Trick or Treat...Get away from my door

My husband and I decided not to give out candy this year for Halloween.

We're not candy scrooges, we just knew we wouldn't be home until 6:30 which meant that we'd only be available for 30 minutes of candy time. It hardly seemed worth the expense of buying the candy.

To ward of kids and, potentially, their parents, we kept the lights off in the front of the house. We did, however, keep them on in the back of the house.

The lights off approach didn't stop a handful of kids from ringing our bell. The first few sets of kids were met with a still-in-work-clothes version of me where I, in the nicest way possible, let the kids know that we weren't handing out candy and that's why we left the lights off. After about the third or fourth go-round I was getting annoyed.

What in the hell are these kids learning from the parents in terms of etiquette. If the damn light isn't on that means don't come to the door. It's that simple.

I'm already formulating a plan for next year:I'm going to sit on my porch as a witch and scare the living daylights out of these kids that approach the door. That'll teach 'em.

Erin's new toy

Yesterday I received an iPod Nano as a gift and I gotta say: I LOVE it.

I had been using my Shuffle (it was the stick kind if you want to know how old it is) during workouts and vowed I wouldn't buy a new mp3 player until this one died.

Luckily for me, death wasn't in the cards.

The Nano was a great addition (read: inspiration) to my workout. Now if I want to switch from my Hip Hop playlist to the Pole playlist, I can in the twirl of a whatchamacallit. Feel like a run? Simple click on over to my "go for a run" playlist.

Someday soon I'll have to post my playlists. For now, I just wanna jam...

Yet another reason why I love my pole dancing class

I'm dressing as Britney Spears for a Halloween party I'm going to tonight. The plan was to find a pair of my snug (read, skinny) jeans and fall out of them (attractive sounding, I know but this isn't the pretty Britney we're talking about here).

I pull on my jeans, zip them up and walk around.

Wait.

I zipped them up and walked around. I didn't groan at their tightness, instead, I made it to the full length mirror to take a look.

Wow. My skinny jeans fit.

This is mostly due to my pole dancing class. I know this to be true because I've been doing a horrible job of working out in any other form lately.

Bring on the pole I say. If I can do this in one month, GOD HELP my body on what it will look like in three or four....

8.5 things I wish I knew about myself

I took today off as a personal day. It was delightful. I bought the wig for my Halloween costume (I'm going as Britney Spears); worked out; and went to the bookstore to do more market research on Brand Erin.

I love bookstores. The smell of fresh drip coffee perculating while I scan the shelves gets me in a tizzy. I'm an information whore and bookstores are my street corner.

Books have always been a safe haven for me: I can get lost in them, create a new persona from them and learn more about myself in the mean time.

Today's visit got me thinking: What don't I know about myself?

8. Why does my left eye drift to people's shoulders? Many people ask me why I'm looking at their shoulder when we talk and I tell them "Um, I don't know."

7. Why does my body seem hell-bent on knocking me down? I'm pole dancing once a week and trying to work out on the treadmill and bike through the rest of the week. Unfortunately, whenever I reach a point where I'm doing better, my body decides to crumble and knock me off track.

6. When will I die? I know, a lot of people want to know this about themselves. A morbid truth about me is that I sense that I'm going to die young. Not tomorrow or anything but before anyone expects me to. It will be some disease that takes my life, not some random act of stupidity.

1/2. Why do I possess this morbid curiosity? Do I worry that no one will miss me or is it my own way of making sure I live life to the fullest?

5. Why can't I accept silence? It's golden, I know. I like platinum.

4. Can anyone see me picking at my head? I swear, I have that disease that makes you pull out your hair. It's awful. It doesn't hurt when I pull my hair but I'm sure it makes me look like a nut job to those around me.

3. Do my pole dancing bruises look like beating marks? This week's bruises are on the insides of my upper arms. Last week's were on my wrists. To those who don't know I'm taking a pole dancing class, it might look like I'm being beaten. If only people knew the truth: I'm the kickboxer in our house.

