I had the same job for almost 12 years. Considering that I am only 33, 12 years is a large chunk of my life; my whole adulthood. I had not been happy in that job for at least 10 of the 12 years, but I felt that I was stuck there. Needless to say, I was beyond miserable. The first week of May was particularly rough this year. I decided on May 4th that I couldn't take it anymore.
I began re-writing my resume. I have a very specialized set of skills and a considerable amount of experience but only two employers. One employer was out of business and the second was my current job. I was worried that I would have a difficult time making my resume stand out because of that, but there was nothing I could do about it. I finished writing it and looked for places to send it to.
I sent it to one place that night, and miraculously I got a call the next morning. I had an interview!! Holy cow! I felt completely at ease as I took my personal belongings to my car and emailed my resignation to my bosses. I laughed the whole way home that night.
I aced the interview on the following Monday. I was offered the job on the spot. It's not what I went to college for, but I like it. I'm learning a lot and I am much, much happier. The wussy chicken FINALLY got the nerve to tell the big, bad, bi-polar wolf to stick it and hasn't looked back.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
How Did This All Happen?!
Joe is in sixth grade now. SIXTH GRADE. His last year of elementary school. How did that happen? How did he get so old in the blink of an eye? He is going to be taller than me soon; he already weighs more than I did when he was conceived. Heck, his feet are even bigger than mine. Wasn't it just yesterday he was clinging to me, wanting to be carried?
I'm proud of him. I'm proud of the person he has become. He a goofy, lovable, nerdy, cool, inadvertently hilarious, quirky man in the making. He dances like a champ; girls will flock to him and he will be oblivious to the fact that they like him. He has a style all his own and doesn't know it. I am confident that he will be a good boyfriend and husband because he's had a crush on the same girl since kindergarten and has not been swayed. (But he cannot date until he is 35.)
I got lucky. I got a tough kid with a good heart. The good heart had made all the difference. Through all of the ups and downs, there was still a sweet, kind, loving boy in there somewhere. I'm glad he's back and here to stay.
I'm proud of him. I'm proud of the person he has become. He a goofy, lovable, nerdy, cool, inadvertently hilarious, quirky man in the making. He dances like a champ; girls will flock to him and he will be oblivious to the fact that they like him. He has a style all his own and doesn't know it. I am confident that he will be a good boyfriend and husband because he's had a crush on the same girl since kindergarten and has not been swayed. (But he cannot date until he is 35.)
I got lucky. I got a tough kid with a good heart. The good heart had made all the difference. Through all of the ups and downs, there was still a sweet, kind, loving boy in there somewhere. I'm glad he's back and here to stay.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Frankly, These Memories Suck
Joe, Charlie and I went to Idlewild today. Charlie's company had it's annual picnic there, and he suggested we go. If it had just been an off the cuff, "Why don't we go to Idlewild?" kind of thing, I would have refused. Too many memories, most of them not good, revolve around that amusement park.
When Joe was barely four, I began dating Frank. He had a two year old son, Jon. On paper, it seemed like serendipity. In reality, there was a dip involved, but it was Frank. I stayed with this man for 3 loooooong years. We even got engaged. He fit the bill for what I thought I needed: someone who could not object to my child because he had one of his own; he was close to my age; financially responsible; had a stable job; wanted more kids. Finally, I could have a real family for Joe, complete with a brother close to his age! The "what could be" clouded my eyes to see reality.
We got season passes to Idlewild Park for 3 straight summers. Every few weeks we would pack up the boys, all the junk that comes with a toddler and a slightly older kid, our swimsuits, snacks, drinks, sunblock... And I carried the bulk of it myself. I cannot think of one single, solitary time in dozens of visits that I enjoyed the day. As Charlie, Joe and I walked past various places in the park, little memories came back to me- over there is where Joe had a meltdown because Frank called him stupid. That pavilion is where Frank and I got into a fight because Jon bit me. There is the rope net I always had to climb while carrying a 20 pound backpack cooler because Frank wouldn't take both boys up it by himself OR carry the cooler.
