me and then ask for it back with a tilt of the head, squint of the eyes and a big sweet, "Purty Pweeeeze?"

I love the way you love Cassy from Dragon Tales even though you've only watched the cartoon a couple of times. I love how you hop, run and try to shake your booty while you scrunch up your shoulders and bounce up and down with your knees. I love spinning you super fast in the swing while you yell in a high pitch, "Faster!" and giggle with me when it stops and you try to walk like a drunken sailor. I love how you love our pug, "Quee-O," or Clio so much and call her your "Pal."

And when you walk around the house with your blankie, your "Pwootoe," or Pluto, with your saggy diaper that you will not let me change for you, I think to myself, "When will we start to ween you from all this baby stuff?" While snuggling at bedtime with you last night, I really tried to pretend I was sleeping. I tried to not peek at the beauty of your face. I couldn't stand it any longer, I had to keep my eyes open in the fleeting moment in time. Although I always say, "Shhhh, no talking. It's sleepy time." Last night, I broke the rules and whispered, "Tomorrow will be your birthday. You're growing up so fast!" And you said, "But mommy, I am steel a wittle geewrl. I can't even weech the crayons. I want to be a big geewrl, but I steel a baby."

I replied, "In due time sweetie. Soon, you will be a big girl and will be able to reach the crayons. But, you'll always be my baby."

And, Sarah sighed with one breath. The next breath was a snore.

In due time Mom. Your child will soon be out of her diapers and care less about her "Pwootoe" and ABC blankie. Soon, very soon she will be wanting to reach for the car keys. So, today, rest in the day. Celebrate this day with the Lord. Thank Him for the blessing of three year olds!

What Does Your Permission Slip Say?

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 13:10:00 +0000

After a long weekend of birthday celebrations that induced multiple visits and short road trips to visit extended family here and there I am thankful that it is Monday morning.

Our lives are back to normal, daughter's at school, husband's at work, my toddler - who will be three this Wednesday - is sitting here, nestled up to me, watching cartoons. We are both still in PJs lounging on the fluffy down comforter in my master bed room.

It has been a year and a half since I have left corporate America. I left a high six figure salary, my dream job. I said good-bye to my own company and brand that I built from scratch, along with the excitement and exhilaration of new business growth, client lunches and travel reward points. I still thumb through my stack of business cards as a high school quarter back peruses by the school trophy case.

I have taken on the role of being a stay at home mom as if it is a job. A job that I approached with personal goals on a weekly basis. A job, however, on a number of days I am very unqualified and lost without proper training, gifts or talents. At times I feel overwhelmed and begin to question my role as a stay at home mom. My time seems devalued by everyone; my opinion, worthless. No longer am I an expert and consultant to business owners, chief executives and managing partners in law firms, in these times, my own children don't even listen to me.

Once I was the breadwinner in the family and we focused on investing in my career vision. Now, my husband is the one whose career is thriving as he makes plans for enhancing his education, we plan on his career growth. He is the one who comes home late and attends conferences in the big cities.

Although there have been adjustments and many days that have filled my thoughts with regret and grief, today, I give myself permission to enjoy this new position in my life. God is the author of our lives, and He has already written our roles and service in His book. The entire life of my career, I relied on God's provision and timing and He blessed me and my family with success. There were times that I cried out to God to help me through the rough times. Today is no different.

He also blessed us with misfortune that changed our journey significantly. Within three months, my mother fell ill and passed away unexpectedly while my oldest daughter at age five was being diagnosed on the autism spectrum and ADHD. During this personal time of bereavement, there was no time for me to cry. Steeped deeply in deadlines and meetings with busy people, little empathy was stretched to me as a woman trying so hard to be strong and professional. My husband and I realized that we needed to adapt and change our lifestyle so that I could spend time on self care and health for both myself and my children. My five year old had many doctor and therapy appointments and my youngest who had just turned one wasn't getting the best of her mommy, only left overs from a busy, harried lifestyle.

We moved and changed our lives within a crisis moment in time. At times, I feel like our lives would have been better had we worked it all out and stayed put. It's the whole "grass is greener on the other side" motto. And in these times, I isolate myself in my own pity party. But lately, I have been feeling renewed again.

