Ch Ch Ch Changes

When I walk into work tomorrow, my org will officially have a new name. My org is 60 years old, and this will be its 3rd name but I have only known it by its former name for 15 years. I’m anticipating taking cheat sheets to meetings so I get it right.

Tomorrow we also officially launch our new website. This is the first website in 15 years that I have not managed or overseen. 

And in mid-September, we will transition from our home-grown reporting system to a more robust CRM platform.  I didn’t build the home-grown system, but I was responsible for nurturing it over the last 15 years.

I could make all of these changes about me and how it feels a tiny bit like I’m being erased, but that is foolish and myopic. Change happens. It comes whether we want it or not. And it is often bittersweet.

That’s what I leave you with: change is bittersweet, yet inevitable. Maybe it is its inevitability that makes it bittersweet. Change and the march of progress don’t care about feelings or length of time served. They are unsympathetic forces that just happen.

I think that is supposed to make me feel better?

A Bit of Hodge Podge from the Week

Just a random collection of thoughts and experiences this week:

• I walked into the office kitchen today and smelled something foul. At first, I thought it was fish in the microwave again (just say no, people), but it turns out it was almost as bad: creamed spinach. WHY????? Ewwww.  Creamed spinach may be your favorite food ever, but some foods should be kept at home. And yes, I acknowledge that my red wine vinegar and cucumbers might not be the best smell ever in an open office environment, but surely they are infinitely better than fish or creamed spinach!!
• Apparently every church in the area is having a holiday bazaar this weekend.  I’m not sure I’ve ever been to one, and I’m curious if it would be worth my time or crafty hell. Thoughts?
• I’ve been reading Justin Cronin’s The Passage for about 3 weeks now. I started it (finally) the week of Halloween, hoping optimistically that I’d finish it by the holiday. Three weeks later, I’m about 30 pages from the end, and I think there is a sequel. It’s been a long slog. Not a bad one, but long. Can’t decide if I will declare myself done once I finish the book or go for the next one. Vampires (or virals as they are called in the book)!!!
• I avoided the holiday music channels on Sirius XM for 3 days but succumbed today. Stick a fork in me; I’m done. I’ve fallen fully down the holiday rabbit hole. I want to decorate all the things! And my Christmas spirit is at stratospheric highs. I might even break down and watch White Christmas, my least favorite Christmas movie for complicated reasons.
• Jimmy’s thumb is healing well, but we are babying it and keeping it bandaged since the thumb is, well, integral to a lot. Jimmy empathizes with chimps and other animals without thumbs.
• We swear Daniel is taller. He seems sooooooo tall and taller than a few days ago. We think he’s going to be tall like my dad (6’7″) and grandfather (6’6″).
• The Internet Summit happened in town this week, and I missed it. I have attended almost every year, but this year it just didn’t work out.  Steve Wozniak was a keynote, and I hate I missed that.
• We usually write notes to Daniel each night for him to find. This morning, I asked him to write a note to his daddy, and he wrote “Mommy and me love you.” Melt. He has learned soooo much! So proud of that little man.
• Thank goodness tomorrow is Friday.
• Jimmy and I are both counting down to our last working days of the year. We need a nice, long break.

How was your week?

What I Did At School Today

Today was my rescheduled time to talk to Daniel’s class about my job. You might remember that my scheduled time last week was postponed due to vomitapalooza (my car still remembers and so do I when the air is just right).  Unfortunately, today didn’t start off well because there was a wreck on the interstate that caused major traffic issues.  Daniel and I were in the car for an hour and arrived 20 minutes late.

The teachers graciously let me have a few minutes, and I sat down in a minuscule chair with my props.  I had decided to focus more on what my organization does (works with manufacturers) and then talk a teeny tiny bit about what I do (market research & playing with data), capped off with Krispy Kreme doughnut holes…made in NC you know!

I started off by showing some of the products made in North Carolina I thought they might recognize: a can of Campbell soup (they don’t like tomato soup based on the chorus of “ewwwws” the can received), a hat with Cheerwine on it, deodorant, and last but not least a model of a school bus (Thomas Built Buses are made in the Triad).  Then I explained that my job was to talk to manufacturers and pass along that information to my coworkers so they could help them better. I figured that sounded better than “I stare at my monitor all day while I crunch data and attend a billion meetings.”

