We failed both inspections today.

As we are poised to finally, finally, FINALLY screw those damn bottom cabinets into the wall for good and have those nice counter top people do their business...

The electrical and plumbing guys came for final sign off.

Electrical guy wants CD to split the circuits for the 4 outlets. Which, because CD has a final exam on Thursday night, means I have THREE DAYS at least of no electric in the kitchen while I wait for CD to rip the wiring and redo it.

Then the plumbing guy walks in, and we say to him that we haven't even touched the plumbing. We're confused as to why we even have to have th guy here. Nothing with the plumbing is changing. Sink and dishwasher in exactly the same place.

He isn't even IN THE DOOR, just looking from the entry, when he says 'oh, see that? That's a MAJOR code violation.'

Yeah, so, 40 years ago someone moved the sink from the corner to under the window (makes sense, really) and when they did, they didn't attach the new plumbing back to the vent.

He gave us the name of a guy who can do the work, since CD's expertise doesn't extend to pipes. In fact, it is about the only place he doesn't have the savvy to do it himself.

We were so disheartened that we fell into a funk. CD stared at his beautifully installed wiring, knowing that he'd met code and utterly exhausted that the inspector had been so arbitrary.

My heart broke for him. And boiled in frustration at the 7 millionth setback.

"C'mon," I whispered in his ear.

CD looked up and tried to smile. We dug up the video iPod for Bear and plugged it into a widescreen for him to watch. With earphones.

And then we quietly, almost sadly at first, jumped each others bones. Tossing sheets and pillows as we weaved ourselves together in the long sunbeams of the afternoon. Kissing, holding, wiggling. Pausing each time we thought we heard something from Bear's room. Then grabbing for each other again.

The child blithely engaged in a Power Rangers movie.

He woke us up an hour later, after the house had fallen into a quiet snooze. "Mommy, Daddy," as he climbed up onto the big bed. "Let's go outside and play with the sprinkler..."

Under the sheet I felt CD's fingers touch mine.

Still pissed at the inspectors, and all their friendly recommended experts. But somehow, strangely, OK.

Probably denial. You know, because sometimes the light you see isn't the end of a tunnel - it's the Superliner from Detroit.

But I think that it's going to be all right. As long as we can keep pulling together (very very together) instead of apart....

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:34 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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The BlogHer conference was, essentially, 800 blogging women gathering. (Oh, and a handful of men.)

And despite the fact that most of us are mothers as well, each time a woman identified herself as a 'blogging mommy', she did so in a deprecating often somewhat apologetic voice.

This absolutely gobsmacks me.

My first website was for people who had taken one of my seminars and were looking for more resources.

Then, CD and I decided to marry. I found the Way Cool Weddings site and spent many, many mindless hours there.

Next thing you know, old Jed's a millionaire. And me? I had a personal website. Weddings, Weddings, all day every day. My dress! My flowers! The food!

But time marches on, and eventually? Yes. I became a 'Blogging Mommy'. Does this turn you off? Should I say I'm sorry?

What is the psychotic split in this country between people with children and people without? I PARENT. You were PARENTED. It is how we populate this country with sane, socially responsible, financially independent adults.

I have absolutely NO problem understanding that my child is not welcome nor safe everywhere. But on my blog and in my identity? He is celebrated.

Why would I apologize for that? Why would it make my writing and site somehow 'less serious' or interesting? Did I park my smart at the door as I went into labor?

You know, I spent 15 years in an industry of mostly men who liked to discuss processor speed, golf, gadgets, high-performance cars, off-shore resourcing, their kids, the always-impending death of Linux, and cities that were the most fun to attend for conferences.

I'm only interested in half those things.

Sure, I always could have moved on to another conversation if I was bored witless. But I usually stayed. Because these were my co-workers, my work community.

And if I brought up my son, his school, his activities, or some other 'Mommy' topic... they usually stayed, too. And not just because they had to.

They took their part in the conversation as fathers, as Americans interested in our Education system, as people.

It didn't make me seem less for bringing it up. Just as I didn't think less of them for obsessing on Tiger's putting. Conversations moved in and around and we all took our turn, you know, like real people do.

(You know, the way our parents taught us.)

This specific blog was started because I was trying to balance being a corporate muck in the IT industry with being an involved parent. And the two? Often seemed incompatible. And I'd SEEN my dad do it so I just kept thinking... what am I doing wrong?

Thousands of people responded, and that conversation has changed my life.

