Thoughts From A Non Medalist

Every four years, the entire world gets a reminder of how inadequate we are; it is called the Olympics.  We watch, we cheer, we are happy when our team wins and sad when they lose.  But ultimately, we realize we had nothing to do with their success and will never measure up. 

I remember when I was a girl feeling very sad the first time I realized I would never be an Olympian, I was heartbroken (for as long as an eight year old pays attention to anything).  Now that I am an adult, I look at all these athletes, most of whom are younger than me and know I missed my ‘window’.  However, I don’t feel sad for my loss, but theirs.  I listen to 15 year old medalists say they have worked their entire life for that moment.  Their entire life! Can you imagine dedicating your entire childhood to a sport where you get one chance to be the greatest and peek at the age of 16?  No thank you.

I am pretty sure no one is ever going to give me a medal for anything, but I am pretty good at a lot of things. And more than that, I had the opportunity to experience a lot of things.  As a kid I played softball and swimming.  Took dance and art classes.  Dressed up and played pretend.  Went to Disneyland on summer vacation.  Camped at the lake.  Was in the band, the school play and hung out with my friends.  I did stuff.  Lots of stuff.

In college I went to football games, joined a sorority, and participated in student government.  I stayed out late, slept in late and occasionally dragged my butt to the gym.  I had a lot of fun not being a world class athlete.

Maybe I am trying to validate my choices in life or justify why I can sit on the couch eating pretzels while the best athletes in the word leave it all in the pool, gym or stadium.  Whatever the case may be, I appreciate what I have and wouldn’t trade all those experiences for a gold medal and all you have to give up to get one.  I respect the talented athletes who do make those choices.  I have thoroughly enjoyed watching them compete.  They may even have motivated me to hit the gym a little harder, but I certainly don’t feel like I am missing out.

Reflection

I am quickly approaching a milestone birthday this weekend, and as I reflect on the last decade I can’t help but think of all the amazing things I have done, people I have met and achievements I have earned.

In the spring of 2003 two important things happened: I graduated from college and made the decision to attend Syracuse to earn a masters.  At the advice of my guidance counselor I chose Syracuse over American University and Boston University, a choice that led me to the love of my live and events I could never have imagined.

That winter I met this guy….online.  This was before meeting people online was normal.  We hit it off and then one day he asked if we should meet.  Before leaving, I made sure people knew where I was going and would call to check on me, off I went.  I knocked on the door and this extremely tall guy wearing yellow warm up pants (you know, the kind that unzip at the knee) and a faded Syracuse basketball T-shirt answered the door. Unimpressive.  We watched Bull Durham, drank Yuengling and talked late into the night.  Two years later I married that guy.

After grad school, I moved back to California, driving 3,000 miles with my then boyfriend through about 10 states in less than four days.    If that isn’t a test of compatibility, then I don’t know what is.  We visited such national treasures as Little America, WY (home of the 10¢ soft serve and the only bathroom for 400 miles), a monument erected in honor of Buffalo Bill Cody and a classic car road race pit stop in Elko, NV.  We arrived in California the day before the Fourth of July.  The following day we took the ferry to Pac Bell park on a beautiful sunny day in San Francisco to watch the A’s play the Giants.  I don’t remember if the A’s won or not, I just remember being very happy.

Shortly thereafter we got jobs, there was a proposal, and a wedding.  We moved into our first apartment in Oakland.  I remember a friend from grad school recommending to me that I don’t get killed when I told her we were moving to Oakland, advice heeded.  We stayed in Oakland for three years which included many trips to the farmers market and Colonial Donuts on Saturdays, a tiny Mexican restaurant on the other side of Lake Merritt for the best mole I have ever had and the discovery of Kamakura in Alameda, still my favorite sushi place.

In May of 2008 as we sat by the pool at a resort in the Dominican Republic listening to Bocelli, we started to talk about baby names for when we had kids; Carol Ann if we had a girl, Connor James if it was a boy.  This was of course after my husband had only half-jokingly threw out George Washington as an option. Nope.  A year later, we brought beautiful Carol Ann home from the hospital.

After I got pregnant, we looked around our little apartment and tried to figure out how we could make it work with a baby.  We couldn’t.  We weighed the merits of being closer to work, versus closer to family. Proximity toamily was the right choice.  We bought a house near my parents.  At the time I couldn’t possibly imagine how we would fill it.  Now, I sometimes wonder if we shouldn’t have perhaps got a bigger house.  A few years later we brought Brianna Michelle home from the hospital to complete our family.