2. Does my husband's ex really like me or is she just putting on a show? We're cordial and look like buddies out in public. We get along, but we're women so we're naturally catty. There's been a bit of bad blood between us at times but we tend to get along.....or do we?

1. What do outsiders think of my marriage? I don't normally care what most people think about me, but this one carries a little bit of weight. I love my husband with reckless abandon. He drives me up the wall sometimes, but he's always the first and last thing I think about. He's the Yin to my Yang and he's helped me uncover a lot about myself. We don't always hold hands and we don't always look longingly at each other, but when we're out together, do people look at us and think "What a lovely/unique/great couple"? I want them to...because we are.

Warning to college journalism majors

Take my advice: Don't get a journalism degree.

I have one; I earned it back in 1998 when the Internet was gaining steam. If only I could whisper back to my 1994 self and tell her: "Pssst. Erin, go into Information Systems or Political Science. Be like that Markos Moulitsas guy you went to school with. He's on to something."

Why the advice?

Because journalism is glamourized. For every Woodward or Bernstein, there are at least 75 reporters who went into journalism because they wanted to be just like these two guys.

It's a dirty truth no journalist likes to admit: nearly everyone can do the job of a journalist. And apparently the Department of Labor and the rest of the world has picked up on this.

From one of the blogs I subscribe to, Time's Work in Progress blog, which cites a recent Forbes.com piece:

While current events will always need to be covered (we hope), the number of
reporting positions is expected to grow by just 5% in the coming decade, the
Labor Department says. Most jobs will be in small (read: low-paying) markets.

Yet another reason to check my resume for keywords and make sure my network includes a few online media folks, computer programmers and healthcare workers.

Bullied

We’ve got a bully situation going on in our house. A girl my stepdaughter goes to school with, a supposed friend, has been making her life miserable.

She’s calling her names and trying to pit the other girls against her. She’s tough, but my stepdaughter is stronger. Except she doesn’t know it yet.

My husband and I are launching a parental offensive: we’ve talked to the school, who as it turns out talked to the girls and the mean girl knows it was my stepdaughter who “tattled.”

Back to the drawing board. As parents it’s one of the hardest things to watch your children go through. You have to give them the space to learn to defend themselves while not leaving them open for an attack.

Observing my stepdaughter takes me back to my junior high years. I was a chubby girl and the kids used to make cracks at my size. Like most overweight girls, I learned how to kill ‘em with kindness and a sense of humor.

So begins a second round of bullying except this time I’m the adviser instead of the advisee.

Brand Erin

Illinois Stock Exchange -- Erin Hallstrom Erickson is pleased to announce its stock (symbol: EHE) has risen dramatically in the last few weeks. Citing improved outlooks and increased margins, the CEO is ecstatic with the stock's progress.

Certain events have prompted me to partake in a lot of self-evaluation as of late. What do I stand for? What do I want to do? What am I good at? Many Myers-Briggs tests and friendly e-mails later, I've firmly established that I'm organized, detail-oriented, personable and a jack-of-all-trades/go-to type girl.

I've basically been conducting my very own market research on Brand Erin.

The market research coincides with a piece of advice my mom often gives me: invest in yourself.
When I was in college, and so depressed suicide seemed reasonable, my mom would bring me back down to reality by telling me to make a list of things that would make me happy. Reading, travel, jewelry-making, manicures, whatever it was that would put a smile on my face I should do it. "It's an investment in you" she'd say.

She was right. Those seemingly small ticket items were an investment in Brand Erin. The $25 I paid to get my nails done on occasion made an impact on my self-esteem. It sounds pathetic but it helped.

Fast forward to 2007. After a crazy, tumultuous summer with dividends at a record low, I needed to boost my stock. My personal brand needed a make-over and I didn't have a fancy image consultant to advise me.

So I turned to Mom's advice: Invest in yourself.

It didn't take long for me start reinvesting: I paid a visit to my local tattoo shop where I had the Chinese symbol for Strength tattooed onto my lower back. As if that weren't enough heathenism for one week, I also ventured over to my local pole dancing studio and signed up for a class. I was strong and sexy and that was just the first week.

