Innocence lost - 3 act (media circus) play with the epilogue.

Ok, here is why I am ticked off at J.K. Rowling and the brouhaha surrounding the announcement about Dumbledore.

Act 1 – Coming out.

First of let me say this: I do not care if Dumbledore is or isn’t gay. It wouldn’t make a difference to me even if I found out that he at one time was attracted to Mrs. Norris. For that matter, I don’t care whether McGonagall prefers girls, whether Umbridge is into S & M, or why Hagrid is obsessed with dragons. This is not why I read Harry Potter. I am quite sure that parents who brought their kids to the Q&A with J.K. Rowling didn’t bring them in for the enlightening sex ed talk either. Most of them came to talk about wizards, spells and magic, and instead were treated to a coming out party for Dumbledore. It is not about homosexuality at all; I would be just as upset if she revealed to the audience full of children that Dumbledore had an affair with a female professor. By doing this, Rowling robbed parents of the decision only they should make: when and how to talk to children about sex because I am sure many a conversation, for which adults might not have been prepared for, happened on the way home. All in all, this was not appropriate for the audience and the setting. The same info could have been revealed on Rowling's website, but then it might not have generated as much media attention, which brings us to...

Act 2 – The media reaction.

And then media jumps on this news as if there is nothing else to report and milks it for weeks. 17,000 children, who have died of starvation on the same day Dumbledore came out, didn’t make the news (that is already mundane), but the new antics of Britney Spears have, and so have the outing of a fictional character. Again, for days! (By the way, all of this is based on the CNN news website coverage, maybe some other sites exercised more common sense, though I doubt it). And all those pro-gay rights orgs’ praising Rowling's heroic fight to stop prejudice? Seriously, if the fictional character’s coming out helps to further your cause, then I… I don’t even know what to say then, other than DUMBLEDORE IS A WORK OF FICTION, NOT A REAL PERSON! PEOPLE GET LIVES!!!!

Act 3 – Innocence Lost (This is where I get preachy).

I think this entire Carnegie Hall episode is just one event in our society’s trend. We no longer treasure innocence. Just yesterday, I went clothes shopping for my kids in Children’s Place and Baby Gap where many shoppers come with their children. What kind of music did the stores play? I was there only for two songs, but one of them was mainly made up of one sentence, “I’m not the kind of girl who give it up just like that.” And the second one was “These boots are made for walking,” about a guy who is/was cheating. What did Baby Gap play? “I think we’re alone now” about teenagers hooking up. Why, why is that appropriate for young under-teen ears??? And it is not accidental, because last time I was in these stores, they were playing the same songs over and over again. Since those are chain shores, someone up there in corporate decided that this music fits the stores’ images and attracts young shoppers and their parents. What else did I see on my shopping spree? Low-rising jeans and low-rising underwear for 9 and 10-yr-old girls. Any surprises that some kids start being sexually active before they hit teen-age years? (in case you are wondering, I find this VERY disturbing.)

Epilogue

One of the main achievements of modern age, at least in the industrial world, was introducing idea of childhood, that children have special psychological needs and are not simply small adults. Now we are ruining this achievement by introducing them to things that are too adult, like violence and sex, way too early and see nothing wrong in that. And I think this is a loss, a tremendous loss.

Mr Jim is in the office.

