Gone But Not Forgotten

Everyone - no matter their age, gender, sexuality, status, color - has met someone who has had a major impact on their life.  Sometimes, that impact can be a negative one.  Sometimes, many times, that impact is a positive one.  I have had both in my life.  I have had the unfortunate experience of meeting - and dating - someone who single-handedly changed the direction of my life.  His character, his words, his actions led me to believe I was a nobody, I wasn't deserving of happiness, I would never amount to anything.

And yet.

I then had the fortunate experience of meeting and befriending someone who single-handedly changed the direction in which my life was going.  His character, his words, his actions led me to believe I was a somebody, I deserved happiness, and that I held the world in the palm of my hand.  If not for this wonderful man, I would not be here today.

I met this person when I was at my lowest.  He saw something in me that I didn't see in myself.  His friendship brought me not only happiness, but a sense of worth.  He was my shoulder to lean on, my sounding board, my competitor when it came to sarcastic quips.  But, the most important gift my friend gave me was the ability to find love, happy love, true love.

He enabled me to take off my insecure blinders and trust people.  He paved the way for me to find my husband.  For that I will forever be grateful.

Sadly, I lost contact with my friend.  Even in the age of Facebook and other social media avenues, I hadn't spoken to him in more than five years.  But, as it is with true friends, I knew that if we did connect, we'd be able to pick up right where we left off.  Unfortunately, we will never be able to pick up where we left off.

My wonderful friend - a son, uncle, husband, dad and friend - passed away last month.  I found out a month after the fact and for this I am sad.  The world has lost a beautiful human being.  A person who truly inspired me and many others to be true to ourselves, to treat others with respect.

I am sad that he is gone, but I am thankful for having met him.  I am thankful for his friendship.  I am thankful for the ongoing gift of life he gave me.  I truly believe I will see him again, that I can show him how I turned out because of him.

RIP my dear friend. Your dad, uncle and PaPa welcome you home.

If My 3 Year-Old Ran the World

Bill Cosby said it best when he declared, "Kids say the darnedest things." People related to it so well that they developed a low-cost show catching children on camera saying things that make most parents cringe.  My son is no exception to this notion.

Whoever declared the 'Terrible Twos' the worst part of parenting, obviously didn't let their kids live long enough to see the age of three. Three year-olds are coming into their own.  They're learning what they like, what they don't like...what they can get away with.  Nice to know my son fits the pattern perfectly.

The new phrase in our house is "I don't wanna Mommy."  This can be an answer to 'Let's go eat breakfast!', 'Bathtime!', or more head-shaking worthy 'Wanna read a book before bedtime?'  And it doesn't end with one declaration of his stance.  He has learned to shake us off, give us a 'go-die' look and proclaim that he 'isn't happy' as he stomps up the stairs.

He will make a great manager someday.

One thing we've learned to do is bribe our son with the sticker system.  If he receives a certain amount of stickers placed strategically on the refrigerator, he receives a prize.  A coloring book.  A toy car.  A new movie.  But, it's gotten to the point where my son could give two craps about a little sticker if he is able to maintain his stubbornness and win the battle of 'me vs. Mommy.'

Not to leave my husband out, he is just another pawn in the game of winning.  My son can be so cute, stating matter-of-factly that my husband is 'his best friend'.  That Daddy is a handsome prince and he loooooves him.  And just when my son feels that he has buttered my husband up enough to join his army in the battle of 'NOT' eating - he pulls out the 'I'm not eating Daddy.'

And the following conversation ensues:

"Eli eat your ."

"I don't wanna Daddy."

"I don't care if you don't want to.  You have to eat your ."

"I'm not eating Daddy."

"Well, if you're not going to eat, then you can go up to your room and go to bed."

And as he stomps up the stairs, I swear I smell victory on my son as he makes his way to his room filled with toys, books and his beloved Eeyor.  AND he got out of eating vegetables.