Idlewild is the last place I saw Jon. Idlewild is the place that started the final fight between his father and I; it is also the place where I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I did not like Jon. I did not want to be his stepmother. I did not want to be held responsible in any way for his crappy attitude or behavior. I did not want kids with Frank. I did not want to make more like Jon. I also did not want Joe to be the scapegoat for Jon and Frank for the rest of his life.
During my flashback, I looked at Charlie. Sweet, quiet, easy-going Charlie. The polar opposite of Frank. Not only is his personality polar opposite, his life is also. He has daughters, but they are both grown. He does not want more kids. He is 14 years older than me and he became a grandfather 3 weeks ago. I'm fine with all of these things. I am deliriously, giddily, fantastically, peacefully in love with this man. I cannot wait to become his wife, and I don't care that he doesn't fit the Frank-era definition of what I thought I needed. He is what I never realized I didn't have until I met him.
When Joe was barely four, I began dating Frank. He had a two year old son, Jon. On paper, it seemed like serendipity. In reality, there was a dip involved, but it was Frank. I stayed with this man for 3 loooooong years. We even got engaged. He fit the bill for what I thought I needed: someone who could not object to my child because he had one of his own; he was close to my age; financially responsible; had a stable job; wanted more kids. Finally, I could have a real family for Joe, complete with a brother close to his age! The "what could be" clouded my eyes to see reality.
We got season passes to Idlewild Park for 3 straight summers. Every few weeks we would pack up the boys, all the junk that comes with a toddler and a slightly older kid, our swimsuits, snacks, drinks, sunblock... And I carried the bulk of it myself. I cannot think of one single, solitary time in dozens of visits that I enjoyed the day. As Charlie, Joe and I walked past various places in the park, little memories came back to me- over there is where Joe had a meltdown because Frank called him stupid. That pavilion is where Frank and I got into a fight because Jon bit me. There is the rope net I always had to climb while carrying a 20 pound backpack cooler because Frank wouldn't take both boys up it by himself OR carry the cooler.
Idlewild is the last place I saw Jon. Idlewild is the place that started the final fight between his father and I; it is also the place where I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I did not like Jon. I did not want to be his stepmother. I did not want to be held responsible in any way for his crappy attitude or behavior. I did not want kids with Frank. I did not want to make more like Jon. I also did not want Joe to be the scapegoat for Jon and Frank for the rest of his life.
During my flashback, I looked at Charlie. Sweet, quiet, easy-going Charlie. The polar opposite of Frank. Not only is his personality polar opposite, his life is also. He has daughters, but they are both grown. He does not want more kids. He is 14 years older than me and he became a grandfather 3 weeks ago. I'm fine with all of these things. I am deliriously, giddily, fantastically, peacefully in love with this man. I cannot wait to become his wife, and I don't care that he doesn't fit the Frank-era definition of what I thought I needed. He is what I never realized I didn't have until I met him.
Monday, March 5, 2012
It's Been Awhile
It's been a long time since I've written. A lot has happened in these last few months. All good things, but a lot to process.
Charlie proposed. Yes. He asked me to marry him. And I am going to. I know that not even a year ago I was questioning every aspect of my existence and especially any type of relationship that I may or may not have, but here I am. It is a completely unexpected place with a completely unexpected person, but it's as close to perfection as mere mortals can have. In the past I would be having panic attacks over the short period of time we've known each other (8 months), the fact that we both have kids, money, wedding planning, life planning, planning, planning, planning... I'm not panicking though. It's right. I feel it in my bones. I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt.
How do I know? There are so, so many ways I know. He is the kindest man I have ever met. He has the patience of a saint and a smile that makes my stomach do flip-flops. His voice makes my toes tingle and eases my mind. He works tirelessly to help me with whatever I need and never, ever utters a complaint. The biggest reason I know he is "it" is that I was very firmly set in being single, and I was happy that way. Happier than I had ever been, actually. Something about him told me that it was okay to be with him and to just go with it. I did. I still am. I fell in love with Charlie long before I ever realized it. I was going with it and having fun. Then I was having fun, loving it, and loving him. He has given me the best months of my life.
I am happier than I knew could be possible. Charlie has enriched my life in more ways than he could ever know or I could ever explain. He gave me permission to be me without even knowing he did. I feel truly lucky to have him by my side.