Just as I started worrying that I will have nothing to write about other than my kids' antics (no lack of material there), somebody provided me with a very interesting blog entry. (You see, you worry, and good things happen, so once again I am resolved to not having any good, happy thoughts.)
For the past two weeks, someone at work has been bringing their old books, mostly fantasy and mysteries, and leaving them on the lunchroom's counter for grabs. I have browsed the selection, and didn't find anything to my taste. But little by little, all the books except for one have been taken by people.
When I came into the lunchroom on Friday for my morning cup of coffee, I noticed that there were two books on the counter, one of them I was the mentioned above reject, and the other one was lying face down. When I turned it over, I understood immediately why it was lying that way. The title said: "The best of American Erotica 2003". Hmmm.... I had to share the news with our secretary, and she immidiately checked out the table of contensts. Unlike me she wanted to give that somebody the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, she said, it was fiction with this name. Table of contents didn't show much, so she opened the book at random and started reading it out loud. Not a good idea. She read half a paragraph, then stopped mid-sentense and bursted out laughing. "Apparantly, some people call it Mr. Jim."
Later in the day I popped into the lunchroom twice to fill up my water bottle. Maybe it's my dirty mind, but I saw two different people have the same absent-minded smile while they were waiting for their lunch to warm up. I think it's either Friday having its effect on people or they have seen the book too. Maybe even more than seen.
When I spoke to our secretary, I said I didn't understand why someone would bring such a thing to work. It was bad enough that someone read such stuff and thoroughly enjoyed it for four years, but wishing to share this with co-workers is another story completely. Can you spell inappropriate??? I don't want to have a debate on what's art and what itsn't here, but based on that half a paragraph I was read aloud, I can attest that there's no redeeming literary merit to those works of fiction, and if this is the best of American erotica, then Americans should stick to other genres.
Secretary and I chatted for a few minuted entertaining thoughts of who actually had brought this smut into the office. Is it the same person who brought the other books in or someone different? Is it a prank? And in the middle of that conversation, I realized that whoever that is, I still have to work with this "someone," and that could be anyone. And that made me think, is it safe to stay late? At any rate, now I have an excuse not to, hehe.

Just thinking...

Why is it that every time I have a good, positive, grateful thought, especially about my marriage, I am being tested within 24 hours of this thought??? This past Sunday I thought, “Wow, I am so lucky to have a husband like mine. He is so nice and thoughtful and a big helper around the house.” Guess what? We had a huge fight the following day, pretty much over nothing, and that “nice and thoughtful” hubby was let's just say not as nice and not quite thoughtful. And that happens every single time I have these thoughts. I am already afraid of feeling good about our marriage because it inevitably turns on me. The happier the thought, the worse the fight. It’s like somebody is asking me, “Do you still feel good, positive, and grateful when things are not as peachy?”

Just yesterday I mentioned to a friend that I no longer feel the anxiety I felt about six months ago, and guess what – it’s rearing its ugly head once again, only for a different reason.

Maybe, all of it has nothing to do with my thoughts. Maybe, hubby and I just fight too much, and I am anxiety-ridden emotionally unbalanced woman, and the happy thoughts I am having are so rare, that from the statistical point of view these events (happy thoughts and bad things) are bound to coincide. And maybe I am right, and somehow there is a correlation, so no happy thoughts for a while…

Update on the worst mother of the event post:

My husband told me yesterday that his friend and his wife really liked our gifts, even better than all the others, primarily because we gave them toys. He sent a special thank you to me, since he knew I picked out the gifts. So maybe this friend doesn't dislike me after all.

Dumbledore is gay, not that there's anything wrong with that.

Rumors, speculations and tabloid articles surrounded Dumbledore his entire life, the biggest of them, of course, about his sexual orientation. Last Friday all these rumors were put to rest by J.K. Rowling, the woman behind the Harry Potter book series, when she publicly admitted that Dumbledore actually was gay. The move, long expected by Wizarding sexual minorities during Dumbledore’s life, was met with mixed feelings. Gay and Lesbian Association of the Wizarding World issued a statement condemning J.K. Rowling’s last statements. They spoke to us through their attorney, the famous Wizard Rights Lawyer Hermione Granger-Weasley, explaining their stand on this issue. “We at GALAWW don’t care who she is, but J.K. had not right to do this. Coming out is a very personal experience, and no one should be outed without his consent, the way Dumbledore was. We demand an apology!” Some say that consent was not needed since Dumbledore had been gone for some time now. “Not so,” says Granger-Weasley. “Dumbledore continues existing on some level in his portraits. He’s still capable of feeling full range of human emotions. He should have been asked, or better yet permitted to come out on his own terms.”

