This is the graphic I am working on, for a new "About Corporate Mommy" page. Since, you know, I'm not anymore. Corporate. The Mommy thing, if I'm lucky, is for life.

Whaddya think?

I'm feeling a little duplicitous, because I realized that none of these pictures show my current rubenesque figure... lthough the bottom picture is fairly recent....

Posted by: Elizabeth at 06:52 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 66 words, total size 1 kb.

1 It's *lovely*.

Posted by: Cheryl at September 22, 2006 11:43 AM (n20Y8)

2 See, I knew you were beautiful on the inside, and this little filmstrip proves that it applies to the outside as well. I love it.

Posted by: undercovermutha at September 24, 2006 01:43 PM (yjVMS)

3 I really like it! YOure very pretty.

Posted by: angela at September 25, 2006 04:52 AM (UUz4I)

4 I likey! - very cool

Posted by: cursingmama at September 25, 2006 07:47 AM (PoQfr)

5 I think it's pretty. My user picture is just of my cat (who is also pretty). So there we go.

Posted by: madrigalia at September 25, 2006 09:46 AM (Xi2zG)

6 It has been a while since I visited. I think this domesticated goddess thing looks good on you. You also write with less tension. Stay positive you can always get off the train.

Posted by: Diva at September 27, 2006 06:46 AM (YuMk0)

7 Those pictures are beautiful! Elizabeth through the years. I've been playing around in Photoshop for a bit but end up thinking my camera sucks. There's a message board that I go to for tips and stuff - and every time I am there I am blown away by their talent. Of course it makes me not want to post what I've done!

Posted by: Michele at September 27, 2006 03:50 PM (5VGFA)

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I finally, finally got a manicure last Thursday. And it's already ruined.

Freaking TV broke.

Let me sum up.

No. Is too complicated.

Let me explain....

See, once upon a time, we bought an antique door while in New England. Then we strapped it on the roof of the van and drove it the million billion miles home - with it fluttering and crashing "thwacka thwacka THWACKA" the entire way.

70-dozen-bajillion Advil later, it was raining when we pulled into the driveway. So we untied it and carried it into the little garage at the back of our property.

"Careful... careful... ok.. HEAVE!!" *crash* "We'll take it out and strip it and revarnish it as soon as the weather clears..."

*crickets chirp*

Then, 2-plus years later, the television died.

So hi-ho, hi-ho to Best Buy, where the nice people smoked crack and decided to give US (of which, half is unemployed) no-interest for 18 months. An hour later, we're walking back to the infamous Thwacka van with a TV as thick as Volume 1 of unabridged Shakespeare and costing as much as my first semester at Loyola.

CD's hands sweating and face grim. Because my husband? Is very fiscally conservative. He loses sleep when our financial health slips from Kermit to Ernie.

However, this is a terrible reality for him because as an Icelander he is also bred to be acquisitive and gadget-crazy. He's always fighting the cat-like compulsion to bat around and buy bright shiny things like tin foil balls and Surround Sound systems.

So it's just best for him if we NEVER go into Best Buy. Where the one half of him is thinking about the cost of money and interest rates and getting nauseaus and the other side of him is thinking "ooooh! Pretty dials!"

We survive the trip. We survive the parking lot. Then he looks at me after sliding the Thinnest.TV.Ever into the van and says "next to the house and the car, this is the most expensive thing we've ever bought." He's wrong, the couch cost more but I'm not arguing the point with a 6-foot green-faced husband.

We get home, and place a plank over the stairs and roll a wheelbarrow into our living room to snag the Dead.Humongous.TV and roll it into the alley and then, with quiet pomp and a little circumstance, CD gently rests Thinnest.TV on the stand.

Which is in direct line of sight of the front foor.

Which we never lock unless we're home.

Because, frankly, the door is older than the dirt in the front yard, literally. We suspect the lock in it was made by Barbary Pirates. It can't be replaced, the holes aren't in any place useful to current lock mechanisms. The only key we have for it is the copy of a copy of a copy of a sailor man and only works on days ending in "shit!".