I feel the freedom of God's plan that He designed just for me and just for our family. I relax in His hands. And, I smile. I smile that I get to spend quality time with my little girls. Surely there are power struggles that beat me down stemming from the dysfunctions of autism and ADHD, but there are also cuddles and giggles that sustain me. I smile that I get to see my husband grow and develop into the man God wants him to be. I smile and breathe a deep breath of clean air from a Midwestern small town. I smile realizing that I don't have to wear uncomfortable shoes in a rushed and stalled commute to the rat race in the big city. I smile that I am who I am and I don't have to pretend to be someone I am not. I don't have to prove myself anymore. I can just be me, in the moment.

Today, I give myself permission to relish being a stay at home mom who watches Dora and enjoys yelling at Swiper with my just two days away from being a three year old little girl. I give myself permission to enjoy folding a queen size over flowing mound of clean laundry today. And, I thank God for giving me this lot of my life today.

Are You Listening Wholeheartedly?

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 15:13:00 +0000

Sarah and I were just doing some crafts together. I was inspired to make hearts. Even though Valentines was over a week ago, my little tot doesn't care! We were having so much fun together. It was a free for all - stickers, glue, colored paper, scissors. We even got out big sisters markers... shhh... don't tell...

Anyway, as I was cutting out hearts to make a heart mobile to hang from our dining room light in big ol SAHM style and flair, I realized something amazing. I just had to blog about this because I am curious if the world had realized this yet and I needed to report it ASAP. Did you know that the heart symbol doesn't look like a heart at all?

Give it a try, fold a piece of paper in half - pink if ya have it - and start cutting a heart out. You'll notice that you cut an ear. Open it and you'll have two ears. Quite telling if you think of it. The heart symbol, symbolizing love, is actually two ears together as one.

If you look at it that way, search your own heart, are you listening to what those you love are saying?

Today's mantra:

Hearty listeners love with their whole heart.

Entering a New Chapter of Motherhood

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 17:01:00 +0000

Yesterday, as the school psychologist left my home after reviewing Sarah's assessment with me, I realized that I was entering into a new chapter of motherhood.

My youngest daughter, Sarah will be turning three in March and will be phasing out of the 0 - 3 program that is government funded and has been providing therapy in our home two times a week. When a child turns three, there is a transition process that takes place so that another government funded agency can give proper services and therapy for the child to prepare him or her for school. And, after several hours of testing spread out into several sessions throughout the past couple of weeks, the 'professionals' have reported that my daughter will not be eligible for any services.

With one side of my heart I am relieved! I am thankful to know that we no longer need to have our weekly schedule spent doing therapy. I am also grateful that my daughter tested 'Superior' in language and cognitive skills. I mean, I should be proud, right? However, my concerns are honed in that along with those high results, she tested borderline and very low in social and emotional development. She also struggles with sensory issues as reported by the Occupational Therapist. This report only reiterates my original concerns for my child as I have lived this chapter of parenting several years ago with my oldest daughter, now age seven. My seven year old has Aspergers Syndrome, although, we didn't know that at the time. In fact, we just are learning about it as I key this post in.

Asperger Syndrome is such a tricky disorder that has taxed me as a mother. It has changed my life in ways that I could have never imagined. It has given me a mix of challenges and blessings. And, as I am still learning parent strategies to get through each day and learning to restructure my dreams for my oldest child's future, I now am seeing that both my daughters may be walking in the similar paths.

Life is all about choices. We chose what we will believe, how we will live and who we will be. Although I am tempted to chose to be a victim, befuddled, judged and in daily grief, I chose another window to look out from. I admit that there are days when I do glance from the darkened viewpoint and I am overrun with tears and isolation. I do let myself have healthy pity parties from time to time, I mean after all, it's only fair! I am hoping that the pity parties will occur less and less as I grow into my new role as a mother to children on the autism spectrum.

And, as I watch the psychologist leave my home on a Tuesday morning in February, I am thankful that I am able to process and condense my thoughts long enough to realize what are my challenges. And, I come up with a new mantra as I enter into a new chapter of motherhood:

I will accept the quirks of my children and the ignorance of others and find healthy coping strategies while maintaining an eternal vision.

More about this mantra in future posts...

Three's About Me

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 17:50:00 +0000

Three's About Me!