A week or so later I made it up to the hair salon and got blonde highlights and a fabulous chin-length bob. I'd dropped about $350 by this point but the return on investment was highly visible. I walked a little taller and a little sexier; I had edge and confidence.

My brand didn't undergo a complete make-over; I still have confidence issues along with crow's feet and 45 extra pounds hanging around, but the investment worked. I'm the next generation of Erin.

Meet 'Go-To Girl'

See that little Go-To Girl element over there? Yeah, the cute pink thing on the left. That's me or at least it's planned to be the culmination of two other blogs I write.

"Erin, why this change?" you ask? Because I was struggling to update the two other blogs regularly and they were seemingly related in content. Also because my other name at work and at home is Go-To Girl. Really. People introduce me that way at work. This is Erin...she's our Go-To Girl.

The plan is to set the blog up in a Q/A type format. I'll eventually migrate the content from The Daily Product and The Good Girl's Guide... over to Go-To Girl, just not all in one day. A girl's gotta pole dance y'know.

I've pimped out the site with an RSS feed and some del.iciou.is, digg, stumble and other various tags so check it out, add a feed and delete your feeds for The Daily Product and a Good Girl's Guide.

I don't know what this new site will lead to but my horoscope seems to back me up:

Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18). Today is an 8. Start new endeavors. Plan a big trip. This is the best day for beginnings that you'll get for a while.

If Mercedes Lane is doing it, it must be cool

I was elated to read on People.com this news bit about Heather Graham; she's added pole dancing into her workout routine.

Her boyfriend professes to love it saying that he's "not going to complain."

Her boyfriend and my husband would be in agreement: ask not why your girl is pole dancing; ask what your pole dancing girl can do for you.

Changes...Meet the updated blog

Recently my husband and I saw a commercial: it showed a man in his 30s standing outside the nursery of a hospital's labor and delivery floor. The man is clearly overjoyed by his newborn. Standing next to him is an older man in his late 50s. The older man is talking about the joy the day has brought and how the younger man should cherish all of the things he's about to live through. At the end of the commercial you find out that the older man is the older version of the younger man; he's doling out advice about where life takes you.

After the commercial, I said to my husband I wish I could meet my 50-something self even if just for a few minutes. I wish I could ask her if I do wind up getting pregnant again and having a baby. I wish I could ask her I find a job I feel really passionate about. I wish I could ask her if I do that "thing" that I become famous for even if the fame is only in my inner circle.

My husband said that he wouldn't want to meet his older self. To him, life is like that song "Unwritten," and every day is a new page. Life is learning what happens on the next page. He's not normally this philosophical but he was dead on.

Fast forward to Wednesday when I'd met with my boss to tell him how unhappy I was being his "print only" person. I want to do online media I said; I feel like I'm bigger and destined for more than what I'm doing. He said he knew the feeling and would do what I needed to help me find that next step.

He asked me what it was I wanted to do. I told him I wasn't sure but I knew it would be in online media. I rattled on about my positive traits: I'm organized, I'm detail-oriented, I'm a people person, I'm your basic ENFJ. He told me maybe I should take a risk and go into sales. I've never thought about myself that way but he's right, I might not be bad at it. (well, there is that math thing...).

I left the meeting feeling less confident than when I went in. It wasn't that he'd stripped me of a goal in fact it was the complete opposite. I felt like I was standing on on the edge of something big. I could be just about anything I wanted; I just had to figure out what I wanted.

I came home and alluded to my husband about the conversation. Conversations like this are always interesting with my husband -- he's jumped the hurdle from good to great. He's an award-winning, highly coveted person in the tech field. He's the bee's knees of .net development. I knew I could mention that I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life, but I also knew he'd say stick with what I know and don't take anything less (money or insurance-wise) than what I have now.

I realized, after looking at my husband and at my life lately, that I'm standing on the cusp of something great. Maybe I'll find a job that suits me perfectly; maybe I'll have a baby and will feel content to just be mom; maybe I'll..... who knows.