Some in the Wizarding community have welcomed the news, some are still in denial. Fleur Weasley, who thought she knew Dumbledore well, says, “Eet finally all makes sense. Eet explains Dumbledore’z obsession with Snape. Eet also explainz why neither one of them had a steady girlfriend or made a pass on me.” Indeed, few bought the story of Snape’s undying love of Lily Potter, and many suspected it was a cover for another affair, possibly with one of the Black sisters. Few were prepared for the truth. “Dumbledore and Snape’s relationship was not something I would describe as a “true love”, and at time Severus felt stifled, even trapped, but they were committed and loyal to each other until the very end,” says the portrait of yet another former headmaster of Hogwarts, Phineas Nigellus Black. Rita Skeeter, in her recently published biography of the great headmaster, has noticed the pattern even before the above facts had come to light. See page 509, “If you follow Dumbledore’s history as a headmaster, you can see that he preferred dealing primarily with boys. No girl was ever discriminated, but look at the list of his favorites – James and Harry Potters, Sirius Black, Severus Snape, need I go on? I don’t want to dirty his good name, but has Dumbledore ever taken a special interest in a female student, even the most talented one? Of course not.”

A source close to Dumbledore’s portrait has agreed to speak to us on condition of complete anonymity. “Dumbledore feels betrayed, even violated. J.K. was the only one who knew the truth, and Albus thought his secret was safe with her. Muggles are already preoccupied with the technical details of Wizard sex, and now these statements will just throw grease on fire. Her timing couldn’t have been worse.”

So what does Ms. Granger-Weasley have to say to J.K.? “Jo Rowling has turned into the over-protective mother who is sure she always knows best. The books are completed, Jo, let us Wizards have our own lives, let us make our own decisions, learn to let go! Write another book, for goodness sake!” Some say J.K. should apologize, but will she? “Not likely,” says Granger-Weasley. “We haven’t found a way for Muggles to communicate with the portraits yet, so I think personal apology is not coming Dumbledore’s way any time soon.”

And the award for the worst mother of the night goes to...

Yep, you guessed right, to yours truly.

What happened? Well, let me start from the beginning. My husband has a friend, who I suspect doesn't like me. I don't particularly care since my interactions with this person are very limited and I admit that the entire thing could be in my head. But this friend just had a baby, and we were invited to the celebration and religious ceremony. Since the invitation came less than a week before the event and I was under a tight deadline at work, I had to get a gift last minute (I actually tried to get it beforehand, but that's another story). I spent about 45 minutes trying to pick a perfect toy, all the while saying to the baby I have never seen, "Just because I don't like your daddy or think that he doesn't like me, doesn't mean that I have to get you a bad gift. I'll be the bigger person." (It's not as hard as it seems given my weight.) Finally I made my selections, and got in a very generous and celebratory mood. After all, the child is a blessing, and maybe the guy doesn't dislike me after all.

Because I had to finish something at work and because I couldn't possibly pick a gift in under 45 minutes, I arrived at the event about half hour late. I hoped that I came just in time and was about to go home, but it turned out that the celebration hasn't even started. Our kids were already exhausted and misbehaving. We split the kids thinking they would be easier to manage that way. I got my daughterm, and we decided to go to the second floor, which was packed with other women. My daughter wanted to see her daddy downstairs, so I managed to find a seat in the first row right in front of the balcony. Of course she had to lean over, so I was holding her very tight. The bar of the balcony barely reached her chest, and once again, I was holding her tight. So here's what happens at the event that runs an hour late and is packed with women who have very little going on in their lives and at the present time have nothing better to do than to gossip. It really is inevitable, like a law of physics. Well, almost.

My daughter was having fun watching my husband and her brother, I was holding her tight (I feel the need to repeat this yet again), trying to tune out all this talk in Farsi or whatever language all these women were speaking, when all of a sudden I heard a bark coming from my left. An elderly women started yelling at me from what seemed out of the blue, and please notice the reason for yelling, "Take her down!!! Don't you realize you are making people across from you nervous?! They think she might fall!" In my state of tiredness and complete ignorance when it comes to Farsi, I didn't realize that I was a topic of conversation for some time. And yeah, throw the kid down for all I care, just don't make people across from you nervous. So insensitive of me! Of course I put Naomi down and poor kid got yelled at when she tried to get back. As I was struggling to keep her in my lap, some woman from across the room came over and in a much nicer voice tried to tell me that what I was doing was probably dangerous, and head is heavier than body, and from where they were looking my daughter was almost all the way out. I knew I should've been nicer since the woman was polite and probably genuinely concerned and probably doing something I would've done myself, but I honestly couldn't convincingly fake gratitude. I gave her my most fake smile, thanked her and realized that we are probably better off downstairs. (Later at night I entertained the thought of finding the woman and apologizing to her, but I didn't find her, and I was also afraid that I might make things worse if she decided to give me another lecture.)