The teachers guided questions about what my hours were like, what I studied in college to do my job, who I work with, etc., but the kids’ questions were priceless as I had been warned.

One little girl asked my favorite question:

Do you get to eat candy at work?

She was on a candy kick, apparently, because her next few questions and comments all revolved around whether candy was available and how much of it she would eat!

Another little girl was very interested in where I eat lunch and whether I like the band that plays at the university’s sporting events.  A different little girl asked how old you had to be to work where I do.

The children, all 4 and 5-year-olds, were mostly well behaved and adorable.  They also had the attention span I expected them to have and made me laugh a lot.

There wasn’t time for me to give them the doughnut holes then, but I left them with the teachers for them to have after lunch.  I was thrilled to find a sweet card from the class in Daniel’s backpack today.

Card from D’s Pre-K Class

I hope my talk was a bit interesting.  At the very least, maybe I left them with an idea that we still make things in North Carolina. Daniel wouldn’t leave my side the entire time I was in his class, and I hope he was proud of me.

Who knew that speaking to a Pre-K class would be as nerve-wracking as it was?

***

PS Thank you all for the support on my wreck and the humiliation I felt (and still feel a bit). While I wish none of us suffered from this fear or have had similar situations, I’m glad to know I’m not alone. I’m going to start chanting, “You’re human. You’re human. Mistakes are a part of life.” I’m truly grateful for your support and commiseration.

My Awful, No Good, Horrible Day

Sometimes you have a bad feeling about the day ahead from the get-go. That’s how I felt about today. I don’t know if it were because I had another day of meetings, meaning there would be little productivity or because it was Tuesday (because the theory at work is that Tuesdays Suck) or because I had to head to Main Campus for a meeting, which always results in logistical nightmares (I work for a university). I even said to a coworker before leaving for the meeting on Main Campus that I had a bad feeling about it.

I decided to drive to the meeting despite the construction snafus because I couldn’t figure out which bus to take and time was running out. The meeting itself went well, and I felt greatly reassured that we had managed to find the closest permitted parking area easily and found the building in which our meeting was to be held with ease. We were even early!

The drama didn’t happen until we were almost out of the parking garage. I don’t even know how to explain it. I was getting ready to turn right. Another car was getting ready to turn left. I tried to brake but my brain froze, and I ended up hitting the gas instead of the brake. Several times. I hit the other car (a Mini Cooper!), spun it around and drove into a pylon in the parking deck.

I was mortified. Shocked. Stunned. How did this happen? Fortunately, my speed was probably only a few MPH, so the damage could have been a lot worse.  My Honda Pilot had cosmetic damage and the Mini Cooper had a bit more but was considered drivable by the police. More importantly, no one was injured. We were all shaken up, but no one had any injuries. Heck, my air bag hadn’t even deployed.

We spent an hour in the parking deck while campus police documented everything. I freely admitted fault, and I felt horrible. I wished I had been alone in the car because at least then my humiliation could have been witnessed by only myself (and of course the poor car I hit).  Oh and the many, many cars whose inhabitants gaped at us as they drove by.

I held it together pretty well until the end. When I was talking to the police officer, I started to cry. Also, how do police academies manage to cultivate the skill in which you feel like a criminal regardless of what happened when you are talking to an officer? Once we were free to go, I dropped off my coworker, sat in the parking lot and cried, and called it a day.

I feel like I overreacted, but I’ve always been like this.  If I do anything “wrong” or “stupid,” I feel awful. Terrible. I practically get out the hair shirt and whip. Is that a normal response? Why can’t I just say, “I screwed up. It happens. It was an accident” and move on? I’ve always felt pressure to be a good girl and to do the right thing. Any deviation from that – any at all – and I am nauseous and self-loathing. And it’s fear. Fear of messing up. Fear of doing anything wrong. Fear of being seen as less competent and therefore, less worthy. Am I weird or is this a feeling many (if not all) women can identify with?

Meanwhile, Daniel, when he heard about the wreck said, “I will ROARRRRR at the other car.”

Inhale. Exhale. I know I’ll feel better tomorrow (especially once the scene stops replaying in my head), but I feel fairly shitty tonight. And I hate that. How can I feel able to take a risk or make a mistake if my reaction to any repercussions is so out of proportion?