Hence the blog change. I'll continue to write about being a stepparent and a second wife; about my resolve finish a triathlon and about my adventures in pole dancing...

Stick around for a ringside seat on my ascent -- or descent -- into life's next change.

me + math = disaster

When kids ask that age old school question "When will I ever use this again?" Someone should respond back to them: "When you become a parent, that's when."

Don't believe me? On Monday evening, my stepdaughter and I set out to solve a challenging problem:

If Esteban is 18 and his brother is 3 years younger than two times his age and his sister is four years younger than 5 times his age, how many years old are Huey, Duey and Louie?

Yeah, I didn't know either. I think it was a trick question.

There's a running joke among most editors: I went into journalism because I hate math. That's an absolute truth for me: I hate math; I like words.

My math skills, or lack thereof, haven't harmed me that much during my life. Sure I didn't do that great during college math and when it comes to fact checking statistics in articles I struggle, but I manage. I thought I was in the clear...that is until I became a stepmom.

In becoming a stepmom, I went from the homework doer to the homework adviser. I knew my children, step or not, would be in good shape when it came to doing language art assignments. After all, that's my specialty. But I never thought I'd be the only parent home during an algebra assignment.

I panicked and tried to rack my brain to remember how to solve for x. Do I add or subtract from both sides? Does the x go inside our outside the parentheses? I don't remember!

I'd much rather edit the word problem than solve it. And then there's my stepdaughter's priceless response to her last question: If Sally has $1075 broken into two rolls of quarter and dimes and nickles how many pennies does she have?

Ana's reaction?: Who cares! Sally can shove the quarters up her butt for all I care!!!!

Spoken like a true smart ass

Dance: 10; Looks 3

It has been a little over a month since I declared my intention to train for a triathlon. In that month, I've done precisely 4 work outs -- 5 if you count the 5k -- that have anything remotely to do with a triathlon. All of my other excercise has been related to dance.

Perhaps I need to redefine my goal. Instead of attempting a triathlon, maybe I should shoot for a more realistic goal -- like dancing in a club.

I really, really need to kick my rear into gear.

Part of my reason for training for a triathlon was so I would committ to something that would have getting into shape as a side effect. I yearn for the svelte, sexy body I had in my mid-20s; when I could easily fit into a size 10 and had shoulders that could cut glass.

Thanks to the pole dancing class, I think my shoulders are starting to look a little edgier. I think they look strong and sexy and I find myself walking around the house in my sport bra and a tank top just to show them off to my very fit husband.

Now if I could just get the rest of my body to fall into shape like that. The problem? I have no strength in my mid-section, which makes running and biking more difficult to endure. Also difficult is the fact that I have crappy lungs and running and swimming wind me pretty quickly.

But give up I won't. I'll use these new rock-hard pipes to propel me through the water, working on my agility and my breathing; next, the treadmill to build up my endurance; by spring, I should be ready to get my 10 speed on. world....watch out.

It’s Raining…It’s Pouring….It’s a Stepmom Shower

I’m hopping on the official bandwagon of my blogger buddy Izzy Rose who has written a brilliant post about throwing a “Stepmom Shower.”

When a pregnant woman is due to deliver, her friends and/or family throw a shower to provide her with items she’ll need in the house to welcome baby. Even women who adopt are often thrown a shower. If the ladies can do this for a new mom-to-be, why not a stepmom-to-be?

Ladies, hop on over to Izzy’s blog and register your thoughts…..Let’s start a revolution.

Wiggling out of awkward work situations

Ever experienced a shoe fart? How about needing to remove an article of annoying and unnecessary clothing and then sneaking it back to your desk?

I have and I've dared to write about it here. Enjoy! Comment! Share your awkwardness!

Has marriage and stepmotherhood helped my career?

I wonder what kind of employee I would have evolved into had I never gotten married or didn't have stepchildren.

I know what kind of employee I was -- a little obnoxious and self-centered and lacking in business sense. But marriage and all that came with it seemed to have changed a lot of that.

How so?

