For those of you that have read my blog before, you may have noticed that I don't post with a high degree of frequency. Much as I'd like to, I just don't always have the thoughts well formulated enough or when I do, I can't seem to find the free quiet time to put them in cyberspace. Part of the reason it takes me so long to post is that I tend to get an idea in my head and then spend days (weeks?) mulling it over until it ends up just the way I want it to be. That's definitely the case for this blog.
Close to two months ago, I heard someone use the expression "you can't have your cake and eat it, too." Of course, I've heard this expression many times before. But for some reason, it hit me as particularly silly this time around. The first thought that went through my mind was "Well why not? If I have it, why can't I eat it?" So I was going to blog on this silly expression and headed off to Google to do my research on the origins of the phrase. Turns out, this was not the original way it was written, and it makes a lot more sense after reading the background. (I was going to include a link to the origin, but it's not really important here... you can Google it if you're actually interested.) So, there goes my blog on the "having your cake and eating it, too" thing. On to the next topic. Of course, now all I can think about is cake!
Being a chocoholic (and an avid fan of most any kind of cake), I've been dwelling on "cake" for the past several weeks. It was easier to put the thought out of my head a few weeks ago when I was getting ready for a swimsuit-clad, week-long vacation. But, now that I'm back and have no intentions of putting on a 2-piece again anytime soon, cake is back on my mind. Of course, it just wouldn't be me if I let cake just be cake. What kind of blog entry would that be?!?
One of my biggest daily challenges is a balance between my work priorities, my family priorities, my house priorities, my marriage priorities and my self priorities. I love crossing things off my to-do list (in any one of these categories) though I've realized that at the end of the day, some of those cross-offs leave me more satisfied than others. Yes, this relates to cake.
My "standard" cake is yellow with chocolate frosting. I can always seem to find room for a slice of this kind, no matter how full I might be and a yellow cake with chocolate frosting is pretty easy to find... most every bakery carries one, they're not that expensive, and in a pinch, I can even find the pre-packaged ones that are so full of preservatives that they can stay fresh for weeks. Pretty much anyone can make one of these cakes, all you need is a mix, a few simple ingredients and a tub of frosting. Practice once or twice, and any dummy can do it. Quick, easy, and tastes pretty good.
Yellow cake with chocolate frosting reminds me of my tasks at work. There's no shortage of them, I can always seem to make room for "just one more," they're easy to find, and trust me, the issues that come up can certainly last for weeks. Good as I might be at my job, the "special" part, the part that might make me stand out from me peers, is not in the cake itself. It's in the way I decorate the cake... sprinkles, roses, fancy writing. I'm really good at that part. But the basic job? It's just like following the recipe off the back of a cake box. Practice once or twice, and any dummy can do it.
When I cross a work item off my to-do list, it's satisfying, just like yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Once in a while it's a little more exciting... say a "yellow layer cake with chocolate frosting and fruit filling in the middle" kind of an accomplishment. But all in all, it's just yellow cake.
Now there's strawberry shortcake... Yum! This is better than yellow cake, but I don't seem to get enough of this. It takes a little more work to make strawberry shortcake, and I feel that I don't have this nearly often enough. Strawberry shortcake makes me think of my house priorities, things like cleaning, organizing a closet, grocery shopping. Yes, I might be strange, but these things bring me great satisfaction. Crossing these "to-do's" off my list makes me feel like I've accomplished something important, like I've contributed to a part of my life that's important to me. I don't cross off nearly as many "house" to-do's as "work" to-do's, though they make me happier when I do find the time and the energy... just like making strawberry shortcake.
Now comes the ultimate... one of those really rich, fudgy chocolate mousse kinds of cake, the kind with raspberry sauce drizzled over the top and on the plate for decoration, maybe even some chocolate shavings on top. If you ask me, there's nothing better. These cakes are a lot more complicated to make. I certainly can't buy them in a box, they're expensive at the bakery, and you have to time them just right so they turn out the way you've planned. To make one of these, you really have to practice. This is the cake that, sadly, I eat the least, even though I love it the most. This is like my self, marriage and family priorities.
When my (almost) 1-year-old looks right at me and says "mama" or my 3-year-old giggles until she hiccups or says something amazing like, "Mommy, you're my very best friend" or I steal an hour away to treat myself to some Kat Time or my husband tells me he loves me and he's proud to be married to me and he couldn't be happier with the two beautiful children we've made... these are the rich, fudgy chocolate mousse cake kind of moments. These are the moments that require the most work, that you can't buy in a box and you have to make from scratch. These are the moments that require the most precise timing, the most effort, but in the end, are the moments you want to savor for as long as you can, and then recreate over and over again and again and again.