So yeah, Tuesdays suck However, I can recommend the Honda Pilot if you are looking for a car that will do well in a wreck.

While the wreck isn’t funny, I have to share this picture.  It gave me a much-needed giggle. My front license plate is the flag of Scotland. The Mini Cooper displays the Union Jack. If you know anything about British history, you will understand why this picture is the tiniest bit amusing.

Scene of the crime

 

Unexpected Sick Day

Sweet Boy resting

Today did not go at all like I thought it would. I had prepared to give a somewhat engaging presentation (culminating in doughnuts for bribery) on what I do at work for Daniel’s class, expecting that I would be at work by 9 and at my favorite Pho dealer by 11:30 to quench the craving I had based on watching too many episodes of No Reservations. Instead, I spent the day at home.

I was making coffee and getting breakfast together this morning when I heard Jimmy yell, “KEANNE! Get in here!” I ran in to find that Daniel had thrown up a bit on my side of the bed (always the favorite for cats and kids alike) and was bent over the toilet coughing. OK, one incident of throwing up when he had been coughing earlier that morning was not reason to panic or change plans. He threw up again about 10 minutes later. OK, it is practically clear; again, maybe it is mucous.

I was determined to keep to our routine because I am mission-oriented in the morning, so I thought happy thoughts, and we bundled Daniel into the car and we set off. About 5 minutes later, he threw up all over himself, and I turned around, asking Jimmy to email his teacher.

Our poor, sweet boy looked pale and lethargic, yet tried to play. About every 30 minutes, he threw up until around lunchtime when whatever was agitating his tummy left and he was ravenous.  We kept meals very light and thankfully, everything stayed down.  I knew he was feeling better when he refused to attempt to nap at quiet time and instead played “quietly” in his room. Oy.

Sometimes I stress about missing work, but today, I was OK about it. I had been talking with coworkers yesterday about how we were ready for the holidays and here I was barely into the working week and already needing a sick day to take care of a sick child when I was going to be out the rest of the week at a local conference and out on Friday because of a teacher workday. And I regretted not a moment. Yes, I answered the occasional email that needed my attention, but for the most part, I was off the grid. I was thinking of items to tempt a delicate palate (yes, we did go through half a pack of applesauce). We watched a billion episodes of No Reservations because Daniel asked to watch “Anthony Bourdain” and how can we refuse such quality television?

Most of all, we thought of today as an extension of our weekend.  I washed more laundry, did dishes and straightened up, but the pace felt slower and more manageable than during the weekend when there is so much pressure to get everything done ASAP.  It was pleasant being able to do those tasks at my leisure (who am I?).

We cuddled. We did chores. We watched a billion episodes of No Reservations. We cleaned dry erase marker off of Daniel because it amused him to draw on himself.

Sometimes, you get what you need, even if it is not what you want or expected.

Lame-O, NaBloPoMo Post

I admit it: this post is being published only to fulfill the requirements of NaBloPoMo. Everyone likely has one post like that, right?

I’m home. Back in Raleigh. On terra firma and with my luggage, which earlier in the evening seemed unlikely (the luggage, not the terra firma part). Another series of very full flights and by the time I had raced through the Atlanta airport after my flight from Nashville landed (which looked like a lovely airport by the way), making it to my gate just in time to board, I was feeling a bit punchy and irritated at those passengers who tried to cram large carry-ons into the overhead compartments, holding up the line.

They had the last laugh because luggage shifted during the flight to Raleigh, causing the hatch door to be stuck. No one could get it open, which meant the rest of us poor suckers who had checked our luggage were left to cool our heels at baggage claim for an hour.  Eventually, Delta Baggage Services told us that the crew was going to have to remove seats in order to get to the luggage and our choices were to wait for who knew how long, come back later or have the luggage shipped. I chose to leave, thinking the only thing I really needed was contact lens solution, and I could buy that easily.

Just as the exit door opened, several passengers yelled for me to return, saying that the crew had gotten the door open and our luggage would be here soon.  Another 15 minutes passed before our precious bags emerged from the bowels of the baggage claim area. I claimed mine with a good deal of ferocity and stalked off. I knew it had been a long shot because of the time my plane had landed, but I had hoped to be able to make it home to kiss Daniel good night.  Instead, he’s snoozing well and we’re finishing up a few tasks that need to be done for tomorrow.