Three Names I Have Been Called...
1. Dre
2. Andee
3. Android

Three Jobs I Have Had In My Life...
1. Global Marketing Director of software company
2. Panama Jack Suntan Lotion Salesperson
3. McDonalds Fry Girl and Drive Through Cashier

Three Places I Have Lived..
1. Orlando
2. Chicago
3. Indianapolis

Three Hobbies...
1. Gardening
2. Fitness - running, spinning, wiiFit
3. Gaming - Nintendo DS, wii and online games

Three things most people do not know about me...
1. I studied conflict resolution with the Dali Lama in Switzerland
2. I am a secret blogger
3. I have ADHD and take medication to manage it

Three TV Shows That I Watch...
1. 24
2. Friday Night Lights
3. Heroes

Three places I Have Been...
1. Crazy
2. Vienna, Austria
3. Sedona, Arizona

Three places I want to go...
1. Africa
2. Australia
3. Japan

That's three about me, now three's about you too?

Elizabeth at Three Channels

Jenny at The Other Shoe

Dana at Home Steading Housewife

Sugar: Diamonds of Deliciousness or Rat Poison?

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 13:59:00 +0000

Sugar. What's with all the hype?

Sure, it's white and can glisten like diamonds. But, I am not able to eat sugar.

I am allergic to sugar.

You are? You ask, eyes wide as saucers as if you have never met a freak like me allergic to the crystals and diamonds of sweet bliss...

Yeah. I shrug. It makes me fat.
It also makes me moody, get hungry, leaves me wanting more, makes my teeth fury, skin bumpy and mind fuzzy.

In my mind, I call it rat poison. It helps redirect me.

I also find myself wanting to call Miracle Whip something entirely different too, like, Flavored Fat in a Jar or Honky Fat Spread. Really, there is nothing very miraculous about Miracle Whip except it is a miracle that with little to no nutritional value, we still tend to eat it despite it's large amounts of cholesterol and fat grams - and lack of flavor.

Another strange fat substance in a jar is peanut butter. Now don't think I am going to dis peanut butter ok... I wouldn't do that. Peter Pan, Skippy and Jif, well, they never disappoint me. And, you could say I love them. But, why are they all named after men? And, why are they all named after not-so-manly men? Why not Brutus? I mean, I know peanut butter is a little nutty, but it is still packed with protein and although it has hints of sweet and creamy, soft deliciousness and yumminess, it is also hearty and robust. It adds a macho punch and crunch to whatever you put it on.

Weird. I just realized, that my favorite sandwich is a peanut butter, tomato and mayo sandwich. Ever tried it?

My Girl Likes to Potty All The Time

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 15:43:00 +0000

Potty all the time Potty all the time...

The thing is, she won't potty in her potty - not in the Pooh potty, the squishy pink potty or any of the normal white potties in da house!

"How long have you been working on potty training?" you ask...

It has been 8 days, and with 3 pees and only 1 poop in the pink potty, 0 poos or pees in the other 4 potties, I have decided that is not enough to counter balance the 2 stressed-out divas (she and me!), the 10 pee spots in the carpet, hardwood and mattresses, the 3 hard turd balls found on the floor (with 1 rolling out from under her tu-tu during that 1 time we had company - so embarrassing!) and the 4 stained training pants that have been rewashed over 20 times this week.

Within this stretch of 8 days, she has also had a couple of nose bleeds and a flu bug which I am not sure if it is all related due to the stress on her system. (?)

Regardless, therefore and what not, I am now declaring that we will not press towards the goal of sans diapers before her 3rd birthday that I had once hoped for. Instead, we're going to chill out, poop in our pants if we wanna. So, a change of song is needed with this household, from "My Girl Likes To Potty All the Time" to "It's My POTTY and I'll Poop Where I Wanna, Pee Where I Wanna..."

And, just to clarify... I am fully potty trained. Well, I do tinkle just a tad when I actually LOL or when jumping on the trampoline!

ADHD Support

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 13:22:00 +0000

WANTED: Mothering Advice for Raising My Child with ADHD

I have a lot of mixed emotions lately about my parenting skills. I have a daughter, age 7. She has been diagnosed with PDD-NOS which is on the autism spectrum. I have done a lot of research, read a lot of books and been involved with a lot of support groups on this matter. During her last assessment, the doctor advised me to not focus on the PDD-NOS as much anymore because she wasn't exhibiting the problems that tend to follow that disorder as much as she was with the ADHD and Mood Disorders. She suggested that I get more informed on those subjects. That appointment was about 8 months ago and I haven't really done much since then as I am still trying to sort it all out!

Lately, I have been feeling very confused about being a mom. I don't feel like I got the memo that was passed out, or maybe my What to Expect books didn't come with the right chapters. I see other moms who seem so natural at raising their children. I am very hard on myself because I am educated, empathetic and feel like I have tried and given so much to my family. Yet, as much as I give, nothing seems to satisfy my family's needs.