So here's what I'm thinking... why settle for yellow cake, or even strawberry shortcake, when there's this other, amazing fudgy chocolate mousse cake available to me? Why focus so much time and effort on work or even house stuff, when it's really family, marriage and self that are the most important and most rewarding things in life? It's a hard balance to strike. I have to work to afford the house. And without the house, I can't raise the family the way I want to. But why do I expend so much of my energy on the "other stuff" when that's not what matters most?
My boss reads my blog, so I need to say on the record that I have no intentions of quitting my job or slacking off at work. In case my mother-in-law is reading this, I also have no intentions of letting my house become a pig-pen or letting my kids starve. But, where all this cake talk has led me is to a much more conscious decision to focus more on the good stuff and less on the "average" stuff... to spend more time making chocolate mousse cake and less time settling for yellow cake with chocolate frosting... to leave work at the office and make every single solitary moment count with the people I love the most. Yes, there's always room for one more slice of the yellow cake... but at least for today, I think I'll pass on that one and save room for the good stuff. After all, I already have the best recipe... all I need to do is keep practicing.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
Gone Sailing!
This ship leaves in 6 hours and I'll be on it!!
My (ir)regularly scheduled blog will return when I get back in a week!
Friday, May 11, 2007
The Annual Review Process
If you work for a large company (like I do), you might be subjected every year to the "Annual Review Process." This is always a fun process, one that puts everyone on their best behavior in the hopes that they'll get the raise they know they deserve more than anyone else in the company.
Because my company has so many employees all over the world, this process takes time and Company has gone to great lengths to both standardize and simplify the process. They've made great strides since last year, decreasing the number of required steps to a mere 492, a 12% improvement. They've also implemented a new web-based tool to use for all review documentation, which, in 3 or 4 years, I ought to have mastered.
Company's fiscal year runs September 1 - August 31. The annual review period runs June 1 - May 31, even though the associated pay raise (if any) is still not effective until September 1. Let the confusion begin.
Our review process consists of 2 main components, a written review and a "Throw You to the Wolves" session. I'll start with the latter.
In the Throw You to the Wolves session, all the senior executives get together to discuss everyone at a given level at a particular client site or home office location. They do a peer-to-peer comparison where each executive speaks to the merits of their own employees, and the executives (as a group) rank everyone on a scale of Average, Above Average or Walks on Water. (Of course, there's also Below Average and Who-the-Hell-Hired-This-Schmuck-in-the-First-Place?) Though they say it's not a "forced" distribution, it usually works out so that about 5% of the people Walk on Water, another 10-15% are Above Average, 60% are Average, and the rest should start looking for new jobs. These are, clearly, Top Secret, closed-door sessions, but apparently, it's the only way to make the process work. Mind you, once the ratings are done here, they're passed along to the "Southwest Region" (for example) for another round of rankings and then the "Country Region" and the "Continent Region" and then straight to Wizard of Oz himself. By the time Wizard gets them, the game of telephone that started in the conference room down the hall has taken it's toll, so Mr. Walks on Water from Florida is now about to be unemployed.
The second part of the process is the written review, which started last Fall, when I went to New Web Tool and entered my "objectives" for the year. There are 3 main categories of objectives and I was required to choose a minimum of 2-3 from a list within each. Over-achiever that I am, I decided to instead choose 5-6 from each category, plus a few new ones I made up on my own that I believed would make me a much more well-rounded employee. For each objective, I also needed to write a target. That is, how (at the end of the year) we're going to measure my success or failure against each objective. This process took a mere 26 hours, not including the time it took my supervisor to review the objectives, tell me they were crap, send them back to me to edit, review with him again, so on and so on until we found something that neither of us was really all that happy with, but it was deadline-for-submission day so we just put them through. (The "back and forth with Supervisor" took only another 14 hours, not so bad!)
At the beginning of this calendar year (lest you get confused by Fiscal Year or Annual Review Period Year), Supervisor and I did a mid-year review (that's mid-year of the Annual Review Period Year). This is the time during which he tells me where I'm falling short so I can spend the next several months trying to convince him I'm the best employee he's ever seen. The mid-year is supposed to benefit of my own "personal development." Whatever, it only took 8 hours. I'm not complaining.
Remember how I said the annual review year runs through end of May? Well, that's the time the paperwork all needs to be finalized, so of course, we start this in early April. I go back to New Web Tool, look at my mile-long list of objectives, and write a self assessment of how I did against them. I review the objective, the target, and write commentary on why I far exceeded the objective, or why it's not really all that bad that I forgot to address it. This takes only 32 hours, since New Web Tool crashed and lost all my changes only 4 times . Again, I send to my supervisor to review, and it becomes his turn to write the real review.