At that time hubby realized he couldn't control the baby and handed him off to me. Even though my son had complained all the time that he wanted mommy, he couldn't quite let go of daddy, who needed to pray. I tried to catch the baby a few times, and the last time my baby tried to sneak into the door after his dad, I caught his arm. Then I tried to pick him up, but the baby tried to wiggle his way out, so it looked like I raised him by one arm, which was also terribly twisted. And of course the entire episode had to be witnessed by another bunch of old ladies who also had nothing to do during the waiting time. And of course, they thought that a mother who is dumb enough to pick up her kid the way I did, wouldn't understand that they were talking about me, even though they were all raising their arms and pointing to their shoulders, to my kid and me. Oh, they are soooo conniving, so covert, they should work for KGB, CIA or Mossad. What a shame such gifts are lost on gossiping.

At that point, I couldn't take it any more and had nothing better to do than to go back upstairs. At least there were rooms without people where I could hide. Of course, the kids had the mind of their own and went to the room with the balcony. Of course, by that time it was already nine, the kids were exhausted and tried to take the place apart. Had I known the event would start this late, I would have kept them home. Luckily for me, they lost interest in the event unfolding downstairs, and simply tackled and scratched each other and tried to stick their fingers in the closing doors. A few time I was tempted to say to the onlookers, "You see, I actually have two kids that I could throw off the balcony, not just one." I guess it's payback time for all the bad thoughts I had pre-kids about parents unable to control their offspring. Sometimes they really are uncontrollable.

Finally, the praying was done with. I told the hubby that I wanted to get out ASAP, or as soon as the ceremony was over. If I could, I would have left eons ago. After another agonizing fifteen minutes with overtired kids, we finally went home. I was surprised that hubby saw things my way, and didn't think I was exaggerating. He was also annoyed about the delay, since he had to rearrange his schedule for nothing, really. He would've made the event without extra hassle since it started over an hour late. And my mood was genuinely spoiled. I spent entire day at work uncomfortably dressed, went very out of my way to get the gifts, tortured my kids and myself...for what? To be judged by the bunch of old women and leave in much worse mood than I came in with? Next time, I am staying home.

If all fails, use Murphy's law?

Last week my baby got some bug. He would throw up for no apparent reason and had diarrhea. In all other ways he was absolutely fine. This lasted for about three or four days. Then it stopped, but for the next 2 days he refused to eat and drank very little. At some point I noticed that his diapers were kind of dry. Then my folks took the kids for about half a day. When we picked them up, I asked when their diapers were changed, and mom mentioned that the baby didn't really need a diaper change for more than 6 hours. His diaper was completely dry. I got a bit worried. That day he started drinking normally, drank 2 bottles of chocolate milk and a bottle of juice. And still, his diapers were dry, for two consecutive days ... Of course I went on the Internet and found out that all of his symptoms pointed to UTI (urinary tract infection), which in kids could present with unusual symptoms, such as fever, little urination (as opposed to peeing every five minutes in adults), throwing up, refusal to eat, squirming and diarrhea. My guy had all of the above, except he wasn't running a fever and not particularly irritable, though he wanted to be held all the time. Immediately I thought of calling my pediatrician. Then I remembered that I have a best friend who is going through pediatric residency, and called her instead.

She said to give the baby lots of fluids and see if anything happens. She suggested not calling the doctor since he seemed fine. The doctor would not be able to do anything any way until the morning. So I tried to bribe my son with chocolate milk, cola, anything he might want to drink, but he refused. And he wasn't peeing. Then he took off his pants, and I thought, oh good, I won't put PJ's on him. Maybe if it's cool in the apartment and he's without pants, he might get cold and pee. I waited fifteen minutes, he still didn't pee. I took off his shirt, leaving him wearing only his diaper, and felt like the worst mother in world, since it was cool in the apartment. Still, dry diaper after fifteen minutes.

