December 31, 2005

Happy Something.

This is a note of warning - I have been ill for 6 days. 5 of which I vaguely remember in shadows and gulps and sweaty sheets. For all I know, I am currently inseminated with some evil alien's hybrid child that will split me open like an overripe melon. Look, it could be true. The past few days are lost to me like a bad NBC drama. I have no freaking idea.

And into the dim, comes New Year's Eve.

I hate New Year's Eve.

The best New Year I ever spent, on a balcony overlooking Reykjavik. A thousand blooms of fireworks lighting up the sky. Iceland brings in a new year with bonfires and hearty meals and drunken song and dozens and dozens of blasts in the sky. And even that night, that happy night, was book-ended with tears and maudlin moaning and trepidation.

Why?

Because New Year's Eve sucks.

It sucks rocks and there's no convincing me otherwise. You just can't attempt to encompass a year's worth of possibilities and realities and have that live up to itself. I mean, you blend up bad champagne, overly veneered strangers, shiny shoes that hurt your feet, and some guy who's decided he's getting lucky for sure and you will NOT come out the other end with anything good. No, my friends, you will, in fact, come out with the sum total of the umpty-ump remembered New Year's Eves of my life. A veritible sausage of disaster.

I'm talking about starting off the new year with worse than just blurry eyes and ringing regrets and vomit on my shoes.

The best of intentions, each year. The worst of results. The kind of stuff that you can't plop plop fizz fizz back into anything good.

*sigh* Not the best of moods to be contemplating a year in. So, I won't.

Instead, I will stubbornly do as I usually do. With the added festive touch of mighty blue Nyquil. Which is to say - count this as a night when it is best to stay at home, eat snack food for dinner, and watch reruns until bedtime.

But before I begin hauling all the pillows and blankets into the living room, I wanted to stop as I did last year and say this...

Thank you for the dance so far. This blog and each soul who has stopped by for a piece of the journey has been an incredible blessing to me.

And, please - drive safe tonight (if you must insist on revelry and merriment and/or shiny high-heeled shoes), remember to kiss your designated driver all over, and see you in 2005 2006.

Peace on Earth, God's peace to us all. (Or, at the very least, a mutual non-combatant treaty).


Icelandic New Year's Eve Chant:

Let those who want to, arrive.

Let those who want to, leave.

Let those who want to, stay.

Without harm to me or mine.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 06:34 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment
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December 28, 2005

Best Laid Plans

I had intended on hoarding my remaining sick and vacation leave to buy me an extra paycheck at the end of January...

Ah. Well.

By Christmas night, my fever was already topping 101. The last 3 days are a blur of Nyquil and my husband cajoling me into eating things like soup. I just woke up and had no good idea what day it was.

Bah. Humbug.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 07:41 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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December 24, 2005

A Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night

As we exited church this evening, the light drizzling rain had begun to fall in earnest.

"Oh," I sighed. "I wonder if Santa can deliver in the rain..."

"Hmmm," CD agreed. "Do you think he can switch the sleigh skids into wheels? How can the reindeer pull without snow?"

"No," Bear corrected us with a long-suffering expression. "Rein-deer. Get it? REIN-deer! The first part of their name is 'REIN' so I think they can handle it. OK?"

Well, he had us there.

Then, to prove that homonyms notwithstanding he really does know his letters, Bear proceeded to spell out the next sign he saw.... "N-E-X-T-E-L" So it is with a glow in our hearts that we will always remember this as the year Bear learned to read cell-phone advertising.

*smirk*

Although I have had to temporarily hide away all my corporate posts, I have added the Holiday email I sent out to my teams in the extended portion of this email. And I mean it all very sincerely - may your and yours be blessed this sacred season.

And to all, a good night. more...

Posted by: Elizabeth at 01:11 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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December 22, 2005

Confidential to the cute guy in the steel blue Honda on Oak Park Ave. this morning

Dude, it was "Bohemian Rhapsody", by Queen - the whomping deep bass bridge that starts about 4 minutes in. Yes, I had it on repeat. Yes, I know my head thumping is much more Butabi wannabe from Night at the Roxbury than Wayne from Wayne's World.