So to my fellow passengers with checked bags, I apologize for jinxing us.

It wasn’t completely awful. My seat mates were a father and his 4-year-old little girl on their way to visit grandparents.  The little girl kept us entertained in the baggage claim and hugged me several times.  She offered me one of her chocolate cookies, and when I told her thanks but no thanks because I don’t like chocolate, she looked at me curiously and asked, “why do you not like chocolate?”  It was just like how Daniel would have asked it.

Back to work tomorrow, but I am so looking forward to being the first face Daniel sees tomorrow and giving him a huge bear hug.

It’s good to be home.

Dispatches from the Road

I forgot that Nashville is on Central Time, so my old bones feel like it is two hours later than it is. Both flights were smooth but full, and there is nothing like flying to remind me how much I dislike flying. Airborne containers of misery and over-crowding. But the 6-inches of seat I was allotted was mitigated by the 10 tiny pretzels I received. They really should change the name of the class from “economy” to “miserly.”

My hotel is in the heart of downtown Nashville (I think). It is connected to the convention center where the conference is, and my room overlooks the Predators’ arena. My room is nice too: a king-sized bed all to myself and a huge bathroom. It’s a standard hotel room, but it seems a lot grander. Oh la la!

I had dinner by myself. When we travel for work, Jimmy and I have a rule that we eat well or at least eat what we want. This meal was pretty much all of my meals for the day, so that assuaged a little guilt about having an appetizer and entree!

The news from the home front is that everyone is behaving well and cooperating.

So ends Day 1 in Nashville. The conference kicks off at 8 AM tomorrow and country music’s best and brightest are pouring into the city for the CMA Awards. I hope Nashville’s ready for us.

Routine Change

Ready to go!

This week has been L-O-N-G, primarily because we had a major change in our daily routine this week.  Daniel said goodbye to his classmates at day care last Friday and started Pre-K at a small Catholic school on Wednesday.  We had toured the school in late spring in order to decide if we liked it for Kindergarten in 2014. During the tour, the principal told us that they still had spaces available in their Pre-K class and that attending Pre-K guaranteed a spot in Kindergarten.  We hadn’t planned on Pre-K at this school since Daniel’s day care incorporates Pre-K lessons into the two classrooms for the 4-year-olds (and it’s not like he hadn’t been learning anything in the younger classes).  We really liked the school, though, and Jimmy had attended it through 8th grade, so we decided to go ahead and give Pre-K a try.

We had a lot to do to get ready for the first day, including buying a new full-size backpack, a new lunch box and uniforms.  Uniforms.  Yeah. The school has a strict policy on what is worn when.  Shorts and a short-sleeved shirt for the 1st and 4th 9 weeks.  Pants and a short- or long-sleeved polo for the 2nd and 3rd nine weeks.  There is also a specific uniform for PE.  There are also new routines to learn.  Daniel’s Pre-K teacher requires the parents to provide a fruit or veggie snack for the mornings along with lunch. Since the Pre-K kids are low on the totem pole, they eat lunch at 10:45, so I’m packing less food for lunch than I did for day care, especially since they eat snack at 9.  Whew!

The biggest change in our routine has been the morning routine. School starts at 8, and we can walk them to their class at 7:40.  We need to leave the house at 7 to make sure we can make it in time because traffic can be difficult.  I wake up Daniel at 6:15 so he can eat, get dressed in his uniform (soooo cute!) and play while I finish getting dressed.  That means that I get up at 5-ish to make sure I’m finished washing my face, brushing teeth, putting on make-up and putting in my contacts by the time I need to wake up Daniel. That makes for very busy mornings! You might wonder what the big deal is; after all, don’t I seem to be awake and active on Twitter at that time anyway?  It turns out there is a huge difference between being awake and lounging in my cozy bed and having to be up and active at 5!

Daniel and I are wiped in the evenings.  He’s been asleep by 8, and I’m trying to get to bed no later than 10. I am really looking forward to being able to sleep until the late hour of 7 AM tomorrow!  I’m sure it will get better next week as we adjust, and maybe we won’t have to get up as early once we feel confident about what morning traffic will be like.