Let me talk for a minute about my supervisor. We have very frequent interactions (at least daily), even though we work in offices 1200 miles away from each other. We rely mostly on instant messaging, with the occasional phone call when he gets sick of typing in the little box on the screen, I'm arguing with him and he needs to shut me up, or there's something far too complex for me to possibly understand when it's in writing. (Dx, I'm sure you can relate ;-)
He's a really fun guy, even though most of the time he acts like he's pissed off at the world. I don't take it personally, and I can dish it out, too. No problem. The thing is, I also consider Supervisor to be a friend (he may disagree, but it's my blog, so too bad). The problem being "friends" with your supervisor is that sometimes (most times?), I turn off my filter. You know, the one that makes you stop and think "Do I really want my boss to know this?" or "Which are the best, most politically correct words to use when bringing this to my boss' attention?" Instead, I find myself writing IMs such as "Can you freakin' believe what just happened?" or "What an idiot!" Of course, this prompts Supervisor (who usually takes it all in stride but at the end of the day, still writes my review) to add comments under the Areas for Improvement section that say things like "Too negative; needs to focus on positive solutions rather than negative situations" or "Does not respect authority" or "Who the hell hired this schmuck in the first place?"
Anyway, after I write my self assessment and Supervisor writes his review, we meet to discuss. I've spent 32 hours pining over just the right words to convince him I'm the best employee he's ever seen, and he's written 4 sentences. What!?!?! Mind you, they are good sentences, but c'mon!!
Of course, Big Mouth over here has to question this. "What happened to everything I so painstakingly wrote? All the stuff I fed to you to put in my review??" He tells me that since he didn't disagree with it in his review, that means (by default) that he agrees with what I wrote. "So who's going to read the part I wrote? Doesn't yours carry more weight?" I ask. "No one reads them," he says. "It's just used for our own discussion so you know where you stand."
OK, people, I know where I stand. I knew that LONG before I started writing objectives and targets and commentary. I talk to this man every single day, and neither one of us is shy to give feedback. If I do something awesome, I don't hesitate for a second to tell him about it, usually more than once. And if I do something wrong? He'll surely be the first person to point it out to me, over and over again. I don't need a formal review meeting to tell me any of this. But hey, now my awesomeness and shortcomings are all "officially" documented in cyber-space on New Web Tool should anyone get really bored one day and decide to hack into the system to read them.
I'd be remiss if I did not add that his version of my review also includes feedback from my clients, peers, etc. This is always good information to have, but it's not like I don't already know what they're thinking. If I work with these people for a full Annual Review Period Year and don't know if they like me or think I suck, then I don't deserve to be employed. But, of course, always a bonus to have it on my permanent record.
Mind you, the Throw You to the Wolves sessions have already taken place for my level, so the written review we're discussing and agreeing on means nothing. Whatever was in his head about me on the day he walked into that room is what he said about me. Nothing I've stressed over in my self assessment or read in his review matters, and it's the Wolves (and of course, the Wizard) who decide if I get a raise or not.
So I pull out my calculator. Let's see.... I've spent a total of 91 hours so far this year on the process. I'm paid on salary but I'm a smart girl, not intimidated by long division. I can figure out my hourly rate. I do the math to see how much I've spent with The Process.
Now I do some very complicated statistical analysis on the average raises I've seen since Company went public. Assuming I get ranked as Above Average (optimistic, I know, but a girl can dream in her blog), that's an X% increase. Again, some math, and I realize that, lo and behold, the time spent working on my annual review versus the raise I might expect to get only puts me in the hole about $292. That's a savings of $48 from last year.
Woo hoo!! The process really does work!
Because my company has so many employees all over the world, this process takes time and Company has gone to great lengths to both standardize and simplify the process. They've made great strides since last year, decreasing the number of required steps to a mere 492, a 12% improvement. They've also implemented a new web-based tool to use for all review documentation, which, in 3 or 4 years, I ought to have mastered.
Company's fiscal year runs September 1 - August 31. The annual review period runs June 1 - May 31, even though the associated pay raise (if any) is still not effective until September 1. Let the confusion begin.
Our review process consists of 2 main components, a written review and a "Throw You to the Wolves" session. I'll start with the latter.
In the Throw You to the Wolves session, all the senior executives get together to discuss everyone at a given level at a particular client site or home office location. They do a peer-to-peer comparison where each executive speaks to the merits of their own employees, and the executives (as a group) rank everyone on a scale of Average, Above Average or Walks on Water. (Of course, there's also Below Average and Who-the-Hell-Hired-This-Schmuck-in-the-First-Place?) Though they say it's not a "forced" distribution, it usually works out so that about 5% of the people Walk on Water, another 10-15% are Above Average, 60% are Average, and the rest should start looking for new jobs. These are, clearly, Top Secret, closed-door sessions, but apparently, it's the only way to make the process work. Mind you, once the ratings are done here, they're passed along to the "Southwest Region" (for example) for another round of rankings and then the "Country Region" and the "Continent Region" and then straight to Wizard of Oz himself. By the time Wizard gets them, the game of telephone that started in the conference room down the hall has taken it's toll, so Mr. Walks on Water from Florida is now about to be unemployed.
