I started this blog for two reasons: as a creative outlet and to see if I could in fact generate interest in the goings-on a suburban stepmom.
The online resistance I was meeting at work prompted me to venture out on my own and sort of prove that I could do this. Come to think of it, I do that for everything, not just work.
I have other blogs, one about about my husband and I when we got married, another that is full of family recipes -- those two I don't really keep up any longer. I've got two more blogs that I'm currently writing, one that I'm hoping to fill with product reviews compliments of my sometimes critical, sometimes excited nature. I just launched another blog The Good Girl's Guide to Being More Productive.
Why so many blogs? Do I have commitment issues? Am I glutton for punishment?
To answer: not really and probably.
The final blog was a result of ideas I'd conceptualized during this year's BlogHer conference. If you've never heard of BlogHer, it's an online community of mostly women who blog. Sounds simple, right? It is.
Every year, the BlogHer-ites put on a conference similar to what you'd find at any old trade show. There were tracks and panels of different varieties: the art side of blogging (writing, storytelling); the business of you (branding, getting a book deal, making money); the technical side (how to redesign, how to move your blog) along with a track on activism as well as communities.
This year's conference pulled in a record number of attendees -- around 800. Not too shabby.
What impressed me about the conference, other than seeing 800 women in the same room (save for a few brave gentleman) was how much networking opportunity there was.
I made up my own business cards before heading down; cards that listed my blog names and e-mail address. I'm glad I had them because I gave all 24 of them away. I met people whose job it is to research bloggers and learn how to use blogs to market to people (I'm still interested if you're hiring!); I met several women that host sites looking for product reviewers. I even met the boyfriend of a girl on VHI -- apparently she needs help with her website and I talked up my SEO so much he said he'd shoot me an e-mail.
I also sat in on some great panels including how to make money blogging (become a niche expert and exploit that fact), how to land a book deal (again, become a niche expert); and how to promote and brand yourself and your blog (again, niche, niche, niche).
All-in-all, it was a great conference. Anyone who's interested in learning more, feel free to shoot me an e-mail.
If you have the means next year, I highly advise attending. It was fun and informative and it got me out of the house for two days.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
My stepkids call me Stepmom
Before you roll your eyes and hit the back button, read on....
My stepkids call me Stepmom. Not Erin. Not Dad's wife. Not a variation of my name. They call me Stepmom.
A lot of people, when they hear that automatically ask me -- or tell -- me "Are they being little smart asses?" to which I reply "No actually. I think it's a title of respect."
That's the thing -- I think my stepkids respect me, which is one of the best things you can ask for from a 10 and 5 year old.
Why do I think this? Because they used to call me Erin; N; E, etc. About a year and a half ago, when my stepson started to realize that stepmom and Daddy had the same name (he's Aaron, I'm Erin) and realizing that he doesn't call Daddy Aaron, he started calling me Stepmom. His sister picked up on it, too and now everyone calls me that. It almost sounds weird if they call me Erin.
I consider the moniker an achievement badge. I've managed to earn the trust and love of two little kids that didn't ask for me to be in their lives but opened up to me nonetheless.
My stepkids call me Stepmom. Not Erin. Not Dad's wife. Not a variation of my name. They call me Stepmom.
A lot of people, when they hear that automatically ask me -- or tell -- me "Are they being little smart asses?" to which I reply "No actually. I think it's a title of respect."
That's the thing -- I think my stepkids respect me, which is one of the best things you can ask for from a 10 and 5 year old.
Why do I think this? Because they used to call me Erin; N; E, etc. About a year and a half ago, when my stepson started to realize that stepmom and Daddy had the same name (he's Aaron, I'm Erin) and realizing that he doesn't call Daddy Aaron, he started calling me Stepmom. His sister picked up on it, too and now everyone calls me that. It almost sounds weird if they call me Erin.
I consider the moniker an achievement badge. I've managed to earn the trust and love of two little kids that didn't ask for me to be in their lives but opened up to me nonetheless.
De-Stressing for stepmom: Yoga makes me fart
My life has been stressful lately.
My body isn’t running as it should be. Talk of getting pregnant has been tabled until my ovaries, hormones and metabolism can get along. The pregnancy talk has been tabled for other reasons unrelated to my body but I won’t get into that now.