It was during this past weekend, our pediatrician advised that we increase my daughter's medication dosage. So, we did. I am also on the same medication and need an increased dosage. We both started the medication, Vyvanse last fall. We were prescribed the lowest dosage for our weight. When we first started on it, we noticed results. But, after about three months, I realize that we need more. I hope this isn't an ongoing tolerance issue to a prescription drug, but that isn't the point of my post here, so allow me to get back on topic... Also, I have learned recently that I have also struggled with ADHD my entire life, yet it wasn't until recently in discovering my daughter's deficits that I also had ADHD. Another post for another day!

Last night, after realizing how exhausted I was from the multiple prompts that were needed to get my daughter to do a simple task like brush her teeth or get out of the tub, I realized that I needed some help. at her. Now, if you have been reading my blog, you know that I have been working oI am thinking of looking into a parent support group for ADHD or something like that.

I have talked with my daughter and have told her that we need to work together to come up with ways for her to listen and obey me so that I don't have to yell. If you have been reading my blog, you will know that I have been Scream-Free for a few months now. I am proud of myself in this accomplishment. However, I feel like my daughter will only hear me if I scream at her. And, I do NOT want to do that. I want guide her. I want her to flourish.

Can I still guide her without having to yell? Will she be able to flourish and not feel like she is broken or disabled, unable to help herself without the use of medication or being yelled at?

I really am reaching out here. I strive to be a good mommy to her, and to my youngest, who by the way in the midst of being potty trained. Wow! Talk about will power for a mom. I am rewarding her with 3 M&Ms every 30 minutes she keeps her training pants dry... Today is day 7! I will be so proud of her once we accomplish the potty scene. Moreover, I will be proud of myself. I need something to make me feel accomplished these days. I miss my professional rewards big time. Wow, I really digress. Now, I must go, it appears there has been pee spotted, but, it is NOT in the potty, only on the carpet. Must go...

Rude Rule #1

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 19:49:00 +0000

Thank you for tuning in to the ongoing column of Crazy Jugs titled: Now. THAT'S just RUDE! where we hope to debunk all of the rudeness in this world and make it a better place one post at a time. . .

You are at book club and there are a few of you savvy hip moms chatting it up about a funny comment that one of you posted on your Facebook page. Although it is a tad rude that you discuss this matter in front of the other ladies who have yet to discover the wonders and awe of the Facebook social realm (or blogosphere or twitterverse), but not near as rude as this... One lady, the smarty pants know it all says, "Facebook? Seriously? You guys are on Facebook too?"

All the smart savvy ladies in the house nod a big Hell Yeah.

Then, as she rolls her eyes (as if to try to find her brain and her manners) the know it all says, "Why?"

All the smart savvy ladies in da house share the wonders and joys from the long lost middle school reconnections and the easy convenient transfer of dialogue and information and the jokes and, well, you can't forget to tell her about the FLAIR... that is when she interrupts the mod and posh group, spoils all the fun and says:

SOUNDS LIKE YOU HAVE TOO MUCH TIME ON YOUR HANDS.

Um. NO. She did NOT just say that. What? Does transitioning your social world onto Facebook take more time than WRITING LETTERS TO FRIENDS WITH A QUILL AND INK ON A SCROLL or DIALING NUMBERS ON A DIAL LAND LINE or SENDING A SOS USING SMOKE SIGNALS?

The next time a friend shares with you her joys and excitement about her blog or her Facebook activity, NEVER tell her she has too much time on her hands, just because you don't understand it. Ask her to help you find the same joy. Maybe invite her to your house and ask her to help you get accounts set up. And, if you happen to be on a committee, and there is a savvy social media maniac who wants to use a blog and Twitter and Facebook to help get the word out, do not, under any circumstance (even if you have no idea what she/he is talking about) say, "You have too much time on your hands." It shows your ignorance and lack of manners.

The Doyen of Social Appropriateness and Etiquette has spoken. Now, go and improve this world with your manners!
(For more information about this column, visit this post here. And, if you would like to contribute, please, let me know and we can 'link' up!)