'Mommy Blogging' is the lowest form of the art, how the hell did all this happen?

'Mommy Bloggers'? Are an obscenely powerful force in retail marketing, politics, and in building the social folkways that help anchor society.

Why aren't we proud of that? Why aren't we flexing it?

Why isn't the fact that I am raising my child to play nice with all the other children just as vital and interesting as the fact that I know how to build out a data center?

But even if it isn't, I will STILL talk about it. Because it is a big piece of me. My truth. My view, from right here. It is what makes my voice strong. It is what makes my soul free.

Why should be abashed at that?

Posted by: Elizabeth at 01:37 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1) I just changed the layout of this blog and everything is still a little broke

2) I just met the craziest, brightest, most amazing women at the BlogHer convention. If I met you there, and I'm not just saying this because I'm tired and glowing, I Love You, Woman.

3) Sometimes a convention is just a blur of panels and talking heads... this one was not. Because of this convention, I was reminded of myself. I realized why I have been so uncomfortable with blogging since leaving my corporate position. I was enriched and emboldened and humbled.

Seriously?

I was awoken.

There is so much now to do.....

(pictures and drunken tales to follow)

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:38 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I was sitting in BlogHer this morning, in a break-out about branding.

And I had this moment of utter clarity.

Absolute.

Since I walked away from my seat at the big table, I have been completely demoralized. Not because I missed my career so much - I had a great run, and was ready for a new challenge, frankly. Not because I dislike being home with my son - I love hanging with that kid - even on the days when his horns are showing.

Around and around, tumbling in the dryer of thought. A big Bounce sheet stuck to my head.

Unable to name my discontent.

And then, suddenly, a presenter say something and it all clicked together.

I am an IT Chick. I LOVE being an IT chick. For 20 years now, I've been wired up. And for some reason, I thought that I had to stop being one when I left my job. Because the job? It validated me as an IT Chick. It gave my fancy business cards and responsibility and an association in the Fortune 200 list.

But that's bullshit, right?

RIGHT?

I mean, I can STILL be an IT chick even if I also happen to be replacing the plaster on the kitchen walls. I can be one even when I am teaching my son a new sight word.

I can still be me, somehow.

Wife, Mother, Daughter, Friend, Writer, Teacher, Pink-haired Coldplay-loving G&T sipping freelance loud proud Christian tolerant foreign-film-watching IT CHICK.

Right....?

Posted by: Elizabeth at 01:14 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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I thought, because hey I am going to go meet a lot of real BLOGGERS in PERSON, that I should fix up the site a little. Put the Dynamic back in... uh..

Yeah, by now you've noticed. I pooched the screw. And how.

So, like, this is how it WILL look in a couple of days when I've read the fu--- uh, freaking handbook (AGAIN) and figured this out.

In the meantime, for God's sake, don't touch anything!

Or, what the hell. Go ahead.

Gets to a point where it's all so wired up and crazy down that you just got to call it day....

Posted by: Elizabeth at 06:11 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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People? I have pink hair.

I'm practically Stephanie.

I did it for Blogher. And for the Chicago Moms.

Tomorrow night, I start meeting in person some of the glorious writers, bloggers, bitches, and chicks that have so engaged my spirit and mind for the past 7 years.

That all sounds like an acceptance speech for some kind of glittery award, but it ain't.

The truth of it is that in the past few years, since getting cobweb lines and lots of extra weight, I have let my own vanity and the screwed-up tapes in my head keep me close to home.

I'm not pretty enough. I'm not a good writer. Trite. Loud. Over my head.

Me. Who everyone says is SO outgoing.

Utter panic, sure I'm not...whatever... enough.

I have come to realize, though, that I don't want the fear to put walls between me and my life.

I want to step in the door and meet you. BlogHer and ChicagoMom women.

And something that empowers me? Pink Hair.

(She started it...)

"Vanessa," I told my favoritest hairdresser this afternoon. "I need Dutch courage."

She met my eyes in the mirror.

"Pink?" she asked, kindly.

"Make it a double," I agreed.

This is what it looked like 15 minutes ago. (It would have been 16 minutes ago, but I made CD wait while I swiped on some lipstick.)

This is what it will look like if I come in the door sideways.

Oh, wait, my glasses are crooked!

Dagnabbit, CD, could you tell me when I've messed up my hair!?

(His response? "Honey, you have to crop anyway - your nightgown is kinda see-through." Me: "Doh.")