The second part of the process is the written review, which started last Fall, when I went to New Web Tool and entered my "objectives" for the year. There are 3 main categories of objectives and I was required to choose a minimum of 2-3 from a list within each. Over-achiever that I am, I decided to instead choose 5-6 from each category, plus a few new ones I made up on my own that I believed would make me a much more well-rounded employee. For each objective, I also needed to write a target. That is, how (at the end of the year) we're going to measure my success or failure against each objective. This process took a mere 26 hours, not including the time it took my supervisor to review the objectives, tell me they were crap, send them back to me to edit, review with him again, so on and so on until we found something that neither of us was really all that happy with, but it was deadline-for-submission day so we just put them through. (The "back and forth with Supervisor" took only another 14 hours, not so bad!)
At the beginning of this calendar year (lest you get confused by Fiscal Year or Annual Review Period Year), Supervisor and I did a mid-year review (that's mid-year of the Annual Review Period Year). This is the time during which he tells me where I'm falling short so I can spend the next several months trying to convince him I'm the best employee he's ever seen. The mid-year is supposed to benefit of my own "personal development." Whatever, it only took 8 hours. I'm not complaining.
Remember how I said the annual review year runs through end of May? Well, that's the time the paperwork all needs to be finalized, so of course, we start this in early April. I go back to New Web Tool, look at my mile-long list of objectives, and write a self assessment of how I did against them. I review the objective, the target, and write commentary on why I far exceeded the objective, or why it's not really all that bad that I forgot to address it. This takes only 32 hours, since New Web Tool crashed and lost all my changes only 4 times . Again, I send to my supervisor to review, and it becomes his turn to write the real review.
Let me talk for a minute about my supervisor. We have very frequent interactions (at least daily), even though we work in offices 1200 miles away from each other. We rely mostly on instant messaging, with the occasional phone call when he gets sick of typing in the little box on the screen, I'm arguing with him and he needs to shut me up, or there's something far too complex for me to possibly understand when it's in writing. (Dx, I'm sure you can relate ;-)
He's a really fun guy, even though most of the time he acts like he's pissed off at the world. I don't take it personally, and I can dish it out, too. No problem. The thing is, I also consider Supervisor to be a friend (he may disagree, but it's my blog, so too bad). The problem being "friends" with your supervisor is that sometimes (most times?), I turn off my filter. You know, the one that makes you stop and think "Do I really want my boss to know this?" or "Which are the best, most politically correct words to use when bringing this to my boss' attention?" Instead, I find myself writing IMs such as "Can you freakin' believe what just happened?" or "What an idiot!" Of course, this prompts Supervisor (who usually takes it all in stride but at the end of the day, still writes my review) to add comments under the Areas for Improvement section that say things like "Too negative; needs to focus on positive solutions rather than negative situations" or "Does not respect authority" or "Who the hell hired this schmuck in the first place?"
Anyway, after I write my self assessment and Supervisor writes his review, we meet to discuss. I've spent 32 hours pining over just the right words to convince him I'm the best employee he's ever seen, and he's written 4 sentences. What!?!?! Mind you, they are good sentences, but c'mon!!
Of course, Big Mouth over here has to question this. "What happened to everything I so painstakingly wrote? All the stuff I fed to you to put in my review??" He tells me that since he didn't disagree with it in his review, that means (by default) that he agrees with what I wrote. "So who's going to read the part I wrote? Doesn't yours carry more weight?" I ask. "No one reads them," he says. "It's just used for our own discussion so you know where you stand."
OK, people, I know where I stand. I knew that LONG before I started writing objectives and targets and commentary. I talk to this man every single day, and neither one of us is shy to give feedback. If I do something awesome, I don't hesitate for a second to tell him about it, usually more than once. And if I do something wrong? He'll surely be the first person to point it out to me, over and over again. I don't need a formal review meeting to tell me any of this. But hey, now my awesomeness and shortcomings are all "officially" documented in cyber-space on New Web Tool should anyone get really bored one day and decide to hack into the system to read them.
I'd be remiss if I did not add that his version of my review also includes feedback from my clients, peers, etc. This is always good information to have, but it's not like I don't already know what they're thinking. If I work with these people for a full Annual Review Period Year and don't know if they like me or think I suck, then I don't deserve to be employed. But, of course, always a bonus to have it on my permanent record.
Mind you, the Throw You to the Wolves sessions have already taken place for my level, so the written review we're discussing and agreeing on means nothing. Whatever was in his head about me on the day he walked into that room is what he said about me. Nothing I've stressed over in my self assessment or read in his review matters, and it's the Wolves (and of course, the Wizard) who decide if I get a raise or not.