CD stands out on the front steps. He looks in at the new TV. The old TV weighed 250 pounds. We figured, if someone stole it we could always find the thief in the emergency room with a hernia. We got nothing worth stealing, we always said.

Yeah.

So this weekend, the "thwacka" door was uncovered during an archeological dig of the garage and pulled onto sawhorses to be restored.

To the sounds of Ziggy Marley and Muddy Waters, we sanded and sanded and scraped and sanded. And scraped. Oh, and swept the driveway.

There is a children's book called "If you give a Pig a Pancake" about how one thing ALWAYS leads to another. How, if you give a pig a pancake, you'll end up with a syrup-covered bovine in a tutu using up all your Polaroid film.

And what I'm saying is - my fingers are sore and my manicure is destroyed.

Because the TV broke.

(But worth it, maybe?)

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:01 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
Post contains 660 words, total size 4 kb.

1 The entry where you describe bringing home the door? That's the first entry of yours I ever read! I loved it! THe pig book is a favourite around here. So far, all the Terror's have learned is that pigs are messy. I think they're missing the point.

Posted by: tammy at September 19, 2006 10:03 AM (F3oq+)

2 I always find it amusing to see what it will tkae to get my husband to do anything that he had promised to do many years ago. Either it involves me screaming at him until I am drowning in my own tears (out of frustration) or things with pretty buttons. Pretty buttoned things really get his ass in gear - so much so that I've commented that I should dress up as our new 44" widescreen LCD tv for Halloween just to get the house ready for winter. Ooh look, honey! The TV is going up into the attic with rolls of insulation!! Now comes the point when CD will look at your new tv in circular ads or in the store and kick himself because the price had dropped. Sometimes I swear we're married to the same person.

Posted by: Michele at September 19, 2006 03:04 PM (5VGFA)

3 Very confusing as you post statements like the ship is sinking and you're at risk of financially going under any day now, and then you do this major purchase. Very mixed messages - I wonder if this is only as it seems when reading the snips of your life that you choose to share publicly, or is representative of the whole picture. I remain concerned about you.

Posted by: Amy at September 20, 2006 03:27 AM (sJ+B/)

4 Ha! I'm just like CD (except the Iclandic Guy thing) dying for the latest and greatest shiny thing - but history tell's us I am a poor chooser of the shiny things & I absolutely turn green when the $ is spent so I no longer buy anything shiny.

Posted by: cursingmama at September 20, 2006 03:40 AM (PoQfr)

5 First of all, to "Amy" I'm pretty sure they had an orchestra on the Titanic. I have been in (and am slowly emerging from this situation) and there are times you need to weigh sanity against practicality. You don't get to judge until you are in that person's moccasins. So back off! Now on to the comment. We too love those books in our house. But I can't help wonder if the pig the moose and the mouse don't have a touch of ADD. However, I must say that I empathize with both the pig (or other animals) and the poor kid who is following him around. I SOOO know how this goes. Remind me sometime to tell you about how we got a new kitchen because the oven died.

Posted by: caiwyn at September 20, 2006 03:56 AM (PwBrn)

6 Caiwyn- I didn't 'judge', I said I was confused and concerned. Do you not recognize the difference or does that subtlety elude you? If I 'judged', I would have said something like "Are you out of your mind buying a TV when you are not financially stable?" I didn't write anything like that. No orchestra on the Titanic here. Just concern. Financial problems, as it seems you are aware, are easier to get into than get out of. As is depression. As is an untenable situation in general, as Elizabeth has expressed over the past many months. I've had experience with all these sitautions, so perhaps you need to remember you're not in my moccasins either.

Posted by: Amy at September 20, 2006 04:55 AM (sJ+B/)

7 Sorry your manicure got messed up. It's usually the pig's fault around here too . . .

Posted by: Philip at September 20, 2006 08:02 AM (P5FhD)

8 That frikkin' pig. He shows up around here too. Usually in the form of inlaws...then a week later the whole family has the plague and all my shoes need to be replaced. PS. I'm not allowed to post because my blog is "questionable content"? I promise I'm not all that objectionable. http://blogs.chron.c om/mamadrama/

Posted by: Jenny at September 20, 2006 09:03 AM (lUt0Q)

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It has been CD's complaint since I left my job that I don't clean enough.