Wish me luck...

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:51 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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[NO SPOILERS IN THIS POST - I promise.]

I'm not a HUGE HarryPotterphile, but I do love what Jo Rowling has done with her books. I've read each installment, though sometimes with tepid interest.

But this was the last one. The very last, she said. So I made plans to attend the 'Countdown to Midnight' in Oak Park. We stumbled onto the last one and had a great time.

My friend and her two kids (a boy and a girl) came over to join us and my friend handmade them all cloaks and wands. Thus we had a Harry (her son), a Hermione (her daughter - who has the perfect smile and hair for it) and yes, of course, Ron (Bear). [I have a blurryish picture of the 3 of them ahead of me, if I get permission from my friend I'll post it.]

(Oak Park Library. CD takes a picture as I take a picture of him in Bear's cloak. 7/20/07)

The 3 were so convincing that they spent the night accepting compliments, having strangers take their pictures, and merrily, blissfully, being utterly wonderful.

The event? Meh.

I think it was better the previous book release, for some reason. They blocked off the traffic more, and had really transformed the sidewalks and in-between spaces in a Diagon Alley - with street performers and jelly beans hawkers and just, more of a festival kind of an air.

(The Map for the 2007 event, and Bear's homemade wand. 7/20/07)

Our favorite last time? The 'interpretive dance' performance on the stage in the park to music from the Potter movies. I mean, C'MON - this was classic.

This time seemed like a lot of crowds for not that much attraction. Maybe I'm cynical, now. I dunno.

If I had to pick a favorite thing - it would be the people themselves. Last time it felt like there were more 'Harrys' and 'Hermiones' but this time... it was much more a mixture. Draco and Ron and just random characters. And so many adults got into it, too.

I once had a 'Trekkie' (or is it 'Trekker'?) working for me on a project who put in a vacation request for a really critical point. "You don't understand," she told me. "It's a really important convention...I won't be the only Uhura there!"

It was kind of like that - people allowing their fantasy alter-egos free reign in a truly non-creepy, joyous way.

(She gave out fortunes and trinkets. Giving Bear a protection spell. And later, a spell to remember the protection spell. 07/20/07)

I left before midnight, calling CD (who stayed behind with our son and our friends to get the book) and hearing the countdown in the background from the crowd around him. It was like some kind of New Year's Eve, hearing the screaming and celebrating that erupted as the books were finally handed out.

(He rode up and down the streets posing and smiling. And, um, handing out gourds. 7/20/07)

The next day, my friend and I both huddled over our copies... letting the kids play in the backyard as we slipped into the pages with Harry and experienced his last moments of childhood and his ultimate showdown with YouKnowWho.

"I finished," she told me Sunday morning.

"Me too," I smiled.

And there's something bittersweet in that.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 06:10 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I got asked in the park yesterday how long I've been out of the corporate world.

I got asked because I brought it up.

A bunch of stay-at-home moms hanging in the park as our kids play, but I had to bring it up.

I had to say "This - over here - judge me by THIS."

Because I feel so damn incompetent otherwise.

Don't look in my house. It's not me. Don't look at my kid's room. Don't eat the food I make, I can't cook without this kitchen, really. Don't hunt my nails for polish or seek pink streaks in my hair - faded away, gone. Don't....

IT'S NOT ME!!!!!!!

The person I am inside, besides being much thinner and taller, lives in a simple, tidy home with pictures on the wall and tea ready to brew in the kitchen. The person I am inside? Is wearing a CLEAN BRA.

I brought it up, because there is nothing right now of me that feels like is is really ME. No yardstick I can point to and say - THIS, judge me by THIS.

I was so very good at my job. Quantified, with a simple to understand title.