And then I had a bright idea. Ingenious, really. I should make Murphy's law work for me. You see, every (literally, every) time we leave the baby without a diaper, no matter for how short a period of time, he pees somewhere. He is really fast that way. It was supposed to work like this - if he wouldn't pee in his diaper, the baby definitely would if I took it off, so it would be harder to clean him up. So I took off his diaper quite excited about the idea. Still, the baby didn't pee. I gave up. My idea didn't work and Murphy's law didn't work, and if Murphy's law didn't work, nothing would. My disappointment was huge... I thought I discovered an equivalent of electricity, or at least something just as useful in everyday life. I already saw myself giving seminars on "Making Murphy's Law work for YOU", writing books, and overall improving people's lives, one disaster at a time. And there, my own idea didn't work for me. I was also quite worried that the baby didn't pee at all the entire day. Resolved to take the next day off and take him to the doctor, I went to get his diaper. When I got back to the room fifteen seconds later (again, literally), my son turned our living room upside down. I saw clothes thrown all over the floor and every other surface of our living room, toys everywhere and lo and behold three puddles on my kitchen floor, only one of them urine. The other two were...well, did I mention the baby had diarrhea?

So the lesson learned - you cannot use Murphy's law to your advantage, otherwise, it wouldn't be Murphy's law. It will still get you when you don't expect it - in my case I had to give up on the idea before it worked. Ironic, right? I immediately called my friend (I HAD to call her, even before I cleaned, right?) to tell her that Murphy's law worked a little too well for me and said that the only thing missing in this story was my husband, somewhat of a neat freak, at least in comparison to me. It would be a complete Murphy's law if he walked in right now, in this mess, when the entire day our apartment was more or less neat. He always complains that he never can come home and see a neat house; if he walked in that minute he would see more than the usual suspects - toys and clothes - on the floor... He probably would go crazy. But G-d in his infinite kindness had mercy on both of us, and my husband walked in three seconds after I cleaned up the poop. After I told him what had happened, he was so happy that it wasn't him cleaning that stuff up, he only laughed and didn't say anything about trashed living room - phew.

I think the idea of making Murphy's law work for you needs a little tweaking here and there before being marketing to the public, right?

Ten things I wouldn't know if I didn't co-sleep

If I didn't co-sleep with my children, I would probably never know...
...what it feels like to have three people in the bed meant for one.
...that I would have to justify my sleeping arrangements to everyone starting from my parents ending with the janitor in my pediatrician's office.
...that some (read: all) people who don't co-sleep are very judgmental.
...that a 15 pound baby could take up more space than a 200 pound adult.
...what if feels like to be spit up on.
...what it feels like to be peed on.
...what it feels like to be thrown up on.
...what it feels like to be happy that no one have pooped on you. Yet.
...that there's a good chance that I am a closeted masochist.
...that I could be happy to be woken up at 4 a.m. by my baby because it would give me another chance to cuddle with him/her.
...what it feels like to be woken up by my baby's kisses.
...what it feels like to be woken up by a very small fist hitting you straight in the eye (now the preferred choice of waking up mommy because she makes such a funny squeal when punched in the eye...)
...that my daydreaming would be about sleeping alone in my bed.
... that I would spend around $857 on professional advice trying to figure out how to win back my bed from the kids.
...that I would sabotage our efforts to win back my bed.
...that I would be obsessed with the word "bed".
...that I would be so sleep-deprived that I wouldn't see the difference between ten and twenty.
...that not seeing a difference between ten and twenty does not make you a bad accountant.
...that I would use any opportunity, no matter how short, to jump into bed if no one is there.
...that knowing all of the above ahead of time, I still would co-sleep.

First impressions

I am applying to schools for my daughter now. Someone had told me that I would be able to say a lot about the school based on their application. It is true, and quite honestly I am not impressed. In one school, they asked me so many questions just to mail me out the stupid form! So if they didn't like my maiden name, they wouldn't have sent me the application?

