6710 Grand

 I saw an interview transcript with Michelle Williams where she said something akin to 'you can't be great at both being a mom and a career woman'.  She said when you're at work you're thinking about your kids and when you're home with your kids you're thinking about all the work that's not being done.  Some people commented that she was just making a statement about priorities and a LOT of people agreed with her completely. The whole thing just made me really mad.  Really mad .  For 2 reasons. But I'll get to that.  Perhaps being an actress where your job takes you away from your family for months at a time and you have what I can only assume is a grueling schedule, followed by interviews and talk shows to promote the movies you're in, and then bouncing back into home life where you can then focus only on your kids is hard.  I wouldn't know.  I have no doubt that's hard.  I would never presume to understand the life of a Hollywood actre...

May-cember.  It’s becoming more recognized among parents of school-aged children.  The month of May is so crammed with activities that it resembles December—but with none of the fun of Christmas.  Performances, end of year parties, tournaments, concerts, graduation, graduation parties, dentist appointments, annual physicals, standardized tests, due dates, Mother’s Day, birthdays, Cinco de Mayo, Endangered Species Day, World Day for Cultural Diversity… the list seems endless.  There’s so much to do for the kids and their insane schedules, not to mention all that I’m doing for work—grant deadlines, promote summer camp, spring appeal, grant reports, meetings, annual reviews, contract negotiations—and home—renew pest control, renew lawn maintenance, plant flowers, tend to flower beds, mow the lawn, oil change on the mower, figure out why the composter isn’t working, clean the carpets, balance the checkbook, pay the taxes, renew the Costco membership, plan the graduation ...

  Every Monday I drive to work.   I stop on the way to a grocery store that donates near expired produce 3 times a week to the sanctuary.   I load up sometimes 400 pounds of produce into my car—apples, bananas, greens, tomatoes, melons, squash, peppers—anything and everything.   When I get to work, I drive it out to Duncan’s barn.   Duncan was a 1200 pound pig who passed away almost 2 years ago.   He was about 12 at the time—quite elderly for a pig.   The barn carries his name as a tribute.   Everyone loved him, including my son, who met him when he was almost 2.   He would crawl into Duncan’s bed with him while he napped, press his face to Duncan’s snout and just jabber on about whatever he wanted Duncan to know.   In his wisdom, Duncan would snort, open his eyes, snort a bit more, sniff and snort some more, just taking it all in.   I miss him. The boxes of produce are sorted into what can and cannot be eaten and placed in a tin-...

Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Ok, now I’m not quite so frustrated or angry anymore. Let me explain: I don’t like to brag, so I’m not bragging.   I am a highly educated, highly qualified, professional non-profit fundraiser.   I have 2 bachelor’s degrees, an executive MBA, and a certificate in fundraising management.   My brain is worth $200,000 and I have the student debt to prove it.   I have been doing what I’m doing for nearly 20 years.   I’ve raised tens of millions of dollars for national and local organizations.   All that to say, I know what I’m doing.   And yet, every so often, I recognize that it’s helpful to get an outsider’s opinion.   Someone who’s never heard of me or my organization.   Someone who has experience in a different area of business or fundraising or non-profit management.   I don’t pretend to know it all.   I felt this way about my recent effort to seek corporate support for our ...

Ike has taken a liking to my new job.  He's absolutely OBSESSED with cows and pigs.  I let him look at a photo of Duncan on my phone once and now that's all he wants to do whenever he sees me scrolling through my phone.  He'll climb up on the couch next to me, force his way onto my lap and say "piggies?"  If I say no, he responds with "Cows?"  Because I must be looking at one or the other.   Last week during the big snowstorm, Indraloka posted live videos of the cows in the snow.  Ike would watch for HOURS if I let him.  I was trying to get a few things done over the weekend so I was down in my office.  He would NOT let me do anything on my own so finally, I relented, put on the videos and walked away.  I got much more done in the kitchen.  

It’s 4:33 and the sunrise alarm clock that is supposed to wake me up naturally is blaring orange light into my bedroom.  I have no idea how to turn it off because the 946 page instruction manual remains unread in my “to read” folder.  But it doesn’t matter.  Ike is crying and it’s time to get up anyway.  I pry myself out of bed, throw on my gym clothes and head downstairs.  The coffee pot is brewing.   I debate having a cup before my run but as I diaper my baby and snuggle him back to bed I know it’s not a smart choice.   One cup leads to seven and that means my morning run won’t happen.   And it MUST happen. Baby is back down for at least another hour so I head to the basement where my office and gym are waiting for me.   I’m immediately reminded of the things I meant to finish last night but didn’t and am momentarily tempted to tackle them now.   No.   You MUST run.   I open the windows in the gym and turn on two fans. ...

 Ike is a talker.  More of a shouter really.  There's no wondering about gender stereotypes--he is ALL boy ALL the time.  It's a different world raising a son.  He barrels head first into whatever he sets his sights on.  Sometimes it's the couch.  Sometimes it's the cat.  I suspect neither one of them likes it much but he just keeps going. One thing that's the same though are the things he says.  Sometimes we laugh and sometimes we cover our mouths (and his) in embarrassment.   A few weeks ago we were in Target.  He's the only one who doesn't have to wear a mask.  Most of the time, I'm glad for it.  Not this time.  I wanted to plant one on him and never take it off.  As we're walking through the store, he just starts yelling.  This isn't new.  He's not making words, just OOOOOOOHHHHHHH!  OOOOOOOOHHHHHH!  Sometimes it's jabber but mostly just yelling.   Until it's not just yellin...