I am a woman trying to seek a way to affirm myself and my choices in a life that is rolling too fast to breathe.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 01:05 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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1 When an ex of mine recently got in contact with me he kept remarking on how I was wasting my life away raising kids. How his own mother didn't become someone in his eyes until after she got a job. I tried to explain that having a job in the corporate world isn't how I measure a person. When I die, I am going to have 2 kids who remember how I would run through the sprinklers with them or make play-doh on rainy days. When he dies, he's going to be forgotten by people who move on very quickly because there's work to be done. He was angered by that - as he should've been. The truth sucks. He then accused me of trying to defend my stay at home mom status too much. I had to explain that it's because he thinks that I am no longer an equal human being in his eyes, that I am worth something. And then I realized, I don't care what he thinks of me. What he thinks doesn't matter. What my kids think (and when they grow up they'll still look back and think I didn't do a great job, I'm sure) and what my husband thinks ... most important, what I think. It's hard to affirm yourself and who you are when what you do often goes by unnoticed. I've tried to explain this to my husband when I feel as if I am unappreciated. He gets to bring home a paycheck and had a yearly review to tell him how he is doing at his job. I get screaming and dirty diapers - the words "thank you" rarely spoken. He tells me to go out and get another job and I explain that I need to be here. I need to be here with these kids while they are growing up because their lives move faster than the speed of sound. Your title is Mom. What Mom really means and what her job duties are would take an entire book to write out. There isn't enough money or enough praise in the world to compensate Mom. When your kids look at you and say they love you or give you a hug or come to you to kiss their owies - that's the paycheck there. I've been struggling with the same thing a lot lately. Every so often what I am doing and how it's going is good enough, but sometimes, it feels like I should be doing something more. That I am expected to be something more. I guess what I'm saying is, I hear ya and I totally understand - especially the thinner part inside.

Posted by: Michele at July 20, 2007 03:43 AM (H4SV7)

2 You are not alone in your struggle to define yourself as a stay-at-home mom. I see many corporate moms come home to feel so very lost. Take pride in who you are, what you believe, what you know, who you love and be passionate about it. Invest in things that bring you happiness -- and own them. For when you do, they will make you glow inside with pride.

Posted by: Eyes for Lies at July 20, 2007 05:35 AM (L67iN)

3 I just had lunch with my 2 daughters, ages 22 and 25. The older one described in amazingly specific detail a birthday cake I made when she was probably about 8. She spoke of it so lovingly. I had forgotten completely about it. I was amazed that it STILL means so much to her. When they say you're making memories, they aren't kidding! In my mind, the yardstick is - is Bear thriving? That's it. Everything else fades away. Try to remember that.

Posted by: Amy at July 20, 2007 05:40 AM (sJ+B/)

4 So as I sit on the precipice of turning 50...(yes, in my heart I am still 25) I have come to realize that you dont need to be measured by what you do or how much money you make. Remember that you are what is in your heart, mind and soul!!!! And by transferring your beliefs, knowledge and love to those aroung you...that is what you should be measured by. That should be the yardstick you should go by. And that yardstick is mighty long...as one who knows and loves you...I can honestly state that!!!

Posted by: amy at July 20, 2007 05:59 AM (o2AAw)

5 I had over 80 people reporting to me last month, and today I just have one. She's a bossy little almost 3-year-old, but at least I can put her in the corner when she's being bad. I haven't looked back (much) because I don't miss how cruel the corporate world can be. Don't dwell on the past, the only thing in your control now is the future. If you want another job like you had, there is no doubt in my mind that you will be able to get it again. You need to decide which path you are choosing, at least for today.

Posted by: UCM at July 21, 2007 07:37 AM (VNHbA)

6 When I left the working world, I left a lot behind -- multimillion dollar accounts, national impact, and most of my identity. But when I came home, I gained so much. I forged a new identity. My new identity - mom - has nothing to do with my house or my cooking (thank goodness). It has everything to do with raising my boys and letting them know every day that I love them, and just how much. And now, three weeks after a diagnosis of a rare, aggressive cancer that may claim my life, do I miss the office? Not one bit. Leaving my job a year ago was the best decision I ever made. My boys need me. My boys love me. And I love them. The office? Doesn't love me. Even the people barely miss me. They know of the diagnosis, but know what? THEY aren't calling. THEY aren't sending cards and letters of support. The moms down the street are. And they're cooking. And they're taking my kids for the morning. And they're keeping my spirits up. And I wouldn't trade one minute with my kids for ten at my job.

Posted by: Whymommy at July 21, 2007 08:11 AM (nB7zd)

7 This entry really struck a chord in me. I have been feeling the exact same way lately. My husband is up for this really great promotion, and I have been wondering when is it my turn? As a SAHM we rarely get told how valuable the work we do is, and we rarely are told what a great job we're doing. Oh, no. Instead of that, we have dirty diapers to change, food to prepare and tantrums to get through. I really wish that I could be THAT mom who can say every day how glad I am that I am home, but I can't. I do, however, know how important it is for me to be with my boys. How they are only young once, and even though they don't say it, they are glad that I am home with them. The most important jobs out there are often the hardest ones, and being a mom is certainly hard! But like the woman above said, when you or someone in your family is facing a life-threatening illness, you learn what's truly important. My mom had breast cancer and because I was a SAHM at the time, my oldest and I got to spend more time with her, and that was a gift as are both of my children.

