What Happened to the Cake?

I’ve never really worried about my work performance as it relates to pregnancy before.

I work in a low-key environment where one colleague regularly shows up wearing flannel pajama bottoms and more than a few long time employees take BOTH November and December off every year.

What’s the big deal if I have to take 2-3 months off to pop out some new offspring, right? Nobody, besides the one guy I work with regularly, will even really miss me, right?

I dunno …. I’m nervous this time around.

A few weeks ago I was called into an office a few notches above my own and was offered a detail position, with a good possibility of it becoming permanent. I was beyond excited. There was a glitch though. I was being offered the opportunity because the current holder is pregnant and may not be coming back.

In the spirit of full disclosure I had to tell them I too was pregnant, but that I was 100% sure of my return. The response was nothing but positive and congratulatory, and was told some things needed to be discussed but I would hear something soon.

Maybe I’m impatient. I know I’m impatient. In my opinion though, soon has come and gone.

I think their ignoring me while trying to find a candidate that won’t be lactating in the next 6 months. I know I’ll never know the truth. They can’t tell me the truth if that is the problem. We can't sit down and have a frank discussion to solve scheduling problems if that is the problem. If I never move to that office though I know, deep down, it will be their loss. It is something I would be excellent at.

On Friday, I left work an hour early. My sense of smell is kicked up into bloodhound mode lately, and the smells of the office were getting to me. The Sharpie 2 cubes down, the striper-scent Bath and Body works next to me, 3 Xerox machines running at the same time. I couldn’t take it so I left.

My boss was getting ready to leave for the day when I went to sign out myself and I told him I was leaving early. When he asked why, I told him. The Sharpie, the lotion, the ozone - that’s why.

His response? He laughed and said I had nobody to blame for that but myself, as he signed my leave slip.

I know this man is not sensitive. He doesn’t have any children. I know he didn’t mean to be rude. But I also know he absolutely meant what he said.

I kept thinking about this all weekend. Thinking about things I should have said instead of opening and closing my mouth like a guppy. Thinking about whether there is some sort of ‘mommy glass ceiling’ that I never realized existed here before. I would choose the same path a million times over. I would rather have children and a family than promotions. I would choose going home to be with them hands down to working 12 hour days.

I just …. thought I could have both …. and am dismayed by the revelation of my naivety.

Fondness of Feathers

With the dawning of new days, the sleep problems seem to have dissolved away. Sure, we went through the one night of crazy, but at the end of that night Matt did something brilliant. Something we should have thought of sooner, because after all, Gracie is my daughter.

He gave her a pillow.

We found a nice, old, flat one that had most of the life beaten out of it years ago, but is a thickness perfect for a little head. I'm not sure if it is the creature comfort of the pillow (I need at least two, preferably three to be able to fall asleep) or the fact that it smells like 20 years of Matt's head, but it is an endeared object to her now. When I put Gracie in her crib last night, she landed firmly in the middle of the pillow. This morning, she was in the exact same spot.

We've developed morning and night routines; after bath we say night night to the wooden fish in the bathroom and in the mornings we say goodbye and see ya to musical lamb in her crib. This morning, the pillow was also added to the list.

Bye-bye ammey! Bye-bye piwo! See ya soon piwo!

Maybe in a display of appreciation to the smelly pillow I will wash the case on it this weekend. Although, why mess with a good thing?

The Beginning

I felt wise this morning, which doesn't happen all that often. Smart, well smart enough to get through the day unscathed is standard, but wise is rare.

My friend David and his wife just had their first child.

As cubicle neighbors, he spent a lot of time asking overwhelmed, not sure what to expect, first time daddy questions to me. I also spent a lot of time listening to his quasi-private conversations about the baby with his wife. (Because really, if we normally talk through a half wall he must have full knowledge that I can hear every word spoken when its not directed towards me. And frankly the conversations are more interesting than the work infront of me.)

The baby was born last Monday, three weeks early. I knew they weren't prepared. I didn't know that the baby shower had been the day before, but I knew HE wasn't prepared.

Today is David's first day back and he stopped by to show me pictures first thing. His little girl is beautiful. We all look forward to welcoming her into the folds of our little daycare community.

This is where the wisdom comes from.

The ability to look at the red bleary eyes and understand. Truly understand as someone who is not so far removed from those days themselves can only understand. To be able to offer sage advice as someone who has been there and done that. To assure him that taking a nap at your desk on your first day back is perfectly OK.

While in the end I can offer little useful advice since everyone has to feel their way out of the darkness themselves, I can offer my wisdom. My silence. My knowing smile. My friendship.

Congratulations David and welcome Anna.

ABC's & 123's

As you can see by her list of words, Gracie's knowledge and understanding of things is exploding. (Sometimes literally, in the form of temper tantrums, when she can't do something by herself.)

Her latest kick? Alphabet reciting and counting.

She's been dancing to the Alphabet Song for months now. Whether the song is via a dancing dog, refrigerator Leap-Frog toy, or my off key voice, the entire world stops and she sways to the song.

She knows key parts. The Alphabet Song, in her voice is sung: A. B. C. D. E. F. G. H. I. C. D. C. D. C. O. P. C. D. C. T. U. C. C. C. Z.