When I worked, we had Elia here every day. And Elia? Is a clean freak. God love her. Each night, I would exit my little office to see the tidy floors and hear the hum of the dishwasher.

It took a LOT of stress off a stressful few years to have Elia around. Because I am NOT exactly Lady Tidy and CD? Good Lord. CD is a living PigPen.

My messiness comes with 3 scoops of guilt. My old-fashioned Yankee parents drilled into me from the youngest age that a messy house is a sin.

His cleaning dysfunction comes with a strange sort of blindness. He can't even see the chaotic mess that erupts in his wake. He just knows that when he comes home from work that the Mess is here, waving to him cheerfully as it snacks on Lorna Doones.

So his first, terror-stricken, thought when I left my job and Elia left us was... WHO IS GOING TO CLEAN?!

(With a beady glance that said 'And it better be YOU'.)

There were negotiations, there were discussions. Jimmy Carter visited and facilitated a treaty. The UN sent in troops to enforce the terms.

And yet. Our house is a bloody wreck.

In the past 6 months, I have attempted to maintain a 50%-and-no-more policy with a don't-mess-don't-clean codicil.

But mostly? I haven't written.

(What? You didn't notice?)

I lost a gig that 6 months ago I could have whipped out without a sweat. I have sat, impotent, at my keyboard.

Lost.

In a messy house.

Conflicted, unable to concentrate. Trying to put up blinders so I won't be distracted by laundry that needs folding, toys that need tidying, trash that needs binning.

Feeling waves of guilt like a fever, because how dare I take time for this? How DARE I - without Elia to clean and mind Bear - lock myself in my mind and my words?

Last night, CD said - 'You are Depressed! You need therapy!'

I gave him a blank, dead-fish kind of a look. A little bubble over my head with the word "huh?" in it.

'If you weren't,' he told me, 'the house would be clean!'

See, when all you got is a hammer - then every problem is a nail. Believe you me.

I've been to psychiatrists, therapists, neurologists, and my GP. You know what they say? That I am going through a major shift in life, that I need to sleep more, that I would benefit from having a counselor to help me wade through my choices and my direction, and that I should work out 3 times a week and take fish pills.

I sigh.

He said, 'I'm tired of coming home and the house isn't any cleaner than when I left and you expect me to clean AND watch Bear while you..."

It took a whole night and this morning for my fuse to finally reach the TNT that is the deepest part of my brain. If his cell phone was made of a flammable material, it would have exploded in hs hand - leaving him with smoking eyebrows and a shocked expression.

I'm rolling up the damn doormat, and I'm declaring independance.

I can't live like this anymore.

I left my job for many reasons, good ones.

And none of them included becoming a better maid.

I can't let my indecision wreck me anymore. Sure it sounds specious - unwashed dishes doesn't equal writer's block.... right?

But in my case, it has.

Like a blogger I once loved, I'm not Donna Reed.

I have to put those expectations away. And I have to refuse to let anyone else put them on me.

It is time to lay down the guilt. Gently. And then kick it smosh it burn it with that crappy incense leftover from my college days.

If you love me, you want me to be happy. You want me to write, because I am a writer. Maybe not a very good one - but it is in my DNA, this compulsion. You want to hear the tapetty of the keyboard more than the hum of the dishwasher. You understand that my sanity and my bliss comes from this.

And maybe it isn't fair to say all this aloud, on a blog visible from space.

But I needed to say it.

Finally.

And screw the house.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:24 AM | Comments (17) | Add Comment
Post contains 754 words, total size 4 kb.

1 I'm thinking about sharing pictures of my dirty house this week. Care to play along? We can not clean ours together. Hey, I've got a job to look for! Who has time to clean?