My job has become a source of frustration and disappointment for me. Publishing is going through a great deal of change right now; electronic publishing and interactive media are slowly creeping into the workspaces of every newsroom and editorial department in America. I’m excited about the move to electronic publishing. The fact that I’m attending a blogging conference on my own dime is a testament to that fact. The higher-ups in my department don’t necessarily feel the same way, at least as far as my position is concerned. My pleas to my boss to allow me to work on online projects have been met with “I consider you my print go-to person; so-and-so is my online guy.” Essentially my boss has pushed me into a corner. The one bright spot to my job right now is the people I work with. I have a few really good friends that make each day endurable. I’m very lucky to have them.
My stepchildren have been with us for two weeks. They haven’t seen their mom for that long and it’s starting to show. We’re all ready to get back on our normal every other day schedule.
My stepdaughter is due to start cheerleading practice with the Romeoville Youth Athletics program but we haven’t heard anything about when practice starts. A while back we heard it would be the first week in August; then we heard the last week in July. It’s now that time and we haven’t heard a word.
Don’t get me wrong, I know people have it far worse than I do. This blog post isn’t about them though.
I need to find a way to de-stress; to learn to breathe deep and suck all the marrow out of life. I typically find solace in doing things for myself (manicure/pedicure, massage; a good bubble bath or a good read). Working out helps defuse stressful situations but sometimes I stress myself out when I haven’t gone in two days. I’ve done yoga, and find it peaceful, but some of the poses give me gas. Go ahead, giggle. It does. I farted in the yoga studio once and never went back.
So I will look for more ways to de-stress. Maybe I’ll try yoga again, except this time I’ll bring the Bean-o.
My body isn’t running as it should be. Talk of getting pregnant has been tabled until my ovaries, hormones and metabolism can get along. The pregnancy talk has been tabled for other reasons unrelated to my body but I won’t get into that now.
My job has become a source of frustration and disappointment for me. Publishing is going through a great deal of change right now; electronic publishing and interactive media are slowly creeping into the workspaces of every newsroom and editorial department in America. I’m excited about the move to electronic publishing. The fact that I’m attending a blogging conference on my own dime is a testament to that fact. The higher-ups in my department don’t necessarily feel the same way, at least as far as my position is concerned. My pleas to my boss to allow me to work on online projects have been met with “I consider you my print go-to person; so-and-so is my online guy.” Essentially my boss has pushed me into a corner. The one bright spot to my job right now is the people I work with. I have a few really good friends that make each day endurable. I’m very lucky to have them.
My stepchildren have been with us for two weeks. They haven’t seen their mom for that long and it’s starting to show. We’re all ready to get back on our normal every other day schedule.
My stepdaughter is due to start cheerleading practice with the Romeoville Youth Athletics program but we haven’t heard anything about when practice starts. A while back we heard it would be the first week in August; then we heard the last week in July. It’s now that time and we haven’t heard a word.
Don’t get me wrong, I know people have it far worse than I do. This blog post isn’t about them though.
I need to find a way to de-stress; to learn to breathe deep and suck all the marrow out of life. I typically find solace in doing things for myself (manicure/pedicure, massage; a good bubble bath or a good read). Working out helps defuse stressful situations but sometimes I stress myself out when I haven’t gone in two days. I’ve done yoga, and find it peaceful, but some of the poses give me gas. Go ahead, giggle. It does. I farted in the yoga studio once and never went back.
So I will look for more ways to de-stress. Maybe I’ll try yoga again, except this time I’ll bring the Bean-o.
Friday, July 27, 2007
BlogHer Conference 07: Day 1
I awoke this morning, at 4 a.m., to what sounded like a running faucet. I couldn't tell for sure so I got up, put on my fuzzy slippers and walked around and down to the basement. Nothing.
Around 4:30, I stumbled into the shower. I needed to be on the road by 5:45 so I could get a non-permit parking spot that would let me catch a train out of the Rt. 59 Station in Naperville.
In the car at 5:50, I made my way down Illinois Rt. 59's soggy streets. My Ikea Umbrella lay beside me. I'd had trouble with it the day before so I thought I'd give the nob a jiggle to see if it would work for me today. No such luck.
By 6:20 I'm at the train station and making my way up the parking meters. I'd forgotten what this felt like. I hadn't worked in the city for 5 years and -- like most good things that you fall off the wagon from doing -- I felt it. I felt confused and unsure of my old train rituals.
I arrived at Union Station around 7:30 and embarked on a walk. My theory was that I'd get a little excercise and save some cab fare if I walked down to, say, State Street. I made it to State Street, then to Wacker, then to Michigan and before I knew it I was on the road to Navy Pier.