It WAS a similar phenomenon with counting 1-10.

One. TWO. Two. Two. Two. SIX. Six. EIGHT. Six. TEN. Yeah! (Always followed with a cheer of Yeah!)

Last night however, we hit a new milestone. If we count with her, she can fill in the blanks and do every other number. (Sort of.)

Me: One. Grace: TWO! Me: Three. Grace: Whore. Me (after giggling): Five. Grace: Sits. Me: Seven. Grace: EIGHT! Me: Nine. Grace: TEN! Yeah!

As annoying as it is after the 100th time, it would be annoying counting to ten 100 times correctly too. Eventually she will get it, and while I know I am biased, I think it is amazing that at 18 months she can ALMOST count to ten.

Technology. Great.

I am mobile again. My new cell phone came yesterday, in its shiny splendor, so now the three people who ever call my cell can dial once again.

This is the one I picked.



It is so sleek (read: smudges every time I touch it) and it is has so many features (read: I have no idea how to work it) and given this, it is making me feel REALLY old.

It will totally figure out how to use it this weekend and will probably love it come Monday, but right now it is just a little too fancy. It was the least fancy one they had though….

When did 30, OK closer to 31 than 30, but when did 30 become old?

Doctor’s Orders

When we took Gracie to her 12 month doctor’s appointment, the pediatrician suggested that we buy a kiddie shopping cart to help encourage her to walk.

It’s amazing how quickly she will learn to balance on her own with one, she told us, and I find that girls especially like shopping carts. She’ll spend all day putting stuff in and taking it back out.


Sure thing Doc, we said. We’ll get on right away!

I did all sorts of research to measure their sturdiness, push-ability, fun colors, until I found the perfect cart. Then it went out of stock. Well, well just wait a little longer.

Well, Gracie turns 14 months on Friday, and guess what? Yeah, that’s right. No cart.

Until yesterday.

In an effort to be thrifty, I went to Babies R Us to buy baby wash and some miscellaneous bath toys with a gift card we received as a birthday gift for her. Stay on task, I kept telling myself. Stay on task. You don’t NEED anything else in this place.

Then I saw the checkout line. It looked a mile long and ended inches away from the modest toy section.

Well, maybe I’ll go look at the 1 year old section really quick. The line is super long anyway, I’ll might as well wait for it to go down a little.

So I passed through the seven levels of the Candy Cane forest, through the sea of swirly twirly gum drops, and then I walked through the toy section.

And there it was. No, not THE cart, but A cart and it was cheap. Cheap enough to be covered by the gift card anyway.

Within minutes of getting home yesterday it was snapped together and on the floor. Gracie went straight for it. For the first time ever, well since she’s been mobile, I was able to make dinner without someone clutching my pant leg and demanded to be picked up to see what I was doing.

Faux bottles of ketchup, mustard, salt, pepper and syrup?!? were clinked together with joy. Laps were made around our kitchen island in a half sprint. Falls were taken, carts were toppled, but the sheer joy of it made her jump right back up and start over again.

I can honestly say this was the best $22 I’ve spent in a long time. Guess I should recommit to following doctor’s orders when given, huh?

Chatting Up The Boss

Remember the job interview I had?

Well, I found out last week – as I was running out the door to collect Grace and catch our flight to Chicago – that I didn’t get the job. (And yeah, I know I haven’t written about my memories of the playoff game. It was painful and I am still working on it.)

Anyway, I was standing in the front lobby of my building, with people swarming around, and the Program Director stops me. He said he wanted to personally tell me that they selected someone else, but that he really wants to meet with me sometime soon to talk about my future.

That’s a good thing, right? To have someone that high-up even care about my future?

Well, I could hear the minutes ticking away in my head, and started inching my way towards the door. Sure Paul, I will absolutely email you the moment I return from Chicago!

Then I was left with my thoughts:
“Does he want to talk to me because I have good ideas?”
“Does he want to talk to me because he sees me as an inside source of information about what is really going on in the department?”
“Does he want to talk to me because I threw coworkers under the bus in an attempt to stress my management skills?”

Well, that meeting was yesterday. I had all of one hour worth of notice, and had eaten a greasy chili dog and onion rings for lunch. Great.

I think it actually went pretty well in the end. And it was a little bit of 1 & 2, no inkling of 3. Which is a good thing.

He said that during the interview I gave him a unique insight into how the program is operated, and with my responses, ideas on things that may need to be adjusted. That he got the feeling that I’m not 100% happy in my current position

(duh, I was on an interview, right?)

and that it was his goal to make sure I got the experiences I needed to improve my skill set and find the perfect position for me. He also said that we hire LOTS of smart people and LOTS of people who can get jobs done, but that it is a rare occasion to find folks that are the combination of the two……

And his impression of me is that I’M PART OF THAT RARE COMBO!

Really? Really??!?
(It was so hard not to giggle with delight!)

So I asked what kind of training and skill sets he thought I needed to acquire, blah blah blah.

Really? Really??!? You think I’m smart!?!
(He He He He!)

So that was the meeting. A good one, no?

But damn, now that means more work on my part.