Grandmotherhood

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 17:11:00 +0000

I heard a couple of ladies talking about their grandkids the other evening. They shared about the heartache they had for their grandchildren. One lady, a new grandma was telling us about her daughter's newly born baby and how difficult it is being an hour and a half away from her new granddaughter. The other lady said: Try having a new granddaughter on the other side of the country. I just got back from visiting her over the holidays and I just cry whenever I think of her...

As they both shared the joys and heartaches of their grandmotherhood, I became teary-eyed myself. I ached for my own mother in that moment. My entire life, I thought of my mother as being overly emotional and controlling. We had a very tumultuous relationship. My father, who divorced my mom when I was two years old, had always claimed that my mother should have been institutionalized.

Now, as an adult, I realize that my father's lack of support for my mother was a monumental error and caused my mother's heart to fester and created an emotional disease that led her to an early death at age 58. Since my mother's passing and learning more about my own daughter, I realize that my mother had bi-polar, undiagnosed or realized by any of us.

All through our lives together, I fought with my mother. I couldn't understand her. I was tired of mothering her. I grew up and pushed her away from me. When I became a mother myself, I let her in, just a little, but I was not willing to allow her drama and toxicity into my new marriage and our new family.

It was two years ago this week, she was sick and in ICU. I got a phone call from the hospital. They wanted me, her only child to know that there was a possibility that they may need to have put her on a respirator. I decided to visit her, see if this drama was the real deal or if it was just another scandal to get my attention. She was a hypochondriac and a master manipulator. A snow storm formed icy road conditions which stalled my arrival to the hospital 30 minutes too late and she was put into a coma for her ventilator. She never was able to recuperate. She passed away a few weeks later.

The pain her heart must have carried around her entire life finally got the best of her. I realize I am not responsible for that pain she felt and for the choices she made. However, I can sympathize with the pain that a mother has for her child. A love that is so strong and vulnerable.

Mom, I am sorry that you weren't able to experience your grandchildren. I wish you could have gotten to know them a little longer, a little better. I wish you were around right now, today. I wish I could have shared the joys and also the burdens of my children as I try and raise them, learning about their special needs. I wish you were here so I could call you after these doctor visits and when others don't understand. I think you could have helped me better understand Sienna and her emotional challenges. You and she are so much alike. I wish I would have understood your mental conditions better before you passed away. I may have been more supportive for you. Mom. I miss you today. I still think of you, just not as often as I know you would be thinking of me.

Introducing a New Column to Crazy Jugs

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 19:09:00 +0000

This is the first post of the new ongoing column of Crazy Jugs titled:

Now. THAT'S just RUDE!

I have decided to declare myself the Doyen of Social Appropriateness and Etiquette.

Ever since my sorority days, I have daydreamed of being that house mom who would visit all the fraternities and sororities on campus and teach us heathens about etiquette. I relish in the details of a perfectly set table with all the name place settings and extra forks, plates and glassware. Knowing when the appropriate time to take the napkin, fold it properly and set it on your lap is a social standard of manners. And, it is sadly becoming a lost art.

Combine the traditions of formal dining etiquette and table manners with the impact of technology and Sponge Bob and the world of proper communication and relationships easliy goes to hell in a hand basket, "heaven for betsy," as your grand mother may have once said while sitting on her davenport!

Witnessing a severe decline in social behaviors not only among the youth, but us older folks as well, I take this charge. A charge to teach, advocate and share when I hear an inappropriate comment or see an example of social dysfunction.

Be aware friends who have found my blog. If YOU happen to be the perpetrator of a rude comment, you will be exposed here and now on this new column titled: Now. THAT'S just RUDE!

Better mind your manners, friend.

Drink Order

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 20:51:00 +0000

and please, make it sugar free with skim.

Thanks.

Need for More than Just Sensory Needs

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 17:24:00 +0000

This week Sarah is scheduled to be assessed to see whether or not she will qualify for services after she turns three years old. Her birthday is in March. This past year, we have had services from a 0 - 3 state/government agency that has helped us in many ways.

Although Sarah struggles with sensory issues, I think I am struggling with my role of parenting more. I struggle with knowing if her tantrums are typical. I need to know if her social inappropriate ways like licking cold windows to cope with transitions, biting to rip through blankets when frustrated, needing gum or candy all day long, not eating with utensils and only eating mushy baby like foods, tearing, short attention span, biting ice until her tongue bleeds to drown out noises, hiding and escaping when surrounded by a noisy environment, etc., are all normal like behaviors.