After walking the 2.6 miles to the Pier and another mile to the conference site, I was finally able to sit down and meet my fellow female bloggers.
Let it be said for anyone contemplating writing a blog or attending BlogHer -- go. I've got two-day pass and I already feel that by the close of Day 1 that I'd made a lot of great contacts. Contacts that may turn into more networking and more thought provocation. The conference paid for itself if not just for the networking.
My sessions included one on Promoting yourself and your blog by one of my favorite bloggers, Penelope Trunk. Then it was on to another session on writing product reviews (which I sincerely hope helps my sister site: thedailyproduct.blogspot.com. I trudged home around 4 and sank into my seat on the train, eager (albeit it exhausted) for day 2 to start.
Around 4:30, I stumbled into the shower. I needed to be on the road by 5:45 so I could get a non-permit parking spot that would let me catch a train out of the Rt. 59 Station in Naperville.
In the car at 5:50, I made my way down Illinois Rt. 59's soggy streets. My Ikea Umbrella lay beside me. I'd had trouble with it the day before so I thought I'd give the nob a jiggle to see if it would work for me today. No such luck.
By 6:20 I'm at the train station and making my way up the parking meters. I'd forgotten what this felt like. I hadn't worked in the city for 5 years and -- like most good things that you fall off the wagon from doing -- I felt it. I felt confused and unsure of my old train rituals.
I arrived at Union Station around 7:30 and embarked on a walk. My theory was that I'd get a little excercise and save some cab fare if I walked down to, say, State Street. I made it to State Street, then to Wacker, then to Michigan and before I knew it I was on the road to Navy Pier.
After walking the 2.6 miles to the Pier and another mile to the conference site, I was finally able to sit down and meet my fellow female bloggers.
Let it be said for anyone contemplating writing a blog or attending BlogHer -- go. I've got two-day pass and I already feel that by the close of Day 1 that I'd made a lot of great contacts. Contacts that may turn into more networking and more thought provocation. The conference paid for itself if not just for the networking.
My sessions included one on Promoting yourself and your blog by one of my favorite bloggers, Penelope Trunk. Then it was on to another session on writing product reviews (which I sincerely hope helps my sister site: thedailyproduct.blogspot.com. I trudged home around 4 and sank into my seat on the train, eager (albeit it exhausted) for day 2 to start.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
The (Gen)X Factor
I came into my 20s during a time when "Loser" was my generation's anthem. We were a flannel-wearing, Doc Marten-sporting version of absolutely no one. We were a generation so rife with self-loathing that a band leader's suicide was characterized as romantic.
Fast forward 10 years. The self-loathing generation became the generation that gave back -- in a big way. We exchanged our self loathing for self respect. The members of my generation grace the pages of Business2.0, FastCompany and even Forbes for the innovative ways they've changed the way we communicate and do business. We've created Web2.0, which gave us the likes of Google, MySpace, and Wikipedia; we've redefined work/life balance and what it means to be a family; and we've held the hands of boomers as they were let go to make room for their echo boomer counterparts.
We're also stuck in the middle of two major generations competition for total world domination. Baby boomers want the world to believe that because they put in their time and paid their dues that they and are entitled. Echo boomers want the world to believe that they don't need to pay any dues because Gen-Xers made it possible for them to have it all (otherwise known as work/life balance and Web2.0 technologies).
I regularly read two somewhat inter-related blogs, Employee Evolution and Brazen Careerist. Both blogs ran a post on how not to treat your echo boomer employees. While I agree with some of the Echo boomer's fodder I completely disagree with a few of the items he says, particularly when it comes to paying those dues.
He has a point -- it is a great idea to build your own brand; however, asking others to reword what is essential "paying your dues" sounds a little self-serving.
As I said, I regularly read these two blogs. When I come across a generation-related work item, I make a point to stop and read it. I'm a huge fan of encouraging anyone and everyone to pursue their passions and try to turn that passion into profit if possible -- a recurring theme in the posts about echo boomers. I'm also encouraged to see these bloggers advising new graduates how to build a better business presence (negotiation skills, how not to be taken advantage of, etc.). I can always learn a thing or two no matter what generation the audience is.
I'm content in my generation and with my current age. I've learned to appreciate what "paying dues" has instilled in me: how steer clear of office politics; how to be a leader and a mentor to younger and older peers; how to strategize during a crisis. I couldn't have learned those things without having gone through them myself. There's something to be said for "paying your dues."