And then there are the applications themselves... Reading through them, one cannot but think that no one put much thought into the questions and no one is concerned that for most parents this is the first real encounter with the school. I guess nobody told them that first impressions really count. In my humble opinion, only questions that matter should appear on the form - if the question is not relevant in deciding whether the child gets to step 2 - the interview - why ask it? And if those questions are relevant, then quite frankly I would be disgusted. For example, why should it matter whether the child's parents are married/divorced/deceased? One school had only two options for the marital status of the parents: married or divorced/separated. What if a parent is widowed - need not apply? And then there are questions you would like to answer truthfully, but know that your application will be tossed if you do so, so you lie, pretty much just like most other applicants.

One application asks for the picture of my child. Why? Are they afraid I might sneak in a different child for the interview? Or do they run the picture through Interpol to make sure the 3-yr-old is not involved in any terrorist activity/drug smuggling/human trafficking? What's next - blood sample and fingerprints? And that particular school doesn't even guarantee you the interview, so what are they going to do with the pictures of kids who didn't get to that step? Post them on the Internet under the "Look at the losers who didn't merit an interview with our elite school"? And once again - does the picture help them in weeding out students not eligible for the interview? Do looks matter? Should I then go for the full disclosure and send my own picture as well, so that the school can decide ahead of time if they want a mug like that associated with their unblemished name?

The whole process would be extremely annoying (as opposed to just simply annoying) if not for one school, who simply did away with applications. They just take down your name, phone number and simply set up appointments to meet with prospective students. Just for that they have scored points in my book.

Guilt...

Hubby just called. He is on his last day of vacation, and, therefore, is staying home with the kids. He told me that my daughter missed me. Then I heard her asking in the background, "Mommy, why won't you come home sooner?" Hubs gave her the phone and I told her that I needed to work so that I can buy her clothes and food. Hubs in the background said, "You want to eat, right? So mommy has to work so that we can buy food." To which sweet little girl replied,"I will only eat crackers, and that's it." She is sooo sweet. I told her, I still had to work, so she said, "I am waiting for you."

It breaks my heart to have to stay at work for another 3 hours (at least) and see her no earlier than in four. It even breaks it more to realize that even if I could, I probably would not be able to stay home with kids. What a guilt trip... At least now I have an excuse. I just have to pray that we never get filthy rich, and I would always have to work...

You are beautiful no matter what they say

Yesterday hubby told me that I looked beautiful. Isn't that sweet? Now I can breathe the sigh of relief - I am a not just a whale, I am a beautiful whale.

Why? Why? Why?

Why do I do this to myself? Why?

I have weighed myself three days ago, hoping to see some weight loss. I knew I was "good", but somehow clothes got a bit tighter around the waist. Well, the scale showed that I am only two pounds away from being a whale. That was depressing.

After doing Weight Watchers for 3 days, I decided to see what the progress was. The only thing is - it was at night. And at night for some inexplicable reason I am anywhere from 3 to 5 pounds heavier. So I was standing in front of the scale thinking whether to measure myself or not. Stupidity won, and I stepped on the scale realizing to my horror that I am one pound over the whale weight. Ouch!!!! I thought I would never get there. Admittedly, I thought I would never get to Whale weight minus twenty, but this is crushing. This is defeat. I didn't cry, at least not right away. I actually waited for a couple of hours when I got to bed. Why did I weigh myself at night??? Now I am depressed and desperately want a cookie. Better start putting money away for the personal crane that would take me out of the house through the window. And if you think that I am one of those annoying skinny people who whines about gaining 3 pounds and now weighs a whopping 123 instead of 120 pounds, you are wrong. I am a whale... actually a pound heavier than a whale...sigh