The last ten years have brought me as far north as Hadrian’s Wall and as far south as the jungles of the Dominican Republic.  I have changed my name, brought two amazing people into the world and hopefully have made a positive difference. I can only hope that the next ten years are as blessed as the last and can’t wait to see what happens next.

Staying at Home is Too Hard

I often joke that being a stay at home mom would be a hell of a lot harder than my job.  The reality is, it isn’t a joke, it’s 100% true.  I have several friends who are stay at home moms, I have so much respect for them, I don’t know how they do it.  I love my kids, more than anything else in the world, BUT I cannot imagine my life revolving completely around them 24 hour a day, seven days a week.  I would go batty.

I took four months maternity leave when I had Cara, after about two and a half I was itching to go back.  I love her and loved being home with her.  But I also loved my independence, my interaction with other adults, the opportunity to use the toilet, by myself.  When I went back to work I was a wreck. I think I cried for a week.  I was sad about leaving her, and selfishly, I think I was sad I might miss something.  That didn’t mean I wasn’t glad to be working.

Over time, I realized that Cara actually loved going to daycare.  Her friends were there; she was learning a lot and probably was allowed to make bigger messes than I would permit at home.  Occasionally, she would go through phases where she would make a fuss when I dropped her off, but she was all smiles and didn’t want to leave in the afternoon.  It got to the point when we dropped her off that she would run off to play with her friends with no thought to saying goodbye.

When I had Bri, I took another four months.  This time was different, this time I had two.  Holy crap two is hard.  We sent Cara to daycare two days a week; I looked forward to those days like Christmas.  That sounds awful I know, but anyone who has had a two-year-old and an infant can tell you, the two-year-old doesn’t care that you have an infant.  And the infant couldn’t be bothered with the two-year-old. 

I was grateful for Gymboree and our Oakland Zoo membership; we spent a lot of time at both.  Because of the demands of a newborn, I also allowed Cara to watch more TV than I otherwise would have thought appropriate. (Bad habits are hard to break and we are just now getting back into a TV off rhythm)  I schlepped them on errands and lunches. I worked around them as installed new flooring.  We made frequent trips to the park, signed up for swim lessons.  I was running out of ideas and sanity.  How do stay-at-home parents find stuff to entertain kids day after day?

Despite the craziness, I think I was more anxious about going back to work the second time.  I don’t think it was because I was worried about Bri.  I knew she was going to be loved and well looked after.  This time, I think it was mostly me being selfish.  I know now how fast they grow up.  I knew that I would miss stuff not that I might and that tore me apart.  For the month leading up to my return to work, I couldn’t sleep.  I would lay in bed for hours every night thinking about it.

I went back to work on a Thursday.  We dropped the two girls off, my eyes got a little misty, I gave them both kisses and off I went.  I didn’t cry.  For a few days, I felt bad that I didn’t cry, as if I should have to validate my anxiety or demonstrate how hard it is to say goodbye each morning.  I realize, I love my kids, I love working and for me personally, I am a better mom for it.

It's Mom Now

When I look at Carol, I see my little baby girl.  If what my mom says is true, I will always see my baby girl even when she goes off and has kids of her own.  I didn’t expect to be mommy forever, but thought I might get a couple more years out of her.  Unfortunately, on her third birthday Carol decided she was too mature for mommy, and is just Mom now.

I don’t know if it was merely a coincidence or if something biological clicked exactly on Carol’s third birthday.  We had decided in advance to ride the train a few stops and get pizza for lunch.  We thought rightly that she would get a kick out of riding the train, even though it would have been much easier to drive. As we were prepping to go everything was “Yes Mom,” “No Mom,” “ Come on Mom.”  Kevin laughed at my new name until we went to the front yard and she said, “I’ll get the paper Dad.”  Hmm.

She loved riding the train; everything from waiting on the platform and waving to the train operator to plotting our course on the map inside.  She exhibited so much joy and excitement over every aspect of the experience, whereas it is something I do every day and has lost its luster.  However, even in her childish excitement, she continued to call us Mom and Dad, this made me sad.

Getting her nails done

Since then, there have been moments when she reverts to Mommy, like when she is tired, scared or hurt.  But for the other 99%  of the time, Mom.  I can’t help but wonder if her decision to switch will cause Bri to make the switch earlier (Bri can’t even talk yet).  I hope not.  This makes me think of when I was about seven or eight and I told my little sister Sesame Street was stupid.  She stopped watching.  My mom was mad.  I wasn’t trying to be mean; I just thought I knew better.  I guess I should resign to whatever will, happen will happen, but I can still not like it.