Fast forward 10 years. The self-loathing generation became the generation that gave back -- in a big way. We exchanged our self loathing for self respect. The members of my generation grace the pages of Business2.0, FastCompany and even Forbes for the innovative ways they've changed the way we communicate and do business. We've created Web2.0, which gave us the likes of Google, MySpace, and Wikipedia; we've redefined work/life balance and what it means to be a family; and we've held the hands of boomers as they were let go to make room for their echo boomer counterparts.
We're also stuck in the middle of two major generations competition for total world domination. Baby boomers want the world to believe that because they put in their time and paid their dues that they and are entitled. Echo boomers want the world to believe that they don't need to pay any dues because Gen-Xers made it possible for them to have it all (otherwise known as work/life balance and Web2.0 technologies).
I regularly read two somewhat inter-related blogs, Employee Evolution and Brazen Careerist. Both blogs ran a post on how not to treat your echo boomer employees. While I agree with some of the Echo boomer's fodder I completely disagree with a few of the items he says, particularly when it comes to paying those dues.
He has a point -- it is a great idea to build your own brand; however, asking others to reword what is essential "paying your dues" sounds a little self-serving.
As I said, I regularly read these two blogs. When I come across a generation-related work item, I make a point to stop and read it. I'm a huge fan of encouraging anyone and everyone to pursue their passions and try to turn that passion into profit if possible -- a recurring theme in the posts about echo boomers. I'm also encouraged to see these bloggers advising new graduates how to build a better business presence (negotiation skills, how not to be taken advantage of, etc.). I can always learn a thing or two no matter what generation the audience is.
I'm content in my generation and with my current age. I've learned to appreciate what "paying dues" has instilled in me: how steer clear of office politics; how to be a leader and a mentor to younger and older peers; how to strategize during a crisis. I couldn't have learned those things without having gone through them myself. There's something to be said for "paying your dues."
My stepdaughter calls her Lindsay Coke-han
Thank God my stepdaughter does not look up to Lindsay Lohan. Given Ms. Coke-han's most recent run-in with the law I would hope most, if not all, little girls everywhere look at her with pity and embarrasement instead of awe and hope.
In fact, while we're at it, let's throw Lindsay and Brittney into the same beat-up Nova and send them off to a foreign land where their efforts will be better served.
Please God, if you really are out there, you'll send us down a new set of teeney-bopper girls to look up to. Hillary Duff can't do it alone and Amanda Bynes is busy shagging on Hairspray!
In fact, while we're at it, let's throw Lindsay and Brittney into the same beat-up Nova and send them off to a foreign land where their efforts will be better served.
Please God, if you really are out there, you'll send us down a new set of teeney-bopper girls to look up to. Hillary Duff can't do it alone and Amanda Bynes is busy shagging on Hairspray!
Monday, July 23, 2007
This marriage brought to you by the word partnership
For all those who've ever thought, dabbled, or toyed with the idea of marriage, take note: Marriage is hard work. It's not for the queasy or lazy; half-assed applicants need not apply.
My husband and I enjoy a passionate marriage. We're passionate about our beliefs, our sense of purpose in this world and to each other; and when the stars align, or the hormones are raging, we're passionate about each other. W're passionate about South Park, too but that's fodder for another post.
One of the most endearing qualities about my husband is his sense of partnership. When we were first living together, he told my mom what he really appreciated and loved about me was that I was his partner: a Partner in love, partner in (parking-related) crime, partner in future ideas of what life could hold.
I like to think that we've been, still are and will always be partners. While we're at different places in life career-wise, we see fairly close to eye-to-eye on most other things. We both have ambition to retire early enough to enjoy it; we both are frugal (though he more than I); we both want to see what a little Aaron/Erin would look and act like.
It's that sense of partnership that keeps you going through the good times and the bad. Partnership is what keeps you going when you see your girlfriend holding up a sign at the end of a half-ironman; partnership is what prompts you to know that your boyfriend will need that encouragement when his body feels like hell.
Once you've got a good partnership, everything else falls into place.
My husband and I enjoy a passionate marriage. We're passionate about our beliefs, our sense of purpose in this world and to each other; and when the stars align, or the hormones are raging, we're passionate about each other. W're passionate about South Park, too but that's fodder for another post.
