December 26, 2012

What's the motto with you...

I love Christmas.

Only Fall and Football season are as close to the top of my list of favorite times of the year.

And this Christmas we had a lot to celebrate...
Ryan's first Christmas, Jake finished up his classes and will be student teaching in the Spring, Rachel is growing up and turning into a little lady.

I made cookies (even more than last year); we put up additional decorations so the house looks extra special; Jake and I went on our annual Christmas shopping spree together; Rachel asked almost every single day if it was Christmas yet.


For some reason, this year my heart just wasn't into it.

Maybe it was because we missed church almost every Sunday during Advent due to sickness and schedule conflicts and didn't make it to the Christmas Eve service this year (again) because Ryan wasn't feeling well.

Or, maybe it was because we are all tired from months of sleep deprivation and the stress of raising a newborn and an extremely independent/willful two-year-old who refuses to eat or do anything that isn't her idea.

Perhaps it was because in the weeks leading up to Christmas I made a fairly sizable mistake at work- one that caused me to toss and turn and fret and stew for over two weeks before I finally picked up the phone and sobbed out an apology to one of my superiors. But not before being stabbed in the back by a co-worker/friend, which kind of ruined things at work for a few days.

I guess it could have been because I didn't send out Christmas cards or letters this year or because we missed more than one Christmas party that I was looking forward to attending.

The cherry on top of the disappointment was probably how we spent Christmas morning... while everyone else was opening presents and enjoying each other's company we were struggling with Rachel and her refusal to apologize to her daddy, which she had to do before presents could be opened (long story). So, instead of rushing downstairs to open presents in wondrous excitement, Rachel insisted on reading a book while Jake and I watched TV for almost an hour before she finally broke down and agreed to apologize. That kid...not even the prospect of opening presents is reward enough to do something that she does not want to do.

Whatever the reason(s)...I would like a do-over.
I would like another opportunity to teach my children about the real reason for Christmas.
I would like another opportunity to listen to quality Christmas music and feel the excitement of the season in my soul.
I would like another opportunity to take a family Christmas picture that doesn't involve crying or naked dolls.
I would like another opportunity to drive around and look at Christmas lights without getting lost and ending up on the other side of town.
I would like another opportunity to snuggle with my baby boy in his Christmas PJs instead of feeling anxious about guessing whether or not he will sleep for more than 60 minutes at a time.
I would like another opportunity to get my little girl to eat more than just a few bites of bread at both Christmas dinners (why, oh WHY, won't that child EAT?!).

Basically, I would just like to do this whole thing over so in the spirit of being a true Cubs fan (and, apparently a Hawks fan) I will quote my favorite motto....

There is always next year.

December 19, 2012

Happy birthday, sort of...

I'm really disappointed in myself. Here it is...over half-way through December and I haven't written one single post. Plus, my special little guy is over four months old and I have yet to add him to my blog's banner. Oops.

A few weeks ago I turned 33. It wasn't anything too exciting. You know, just another birthday. My co-workers had birthday signs hanging in my office when I arrived and I drank my birthday drink from Starbucks but the fun pretty much ended after that. Don't get me wrong, nothing terrible happened, but it was kind of a disappointing day.

When I started working at this institution I worked in a patient scheduling area and every few weeks we rotated desks so that we could each take a turn at the "busy" desk. In order to accommodate our personal items we each got a small wheeled filing cabinet that we could push around with us as we desk-hopped.

After five years of that I got a secretarial job with a desk. The desk stayed in one place but was located in a reception area. I had my own personal space but I also shared a lot of room with other items that belonged to the department.

My next job moved me from a reception area to my very own cubical in an administrative office. To have so much space was a dream come true. And it was quiet and personal and very nice.

Then, I got my current job. I took this job without seeing where I would be sitting and just about peed my pants in excitement when I saw my new office...with a door and a window! Wow.

But, never does life stand still. Never do things stay the same. Never does a progressive office keep the same number of staff members. And so, on my birthday I was given the news that I pretty much knew was coming....I am getting moved from my office to accommodate new staff members. My new area is a cubicle. It was kind of hard to hear the news, but I completely understand the situation. My supervisor hated to give me the news on my birthday, and not to anyone's surprise, the news made me cry (must I cry at everything?!). But, really I don't think it's going to be that bad (I keep trying to reassure myself of this). The new area will be fully renovated and I will still have access to windows. Plus, I will actually have more desk space than I do now, which will be very much appreciated.

But still...

It kind of stinks that I have to say good-bye to my own little personal space. I love my office. I have it decorated so nicely. And it has a door. I love my door. I use my door a lot. I'm going to miss my door.

In honor of my door I would like to make light of the situation by remembering some of my previous birthdays, which were way worse than this one.

16: When I was a kid, you could get a full-no-rules-completely-real license when one turned 16 (I'm pretty sure they come with strings attached now days, which is probably better anyway). However, when I turned 16 I didn't get my license. My twin brother got his but I did not. A few months before my birthday I drove (illegally, I might add) my boyfriend to his job and wrecked my car on the way back. I wasn't wearing a seat belt and when the car hit a culvert, went air born, and landed on it's side in the ditch I hit the passenger side window out...with my head. So, no, I was not allowed to get my license right away. I had to wait.

16 (again): Wow, in general this birthday probably takes the prize for worst birthday ever. I broke up with my boyfriend (same guy from above) about a week before my birthday, which was really stupid on my part. I wasn't allowed to go on dates that were not group dates until I turned 16 so, duh, I really didn't think that through very well. Even though we were no longer "together" (really, when you're 16 what does that mean?), we decided to go on my first "single date"  anyway and it was a disaster.

18: In high school my friends and I made a big deal out of birthdays; some of the celebrations we had were quite elaborate. But, when I turned 18 my friends decided to think outside the box and try something completely different. They decided to pretend to forget my birthday and didn't say a word to me about it all day. It was devastating. That night I called a friend of mine from another school (I'm sure I was probably crying) and she immediately invited me up to her place to watch movies and celebrate my 18th birthday together. What I didn't know was that my friends were planning to surprise me a few days later by waking me up at the crack of dawn to take me out for breakfast. Those crazy ladies.

21: No joke. I got pulled over on my 21st birthday....for what the police officer thought was drunk driving. was just me trying to reach into my purse and I moved the steering wheel a bit too much to the side when I leaned over. At first the officer was excited to see that he had caught someone in the act but as it became obvious that I was completely sober he shrugged, told me happy birthday, and sent me on my merry way.

28: When I turned 28 Jake happened to be, "Not in a fun birthday mood," as he put it. We went out for dinner but it was snowing really hard so we had to go somewhere close, which happened to be one of the worst restaurants I have ever been to. The food was awful. The company was awful. The ride home was awful. The day in general was just not fun.

30: When I turned 30 I was 8 months pregnant and still suffering from "morning" sickness. Enough said.

So, finding out that I'm going to have to move from my office really wasn't so bad. Plus, what girl wouldn't want to be given a fairly sizable budget and told they can design their new work area using professional-looking materials? Plus, I get to choose my desk first and I pick...the corner one, next to all of the windows!