So I pull out my calculator. Let's see.... I've spent a total of 91 hours so far this year on the process. I'm paid on salary but I'm a smart girl, not intimidated by long division. I can figure out my hourly rate. I do the math to see how much I've spent with The Process.
Now I do some very complicated statistical analysis on the average raises I've seen since Company went public. Assuming I get ranked as Above Average (optimistic, I know, but a girl can dream in her blog), that's an X% increase. Again, some math, and I realize that, lo and behold, the time spent working on my annual review versus the raise I might expect to get only puts me in the hole about $292. That's a savings of $48 from last year.
Woo hoo!! The process really does work!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Little Amusements (Google)
Say what you will about "simple minds....," but sometimes it's the little things that amuse me.
Why I love Google:
Google thinks for me
I have the Google toolbar on my internet explorer (couldn't live without it!). When I type a keyword in the search bar, Google presents me a drop-down list of other relevant key words. Try this... type in "banana" and look at all the choices you get! I don't even have to know what I'm thinking, because Google figures it out for me.
Google is funny, but oh-so-accurate
Try this....
Why I love Google:
Google thinks for me
I have the Google toolbar on my internet explorer (couldn't live without it!). When I type a keyword in the search bar, Google presents me a drop-down list of other relevant key words. Try this... type in "banana" and look at all the choices you get! I don't even have to know what I'm thinking, because Google figures it out for me.
Google is funny, but oh-so-accurate
Try this....
- Go to Google.com and click on "maps" (center of the page, above the search bar).
- At the top of the page, click on "Get Directions."
- Put in the starting address as "Ft. Lauderdale, FL" and the ending address as "Scotland."
- Click on the "Get Directions" button.
- Scroll down and read direction #23.
Google has cute and creative graphics for every holiday
Ever notice how on some holidays / special days, they edit the normal "Google" logo on the page? And on the days they have the "special graphics," you can double click on it and see a list of previous graphics.
Google Earth
How cool is this?!? Not only can I see my house and my yard, but I think I see a person on the sidewalk!
Google is not afraid to be political
By far, this was my favorite, and it's not working anymore (insert pouting face icon here). Used to be that when you went to Google.com and typed the words "miserable failure" in the search box and clicked the "I'm feeling lucky" button, it would take you here.
Enough said!
Never argue with a woman
Got this in email, one of those "forwards." I usually don't pass them along, but I thought this one was funny!
One morning the husband returns after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap. Although not familiar with the lake, the wife decides to take the boat out. She motors out a short distance and reads her book.
Along comes a Game Warden in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman and says, "Good morning, Ma'am. What are you doing?"
"Reading a book," she replies, (thinking, "Isn't that obvious?")
"You're in a Restricted Fishing Area," he informs her.
"I'm sorry, officer, but I'm not fishing, I'm reading."
"Yes, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."
"If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault," says the woman.
"But I haven't even touched you, " says the game warden.
"That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment."
"Have a nice day ma'am," and he left.
MORAL: Never argue with a woman who reads. It's likely she can also think.
One morning the husband returns after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap. Although not familiar with the lake, the wife decides to take the boat out. She motors out a short distance and reads her book.
Along comes a Game Warden in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman and says, "Good morning, Ma'am. What are you doing?"
"Reading a book," she replies, (thinking, "Isn't that obvious?")
"You're in a Restricted Fishing Area," he informs her.
"I'm sorry, officer, but I'm not fishing, I'm reading."
"Yes, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."
"If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault," says the woman.
"But I haven't even touched you, " says the game warden.
"That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment."
"Have a nice day ma'am," and he left.
MORAL: Never argue with a woman who reads. It's likely she can also think.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
In My Daughter's Eyes
I'll spare you the gory details of my rotten, completely out-of-left-field day at the office yesterday, the fact that I worked until midnight and got up to work again at 4am. I'll save the story about how my much-anticipated vacation next week will likely be severely dampened by a curve ball my job threw at me. Because right this moment, it doesn't matter.
Tired and frustrated, I was getting my 3-year-old dressed this morning and she started asking me silly questions, typical 3-year-old questions. I gave her silly, 3-year-old answers. The conversation had nothing to do with work or my lack of sleep or my busy week or the distracted vacation I'm now anticipating. It had to do with pretend money to buy pretend bread for a pretend dinner she's making for her pretend babies tonight. But you know what, that simple little conversation with my 3-year-old put a smile on my face when I thought one was not possible, reminded me that this is the good stuff, this is what life is about. Not work, not stress, not impossible and unrealistic deadlines.