No, I have no shame.

Glad I could give you a laugh so early in the morning.

Carry on.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:17 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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December 21, 2005

Everything's gonna (not) be all right (Chrysalis)

I'm driving down the road after morning drop-off at Happy Montessori. I just started helping out one morning a week with carpool.

I share my new Wedensday duties with 2 moms. One is tall and glamourous and sweet. The other is from Europe, and talks about the relief work she used to do in places like Chad. I was the roundy nodding lady in between.

And then, I was driving home. To work. I was going to get the car washed, but I forgot to make the turn to the bank, and besides - I think I've spent my budget for the week anyway. I was going to stop at Walgreens and pick up the enlargements I had made for Christmas gifts, but I forgot my receipts with the claim numbers on them back home.

My new morning partners were talking about the gifts they had gotten for their kids' teachers. $60 Border gift certificates. I forgot to give Bear's teachers their gift - $20, to be shared between them. I feel terrible inside. I think I should have at least made it into a gift certificate or something. Cash seems so crude now.

Bear was very eager this morning to make sure that today was an "Elia Day" - that we would be picking her up on our way home in the afternoon. He likes being with Elia - she indulges him, and cuddles him, and tells him he's wonderful. He often grabs a cape when she's around, announcing that he's "Super Bear!" because that's how she make him feel - he jumps on the bed pretending to fly, he runs with his arms outspread - shouting to imaginary people below that they needn't worry, he's got the bad guys on the run.

I was driving home, and listening to music, the sun bright in my eyes as I turned.

I feel jumbled up inside. I think about how much Mega takes care of - our house and work phones are directly paid by them. So is our DSL and my cell phone. We'll lose the stock options, the 401K plan, the dental coverage. The good laptop is theirs.

And CD, his current salary won't take care of us.

I think about not being a Senior Manager at Mega any more. About how I am a small cog, but at least I have a place. About how my place will be gone.

Bear is 5 now, and likes me in the doses he gets me as a working mom. I tell him I am going to be home with him, and I get the quizzical look from him that says "Uh, and how is that different from now?"

I don't kow how this is going to work. I never did relief work in Africa. I have never made a craft with popsicle sticks. My cooking is good, sometimes, but my meal planning is poor. I struggle and most weeks fail to keep exactly to my budget. I say things like "Deliverable" and "Total Cost of Ownership" and "Risk Contingency" as though that is how normal people talk.

My marriage is shaky. The trust is slowly being rebuilt, but we fall backward all the time.

What the hell am I doing?

WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?

We are going to lose the house. What am I going to do with my days? How will I survive without Elia? What if my marriage falls apart? I can't even remember the receipts for the ^&#%^$* enlargements!!!!!

This is a disaster.

I don't know what to do.

I'm scared.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:58 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
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December 20, 2005

I miss nylons

Once upon a time, a woman was naked without nylons.

These were dark terrible bad times. Because nylons are evil. Unless you play outdoor icehockey, in which case - rock on with your own bad self. But under everyday skirts, nylons - which do not have the "give" of lycra, cause the buildup of static to the extent that entire outfits are known to sponateously combust and are prone to bunching up and causing a tourniquet sensation whereby your toes go numb but you can't do a thing about it because adjusting one's self in public is a naughty thing to do...

Wait. What the heck was I talking about?

Oh, right. Nylons.

Yech.

Except, there was this brand called L'Eggs. And they nyons came in these FABULOUS plastic eggs. Sturdy, locked tight, and were the best thing to happen to the preschool crafts scene since popsicle sticks.

And Bear is about to have two weeks off from school to celebrate Christmakuhwanzaa and he's getting a little nervous. He doesn't remember what it is like to be with Mommy during the day.

I picked him up this afternoon from school, and from the moment the minivan door started to slide open, he was asking me about our plans for his school break. He wants a list. An outline, with bullets. A schedule, that includes outside activities and inside activities and snacks.

And he has been very clear about the kind of outside play ("Tag. Sledding. Maybe build a snowman, but we need new snow. The old snow is dirty.") and snacks ("We can make banana bread if Auntie Dee gives you the recipe because she makes it best, and fruit skewers, and shredded carrot from the salad bar at Whole Foods") but his biggest concern is inside time.

