The Sweetest Thing

So I promised earlier that I'd have a positive post since I'm usually snotty and cranky. This blog tends to be an outlet for my annoyances. But, instead of telling you what makes me want to poke my eyes out, here's what has been making me happy:

1. My kids have built a ridiculously elaborate pillow fort. They're in it right now while I pretend not to notice that they've found the Capri Sun and fruit snacks. I'm probably a bad person for looking the other way, but I love it when they unite.

2. My job is two parts crappy and three parts a big Rubix cube. That's why I keep doing it. I complain (especially since I get to support an audit next week on Hawaii time - from 2 p.m. to 10 p.m. CST), but I love that I know what I'm talking about and that when I don't, I can learn.

3. I have money. Not much money, but I know I'm lucky to have what I do. I worked really, really hard for it and it's satisfying and a great relief that my work has been fruitful.

4. Even though I have a mysterious seizure disorder, I am so very fortunate that it's manageable. It's my Achilles' heel, but it doesn't stop me, thanks to modern pharmaceuticals.

5. My wonderful friends and family are my constants, my touchstones, and I am so happy to have them.

So there. A positive post, with somewhat limited snark. See? Proof positive that I can do anything!

A few things about managing people I struggle with

I manage people. Not a lot of people. But I do manage a few. Given the sheer size of the company I work for, that doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things. But it does affect my stress levels. And here's how (because you care, right??):

1. Reminding people that, yes, they are actually required to work standard office hours (no, you cannot start the workday on Fridays after noon and yes, I do expect to see you online, even if you are virtual; and do I really need to tell you that?).  I don't understand why timeliness is almost always the biggest issue in a workplace - you'd imagine that common sense would dictate that you either do your stuff on time or tell someone why you can't, but apparently common sense is not common.

2. Some people are treated differently than others. It's usually because some people are also more trustworthy than others (see above). Despite #1, I really don't care if you leave a half hour or so early three times a week as long as I know you'll make it up later. But don't try to BS me by telling me, "It all works out." I'm not super great at math, but I can add and subtract.

3. I will support you by getting obstacles out of your way and telling people when they're asking too much of people on my team. Removing roadblocks does not equal me doing your job.

4. I hate having "the talk" with you. I'm by nature a non-confrontational person and I don't like being put in a spot where I have to reinforce things that I think are obvious. I need you to do work, and if you can't work, I need to know why because I might be able to help. Deadlines provided by the government aren't guidelines. 

5. If you can't meet the above-referenced deadlines, you only get half the shit I do. I'm the sorry messenger who gets screamed at by clients on your behalf, may have to explain your actions to the federal government and gets to hear from management. What's somewhat sad is that I only get half the beating my supervisor does. And she probably only gets half of what her boss does. So do your work and we can all get by unscathed.

Next time I promise to be more positive. I really, really do. But having had "the talk" with someone last week and this week already, I'm a tad annoyed.

Kids' shows that make me want to poke my eyes out

There are a few shows that make me want to injure someone or make me think, "Hmmm, this is what dropping acid must feel like." And they're mostly current kids' shows:

1. Mickey Mouse Club House: this show is insane. I hate the characters and they come up with the stupidest solutions to ridiculous problems.

2. The Wiggles: thank goodness this is only on at like 4:30 in the morning. My kids sleep later than that now, but this show makes me feel like I've got to be doing drugs.

3. Sponge Bob Square Pants: oh, God, I want this guy to shut up. So. Badly.

4. Dora the Explorer: too sugary sweet with insanely simplistic songs and completely oddball problems. Make it stop!

5. Sofia the First: the main character is way too nice. I would've slapped to shit out of that step-sister two seconds after I met her.

I realize that the entire above commentary makes me sound like an old fogey. I'm only 38, but I'm about two steps away from a hose and black socks with sandals yelling, "Damn kids! Get off my lawn!"

Sweet Nothing

Nine months of work. Regulation review, requirements development, testing and validation, debates with the legal team, mitigation and client conversations and...nothing. Nothing happened but what was supposed to happen. There's still the weekend to get through, still a few days of waking at 4:30 a.m. for confirmation. But the release went in. It went in successfully. And so far, nothing happened.

Waiting to exhale

I can't wait until tomorrow happens so I can breathe normally again. Our business's largest software release goes in at midnight and guess who's the owner? Hint: she's got two thumbs and is turning blue. It'll either be the claims apocalypse of 2014 or nothing will happen. Nothing = success!

Crisis of Faith

If you know me, you probably know I was raised Methodist and Jewish. My husband? Hindu and, in his teenaged years, half of his family decided to become Buddhist. The result of these mixed marriages were one somewhat spiritual agnostic (me) and a very staunch atheist (my husband).