Again, he will make a great leader someday.  A passive-aggressive, stubborn leader who will either charm the pants off of minions who will be eager to follow or annoy them to the point of submission.

Think if everyone ruled this way.  Pay compliments when needed.  Make people feel loved and appreciated.  Raise havoc when the outcomes aren't the desired ones.  Dig in the heels when you feel absolutely adamant about the point at hand.

Three-year-olds call a spade a spade.  They call it like they see it and they don't care or even know if some one's feelings get hurt.  They just want to get from point A to point B in the easiest way possible and they will do whatever it takes to get what they want - two-hour long screaming fits are just a drop in the bucket.

Hopefully by the time my son reaches the workforce, the temper tantrums will subside.  But, who am I kidding?  We've all had bosses who have had times when theirs can rival any three-year-old's temper tantrums.

Everything DOES Happen For a Reason

It's no secret that in the past two months, my life has taken some drastic turns.  I left a job I loved at the American Red Cross (how can one NOT be proud to work for an organization that does tremendous work?), I put my house on the market, I threw caution to the wind and moved back to my hometown with no home, no job...no certainty.

But, everything has worked out.  My husband found temporary housing for us that not only can we afford, but provides a great stop-gap until we find our 'forever home'.  I got the job that - amidst the 20,000 resumes I sent out - I truly and desperately wanted.  And my family is together, happy and healthy.

My first day at my new job began at 8:30 this morning.  Was I nervous?  No.  I knew that today in Kansas City and the next two days in St. Louis would and will provide me with the tools I need to succeed and help the organization succeed.

It wasn't until my new President and CEO - to whom I am a direct report - spoke that I realized why it is I do what I do.  I never thought that I would feel as proud to work for an organization as I did the Red Cross. However, her words were not only inspiring, but confirming.  Throughout my professional career and personal life, I have vowed to make a difference.  A positive difference.

While the Red Cross obviously helps those in need, I was reminded today that there are other organizations that have the best interest of the underprivileged and under served at heart.  To be able to work for such organizations is why I switched my Master's degree from Journalism to Public Administration.

Governor Romney may believe that 47% of the population feels a sense of entitlement...that they deserve a handout, but I believe that these people just happen to be down on their luck and need assistance.  Everyone should have access to health care...affordable health care.  And my new employer wants to make that happen. 

Making sure there are health plans available that help take care of the under and uninsured, helps all of us in the long run.  Making sure all individuals have the resources available to be and remain healthy helps everyone in the communities in which we reside be a little healthier.  Parents are able to take their kids to the doctor, get the right care, so those same children don't show up at daycare or school sick, thereby getting others in the classroom sick and bringing the germs back home to mom and dad.

The elderly are able to get health care while maintaining a bit of dignity.  The poor and under served are able to get routine checkups to prevent major health issues that would cost the taxpayers a lot of money in uncompensated care dollars for them to be treated.

There is a reason I ended up here.  Not in the swanky Ritz Carlton where I am staying for my training.  But, a reason I was able to land a job with yet another wonderful organization.  It is so that I can learn and grow personally and professionally.  It is so that I can help others learn of their options.

I am truly lucky in life.  I got a job that will challenge me and a husband, son and two doggies that will always love me.  Sure, I could wish for a winning lottery ticket.  For my house in Michigan to sell.  For other fortunes.  But, I am happy with how my life has turned out.

I'm especially happy that for tonight I am able to reflect on the fact that everything happens for a reason while sitting in the lap of luxury that is the Ritz Carlton.

Have You Ever Been in a Bind...er?

As a female, a mom and a self-acclaimed workaholic there have been many times in my life when I have felt slighted, judged and insulted.  But, never so much as I have this past week.

I guess you could call me a 'working mom'.  One that 'chooses' to go and earn a paycheck (and stay sane) and then come home to make dinner, do laundry, bathe the little one and tuck him in tight.  Does my work take away time from him or my family?  On the contrary, me going to work allows us to enjoy time together, to be able to pay for a roof over our head, bread on the table and a wonderful daycare where my little boy will grow intellectually.