Oh, my budding control freak. They are so cute at this age, before they get their first Blackberry.

So far, the only ideas I have had that interest him consist of playing umpty-ump games of War and Go Fish and maybe starting an indoor herb garden. Which means we got about 200 hours left, people.

So this afternoon, I was telling him, we can do crafts! We can use the eggs that nylons come in and we make, uh... crafts! I'll get a book, about crafts! We'll do a project.

"Sound good, Bear?"

"Yeah, Mommy!!!" Came the shout from the back of the van. "Let's make exploding crafts with eggs!"

"Uh, ok... I can get a science experiment book. We can make like an egg volcano or something."

"Great!!!"

*pause*

"Mommy? What's nylons?"

(Countdown to staying home, let's start getting nervous now...)

Posted by: Elizabeth at 10:21 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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December 12, 2005

Pardon My Dust, Please

And you may ask yourself

How did I get here?

And you may ask yourself

Where is the Corporate Mommy I am used to?

And you may tell yourself

This is not my usual Mommy!

And you may tell yourself

This is not her beautiful site!

Well, on account of the lawyers wanting a retainer somewhat equal to the gross national product of Liechtenstein, I decided that I was going to have to make the most recent round of Corporate Mommy site edits all by myself.

Turns out, I am a moron.

Now that doesn't come as a shock to most folks but it does, in fact, come as a shock to me. I really thought I could create a new .CSS stylesheet for MT using uh... Notepad.

No, I'm not kidding.

GUI Editors? We don't need no stinkin' GUI Editors! (Actually, I didn't know there was such a thing).

So I spent a couple of nights skimming some CSS tutorials, declared myself an expert, launched notepad, and uh... pooched my site beyond all recognition.

But no worries. I have some Halls cough drops and a will of iron. Things should be fixed any moment now...

(and I'd love to hear your opinions but... the comments? Yeah, I broke that too.)

Posted by: Elizabeth at 07:13 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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December 07, 2005

He held my hand

Every day, I drive the same way home after picking up Bear from Happy Montessori. Happy is about 20 minutes from our house, and along the way there is, like, a LOT of schools. And they all let out around 3PM and there is no path between Happy and home that isn't clogged with kids.

In the past 8 or 9 weeks, I've come to recognize some of them. The girls in the Barbie outfits. The punk kids smoking cigarettes and taking flak from the crossing guards. The loner ones, who I see day after day with their heads into the wind and no one by their side.

And there's this one boy.

My first impressions were of him walking alone. Back straight, no hat, hands in his pockets. He caught my eye the first time because I was stuck at the light so long that he passed me on foot easily through these two intersections by our house.

I realized over time that each day, he walks away from one of the public schools towards one of the parochial ones.

Handsome kid, maybe around 12 or 13 years old, somber face.

Then, one afternoon, I saw him standing on a corner, not walking. While we waited at the light, a girl in a parochial school uniform walked up to him. As she approached, they switched backpacks and then walked away from me.

Over the weeks, Bear and I saw that happen a couple more times. One day I said to myself, "I wonder why they switch backpacks..."

From the back seat, Bear said "He carries the bigger one, mommy."

I realized Bear was right.

So many afternoons, we'd pass him walking down towards that parochial school. And knew when he got there, he'd switch backpacks with his friend. And I decided I liked this boy, although I don't know him.

Last week, a cold day and traffic was snarled and slow. I watched the boy come from behind me and pass by on the sidewalk. I watched him get to the corner. I watched the girl approach and they exchanged backpacks.

And then they stood, looking at each other for a moment. He pulled off one of his gloves and held out his hand. I held my breath.

With a shy smile, she pulled off one of her mittens and took it. And the walked away, holding hands.

I exhaled deeply. Mistily.

...And suddenly it was the 1980's...

Early high school years. A warm house, a birthday party. And I, as ever, was an outsider. Sitting on the floor in a corner of the living room. A plate of uneaten food in my lap. Watching the clock on the wall until my mom came to get me.

