Well, we’re movin’ on up….(movin’ on up)

 

 

At work today, a lady with whom I used to work sent several pointed e-mail messages to me about a meeting that I had been invited to by my boss. Being an “invitation” from my boss, I accepted. Apparently, this former co-worker didn’t like my being there and as I mentioned, sent me three separate e-mail making it, and I quote, “crystal clear,”  that the meeting was for Sr. Mgt. only and that basically I wasn’t invited.

 

I’m a pretty bright guy usually, and I got her intent on the first message, so by the third one, I was tired of playing and asked her if there was something personal going on that I should know about. Her reply, “It’s never personal, only business.”

 

This got me thinking about something. In my own personal experience, there are two type of professional women. There’s A) the seasoned professional who has raised kids and while she may be tough, she is also in touch with her softer side. Then there’s B) the youngish (under 40) woman who has never been married, doesn’t have kids and who, for whatever reason decided that the only way to survive in the business world is by putting her emotions on the back burner.

 

Thinking back on all of the women I’ve worked for/with, and whom I didn’t particularly care for, I discovered that almost without fail, each of them can be classified in this B) category. They have all been hard women, with little to no empathy for the people they come into contact with. And it’s not just me either, CareerMom has said on more than one occasion that she would rather work for a man than a woman and to a person, each of the female managers she’s had, has also fit this category B) description.

 

I don’t know why some women feel that this is necessary. Certainly there are men who act the same way, but I think that on average, there is an unwritten rule between men that says, “Hey, I get that you’re territorial and I’m not trying to get into your business. I also know that you have a family to support and I don’t want to jeopardize that. So, let’s figure out how we can work together to get this done howabout?” 

 

So for the person who says, “It’s never personal…” I don’t dislike you; I pity you—in a “I dislike you and pity you at the same time” kind of way. While you may very well move up the corporate ladder, I think you’re going to find yourself very lonely at the top. There’s more to life than money; just ask all the stay at home dads.

The Baby Swing Dilemma

 

Once again I find myself at a crossroad where my kids are concerned. On a side note, if you never saw the 80s movie “Crossroads” with Karate Kid’s Ralph Macchio, I highly recommend it. 

Anyway, this crossroad decision involves whether or not to wean my oldest son away from the swing or not. With my first son, it was all about the swing. Swing at night, swing at naptime during the day, swing, swing, swing. With my youngest son, almost a year old now, he’s been actually very good about sleeping in his crib, only requiring the swing during the daytime and generally any time we really just need him to calm down and rest. 

 

This “calm down and rest” time also happens to occur every morning between 4:30 – 5:30 a.m. when we adults are still trying to squeeze a few extra minutes out of our slumber, or trying to get ourselves ready for work unencumbered by clamoring baby. However, I’m not immune to the fact that while this may work for now, sometime in the next additional pound or two, that puny Fisher Price swing motor is going to go kaput like the two before it and we’ll be left hanging with a crying baby at 5:30 in the morning. 

 

Personally, I’m a cold-turkey kind of person. When I set my mind to doing something, or stop doing something in this case, I just stop. I don’t dial it down gradually—nossir, I’m all about nipping it in the bud—and permanently!

 

CareerMom is not.

 

So unless I want to get into a mild argument with her over the swing, any attempts that I make to stop using it will be usurped by her at her earliest convenience. So I’m stuck over what to do. I guess like most things, you just cross that bridge when you get to it.

 

I also still have about 20 pair of disposable ear plugs if things get too bad.

These are a few of my favorite things…

I have discovered something (else) too late in life that I wish I had figured out sooner: Never, and I mean NEVER, tell your kids about something you really liked as a child and that you still sort of hold near and dear to your heart because they will latch onto it like it is their own and you will hear of it to no end until you are just so sick of it, that you wish you’d never even heard of it. 

 

What am I talking about? Spider-Man…that’s what I’m talking about. 