She can talk. Well, she can most of the time, except for that busy day at one of our last play dates when she stopped talking for the rest of the day, or when her older sister, who has Aspergers, is around. Her big sis is a challenge to be around even for me and I am an adult! There is a lot of stress and unpredictability when big sis is around so Sarah tends to hide away, not have her confidence.

She is smart. She knows her letters and colors, expect when asked, then she won't respond. Or, maybe I just can't get her attention long enough to answer my question when I ask her: What color is this crayon?

She's cuddly. She loves to snuggle and be held. This is such a blessing to me since her big sis has tactile defensiveness and won't allow me to touch her, hug her, kiss her, brush her hair - unless it is on big sis' terms.

She is social. She likes "her freenz," she talks about them when they aren't around. She'll make a drawing and say: Deez is fer Aleezabit my fweend.

I think she will do just fine in school and life if she doesn't qualify for services. But, I want what is best for her. If she needs special services, I want her to be eligible. And, if she doesn't NEED the special services, then, I want to be at peace about that too. The problem I am faced with though is that this week's testing may not gather all of the deficits along with the strengths that my little one has. Suffice to say, a one hour meeting with a psychologist, OT and a parent taking a test doesn't measure Sarah holistically. And, I feel like if she were eligible for services, than, it would validate my concerns as a mother. My extended family and friends would then believe me and not just brush my ill-parenting under the rug as ill-parenting. Getting services would help me get some support I desperately need to better meet Sarah's needs!

Prayer for today:

God, I call out to you on this! You have placed Sarah in my hands as a gift from you. You have asked me to care for her and I want to do the best I can. I feel like a failure most of the time at this mom stuff. I feel like I don't have the mental and emotional strength to make the best decisions for Sarah, or her big sis. I get downtrodden, feel helpless and hopeless. I need you to guide me, I need you to help me and my daughters with patience. Help me to help them grow into the women you want them to be. Take the wheel for me today God. My family tree's roots are not strong, please nourish me anyhow!

You Must Have A Lot of Time On Your Hands - Oh No You Didn't Just Say THAT to ME!

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 19:05:00 +0000

Don't you just hate that when people say that to you?

I made homemade cupcakes for my daughter's first day of school this year. I made an extra one for the teacher because ~~I love to brown nose and want to do everything I can to help my kid get A's~~ I wanted to teach my daughter about service and respecting her teachers. Instead of the teacher saying, "Thanks! How sweet!" She replies, "You have way too much time on your hands! I could use your help in my classroom this year!"

Hmmm. Cutting construction paper and sharpening pencils was not what I envisioned doing at my stage of life, but, servant-hood is humbling, so I do what is needed at the expense of paper-cuts and carpel tunnel from the manual pencil sharpener.

So, in case you are wondering what a stay at home mom does all day? I cannot speak for all, but this mom keeps her to do list pretty full. Care to take a glimpse of my to do note for today?

- Email contract for new brochure design for new client
- Start concepts for new brochure design
- Update resume on LinkedIn with new title, "New Media Juggernaut" in hopes to more freelance gigs
- Play Jenga with the dirty dishes in the sink
- Follow up with friend interested in a travel package and cross fingers that they will book it
- Find a new vacation destination for another friend
- Book a weekend at a hotel with a pool for family to celebrate daughter's 3rd Bday
- Get agenda ready for committee meeting tomorrow
- Kick off the new chairs for charity fundraiser
- Help market and promote Tour De Max for Tri Kappa
- Send flair to friends who just sent me flair (thanks BTW!)
- Check blogs, emails, tweets
- Schedule doctor appointments, arrange to pick up monthly prescriptions
- Schedule home assessments and therapy for Sophia
- Go to play date
- Reschedule Great Grandma Cook to come over next week so I can volunteer at the school
- Update and promote online advertising campaigns at a new blog experiment I am trying
- Balance laundry stack till the weekend
- Smile
- Be a good mom, wife, friend
- Follow up on dreams and vision for my life
- Review list and revise daily

Just because I love facebook and other social online media, doesn't mean that I have too much time on my hands. It just means that I can be efficient. It's called multitasking. Some people call it thriving under pressure.

I call it: Terrified of boredom and resistant to loneliness. It's my life. It's what I do. Welcome.

More Things Change, More They Stay The Same

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 22:31:00 +0000

What our leaders should be bequeathing all of us ...

"The budget should be balanced, the Treasury should be refilled, Public Debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officaldom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed lest Rome become bankrupt. People must again learn to work, instead of living on public assistance."