One of the popular guys, John, was working the room. Talking, laughing. Somehow, despite my attempts to be invisible, he ended up in front of me.

"Come on," he teased, holding out his hand to help me up. "Join the party."

With a sigh, I reached out and stood up. Looking down at me, he smiled. He took my plate. And instead of letting my hand go, he entwined our fingers.

I stood, paralyzed, until he tugged me along with a quick grin.

For the next hour, we moved from room to room. Me standing quietly by his side, my hand inside his. I could feel everyone looking at us. I could feel their questions. Electricity and confusion running through me.

And when it was time to go, I gently pulled away and headed to the door. He followed. As I opened the door, I felt a hand on my back.

"Leaving?" John asked, making eye contact despite my sudden and abiding fascination with my feet.

I nodded.

He held out his arms, and I don't quite know how I ended up inside them. I just know that we went to a small school and most of the student body was in that house and it felt like every single one of them gasped when his lips found the curve between my lips and the dimple in my cheek.

"Good night," he said into my ear.

I nodded again, and tried to remember how to breathe.

He reached down and squeezed my hand and I somehow made it out the door. And into my mom's car. When we pulled into our driveway, I launched myself into the night. I remember running across the street and screaming at my friend's house. I remember shouting up to her bedroom window. I remember her face, as she stuck her head out and looked down to me as I waved my arm over my head.

"He held my hand! He held my hand!"

"Mommy?"

"Uh, what, honey?"

"Green means go."

I blinked and realized the light had changed. Down the side street, I could barely see the boy and his girl, their hands still clasped between them.

I pressed the gas, and we went home.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:50 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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December 02, 2005

Bear Tracks

Bear is starting to struggle.

Yesterday during karate meet, the kids were evaluated for moving to the next belt color. Bear has been an orange belt so long that some little kids who hadn't even started karate when he got his orange belt are now a yellow belt, one rank higher than him.

That's because he hasn't been there for the last 3 evaluations. He missed one at the start of summer because it conflicted with an end of the year school event, he missed one in the midst of summer because we were in Cape Cod, and he missed the fall evaluation because he was so sick. They have 5 a year.

His orange belt is frayed, and covered with tape showing his accomplishments. He is eager to go on to yellow belt, and he's been told twice now he was ready to get it.

Then last night he and another boy walked through his moves. The other boy struggled to remember his, but Bear knew them all. However, he didn't know them with the correct hand. He turned 5 a couple of months ago, maybe he should know them, but without a dominant side this is going to happen slowly.

The other boy was given a slip that said he was ready to get his yellow belt. Bear was not. He ran over to me, with a wounded expression on his face. He knew he'd done well, that his forms had been strong. I had no words for him, just a hug.

The evaluators were two women instructors who seem fair and knowledgable, but I don't really know.

I stayed up last night, looking at the wall. This is a bit of an icy patch for my son, and I want to handle it right. I want to help him in any way I can as he struggles. I want to roar into that karate place like a dragon and breathe fire of outrage.

My son is an amazing person. The list of how talented and accomplished he is goes on for a big paragraph - I know because I just had to delete about 30 lines of run-on paragraph about all the great things he does and all the great ways he is.

CD and I have decided to go ahead and let the school do what they want to help him. We're out of our depths, with only our inner voices telling us that there's nothing wrong. That Bear is actually where he should be. But we seem to be in the minority, and this is too important.....

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:15 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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December 01, 2005

What a swell week

Friday! Friday you beautiful thing!!!!! And not a moment too soon!

If this week doesn't end soon, my brain will pop out my ear and go looking for a new host. And I'll be better off without it.

Which of the following do you think happened this week?

1) Had a milkman wake me up at 3:30AM after I fell asleep not 10 feet from the front door and scared myself so bad that I threw up...

2) Realized after tripping on my way out of the school that I had just cussed "Oh Shit" in front of about a half-dozen kids. (Softly, but still...)

3) Attended my son's practice meet sitting in the front row, in front of a mirrored wall, never realizing I was wearing khaki's that had a split seam and my pink underwear was showing for the world to see.

If you picked all 3, then ding ding ding! You're a winner!

(skulking back to bed, and praying for a do-over...)

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:38 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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