Posted by: undercovermutha at September 13, 2006 04:32 AM (T9R1H)

2 The house will be okay - it's the people that need to be cared for first. Take care of yourself.

Posted by: cursingmama at September 13, 2006 06:08 AM (PoQfr)

3 And a finer dec. of independence I have not read in a long time!

Posted by: rp at September 13, 2006 06:26 AM (LlPKh)

4 I'll bet your house still looks better than mine, hon. cursingmama is totally right. take care of you, and the house will get taken care of in time. A messy house just means you've got your priorities straight.

Posted by: caltechgirl at September 13, 2006 06:33 AM (/vgMZ)

5 Well from one clutter hound to another - it didn't get dirty all by itself or at the hand of one person. So he wants a clean house, you just tell him that Uncle Mike 1) did the dishes every night, 2) cleaned the bathroom, including scrubbing the toilet, every week because he felt that men made a bigger mess around the john, 3) cleaned out the litter box every day and changed the box once a week, 4) did the laundry every week 5) vacuumed once a week and took out the trash and mowed the lawn or shoveled snow as the season demanded. I washed windows (the only flat surface ready to clean at all times in my house), washed floors, did all the interior painting and all the cooknig and shopping. As you may recall I worked at home and never once was I called to account for a messy house. Now I get to do it all and I've found that when things get out of control that biting it off in one hour increments every day eventually gets the job done. So you both have to agree to bite off that one hour a day together, that's two hours total. You are working, doing a lot of the Elia stuff that she used to do with Bear, trying to write and most of all trying to get healthy. love and kisses Auntie Marfa

Posted by: auntiemarfa at September 13, 2006 10:40 AM (/qtT1)

6 De-lurking here to thank you for your honesty. I share many of your conerns, and your anxiety over choices (I'm WOHM, but I am always angst-ridden). It is a ridiculous turn of events that somehow wife and mother have been attached to housecleaner. They are not the same thing. At all. And you have to take the time you need. Your family is wonderful, but I really believe that women have to create their own boundaries. Husbands and children will never (rarely? --I know I'm making sweeping generalizations here) say--hey, know what mom? Take some tiime for you. I don't need anything else. But they do want you happy. And you know best how to make that hpapen

Posted by: coquette at September 13, 2006 02:41 PM (4OTNP)

7 Well, it does sound like you are depressed. Maybe you should consider real medication, beyond fish pills. I am a working writer, and when I stayed home to write, before I had children, I got very depressed. It's isolating and stressful. I think your husband was harsh but I don't disagree with him. Even if you don't like to clean (and really, who does like to clean?), letting things really go can be a symptom of depression. Are you producing? If you're not writing, then you have a problem. There's no shame in medication. When I burned out (spent a solid month on the couch, smoking and reading Proust and NOT writing, thus going more broke), I ended up taking zoloft to get out of it. I know the other commenters have all said supportive things, and that's great. But you sound depressed, you aren't producing, and you are upsetting your husband with your lack of actions. It sounds like you need to look at other options. good luck. you'll come out of it.

Posted by: none at September 14, 2006 02:10 AM (NKvOc)

8 I just read an obituary about Ann Richards, the former governor of Texas who was renowned for her rapier wit. One of her notable lines was "I don't want my tombstone to read, 'She kept a clean house.'" And neither do you. Go where your dreams are.

Posted by: Melanie at September 16, 2006 04:59 PM (ThbQz)

9 Clean is over-rated. Who ever looks back at their childhood and says fondly "My mom sure was a great housekeeper. What fun times."

Posted by: tammy at September 16, 2006 06:05 PM (F3oq+)

10 Try flylady.net, or at least her philosophy. She'll give you a plan (15 minutes a day.) of course, since I have never cleaned my own house (as an adult) I shoud talk...but on the surface, it looks good.

Posted by: xf at September 16, 2006 10:42 PM (rKE84)

11 I totally relate. You are not alone. Ever since I got out of the rat race and had my son, I've had anxiety issues. And guilt issues...about housecleaning, for example. I wasn't trained to be a house cleaner. Your writing is a pleasure to read...take good care of yourself so you can take care of your family!