One of the most endearing qualities about my husband is his sense of partnership. When we were first living together, he told my mom what he really appreciated and loved about me was that I was his partner: a Partner in love, partner in (parking-related) crime, partner in future ideas of what life could hold.
I like to think that we've been, still are and will always be partners. While we're at different places in life career-wise, we see fairly close to eye-to-eye on most other things. We both have ambition to retire early enough to enjoy it; we both are frugal (though he more than I); we both want to see what a little Aaron/Erin would look and act like.
It's that sense of partnership that keeps you going through the good times and the bad. Partnership is what keeps you going when you see your girlfriend holding up a sign at the end of a half-ironman; partnership is what prompts you to know that your boyfriend will need that encouragement when his body feels like hell.
Once you've got a good partnership, everything else falls into place.
Harry vs. Pearl: The face-off
As I reported on my sister blog, The Daily Product, I purchased a new phone this weekend, a BlackBerry Pearl. The purchase was not without problems and it took me the better half of a day to get everything straightened out.
This rearranging of priorites left me little time to focus on my true intention of this weekend: read my newest Harry Potter acquisition.
Between the owners manual and my HP reading, I've gotten 200 pages into reading about Harry's (potential?) demise.
Must. Read. Faster.
I've got about a month left of a summer that I swear just started and I've spent it couped up, sick and/or cleaning.
My phone situation seems to be under control. Pearl is resting comfortably next to me as I type with rapid speed. Harry is upstairs in bed waiting for me.....
I'm coming Harry!!!
This rearranging of priorites left me little time to focus on my true intention of this weekend: read my newest Harry Potter acquisition.
Between the owners manual and my HP reading, I've gotten 200 pages into reading about Harry's (potential?) demise.
Must. Read. Faster.
I've got about a month left of a summer that I swear just started and I've spent it couped up, sick and/or cleaning.
My phone situation seems to be under control. Pearl is resting comfortably next to me as I type with rapid speed. Harry is upstairs in bed waiting for me.....
I'm coming Harry!!!
Friday, July 20, 2007
BlogHer '07 Conference
I'm excited to say that I am going to my first BlogHer conference this year.
For those who are unfamiliar, BlogHer is an online community filled with women who blog. From diet and excercise blogs to political and global news, there is a blog topic for everyone.
I've only recently signed up on the BlogHer site, but I'm glad I did. Each year they hold a conference and this year's happens to be in Chicago.
I'm looking forward to attending this year. It should be a great networking opportunity as well as being educational.
For those who are unfamiliar, BlogHer is an online community filled with women who blog. From diet and excercise blogs to political and global news, there is a blog topic for everyone.
I've only recently signed up on the BlogHer site, but I'm glad I did. Each year they hold a conference and this year's happens to be in Chicago.
I'm looking forward to attending this year. It should be a great networking opportunity as well as being educational.
Monday, July 16, 2007
The deals we make with ourselves
When my husband and I set out to try and have a baby – even before we started trying -- I proclaimed that I wasn’t going to let it take over my life and that if it wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t meant to be. I didn’t want to spend my 30s wishing and hoping for a baby that might never come. I’ve already got two great (step)kids at home. Having a baby would be a nice addition to our family, but it won’t make or break me.
I told my husband I’d be willing to try for only so long and to a certain extent. When we first got married I told him I’d stay on the roller coaster for 5 years and then call it quits. Age, love of travel and the truth of raising children has now brought that 5-year window down to 2 years. As for reproductive assistance, I’m only willing to go so far as Clomid. If that doesn’t work, then so be it. My mom and stepdad tried for 5 years to get pregnant and were constantly disappointed until IVF produced them two heirs – a boy and a girl. That was 14 years ago and I still have the (emotional) scars from my mom’s Pergenal shots.
Always one to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I made a deal with myself (and with my husband). Two years from now, if we haven’t succeeded with the Erin Science Experiment then we’re embarking on the most relaxing, selfish and romantic tour of Italy we can afford. I love Italy and will no doubt need a period of time to reprogram my brain from babymode to only-9-more-years-til-the-stepkids-are-grown mode.
This is the deal I made with myself. Baby or Italy. Personally, I think it’s a mature attitude to take. I may be barren, but I’m not dead. I refuse to let that one component of my life rule my life.
My baby-angst aside, people make deals with themselves all the time…. I’ll do X if Y doesn’t happen.
What are your deals?