I LOVE YOU AND YOUR STINKY FEET MR. WEBER, AND I ALWAYS WILL!
Charlie proposed. Yes. He asked me to marry him. And I am going to. I know that not even a year ago I was questioning every aspect of my existence and especially any type of relationship that I may or may not have, but here I am. It is a completely unexpected place with a completely unexpected person, but it's as close to perfection as mere mortals can have. In the past I would be having panic attacks over the short period of time we've known each other (8 months), the fact that we both have kids, money, wedding planning, life planning, planning, planning, planning... I'm not panicking though. It's right. I feel it in my bones. I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt.
How do I know? There are so, so many ways I know. He is the kindest man I have ever met. He has the patience of a saint and a smile that makes my stomach do flip-flops. His voice makes my toes tingle and eases my mind. He works tirelessly to help me with whatever I need and never, ever utters a complaint. The biggest reason I know he is "it" is that I was very firmly set in being single, and I was happy that way. Happier than I had ever been, actually. Something about him told me that it was okay to be with him and to just go with it. I did. I still am. I fell in love with Charlie long before I ever realized it. I was going with it and having fun. Then I was having fun, loving it, and loving him. He has given me the best months of my life.
I am happier than I knew could be possible. Charlie has enriched my life in more ways than he could ever know or I could ever explain. He gave me permission to be me without even knowing he did. I feel truly lucky to have him by my side.
I LOVE YOU AND YOUR STINKY FEET MR. WEBER, AND I ALWAYS WILL!
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Cake Pops (AKA The Reason I Feel Like Drinking Tonight)
I make cakes. Sometimes they are fancy, sometimes they are not. Sometimes I even get paid to make them. I enjoy doing them- usually. Tonight I decided to branch out a little and try doing cake pops. Bad idea.
For those of you that have no clue what I am talking about, cake pops are kinda like a bite of cake covered in a chocolatey coating on a stick. You take a perfectly nice cake, crumble it into dust, mix it with frosting, turn it into bonbon sized balls, jam a stick into it, dip it in melted chocolate and make it pretty. Yeah. Make it pretty.
Kay is having an open house on Saturday to celebrate the fact that she and the baby are both finally home and getting healthier by the day. I'm making puppy themed cupcakes (because the baby's room is decorated with puppies) and being the glutton for punishment that I am, I thought "Hey! Why don't I try to do cake pops that look like puppies, too?" Charlie, being the wonderful boyfriend that he is, pushed the cart around the craft store and watched my slow descent into madness. His only real input was "I like peanut butter" when asked if he thought peanut butter candy coating would taste good.
Last night I make the cake and frosting. I crumbled the hell out of the very nice cake and mixed it with half of the frosting. I made little bite sized balls out of the sticky mess and put them into the fridge. Tonight, around 9:30, I decided to dip those little suckers into the peanut butter coating stuff. The first three went okay. The sticks did not really want to stay still, but they worked. The next two, on the other hand, were a disaster. One fell apart as soon as I tried to stand it in the styrofoam to dry and the other fell apart in the melted coating. Awesome. Charlie was there to "help" (which actually means eat the mistakes I think) but ended up helping me for real. I changed how I was doing them a little and managed to dip 10 good ones total before I called it a night.
For a little tiny cake thing, these are ridiculously labor intensive and made me want to drink lots of sangria. I haven't even begun to decorate the little bastards yet! I did try one of the crashed ones. It was okay, but nothing I will crave. Charlie thought they were pretty good, so at least he got to taste while he helped. I'm going to send him to the liquor store before he comes home from work tomorrow. I will finish these come hell or high water, but I am going to require a magnum of sangria while I do it.
For those of you that have no clue what I am talking about, cake pops are kinda like a bite of cake covered in a chocolatey coating on a stick. You take a perfectly nice cake, crumble it into dust, mix it with frosting, turn it into bonbon sized balls, jam a stick into it, dip it in melted chocolate and make it pretty. Yeah. Make it pretty.