 

It all started innocuously enough. Some kid in my oldest son’s class was already into Spider-Man and my son was only mildly interested until one day I was briefly watching (I only get to watch things briefly at my house because the instant I sit down to watch anything, my attention is diverted by one of the boys) Spider-Man the movie—the one with the Green Goblin–came on television and my son came downstairs and quietly sat down beside me to watch. Well, I wasn’t sure I wanted him watching it, so as he sat there with me, I didn’t really respond to his questions of, “Who’s that?” and “Why is that man hitting Spider-Man?” with any gusto.  

So now, since I didn’t respond correctly, the Green Goblin has become “The Green Guy.” And then sometime later, my son saw Spider-Man 3 with the black suited, mean Spider-Man who has big teeth and a long tongue and now he has become “The Tongue Guy.” So now we have “Red Spider-Man” to differentiate between the black one, “The Green Guy” and “The Tongue Guy.” 

 

Oh and did I tell you that he wanted to be Spider-Man for Halloween, which earned him one silky feeling Spider-Man suit which he cannot stand to be without. From the moment he gets up in the morning to the moment he gets home from Daycare in the evening he wants to wear it. And I can’t blame him. If I’d had a silky outfit when I was a kid, I might have worn it too…but I digress.

 

So now, all I ever hear is, “Daddy, I’m going to be Red Spider-Man and you be The Tongue Guy” and we’re gonna get the bad guys.”

 

Now honestly, I’m all about playing with my kids and all, but there’s something about having my favorite superheroes reduced to blasé naming conventions that grates me and quite frankly, I’m tired of Spider-Man and his ilk. 

 

But stupid me, in an effort to move his interests along, I introduced him to another of my childhood favorites, “The SuperFriends.”  So far, it’s been tolerable, but that’s only because we’ve not yet exhausted all of the television episodes that still exist on Nickelodeon. But it’s coming. I know it is!

 

And not even Superman and his boundless powers, combined with Green Lantern’s power ring will be able to stop my son’s childhood enthusiasm from ruining that for me too! And I thought I HAD grown up!

Losing my religion…and my patience…and my “Best Dad” award

I’m going to start today’s blog with the statement that if you’re a single parent, and you got that way through no fault of your own, you have my deepest sympathies. I say that because as of today, I am officially NOT enjoying being a parent.

 

The kids have been on and off sick for nigh on 4 days now. While CareerMom was in Vegas last week, I had the boys and was lucky enough to only have to clean up puke one day. Since she’s returned home, we’ve had three days of puking, cranky 11 month old and whiney, pukey 3 year old. And I gotta tell ya…I’m over it.

 

To make it worse, when I got home yesterday to relieve CareerMom from her day of watching the sick kids (and BTW, I was feeling really sorry for her until our oldest spilled the beans that Mimi came over and watched them while CareerMom went to the grocery store and whatever else she needed to do. And let me also mention that all last week while CareerMom was gone, the best I could get out of Mimi was an invitation to dinner on Friday night.), our youngest was in bad need of a nap and didn’t want to go down. So I listened to him cry for about 30 minutes before interceding. Asleep in my arms as I rocked him, the moment I tried to put him in his crib, he woke up screaming as if death itself was wrapping its boney arms about his little body and squeezing him. Knowing how badly he needed to sleep, I tried to leave him in his crib and TRIED to ignore his screaming. 

 

Having survived that, we put him in his bed around 7:15 because he was just out of it. He awoke at 8:23 screaming again and nothing would calm him down. Now this is where I officially lost it. 

 

I got up out of bed, put on my clothes and left. I just left the house. I could not take it anymore, and this is where you single parents get all the kudos. You can’t do this. You can’t just leave. The best you can do is walk outside. 

 

Luckily, good judgment got the best of me and I drove to the local drug store and picked up some earplugs. I returned home to find him still screaming and CareerMom giving him some Tylenol. At some point in the next hour he finally wore himself out and slept till 4:30 when he got a diaper change and a fresh bottle. 

 

But frankly, I’d rather put in a 15 hour day than go home and deal with that again tonight. I’ll say again that it’s amazing that the human species exists at all. I honestly don’t know how people raise more than a couple of kids.