Since then she has demonstrated her new found maturity in my ways.  Just this morning she commented, “I’m not a baby, I’m a big girl.”  Mind you, this was after she woke up in the middle of the night upset about something or another and spent the rest of the night in our bed.  We are in the middle of potty training and on Sunday she proceeded to tell me: “You drive me crazy,“ “Leave me alone,” and “Mom, you go to time out.”  Yikes!  If only it didn’t sound so absolutely hilarious coming from her, it would be upsetting.

I realize she is just trying to assert herself and demonstrate control over her life and choices, this is normal.  All my other mom friends say the exact same thing.  Even so, couldn’t I just have Mommy for another few years?

Sisters



Can you guess who's who?

When I was pregnant with Cara I had no notion of what she would look like, what she would be like.  When I was pregnant with Bri, I couldn’t picture anything different than Cara.  This was especially true when I learned Bri was a girl and even more so when I saw the ultrasound.  Even in-utero, Bri had the exact same profile as Cara.  Apparently my cheeks are a dominate gene.


When Bri was born, she so closely resembled Cara, for the first couple weeks my husband and I both kept calling her by her sister’s name.  Fortunately she didn’t seem to mind.  There is still no denying they are sisters, but Bri is certainly coming into her own.

Carol is outgoing and stubborn.  She didn’t roll over until 8 months, she didn’t really crawl either, never cruised, scooted or pulled up, all the things the books say most babies do; she couldn’t be bothered.  She was a tall baby so most things were within reach wherever she sat and anything else could be brought to her as far as she was concerned.  And then one day at almost 13 months, she just got up and walked.  I remember, I was on the phone and she decided that she had had enough and just did it.  Unfortunately, potty training is going similarly and she hasn’t decided yet that she wants to use the toilet.  She babbled a lot; said her first word at 7 or 8 months (and hasn’t stopped talking since).   She thought everything was hilarious and handed out big laughs liberally.

Bri, on the other hand is calculated and quiet.   She might also be the happiest baby I have ever met.  She smiles ALL the time.  People ask me if she is always so happy, yes, yes she is.  BUT, she rarely laughs.  You have really got to work for the tiniest giggle.  She is content to sit back and take everything in.  She isn’t a big babbler.  She is just now starting to try sounds, but forget getting her to do it on cue.  She also hit all the physical miles stones exactly when the books said she should; rolled over at ~ three months, crawled at ~ seven months, I am sure walking will follow soon enough.

Food is another area where they are very different.  Cara was and is very picky.  Even as a baby, there were certain foods (mostly vegetables) that she would not eat and half of every meal ended up on her bib or face.  When we took her off the bottle at 14 months, she refused to drink milk.  It wasn’t until about six to eight months later when I bought this random straw cups out of desperation that she deemed them acceptable for milk.  Her repertoire of food is very limited. And for some reason, she will eat all kinds of foods at daycare that she won’t eat for me.

Bri, on the other had will eat anything.  She would eat the phone book if I gave it to her.  Every time I try a new food she gobbles it up like it is her favorite.  She is also a big eater, I found that I had to give her two containers of baby food at a sitting just to keep up with her appetite, which is ironic, because she is so skinny.  Everything ends up in her tummy, I think she would like the bib if any remnants ended up there.  We just introduced Cheerios and you would think they have some addictive property by watching her eat them.

Over the next year, I am sure we will learn a lot more about Bri’s personality.  I am already blown away as to how much she already exhibits.  The one thing I am sure of, is that she is not her sister and everything I learned or thought I knew about being Carol’s mom might as well be last season’s fashions, because it probably won’t work.

Return of the Birthday Cake

Last year it was Elmo, this year princesses.  We celebrated Carol’s third birthday last weekend and the goal, a cake that hopefully resembled a castle.

As of a week ago, I had not planned, purchased or cleaned a single thing in preparation for the party.  I had only sent out invitations, so I was committed.  I started brainstorming cake ideas with some friends and decided I would either do a princess or a castle cake.  I had scanned pictures of both on the internet and neither looked that difficult.  Carol is in love with the iconic Disney castle, so we decided that was the way to go.

The party was Saturday, so I took Friday off.  I had a lot of work to do, but I still hoped to sleep in, just a little.  At 6am Carol (not Brianna) was up, bright eyed and bushy tailed.  What!?!  The same kid I have to drag out of bed at 7am most days and lounges in bed until 8am on the weekends.  Okay, I’m up.