Daniel seems to like his new school so far.  He really likes his teachers, and I like that his class is small.  Since I’m getting to work so much earlier, I can leave earlier, and it is such a nice change to be home by 5:30 instead of after 6 like it had been.   His school is close to where Jimmy and I work, and we like knowing we can be there in 10 minutes.

So far, so good! I’ll have more to say about his new school next week.

Other Items of (Possible) Interest

• I wrote a guest post on our surrogacy experience for Bloggers for Hope this week.
• Christina Hoff Sommers published a piece in Time this week on how school has become hostile to boys. This is something I worry about a lot as mom to a boy.
• Kristen Howerton of Rage Against the Minivan had an amazing, spot-on post about “the problematic privilege of being anti-vaccine.”  There have been so many news items lately about measles and polio outbreaks often due to a lack of vaccination, and it enrages me. Why have we become so anti-science? Why have we decided that we have the right to make decisions on a micro level that have huge macro-level implications?
• I’m still seething about Carolyn Castiglia’s inflammatory and cruel post on Babble last week about whether we should be sympathetic to the fertility struggles of 42-year-old

The Converse of Being Cassandra

Late Wednesday afternoon, I had the follow-up meeting for the Tuesday meeting that prompted my post that day.  I was dreading it, frankly, because it was coming at the end of a day full of meetings that would have the miniature of Munch’s The Scream that resides in my brain, well, screaming all day.

To my relief (and surprise), the meeting went well.  I laid out my case. I advocated. I espoused. I had support from other coworkers. I also may have been a tad too fearless in a few things I said.

But as we left the meeting, it appeared that my point of view had won the day.  I forgot how it feels when you are listened to, when  you win a debate: you feel like a fucking rock star.  I walked out of the building exhilarated, pleased and relieved. I know that winning a debate does not guarantee the changes I want, but it was wonderful to feel like logic and reason had won the day.

The sad part is that within 20 minutes of the end of the meeting, I was worrying that maybe I had been too strong. Maybe I shouldn’t have said one or two things. Sometimes the problem with being a truth teller is that you don’t know when to shut up. A nice girl wouldn’t act that way. A good employee would be more diplomatic.

I also fear that it wasn’t fact and reason but emotion that won the day. Does that matter? A victory is a victory, right? Well, I prefer to have people come around to my way of thinking because it’s the right thing to do, not because they want to appease me. I want my coworkers to understand that I take the stands I do for the good of the organization, not because it’s what KeAnne wants to do.

I received some great advice to my last post. I’m going to try harder to pick my battles. But what do you do when everything is a battle?

Cassandra Syndrome

I have a reputation at work: the truth teller. If I were Native American, I might be called “she-who-reveals-the-elephant-in-the-room.” I think that this reputation, this quality is perceived positively, and I’m expected to speak up and say what others are thinking but won’t say.

I worry about it, though. I worry that I’m speaking too much, too loudly. My voice is too strident. I’m too forceful. I worry that coworkers are secretly rolling their eyes at me and exchanging glances. I worry the prevailing thought is, “There goes KeAnne on her soap box again.”

I wish I could be silent. I wish I could wait until I was asked my opinion, but I can’t. The words bubble up inside me and practically explode from my mouth, spewing over everyone.  I’m compelled to say what I’m thinking. I go to a lot of meetings and in each one, I tell myself I’m going to sit and be quiet. Detach.  Be thoughtful. Pensive.

And then I wonder if I feel that way because I’m a woman. If I would feel differently if I were a man.

The downside of being a truth teller is frustration when you tell the truth, and it is ignored. I’ve always identified with Cassandra, able to predict the future and tell truths but cursed to be ignored. Cassandra watched her world fall apart around her because no one believed her predictions about the destruction of Troy.

I have no psychic ability (to my disappointment), nor am I dealing with events as catastrophic as the ones Cassandra did, but I am very, very frustrated. I find myself explaining situations, answering questions, providing information, predicting outcomes over and over and over, and it is like I am shouting into the wind. My words spin away into nothingness, never to find their target.  And the more frustrated I become, the more strident and aggressive and let’s face it, unfeminine I feel.

I feel like a traitor writing that when we’re being urged to lean in, speak up and not opt out. I want to be respected for my work and the contributions I make, the thoughts and opinions I have. I want to be a leader, a go-to person. I do not want to be a loud-mouthed bitch.

But right now, like Cassandra, I feel out of control over how I and my message are received.