I'll work my butt off the rest of the week -- and probably sleep very little -- to do what I have to do to get ready to be out of the office for a week. But when I step onto that cruise ship on Monday, the office will stay on the shore, all thanks to the inadvertent reminder from my 3-year-old that life is more fun when you're silly. To my precious, smart, amazing little girl, a great big thank you for reminding Mommy that there's more to life than conference calls and emails. This song is for you, kiddo, thanks for being my little girl.
In My Daughter's Eyes
(Written by James Slater, performed by Martina McBride)
In my daughter's eyes I am a hero
I am strong and wise and I know no fear
But the truth is plain to see
She was sent to rescue me
I see who I wanna be
In my daughter's eyes
In my daughter's eyes everyone is equal
Darkness turns to light
And the world is at peace
This miracle God gave to me
Gives me strength when I am weak
I find reason to believe
In my daughter's eyes
And when she wraps her hand around my finger
Oh it puts a smile in my heart
Everything becomes a little clearer
I realize what life is all about
It's hangin' on when your heart has had enough
It's giving more when you feel like giving up
I've seen the light
It's in my daughter's eyes
In my daughter's eyes
I can see the future
A reflection of who I am and what will be
Though she'll grow and someday leave
Maybe raise a family
When I'm gone I hope you see
How happy she made me
For I'll be there
In my daughter's eyes
Tired and frustrated, I was getting my 3-year-old dressed this morning and she started asking me silly questions, typical 3-year-old questions. I gave her silly, 3-year-old answers. The conversation had nothing to do with work or my lack of sleep or my busy week or the distracted vacation I'm now anticipating. It had to do with pretend money to buy pretend bread for a pretend dinner she's making for her pretend babies tonight. But you know what, that simple little conversation with my 3-year-old put a smile on my face when I thought one was not possible, reminded me that this is the good stuff, this is what life is about. Not work, not stress, not impossible and unrealistic deadlines.
I'll work my butt off the rest of the week -- and probably sleep very little -- to do what I have to do to get ready to be out of the office for a week. But when I step onto that cruise ship on Monday, the office will stay on the shore, all thanks to the inadvertent reminder from my 3-year-old that life is more fun when you're silly. To my precious, smart, amazing little girl, a great big thank you for reminding Mommy that there's more to life than conference calls and emails. This song is for you, kiddo, thanks for being my little girl.
In My Daughter's Eyes
(Written by James Slater, performed by Martina McBride)
In my daughter's eyes I am a hero
I am strong and wise and I know no fear
But the truth is plain to see
She was sent to rescue me
I see who I wanna be
In my daughter's eyes
In my daughter's eyes everyone is equal
Darkness turns to light
And the world is at peace
This miracle God gave to me
Gives me strength when I am weak
I find reason to believe
In my daughter's eyes
And when she wraps her hand around my finger
Oh it puts a smile in my heart
Everything becomes a little clearer
I realize what life is all about
It's hangin' on when your heart has had enough
It's giving more when you feel like giving up
I've seen the light
It's in my daughter's eyes
In my daughter's eyes
I can see the future
A reflection of who I am and what will be
Though she'll grow and someday leave
Maybe raise a family
When I'm gone I hope you see
How happy she made me
For I'll be there
In my daughter's eyes
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
The Power of a Ladybug
When my little sister was six years old, her best friend's mother passed away from cancer. My sister, being six, couldn't begin to understand the "how's" and "why's" of this (can any of us, at any age, really?). This was 18 or 19 years ago, but I remember vividly her tears and the way she was grasping to comprehend what "not having a mommy anymore" was like.
I'm seven years older than my sister. Certainly no Sage at the ripe old age of 13, but she was looking to me, her trusted big sister, for comfort and love and guidance. To this day I can't remember where it came from -- Did I hear it someplace else? Did I make it up on the spot? I'm not sure. But I told her a story about a ladybug.
Some of the details are fuzzy, but the end result of the story was to say that whenever you see a ladybug, know that you are not alone, that someone you love is right there with you, loving and supporting you in whatever you're going through and that in the end, it really is going to be OK.
My sister's love of all-things-ladybug began that day and the story was passed around in our family. Ladybugs became a way to say "I love you" or "I'm thinking of you" or "I'm right there with you, wherever you are." Little did I know how important those ladybugs would become.
I was on my way home from the Sloan Kettering Memorial Cancer Center in New York City, after a very expensive "third opinion" appointment with a doctor who didn't take my insurance. The first doctor had already told me I'd likely never carry a pregnancy to term, even if they could stop the cancer from progressing. The second doctor recommended a complete hysterectomy to make sure we "got all the pre-cancerous cells" before they had a chance to multiply. Sloan Kettering was my last resort, before deciding for sure to tell the man that I loved, the man who's ring I was wearing, that I couldn't marry him since I didn't think I could give him the children I knew he so badly wanted. The subway ride home was a long one and even though this latest doctor seemed more optimistic than the first two, life as I knew it was over.