I told my husband I’d be willing to try for only so long and to a certain extent. When we first got married I told him I’d stay on the roller coaster for 5 years and then call it quits. Age, love of travel and the truth of raising children has now brought that 5-year window down to 2 years. As for reproductive assistance, I’m only willing to go so far as Clomid. If that doesn’t work, then so be it. My mom and stepdad tried for 5 years to get pregnant and were constantly disappointed until IVF produced them two heirs – a boy and a girl. That was 14 years ago and I still have the (emotional) scars from my mom’s Pergenal shots.
Always one to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I made a deal with myself (and with my husband). Two years from now, if we haven’t succeeded with the Erin Science Experiment then we’re embarking on the most relaxing, selfish and romantic tour of Italy we can afford. I love Italy and will no doubt need a period of time to reprogram my brain from babymode to only-9-more-years-til-the-stepkids-are-grown mode.
This is the deal I made with myself. Baby or Italy. Personally, I think it’s a mature attitude to take. I may be barren, but I’m not dead. I refuse to let that one component of my life rule my life.
My baby-angst aside, people make deals with themselves all the time…. I’ll do X if Y doesn’t happen.
What are your deals?
Sunday, July 15, 2007
What I learned on my Summer Vacation
Having recently returned from my 6-night/7-day vacation in beautiful Estes Park, Colo. I figured I take a moment to recount some of the things I learned about myself on summer vacation:1. I'm woefully out of shape. Take a look at the photo for evidence. If you need more, consider that during both 2.5 mile hikes my husband and I did (one Monday, one Friday) I needed to stop and almost threw up during both. My heart rate soared. I've never felt so fat and out of shape in my life. I'm in desperate need for more intense exercise and a better diet. Daily Plate Here I come (back)
2. Ceiling fans are the best sleep aid. Ever. During the summer months, I swear all you need is a rushing river, cool Colorado climate and a few ceiling fans. You'll sleep like a baby.
3. A good book can mean the difference between a good vacation and a bad one. My book of choice during vacation: Eat. Pray. Love. By Elizabeth Gilbert. A great book -- and true story -- about a 30-something Liz looking to free herself of personal demons and open up her life to pleasure, devotion and balance. She travels to Italy, India and Indonesia in search of all three.
4. I love the state of Colorado. It's my kind of state. Perfectly positioned in the U.S., it hosts mountains, rivers, beautiful scenery and a bunch of great, livable towns. Even better, it is an active state so you'll find folks in comfortable clothes and shoes -- ready for anything -- as opposed to being all dressed up for no reason.
5. The definition of vacation is different for everyone. When Aaron and I tried to figure out where we wanted to vacation this year, we ran the gamut from Ireland to Hawaii, Mexico to Colorado. At first I was hesitant to go to Colorado. I could go there anytime I wanted and wasn't vacation supposed to be some place you wouldn't normally go? As mentioned in #4, I'm glad we went with the choice we did. Colorado, at least our trip, was relaxing and mostly peaceful. It was a short flight and we stayed in a gorgeous loft that we rented for fairly cheap. When we weren't hiking or driving, I'd read or walk the town's streets looking for jewelry or other cool souvenirs. I did all of that because it's my definition of vacation. Aaron, as I found out, has a different definition. He hates to shop, loves to drive and doesn't find programming, his day job, a chore so he did his day job on vacation. Me -- you couldn't have paid me to check my voice/e-mail. I was on vacay...Aaron, on the other hand, was a workhorse. To each their own I suppose.
6. One week can almost be too long to be alone with your husband. Despite his just returning from a 2-week work stint, I got the feeling after about 4 days that my husband was growing tired of my presence. Maybe it was just the repercussions of our different vacationing styles (see #5), but we weren't chummy/chummy the entire vacation.
7. I really can climb mountains. I've even got the trail patches to prove it.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Rocky Mountains and Rodeo Queens
My husband and I are on vacation this week in beautiful -- and high -- Estes Park, Colorado. As I write this, I'm sitting in the public library in a computer lab watching a woman in her 70s learn how to navigate the Internet.
Our trip has been one of peace and relative tranquility. We're staying in a condo loft that has an amazing view of a babbling brook (we're also in ear shot of the brook and it's ever so peaceful).
Per my friend Allison's advice, I'm having a drink each and every day. Allison, a friend since kindergarten, had a similar situation that I did when trying to conceive her daughter and now she's a great mom to a perfect little 1-year old. Her advice: "Have a beer. Enjoy. Try not to stress. It will happen."