Well, for those who don't know my husband, he's a debater -- somewhat would say a master debater (insert joke here....go ahead, you know you want to). He'll take the path of most resistance, with me only, just to get debating exercise. He does it because he's smart and educated and because you can't really debate your boss too much without getting fired.

His passion for debate has taught me a thing or two about preparing a logical argument. Where you might hear "Because I'm the wife, that's why..." in some households, you will never hear it in ours. If I'm arguing a point, I'll use facts and logic to back it up, not an excuse.

I've found these debating exercises have helped me at work. Where I'd love to use "But, I'm overworked..." with my boss, I realize the debate will fall on deaf ears unless I say "I'd really appreciate the chance; however, I've got other priority items that have consumed my time. I'd be happy to re-prioritize if you feel that's necessary."

I've also found a distinct correlation between my stepmotherhood and my work. I'm a managing editor for a publishing company which means a) There's a publisher and an editorial director that are in charge that don't always agree and b) I'm the go-to person for the rest of the staff. I fulfill the "mom" role when the editorial director (dad) isn't around.

Stepmotherhood has helped my career because it's taught me that my opinion, while legitimate, doesn't always factor in the grand scheme of things. It's helped me deal with conflicts at work and it's helped me develop perspective.

While my husband, boss and coworkers may not all jump up and yell "Erin's the best coworker in the world!" (I do have my days) I think both sides would agree, I'm similar in both areas of my life.

I'm interested to know if anyone else feels this way about their career and (step)motherhood?

Confessions of a pole kitten: My first official pole dancing class

Many of the Erin Experiment readers have commended my choice to enroll in a pole dancing class. My advice? Find a local dance studio near you and get on that pole!

Still not sure you want to do it? Keep reading the blog and I'll fill you in on how my experience is going. You know I won't sugarcoat it for you, but I will sure has heck try to get you to take a class. Why do I want you to take the class? Because it will make you feel confident and sexy and it's a great workout.

And man....is it a workout. There's a (pole) dancer's adage that says "you never see a fat pole dancer" and I understand why. You flex, you gyrate, you spin and you pull; oh boy do you pull. I pulled my body weight around that pole so many times my shoulders felt like they were screaming.

I'm hoping in the weeks to come the pole dancing/pilates workout will be the perfect complement to my triathlon training; which has already detoured from running to swimming because of a pulled glute muscle from last week's 5K.

ah yes....my old, chubby body is in for an awakening these next few months

Does it take a bio mom to know this stuff?

There seems to be a trend among my fellow stepmom blog friends and their nearly 6-year old stepchildren: all of them seem to be exhibiting behavior problems.

For my friend AliceNelson (great blog name, wish I would have thought of it!), her nearly 6-year-old is throwing tantrums left and right.

For me, my nearly 6-year-old stepson has gotten in the habit of hitting people at school.

I know in my case, my husband, his ex and I have talked to the little guy; we've tried to figure out why he's hitting; we've encouraged him to use words rather than actions. Our tries seem to have worked a little, he's managed to reduce his hitting to one or two times a week.

But the question I would like to have answered is...is it a stepmom thing to not be able to get the reasoning behind the behavior? I read somewhere on iVillage that stepparents can have the tendency to be harsher on their stepchildren because they didn't have the opportunity to know the child since birth.

While that could be true, I wonder if there is something to the bio-mom/step-mom thing for understanding the behavior?

You never know who will be reading

I received a wonderful e-mail today from the instructor and owner of Tease Workout, the Naperville dance studio where I'm signed up to take my pole dancing classes.

I could be wrong, but I think she'd picked up the link to my blog(s) because they are part of my email signature (that and the url to my LinkedIn Profile). I'd e-mailed her a few times so they were bound to be in there.

While I've raved about her studio to anyone and everyone via email, blog or in personal conversation, I've also embedded several links to her site within my own blogversations.

What's my point? It was cool to get an e-mail from the owner of a business or event you've been raving about; it's even cooler that they like your blog.

So ladies, go ahead, link like crazy to the people, places and things that make your heart sing. You never know who will be reading.