Cicero ... 55 B.C.

"Help! There's a Uniboob Growing Out of My Neck!"

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 13:48:00 +0000

Imagine my dismay when I noticed my uniboob popping out from the neckline of the back of my new black and white tweed coat!

And, it isn't the only coat that has uniboobs growing. My casual black coat also has an enormous uniboob. I mean with such a huge long uniboob, it's a wonder I don't trip on it when I walk backwards!!!

But, it doesn't stop there, many of my shirts and sweaters have, well, little duoboobbies popping out too. It can be rather embarrassing.

All this talk about uniboobs and duoboobies, you would think that they are universal enough, a common term that everyone can relate with. However, I realize that I probably should explain, define uniboob and duoboobies.

A uniboobie is a malfunction that occurs in the cloth near the center of the neckline of your clothing. The cloth becomes stretched and tends to point upward and outward. Duoboobies occur in pairs where one perky bunching of clothing pops up from one of each shoulder.

Uniboobies and duoboobies can be dangerous and will destroy your wardrobe if they are not handled correctly.

I need your help!

Do you know of a cure to this problem? Have you been a victim of this clothing boob phenonomen and can share ways that you have coped or overcome the destruction of this fashion faux-pas, please comment below!

Better yet, if you would like to include a link to photos of your own fashion let downs, please include it in the comment. No rated R photos please - it isn't that kind of blog!

Thanks! And, together, maybe we can put an end to uniboobs and duoboobies for all womankind!

Messenger of the Snowpeople

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 17:31:00 +0000

Note to self:
Never make jokes about ~~snowmen~~ snowpeople just before a full moon. (See previous post.)

Apparently, I was a little too full of myself and was not at all sensitive to the entire snow race. You may recall from a previous post where I wrote about being captured by an angry group of ~~snowmen~~ snowpeople.

Due to modern technology and science, these snowpeople are able to clone and recreate themselves into little snowpeople. They are also able to communicate with one another wirelessly. However, you need not worry of this organized group snowballing and becoming too massive or destructive, they really do not mean any harm.

I would like to share with you my experience!

They teletransportibinated me to their leader, the moon. (I had no idea that the moon had so much power over the snowpeople!)

And the moon said to me in a silent whisper:

We are the snowpeople. For centuries, we have idled while just standing and staring. We have noticed that your young people are not creating us as they once did in the past.

Your youngsters do not delight in us as they once did. We want to bring joy to the world and to the youngsters, our creators. But as they continue to opt for indoor activities it creates a non-snowpeople environment where the world is hostile.

We the snowpeople are filled with love. We are cool. We are fat. We just want to be ourselves. We just want to be loved by our creators. When we are created, we can't help but smile.

Look into our eyes and you will see a sincere snowperson. Take a moment to walk in our shoes and you will not go far. Care for us and we will bring you joy. Our smiles are contagious.

Please take back our message to your people.

I stayed and we talked a lot. They really are nice people. I told them about blogging and tweeting and helped them get accounts set up. If you are interested in reaching out to them, here is their contact information:
http://wearethesnowpeople.blogspot.com
twitter.com/snowpeople

Snowmen have feelings too

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 14:12:00 +0000

I woke up this morning stepped outside to get my paper and saw this:

They just stood there and stared at me. They nailed a note on my door. It reads:

WE ARE NOT ALL SNOWMEN. SOME OF US ARE SNOW PEOPLE. WE MAY LOOK COLD ON THE INSIDE, BUT WE HAVE FEELINGS TOO.

Geez. I think they must have read my blog post earlier. Apparently they have feelings but where is their sense of humor?

I reply:
Hey little snow people... I'm sorry.

Then, they started throwing snow balls at me. I was like:
GROSS. How rude!

Then, they picked me up and took me to their leader...

to be continued...

Define Organic

noreply@blogger.com (AC) — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 13:45:00 +0000

ORGANIC. I love organic stuff... But, what is it actually?

What does it mean when something is organic? ORGANIC is a descriptive buzz word that is tagged on to produce, juice, gardens, clothes, soaps, lotions and the list goes on and on. It brings an instant attraction in my mind when I think of something being organic. It makes me think that organic is holy, good, God-breathed, slow to develop, true, flawless to the heart and soul but not necessarily to the eye, non-superficial, non-mass-produced, noncompetitive, all natural, robust in flavor and nutrients, fresh and alive.

But, what does being organic really mean?