Crossing the line

Crosing the line between professional and personal relationship is very tricky, as I have found out, AGAIN. I hear about it, I know about it, yet every time it happens to me, I am caught by surprise. I have a coworker who I am very friendly with, and at times we are having conversations that are a lot more personal than discussing the debit side of the balance sheet. At times I vent to her, at times she vents to me. I liked our relationship up until the point when she started feeling entitled to use that personal information when we deal with business. It doesn't help that we have very different attitude towards work - she is very career-oriented, and I am not. She considers it a crime against all female professionals that I actually don't value the opportunities now offered to women. (The whole subject of "opportunities now offered to women" and my appreciation of it deserves a separate post, I think.) On more than one occasion she told me, "Tell your husband that I need you to stay late tonight to finish this." How did my husband figure into this conversation? Because at one point I mentioned that hubby who was at that time on vacation wanted to spend more time with me. (She also somehow got into her head that I have to get his permission to stay late...I don't know how she deduced that one, but whatever, I am a subjugated wife, after all.) Today when she told me that she needs my help in figuring something out, I said that I am unavailable until the next week, since I have a project that needs to be finished by Friday. I said, "If I do both, I would have to sleep here, and I barely see the kids anyway." The reply, "Didn't you just take off four days in a row, and any way you are the breadwinner." And she leaves without giving me an opportunity to say anything back!!! If this isn't passive-aggressive, I don't know what is! (Not to mention that she doesn't get to pro-rate or assign weighted averages to the time I spend with kids.)

I don't appreciate personal information thrown back in my face like this. She is not my boss, and even if she were, she is not entitled to do this. Needless to say, personal conversations on topics other than diet and exercise are no longer happening.

I am sure she is just as annoyed with me right now as I am with her. Again, different work ethics. In her mind, I have to finish whatever she is asking me, and my "whatever" attitude towards that project is getting on her nerves. On the other hand, it's not my fault that she chooses to stay till 9 o'clock to finish this. We all make choices in our professional life. She chooses to be extra-professional, I choose to see my kids more than 15 min/night. If she is bitter that I don't have the same level of commitment, quite frankly it is her problem since management doesn't really have a problem with mine.

I can't hear you!!!!

As I am coming home tonight, about three houses from ours I hear someone's TV blasting. As I am coming closer, I get more and more aggravated thinking that one of our neighbors is an idiot for having his TV blasting, so that it can be heard half a block away. As I am coming to our door, I hear that this is not TV, but radio, smooth jazz station and realize that that "idiot" is my husband. The radio is blasting so loud, that I have to make three attempts, from knocking to loud banging on a door, until he hears me, with him being about three feet away from the door. If that's not a sweet welcome home, I don't know what is. This is a recurring theme of our conversations, and I am really starting to worry about my kids' hearing. If they are exposed to it on a regular basis (as I am sure they are, since about once a week I come home to a similar raucus), hearing damage is only a matter of time. I really don't understand why the volume has to be so loud to enjoy the music. And is it THAT important that it is worth jeopardizing their hearing? I am really annoyed because I had begged, I had yelled, I had shown scientific literature - what else am I supposed to do? Really? And then I am the evil witch because the first thing that comes out of my mouth when I come home is "lower the volume, please" instead of a sweet smile. Really...

Is she or is she not?

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I had purchased a diary to be used together with What to Expect When You Are Expecting, the pregnant woman's Bible. It was nice with a lot of pre-printed stuff and pages. Being a perfectionist, I figured that I was already three months pregnant and missed a lot of entries, and decided to keep it until my second pregnancy. Being pregnant for the second time with a little baby turned out to be more stressful than I thought, so I had no time for the diary. I finally decided to get rid of it figuring that I would never fill out this thing, but I didn't know how to do it. Giving it as a gift to somebody seemed inapproprite and a bit cruel. Since I myself did not write in it, I didn't want anyone close to me to feel guilty about not keeping stupid pregnancy diary. Last Tuesday I had an ob/gyn appointment and decided that if there is a soul on this earth who might want this thing, there was no better place to find it. I left this diary next to the magazine rack with a note suggesting that if anyone wants this thing, it's theirs. But before I did this, I had to do something else, otherwise, it wouldn't be me, right?

I had that stupid thing in my purse. I was leaving work early (read:with everyone else) because of this appointment. My purse is always too full with other things, and I needed to take out the diary to find something else. I did this by the elevator, with five other people watching me, my boss included. So now 5 ppl saw me with the pregnancy diary, going to the doctor... I wonder what they are thinking...