Wednesday, October 28, 2009

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Wednesday, October 21, 2009

A Simple Card

Mornings have been and always will be, a slow time of day for me. Unlike hubs who can bound around the room at 5 am, singing loudly and handing out bear hugs, I slowly climb down the stairs most mornings in a stupor. After I blindly brew coffee, I sit at the counter stunned that another day has begun. That's why the kiddos get to watch cartoons in the mornings. It's the only time of day I am completely and totally left alone. (Ok, after getting breakfasts of yogurt, milk, cereal, nutrigrain bars, more milk... you get the idea.)

I use the time to read the paper, do a little writing, catch up on client emails. I was in the middle of my morning routine yesterday, diligently typing on my laptop, when my son asked me to look at something. "Just a sec" I said, brow furrowed. (Let me just say I use the phrase so often, one of my 2 year old's first sentences was "jesec".)

"MooooommmmMMM..." came his reply. "Come look at what I drew." "uh huh", I said distractedly. For heaven's sake, kid, can you pull the umbilical chord out of my belly button for a pithy hour? I thought. "MOM!" came the reply.

Knowing I wasn't going to win this one, I turned and gave him my full attention. "I made you an 'I love you' card," he beamed. And there, in the middle of the page he was holding, was the most beautiful, lumpy, misshapen hearts I have ever seen. The first one he's ever drawn --- and he drew it for me.

I shut my laptop, gave him a big hug and got down on the floor to draw with my two beautiful kids.

Monday, August 17, 2009

A case of the "whys"

My almost 4 year old son has a condition that we can't seem to break. It came about very suddenly one day and now, I'm afraid, it's here to stay.

It's an unmistakable case of the "whys".

As in, why is the sky blue? Why is dirt called dirt? Why is the ground called ground?Why is your answer I don't know? And the ever-popular, "Why does your armpit have little hairs poking out?" For the record, I do shave, just apparently not close enough for the hawk-like eyes of a preschooler.

Frazzled as I am by the endless questions, I can't help but wonder how the technique would work on my clients. In my mind, it would go something like this:

Client: So, in a nutshell, we need to get on Oprah, pronto.
Me: Why do you need to get on Oprah?
Client: So we can get in front of a national audience.
Me: Why is there a national audience?
Client: (Strange look) Uh.. I guess so they can be sold on products like ours.
Me: Why are there products like yours?
Client: (Blank stare)
Me: Exactly.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Wall Street Journal and...potty time

Here is my life in a nutshell: yesterday I was running around my house screaming over the fact that me and my company were named in an article in the Wall Street Journal. The WALL....STREET...JOURNAL!

But, and here's the catch, as I fielded calls congratulating me over my serious press, I was crawling around on my hands and knees begging my daughter to put on some diapers. She had pulled them off and decided to pee in the middle of our kitchen floor.

And that, my friends, is the beauty of my life. To someone who doesn't know me well, they may be impressed that I landed myself in one of the nation's premier papers. But for those who know the real me, they know it's the practice of trying to act like I'm "the shit" while wiping up the real thing.