For once, I've taken that advice seriously. I'm a picture of perfect calm on this trip.
I've even worked out, having done a 2.4 mile hike up to Dream Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. While Aaron was doing his big hike today, I watched the Estes Park Rodeo Parade, fully equipped with Rodeo Queens and Clydesdale horses.
As I watched Ms. Rodeo Colorado ride by in her rhinestone-studed spurs I felt an inner calm I haven't felt in a while. I also felt nauseated.
I'm hopeful that maybe I'm pregnant, but am content with the fact that it's probably just altitude sickness.
Time for me to roam the streets of Estes Park again...I'm a woman on vacation.
Our trip has been one of peace and relative tranquility. We're staying in a condo loft that has an amazing view of a babbling brook (we're also in ear shot of the brook and it's ever so peaceful).
Per my friend Allison's advice, I'm having a drink each and every day. Allison, a friend since kindergarten, had a similar situation that I did when trying to conceive her daughter and now she's a great mom to a perfect little 1-year old. Her advice: "Have a beer. Enjoy. Try not to stress. It will happen."
For once, I've taken that advice seriously. I'm a picture of perfect calm on this trip.
I've even worked out, having done a 2.4 mile hike up to Dream Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. While Aaron was doing his big hike today, I watched the Estes Park Rodeo Parade, fully equipped with Rodeo Queens and Clydesdale horses.
As I watched Ms. Rodeo Colorado ride by in her rhinestone-studed spurs I felt an inner calm I haven't felt in a while. I also felt nauseated.
I'm hopeful that maybe I'm pregnant, but am content with the fact that it's probably just altitude sickness.
Time for me to roam the streets of Estes Park again...I'm a woman on vacation.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Ashton Kutcher is my parenting role model
Ashton Kutcher and I share two things: a birthday (Feb. 7) and similar parenting/family dynamic.
You never hear stories about Ashton Kutcher being a bad stepdad to Rumer, Talluleh and Scout. In fact, the stories you do hear are about how he, Demi and Bruce all get along famously. I think I even read somewhere that they go on vacation together sometimes.
When I describe to people -- be it in person or on a blog comment -- that I am part of a three-parent team I get the feeling they think I'm overstepping my parental boundries. Stepparents aren't supposed to be there the same way a biological parent is, right? That is what most groups want you to think. It never ceases to amaze me how small-minded people can be when it comes to the definition of family. (To see a prime example, check out the second comment on this blog.)
My husband's ex and I get along quite well. We're not best friends, but we're not sworn enemies. She considers me part of the team -- so much so that she's been known to say "I don't know what we'd do with out you." That's the best endorsement you can get from the mother of your stepchildren.
As I look through the July issue of InStyle magazine, I see a pictoral ode to fathers (from Joyce Ostin and Paul Reiser's Hollywood Dads book). Rumer, Talluleh and Scout are there with their dad and Ashton.
All one big happy family.
You never hear stories about Ashton Kutcher being a bad stepdad to Rumer, Talluleh and Scout. In fact, the stories you do hear are about how he, Demi and Bruce all get along famously. I think I even read somewhere that they go on vacation together sometimes.
When I describe to people -- be it in person or on a blog comment -- that I am part of a three-parent team I get the feeling they think I'm overstepping my parental boundries. Stepparents aren't supposed to be there the same way a biological parent is, right? That is what most groups want you to think. It never ceases to amaze me how small-minded people can be when it comes to the definition of family. (To see a prime example, check out the second comment on this blog.)
My husband's ex and I get along quite well. We're not best friends, but we're not sworn enemies. She considers me part of the team -- so much so that she's been known to say "I don't know what we'd do with out you." That's the best endorsement you can get from the mother of your stepchildren.
As I look through the July issue of InStyle magazine, I see a pictoral ode to fathers (from Joyce Ostin and Paul Reiser's Hollywood Dads book). Rumer, Talluleh and Scout are there with their dad and Ashton.
All one big happy family.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
A Thin line between Joy and Happiness
The instructions on the box are quite simple: pee on stick.
If both “windows” show a single line: not pregnant
If one window shows a plus sign: pregnant
My stick had two lines. Both were single and in separate windows.
With the Erin Science Experiment officially underway, I thought I’d get one of those early predictor tests. My monthly “bill” is due in the next two days and it hasn’t shown up yet. While this normally would be cause for assumed celebration, for me it’s reason to go on pause.