After grabbing some coffee I get the kids off to daycare and start working.  The castle was two tiers (never done a multi-tiered cake).  I used a 9x13 Pyrex for the bottom tier, a 5x11 for the top and cupcakes for the turrets.  After whipping up two boxes of cake mix and dying them pink (only required ~5 drops of dye – see how ElmoBecame Red) I popped all three pans in the oven and waited.  Thirty minutes later, I had cake, a lot of cake.

I had purchased two cans of frosting, that morning as I went about my errands I grabbed one more just in case. (This is foreshadowing..can you just feel the suspense)  Got ice, balloons, plates, I was ready to party.

After letting the cakes cool for several hours on the counter, the carving commenced.  I cut the 9x13 in half and stacked it.  No problems.  Then I started frosting and it came crumbling down, the cake was still too warm.  After several failed attempts, I popped some frosting in the microwave and warmed it to the point where I could drizzle it on and seal the crumbs in.  I trimmed and stacked the 5x11 and used the same approach to ice it and put everything in the refrigerator to harden.  At this point, I am down about 1 ½ cans of frosting.

A few hours later, I pull everything out to do the top coat on the cake, the cupcake turrets and used the remaining cupcakes to make some shrubbery. (Finally got a chance to use my green food coloring!)  The bad news was that I was out of frosting and hadn’t done any of the decorating.  It was also about 5 pm and I had to pick the kids up from daycare.  So much for getting the cake done.

I swing by the grocery store before getting the kids and they have a new pink lemonade frosting!  Jackpot!  After the earlier issues, I grabbed two cans, just in case.  That night, one more can and a few dozen toothpicks later, we have a castle.

The party was fun, Carol had a great time and the cake was delicious.  I wonder what Carol’s thing-of-the-moment that I can epitomize on a cake will be next year.  In any event, I am sure a harrowing tale will accompany the creation. 

15 Minutes with Xfinity, I mean Comcast...Whatever

In the second installment of my rant series I tackle Xfinity.  (On a side note, what the hell is Xfinity anyway.  Either own it or not Comcast, but stop trying to confuse the hell out people.)

My mission: Cancel my appointment for a home security consultation tomorrow.

I visit Xfinity.com to find the number for home security, there is absolutely no link or mention of that service on the home page (Strike 1).  I search Google and get a link, the URL is Comcast.com/something or another (Strike 2, Comcast?  I thought this was Xfinity?)  I deep link about three pages and find a number: 800-Xfinity (3, this is clearly going to add up quick.  I intend to sum the strikes at the conclusion of each of the proceeding paragraphs).

The call begins as follows: “For business press 1, for other press 2.”  Press 2.  “I didn’t get that, for business press 1 for other press 2.”  Press and hold 2.  “For Cable press 1 for other press 2.”  Press 2.  “I didn’t get that, for Cable press 1, for other press 2.”  Press and hold 2.  “Transferring your call…beep, boop, beep bop.”  (2 strikes + 1 extra for being really annoying).

I am shocked to find they are experiences longer than normal wait times.   Several minutes later a customer service rep answers and asks for my name, address and last four of my social before ever asking me what I need.  Finally I tell her and she doesn’t seem to understand what I am saying (as if she isn’t aware of the product; she probably isn’t) Finally, I think she realized she couldn’t help me and said she didn’t see any appointment and transferred me to sales.  A complete, make it someone else’s problem move. (4 strikes)

Sales answers, and I am asked if I am a Comcast employee or a customer.  Really, they can’t pass along that info?  Next time, I am saying I am an employee, just to see what happens.  I explain that I need to cancel an appointment.  He asks for all the same info as the rep.  Guess they can’t pass along that either when they transfer a call.  He doesn’t see an appointment, thinks it is probably recorded in another system and can’t help me.  Transfers to Home Security division, but not before I suggest that perhaps it would be better if I could have just called Home Security to begin with. (5 strikes)

Home Security answers, I give them my info, again.  No appointment in their system.  At this point, I inform them that I have wasted 15 minutes to do them the courtesy of cancelling an appointment in advance and they don’t even see it.  Next time I won’t bother.  I also let them know that if someone shows up tomorrow, I will not be answering the door.  Click. (2 Strikes + an extra 5 for never finding my appointment to begin with.

So, all total, a 15 minute call with Comcast racked up 22 strikes (albeit 6 discretionary).  I find it ironic that their latest ad campaign centers on customer service and satisfaction.  I love the ads, they are hilarious, but they don’t make me feel warm and fuzzy about Comcast.  If anything, they just piss me off because they are paying for those ads with the margin they get off my cable bill and they lie.  FAIL!