Posted by: formerteacher at July 21, 2007 01:13 PM (Va39R)

8 Your son is happy, who cares about what's on your walls?

Posted by: Beth at July 22, 2007 12:29 PM (w341q)

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No one ever gets to see my favorite side of him....

CD: A Chinese Algae Eater?

Me: That's what the woman called it...

CD: How will all the other fish communicate with it?

Me: Wha...

CD: I mean, did you buy a translator fish to go with it?

Posted by: Elizabeth at 10:09 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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1 LMAO! That was funny!

Posted by: caltechgirl at July 17, 2007 12:22 PM (qPLLC)

2 Totally a conversation that would take place here.

Posted by: Angela Giles Klocke at July 18, 2007 01:25 AM (1pfPW)

3 That Bear is the funniest kid!

Posted by: Grace at July 18, 2007 05:05 AM (L058b)

4 That's hilarious! Thanks for sharing!

Posted by: Janie at July 18, 2007 02:10 PM (0Deyj)

5 Nice, isn't it, to have a "dissolve into giggles" moment to break up the tension?

Posted by: Stacy at July 19, 2007 03:44 AM (0ya0A)

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Posted by: Elizabeth at 06:12 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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I grew up in a little New England town going to the church with the steeple, inside all the people, and afterwards coffee and danish.

I studied theology at college, served as a chaplain, and am pretty grounded in my faith.

And I usually think of my world as accepting, pluralist, tolerant.

Until I am reminded... it isn't.

Last year it became obvious that my son's public school wasn't going to work out, and I decided that Kindergarten was something we could do ourselves. I went online and began hunting for tools & curriculum.

What I discovered? Scared me.

Pages and pages of vitriol aimed at Public Schools and Public School teachers. I was sent back on my heels, gobsmacked.

I discovered that homeschooling is supported by a loud subset of people in the Christian far-right with a deeply felt and deeply intolerant agenda. (I'm going to emphasize the word 'subset' here because, having working in the religious world for a long time, I know all faiths to have abundance of good, generous, grounded members. So turn off the flamethrower, already.)

In talking with family and friends, I also discovered that many of them already knew this.

See above, I clearly I live with a bag over my head.

My next-door neighbors homeschooled their kids up to High School. For me, they represented the heart of homeschooling - a valid alternative (for whatever reasons) to the public school system. If not for them, I wouldn't have even thought of trying it myself because you have never met more grounded, cool, balanced kids in your life.

Conservative? Yes. Zealots? Emphatically, No.

Maybe that's why I assumed most people approached it in the same manner.

Well, you know what they say about 'assuming'.

Of course, that's the problem. When we tell people that we homeschool, this big assumption now lays on us - that we are somehow using our choice as a springboard to proselytize a far-right agenda.

Our soft (not crunchy) granola bar, fresh-fruit and tie-dyed life is one of seeking tolerance and balance and faith. My son was born Socratic questioning and throwing Karate kicks. We try so very hard to bound his endlessness with as few absolutes as possible.

So watching others toss them about like leaves off a tree with utter conviction sends us screaming in the other direction.

Non-homeschoolers are easiest. People often get to know us a few minutes at least before our homeschool status comes into conversation. So, really, the questions - although sopping with assumptions - are usually open-minded towards our answers.

From inside the Homsechooling world, it's been too often a different matter. I found this out at the first event we ever went to - a open-house thing. I was actually asked "Are you homeschooling as a way to indoctrinate your child into the bunker of Christ?"

I said 'Of course not!' and gave that silly little laugh. Except, from the expression on her face, I could see I'd given the wrong answer.

Oh. Uh. Heh heh. Um, is that artichoke dip? Gotta dash!

My son is proud to be homeschooled, I want him to stay that way. I want him to enjoy being around other homeschooled kids. But when it's clear that the driving force of an event is, well...

I never thought I would ever parse my religion so often to so many strangers. But since we embarked on homeschooling, it has become a constant barrage of assumption battles.

To steal a bit from Marc Cohn's song; "And they asked me if I would | Do a little number | And I sang with all my might | And she said | Tell me are you a Christian child?..."

And we say, Ma'am, I am, but maybe not the way you think..

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