Posted by: emma at September 17, 2006 09:34 AM (il9/2)

12 I am right there with you. I work 40 hours a week at a domestic violence shelter, have 4 kids ages 13,10,9 and almost 7... He says he shouldnt have to clean because he pays all the bills. I am tired! There is a site you might like it helps me stay kind of focused www.flylady.com. I am so glad bear liked the zoo when you were in Omaha. I miss that place so much! Hang in there....

Posted by: angela at September 17, 2006 11:40 AM (aMr1f)

13 Corporate life is a breeze compared to housekeeping - believe me, honey! I live in a third world country- have a full time job, a six year old son , 21 yr old step daughter and a jet setting husband.and this is my staff : 1 live-in housekeeper,2 full day maids, 1 driver and 1 gardner and I am saying this too!

Posted by: shuchita at September 17, 2006 06:23 PM (IjCXs)

14 Great work! My homepage | Please visit

Posted by: Ann at September 18, 2006 10:34 AM (Yf55e)

15 I am so proud of you. Let the Icelander know that he can clean and be responsible for part of the household care. Please listen and indulge your Muse!

Posted by: Azalea at September 18, 2006 02:04 PM (hRxUm)

16 I'm glad you're not jumping right into medication because your house is messy.

Posted by: Mia at September 19, 2006 02:18 AM (Wgx82)

17 You ARE definitely a talented writer! I hope you got/found/have resolve and resolution now

Posted by: Fredette at September 21, 2006 09:06 AM (L67iN)

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verisimilitude \ver-uh-suh-MIL-uh-tood; -tyood\, noun:
1. The appearance of truth; the quality of seeming to be true.
2. Something that has the appearance of being true or real.

Well, we'll see.

We're now 6 weeks away from running aground. CD is doggie paddling against the undertow, trying to stay afloat long enough to breathe. Bear swings between acting out and clutching at me madly.

It's been a wonderful summer, wish you were here.

Fall's coming, the breezes are chilled. Remembering back to when the teachers would assign a 500-hundred word essay on what we wanted to be when we grew up. Remembering the view outside the bedroom window, the taste of the pencil eraser in my mouth.

An astronaut?

A parent?

A doctor?

A teacher?

A ballerina?

A cop who shot out of highrise buildings, bullets flying and dripping blood as the bad guys stood on the steps long enough to get a clear shot?

The music from the radio, the posters on the wall, the breeze.

"What if I don't want to go to the new school every single day?" he asks from the backseat.

"Because why?" I ask.

(Mumbling) "Because I don't like the new teacher."

"Sweetie, you're going to have to man up and go to kindergarten. Every day."

"Why?"

"Because it teaches you how to get what you want."

"What if I want to NOT go to school?"

(Score one for the kid.) "Well, Bear - tell me something. What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Everything. I want to fly jets and be a police officer and a paleontologist and a black belt. And a Daddy."

"Those are great things to want to be. So think about them for a second."

(Softly, looking for the trap.) "OK...."

"The only way to get to make those dreams come true is to study, and practice, and you'll really need money which you can get from working everyday. And I want you to get your dreams, but I don't have a fairy wand that could make your them come true. But I CAN help you learn perseverance."

"What's that?"

"That's going to kindergarten. Every single day."

(Long silence.)

"Mommy?"

"Yes, honey?"

"What did you want to be when YOU grew up?"

(Glance in the rearview mirror, the copper hair, the cherub's cheeks.)

"This."

"This what?"

Almost out of money, CD's struggling, will we have to sell the house? Can I get a waitressing gig, maybe?

"This sweetie. Right this minute now. To have memories of teaching and serving and traveling. And to be in this car, right now, with yummy leftover birthday cake and balloons in the trunk and you. To be Daddy's wife. To be your Mommy. I wanted this, and maybe - just an ounce more faith."

"Really, Mommy?"

"Yes, Bear. This. This was my dream, and now it's true."

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:20 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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