Kay is having an open house on Saturday to celebrate the fact that she and the baby are both finally home and getting healthier by the day. I'm making puppy themed cupcakes (because the baby's room is decorated with puppies) and being the glutton for punishment that I am, I thought "Hey! Why don't I try to do cake pops that look like puppies, too?" Charlie, being the wonderful boyfriend that he is, pushed the cart around the craft store and watched my slow descent into madness. His only real input was "I like peanut butter" when asked if he thought peanut butter candy coating would taste good.
Last night I make the cake and frosting. I crumbled the hell out of the very nice cake and mixed it with half of the frosting. I made little bite sized balls out of the sticky mess and put them into the fridge. Tonight, around 9:30, I decided to dip those little suckers into the peanut butter coating stuff. The first three went okay. The sticks did not really want to stay still, but they worked. The next two, on the other hand, were a disaster. One fell apart as soon as I tried to stand it in the styrofoam to dry and the other fell apart in the melted coating. Awesome. Charlie was there to "help" (which actually means eat the mistakes I think) but ended up helping me for real. I changed how I was doing them a little and managed to dip 10 good ones total before I called it a night.
For a little tiny cake thing, these are ridiculously labor intensive and made me want to drink lots of sangria. I haven't even begun to decorate the little bastards yet! I did try one of the crashed ones. It was okay, but nothing I will crave. Charlie thought they were pretty good, so at least he got to taste while he helped. I'm going to send him to the liquor store before he comes home from work tomorrow. I will finish these come hell or high water, but I am going to require a magnum of sangria while I do it.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Winter All Over
Christmas has come and gone. So has New Years and Charlie's birthday last week. Now it's just Winter. Cold, snowy, miserable winter. Normally I become a real sad sack this time of year. This year is different. I think it's because I have become much more content. Don't get me wrong- I friggin' HATE winter- but I know that soon enough it will be Spring and then Summer. Everything changes. Sometimes it has snow on it, sometimes it has sunshine. I'm cool with it.
Change used to be my nemesis. Winter was as well. I always viewed happiness as a sort of Summer and depression as a sort of Winter. Real Winter seemed to bring depression with it, so Winter was just, well, Winter. Yucky Winter. This Winter is different. I still hate the snow and cold, but my state of mind is still in the sun. I don't know if it's a change in attitude, acceptance of change, or just plain ol' chemistry that worked this magic. (I'm taking vitamin D and a low dose anti-depressant.) What I do know is that I don't hate the world like I usually do in the dead of Winter. I'm happy to come home every night to my warm house and put on my fuzzy pj pants. I watch the cats chase each other and wrestle and I laugh. I clean, fold laundry and freeze my ass off putting groceries in the car, but I don't hate it like I would in the past. It's nice.
I have accepted the fact that life is not linear and most certainly will not follow your plan, no matter how detailed the map. In fact, it's kinda sideways most of the time. Had my life followed my very narrow path, I would not have Joe and most definitely not Charlie. I will never be a "free spirit," but I can relax. I've gotten far more out of life since I started to relax. Maybe that is the secret to the whole darn thing. Like Frankie said- "Relax."
Change used to be my nemesis. Winter was as well. I always viewed happiness as a sort of Summer and depression as a sort of Winter. Real Winter seemed to bring depression with it, so Winter was just, well, Winter. Yucky Winter. This Winter is different. I still hate the snow and cold, but my state of mind is still in the sun. I don't know if it's a change in attitude, acceptance of change, or just plain ol' chemistry that worked this magic. (I'm taking vitamin D and a low dose anti-depressant.) What I do know is that I don't hate the world like I usually do in the dead of Winter. I'm happy to come home every night to my warm house and put on my fuzzy pj pants. I watch the cats chase each other and wrestle and I laugh. I clean, fold laundry and freeze my ass off putting groceries in the car, but I don't hate it like I would in the past. It's nice.
I have accepted the fact that life is not linear and most certainly will not follow your plan, no matter how detailed the map. In fact, it's kinda sideways most of the time. Had my life followed my very narrow path, I would not have Joe and most definitely not Charlie. I will never be a "free spirit," but I can relax. I've gotten far more out of life since I started to relax. Maybe that is the secret to the whole darn thing. Like Frankie said- "Relax."
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