When we got home, I was rummaging through things on my desk and accidentally knocked over a box of old cards and notes and other random papers. Annoyed at one more mess to clean up on my already terrible day, I scooped everything up and threw it angrily back on the desk. What should happen to land on the very top, face up, staring right at me? A greeting card with a ladybug on it. It was a blank card that I had bought years before but never sent to anyone and had completely forgotten about. BAM! There is was, right in my face, when things couldn't have been any worse. Suddenly, I was not alone and it was all going to be OK. For the first time in months, my fear and anxiety subsided. What power that tiny little ladybug had to take the weight of the world off my shoulders. Seven years of marriage (to that same wonderful man), two perfect little girls and dozens of "no abnormal cells" test results later, I still thank that ladybug for reminding me not to give up hope.
******************************
My grandfather was a very simple man, a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy, the only person in this world I've ever called My Hero. We didn't see each other often, but we had an amazing connection that words cannot explain. He was truly a gift, a man of God, a man who did not see race or religion or anything other than a person's spirit. He lived in Upstate New York, near the Finger Lakes. Having greenhouses his whole life, he once got into a debate with a neighbor about whether you could grow tobacco plants in that climate. The friend said "no way." Grandpa said, "Oh yeah? Watch me!"
The day of his funeral was the hardest day of my life. Harder than the day I heard "cancer" at the age of 23. As the "go-to-gal" for the family, they were all looking to me to take care of things, to hold them together, to make sure everything was handled. I paid for his cemetery plot. I ordered the flowers. I (physically) held up my sister and my cousin as they said goodbye to him before leaving the funeral home. I gave a eulogy at his funeral. Physically and emotionally I was exhausted, I hadn't had any time on my own to grieve and I felt like I was spiraling down a long dark tunnel with no one to catch me.
After the funeral, we went back to his house to spend some quiet time with my grandmother. I decided to take a walk through his now 8-foot-tall tobacco plants, growing so strong and so proud on the front corner of his yard. As I neared them, my eyes welled up with tears, I nearly collapsed to the ground in disbelief. Hundreds, thousands, of ladybugs covered those giant green tobacco leaves. They were everywhere. Countless little bugs that told me he was right there with me, loving me, supporting me and that everything was going to be OK. Once my legs steadied, I ran inside to get my grandmother and my cousins. We hugged and cried at those plants for an eternity, right there with Grandpa and his never-going-to-grow-in-this-climate tobacco plants, and his thousands of little ladybugs. My grandmother's house was infested with ladybugs for months after that, she said it hadn't ever happened in the 50 years she'd lived in the house. Of course, she didn't have the heart to call an exterminator!
******************************
A few years later, after working out-of-state for months on end, 16+ hour days, the Partner I was reporting to had a bad day and he yelled at me for something so trivial and insignificant that I probably should have filed a report against him. It was the very last straw. I marched back to his desk to put in my resignation. That was it, I was done, I was going home once and for all. Wouldn't you know it, he wasn't there.
******************************
There are similar ladybug stories for the day the obstetrician told me one of my tests came back abnormal and there was a chance the baby I was carrying had Down Syndrome. Did I want to "reconsider" the pregnancy, he asked me. And one for the day I took that same otherwise-perfectly-healthy baby for an ultrasound on her hip to see if she had Developmental Hip Dyslpasia. And one for so many other countless times when I saw a ladybug at a moment in my life I was so low I didn't think anything could pull me back up again. And I knew that everything was going to be OK.
Some people may say it's just a random coincidence, that it's just a little bug. But I know better.... those little ladybugs have a power I can't explain, a healing power, a power of hope and calm that words can't express. I only wish my writing was strong enough to do them justice.
The next time you see a ladybug, know that someone is thinking of you, that you are not alone and that indeed, everything is going to be OK.
I'm seven years older than my sister. Certainly no Sage at the ripe old age of 13, but she was looking to me, her trusted big sister, for comfort and love and guidance. To this day I can't remember where it came from -- Did I hear it someplace else? Did I make it up on the spot? I'm not sure. But I told her a story about a ladybug.
Some of the details are fuzzy, but the end result of the story was to say that whenever you see a ladybug, know that you are not alone, that someone you love is right there with you, loving and supporting you in whatever you're going through and that in the end, it really is going to be OK.
My sister's love of all-things-ladybug began that day and the story was passed around in our family. Ladybugs became a way to say "I love you" or "I'm thinking of you" or "I'm right there with you, wherever you are." Little did I know how important those ladybugs would become.