My instincts tell me that I’m not with child yet, which totally sucks because I could have had the really good cough medicine last week. Even more frustrating is that I think Aunt Flow might be taking a sabbatical. According to my doctor, if neither Flow or a baby haven’t shown up yet in 6 months, I need to head back in and start a round of more intensive trying.
More intensive conception.
As if that were the problem. When my husband and I see each other we’re like rabbits; the foreseeable problem is quantity of those visits. He might be engaged in projects that will take him to destinations unknown throughout the world at any given time. He’s already doing a near-miss on our anniversary so he can head to Ireland. I try not to stress about the time table aspect of getting pregnant, but it’s hard. Very hard.
Almost anyone I’ve mentioned it to has had one piece of advice: have fun. While I’m not Jenna Jameson, I can assure you, I do have fun “trying” for a baby. How much more fun is one supposed to have?
If both “windows” show a single line: not pregnant
If one window shows a plus sign: pregnant
My stick had two lines. Both were single and in separate windows.
With the Erin Science Experiment officially underway, I thought I’d get one of those early predictor tests. My monthly “bill” is due in the next two days and it hasn’t shown up yet. While this normally would be cause for assumed celebration, for me it’s reason to go on pause.
My instincts tell me that I’m not with child yet, which totally sucks because I could have had the really good cough medicine last week. Even more frustrating is that I think Aunt Flow might be taking a sabbatical. According to my doctor, if neither Flow or a baby haven’t shown up yet in 6 months, I need to head back in and start a round of more intensive trying.
More intensive conception.
As if that were the problem. When my husband and I see each other we’re like rabbits; the foreseeable problem is quantity of those visits. He might be engaged in projects that will take him to destinations unknown throughout the world at any given time. He’s already doing a near-miss on our anniversary so he can head to Ireland. I try not to stress about the time table aspect of getting pregnant, but it’s hard. Very hard.
Almost anyone I’ve mentioned it to has had one piece of advice: have fun. While I’m not Jenna Jameson, I can assure you, I do have fun “trying” for a baby. How much more fun is one supposed to have?
In honor military families
I want to pay homage to the family members of those serving in war. Not in a political sense but in a I've-got-to-hand-it-to-you-for-missing-your-husband/wife/son/daughter/dad/mom-for-that-long way.
My husband returns home from India in less than 3 days. He will have been gone for a total of 12. This seemed unthinkable when I first heard about it. The fact that he's going to Dublin next month (same project, different city) for only 4 days seems like nothing.
While he's been gone, I've resumed an almost single-girl lifestyle: I've worked out every day (save for the days last week I was sick); stayed up late; I've had fast food at least once every three days; I've bummed around the house in my PJs on days I don't need to venture outside of the house. I'm not saying that my lifestyle has been healthy while he's been gone, it's just been different.
I've reverted back to my single girl days except this time I'm not out hunting for guys. Instead, I stay at home and eat or clean.
Eat. Clean. I haven't really been out much with friends as (1) I've been sick and (2) I live too far away for any of them to visit. I've probably gained 5 pounds and the house is getting to the point of immaculate.
Nine days. If my husband were to be shipped off for combat instead of a work engagement there's no telling what I'd do. I'd probably become super fat and broke.
That said, I'm in awe of military familes. They send their loved ones off to war and keep living life the same way. No extra 5 pounds, no differences in when or how they hang out with friends.
How do they do that?
My husband returns home from India in less than 3 days. He will have been gone for a total of 12. This seemed unthinkable when I first heard about it. The fact that he's going to Dublin next month (same project, different city) for only 4 days seems like nothing.
While he's been gone, I've resumed an almost single-girl lifestyle: I've worked out every day (save for the days last week I was sick); stayed up late; I've had fast food at least once every three days; I've bummed around the house in my PJs on days I don't need to venture outside of the house. I'm not saying that my lifestyle has been healthy while he's been gone, it's just been different.
I've reverted back to my single girl days except this time I'm not out hunting for guys. Instead, I stay at home and eat or clean.
Eat. Clean. I haven't really been out much with friends as (1) I've been sick and (2) I live too far away for any of them to visit. I've probably gained 5 pounds and the house is getting to the point of immaculate.
Nine days. If my husband were to be shipped off for combat instead of a work engagement there's no telling what I'd do. I'd probably become super fat and broke.
That said, I'm in awe of military familes. They send their loved ones off to war and keep living life the same way. No extra 5 pounds, no differences in when or how they hang out with friends.
How do they do that?
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