This has never been a problem, until my son started elementary school. As my son has come home with questions spawned from a friend's visit to church, we've covered a smattering of religion and God with our eldest, though probably not as much as we should have. In my defense, do you have any idea what a pain in the ass it is to cover four religions? It's tough enough during winter holidays (which reminds me that I haven't given as many details about why Christmas is Christmas and Hanukkah isn't). Then when you get to explaining Easter and Passover, then move on to Diwali, Holi and a few of the other ones, the point gets kind of lost. And that doesn't even cover the more minor Hindu holidays and rituals.

Sometimes I wish I were devout about something if only to give him more comforting information than, "Well, some people believe..." or "Here's what I think." I wish I knew and could tell him with absolute certainty what was or wasn't out there and if it mattered. On the reverse, I wish my husband weren't so convinced there was nothing out there, because that would make my job a lot easier sometimes, though possibly less entertaining.

Yes, it's all about me.

But did you know that it once took me an hour to convince my husband to let our son go to day camp at the YMCA because he was certain he'd be converted to Christianity? Or that I had to prep him in advance on Cub Scout materials so he wouldn't decide that membership was a heinous ploy to foist religion on young boys? If I didn't love the man so much and he weren't so damn cute, I'd smack him upside the head with a Bible. Thankfully, even though he's a tad unreasonable he can be talked down.

Ah, the joys of living in a multi-cultural, mixed-race marriage. What's funny is that, over and above the obvious (diversity, cultural awareness, etc.), one of the many benefits to living in our family is that it makes demonstrating genetic variation really easy.

Right to be annoyed

So, yesterday afternoon, I had my hands full. I had just gotten back from working and picking up the kids, then was trying to make dinner, manage my son's homework and dodge my daughter's sticky fingers at the same time while also trying to plan the rest of the evening. Finally, I handed my daughter a ball of pizza dough to help. The dough was too sticky for her preferences, so she decided she wanted to wash her hands. Awesome. But while washing her hands, she realized she had to pee. Really bad. So I told her to stop washing and run to the bathroom. She did.

Probably not shocking, though, was the subsequent, "Mommy, I peed!" I tried not to understand. "Great," said I. "No, I peed on the floor!" she yelled. In my head, I'm thinking, Well, shit. I've got my hands covered to the elbow in dough, homework to help with, dinner to make, a promise to keep (I had promised to take my son out to ride his bike) and now pee to clean up. But it's ok. Don't get mad. It's ok - you don't want to upset her.

So I make my way to the bathroom. There is a huge puddle from the toilet to the door, six feet away. My daughter's socks are soaking wet, her undies are splooshy and she's got her skirt over her head. And she's laughing. Goddammit, why is she laughing?

So I sigh and paste a smile on my face. "Ok," I say cheerfully, let's get this clean!" She continues to giggle. I get madder and madder. And feel guiltier and guiltier. All that I've read teaches me to be calm about this. Don't make the kid feel bad. Don't hurt their self esteem. Be cheerful. Be reassuring. But I'm cleaning up pee, dammit.

So I give into an irritated, "Jeez, Evelyn! Next time listen to your body if you have to go." I emit loud sighs of annoyance, my annoyance and guilt escalating with each giggle she emits and each step she tries to take onto the carpet. Finally, I snap, "Take your clothes off! We need to clean you up!" She starts crying. Instant remorse. I start mentally beating myself up.

Then I think, Wait a stinking minute. I'm cleaning up human waste. I know it's my daughter and I shouldn't berate her, but wouldn't anyone find it somewhat distasteful to have to clean up someone else's urine?

So here's the thing (and the point to all of this): I'm coming to believe that while children's egos are fragile, they're less so than we think. And the last thing I want is a child who can't handle someone feeling real feelings. And darnit, I don't want to feel guilty when I get annoyed over something that's actually annoying. Do I feel bad for snapping at my kid? Of course. But I don't feel bad for being annoyed.

The idea of motherhood has morphed into this rosy, golden-hued (hah!) image of serenity and joy where you magically remain calm no matter what in order to create happy, self actualized geniuses who have never been told - quite directly - that they messed up. Those books say that they shouldn't have to deal with others' negative emotions because you've got to protect that self esteem.

No one who writes child-rearing books tells you that sometimes you can't even finish a coherent thought because too damn many people are talking to you and too damn many things are happening all at once. Or that sometimes you either want to punch a wall, scream or curl into a ball and rock. Or all three. Or that sometimes you might actually scream or curl into a ball and that that's ok.

I don't think it's ok to make a child or anyone else to feel like crap. But I also don't feel that it's fair to force myself to act like a cheerful Stepford mom all of the time and to feel bad when I just can't. Yes, this whole post is one big "duh" moment. But still. Having had two children, it's annoying that I can internalize this only when my youngest is almost five. But at least I internalized it sometime.