******************************
I was on my way home from the Sloan Kettering Memorial Cancer Center in New York City, after a very expensive "third opinion" appointment with a doctor who didn't take my insurance. The first doctor had already told me I'd likely never carry a pregnancy to term, even if they could stop the cancer from progressing. The second doctor recommended a complete hysterectomy to make sure we "got all the pre-cancerous cells" before they had a chance to multiply. Sloan Kettering was my last resort, before deciding for sure to tell the man that I loved, the man who's ring I was wearing, that I couldn't marry him since I didn't think I could give him the children I knew he so badly wanted. The subway ride home was a long one and even though this latest doctor seemed more optimistic than the first two, life as I knew it was over.
When we got home, I was rummaging through things on my desk and accidentally knocked over a box of old cards and notes and other random papers. Annoyed at one more mess to clean up on my already terrible day, I scooped everything up and threw it angrily back on the desk. What should happen to land on the very top, face up, staring right at me? A greeting card with a ladybug on it. It was a blank card that I had bought years before but never sent to anyone and had completely forgotten about. BAM! There is was, right in my face, when things couldn't have been any worse. Suddenly, I was not alone and it was all going to be OK. For the first time in months, my fear and anxiety subsided. What power that tiny little ladybug had to take the weight of the world off my shoulders. Seven years of marriage (to that same wonderful man), two perfect little girls and dozens of "no abnormal cells" test results later, I still thank that ladybug for reminding me not to give up hope.
******************************
My grandfather was a very simple man, a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy, the only person in this world I've ever called My Hero. We didn't see each other often, but we had an amazing connection that words cannot explain. He was truly a gift, a man of God, a man who did not see race or religion or anything other than a person's spirit. He lived in Upstate New York, near the Finger Lakes. Having greenhouses his whole life, he once got into a debate with a neighbor about whether you could grow tobacco plants in that climate. The friend said "no way." Grandpa said, "Oh yeah? Watch me!"
The day of his funeral was the hardest day of my life. Harder than the day I heard "cancer" at the age of 23. As the "go-to-gal" for the family, they were all looking to me to take care of things, to hold them together, to make sure everything was handled. I paid for his cemetery plot. I ordered the flowers. I (physically) held up my sister and my cousin as they said goodbye to him before leaving the funeral home. I gave a eulogy at his funeral. Physically and emotionally I was exhausted, I hadn't had any time on my own to grieve and I felt like I was spiraling down a long dark tunnel with no one to catch me.
After the funeral, we went back to his house to spend some quiet time with my grandmother. I decided to take a walk through his now 8-foot-tall tobacco plants, growing so strong and so proud on the front corner of his yard. As I neared them, my eyes welled up with tears, I nearly collapsed to the ground in disbelief. Hundreds, thousands, of ladybugs covered those giant green tobacco leaves. They were everywhere. Countless little bugs that told me he was right there with me, loving me, supporting me and that everything was going to be OK. Once my legs steadied, I ran inside to get my grandmother and my cousins. We hugged and cried at those plants for an eternity, right there with Grandpa and his never-going-to-grow-in-this-climate tobacco plants, and his thousands of little ladybugs. My grandmother's house was infested with ladybugs for months after that, she said it hadn't ever happened in the 50 years she'd lived in the house. Of course, she didn't have the heart to call an exterminator!
******************************
A few years later, after working out-of-state for months on end, 16+ hour days, the Partner I was reporting to had a bad day and he yelled at me for something so trivial and insignificant that I probably should have filed a report against him. It was the very last straw. I marched back to his desk to put in my resignation. That was it, I was done, I was going home once and for all. Wouldn't you know it, he wasn't there.
My next best option was to buy myself a giant cup of Starbucks, grab a cigarette and head outside behind the building to sob and hyperventilate. There I was, contemplating my career, ready to give up on everything I'd worked so hard for professionally. I looked down on the concrete step where I was sitting, and there was a ladybug. It was October in Atlanta and there was a ladybug. I was not alone, it was all going to be OK. I cried even more over the ladybug than I had over being yelled at, I think. But when I pulled myself together and went back to work, I really did know that I was going to be OK. Five years later, I still work for the same company (though not the same Partner!).
******************************
There are similar ladybug stories for the day the obstetrician told me one of my tests came back abnormal and there was a chance the baby I was carrying had Down Syndrome. Did I want to "reconsider" the pregnancy, he asked me. And one for the day I took that same otherwise-perfectly-healthy baby for an ultrasound on her hip to see if she had Developmental Hip Dyslpasia. And one for so many other countless times when I saw a ladybug at a moment in my life I was so low I didn't think anything could pull me back up again. And I knew that everything was going to be OK.
Some people may say it's just a random coincidence, that it's just a little bug. But I know better.... those little ladybugs have a power I can't explain, a healing power, a power of hope and calm that words can't express. I only wish my writing was strong enough to do them justice.
The next time you see a ladybug, know that someone is thinking of you, that you are not alone and that indeed, everything is going to be OK.
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