Just because I 'juggle' my home and work life, does not mean I can't do the job that a male with my same education, same work experience and same determination can do.  It also does not mean that I should be paid less.

When asked about the issue of women in the workforce and fair wages in the 2nd Presidential Debate, Governor Mitt Romney responded with, "I feel that if we are to have women in the workforce..."  Um...if we HAVE to have women in the workforce?  Sorry, not all of us can sit at home, raise race horses and be a socialite.  He then proceeded to explain that HE was the one that asked his staff to get more women on his cabinet.  That 'surely there are qualified women out there'...

Well, of course there were.  Thankfully, his staff was able to present to him 'binders full of women' who would be qualified to sit on his cabinet.  Hmmm...so these binders...were they small, big, Trapper Keeper size or ones large enough to house the entire constitution of the United States?  Was there more than one name on a page?  Were they standard or legal sized papers with names?  Were pictures included?  And just how many binders...two...two hundred?  And where did they find these 'women' - in just the D.C. area, across the country...was Alaska included (Would Sarah Palin have qualified)?

To make his answer worse, he doesn't just stop with the binder, he continues to explain that he is such an awesome boss that he believes in a flexible schedule for his female employees so that they can take the kids to school or make it home to cook dinner for the family.  Well, thank freakin' GOD!  There's nothing I want more in an employer than for them to understand that as a woman, I have the inherent need to rush home to put my apron on and fry the bacon I've earned up in a pan.

Then President Obama answered...with numbers, facts.  Women make up more than 60% of the current workforce. Who appointed Hillary Clinton?  Yes, it sucks that women get paid $.72 on the dollar that men make.  But, he believes that everyone should have the same opportunity for education, the same opportunities in the workforce and have the ability to maintain a balance between home and work - he did not infer that women should choose whether to work or stay at home.

I thought it was interesting that nobody asked a follow up question - what about the men?  If women are increasingly present in the workforce does that mean that the presence of men is decreasing?  If so, are THEY at home?  I know a lot of males that have decided to stay at home with the kids.  Hell, they even have a show on NBC (that hasn't been cancelled yet) called Up All Night where the man decided to stay at home with the baby because the woman had a better income and more stability in her job.

So, yes, the women are sacrificing.  We are doing it all.  Blah blah blah.  We always have.  But, let's not forget that some men are sacrificing right now too.  Choosing, during these tough economic times, to either only work part-time and keep the house in order or to be a stay-at-home dad. 

I'm sure Mitt would have been like a deer in the headlights if someone asked him if it was okay to be a stay-at-home dad.  Or he may have explained that God has a plan for everyone and then he probably would have reminded us that for a man to be able to be a stay at home dad, the women have to get pregnant.  When that happens, they get maternity leave and that costs businesses in the long run.

I digress, the question wasn't asked.  Perhaps on Tuesday someone will ask about the candidates' views on stay-at-home dads and pregnant working women.  That or whether they like pepperoni or sausage on their pizza.

You Know It's Love When...

The word love can mean different things to different people.  It's compassion, empathy, the blood that keeps the heart pumping.  But, when do you know it's love you feel?

For new moms, the love comes instantly.  While I didn't give birth to my son, I fell in love with him the moment he was born...even more when I got to hold him in my arms...even more when I was able to legally adopt him.  That love continues to grow.  You only wipe boogers with your bare fingers off of the face of a little one if you love them.

As far as family members go, while you don't get to choose your siblings, parents, grandparents or other relatives, there is an unspoken love there.  They can piss you off, make you laugh, make you proud and make you bat-shit crazy.  But, the family in which you are raised is more often than not full of love.

Friends, true friends, are great because YOU choose them.  There is something about a friend that you have decided you like and even love.  They keep you grounded.  They have your back.  They are a shoulder to lean on, the ones you share the good times with and the bad.  We are at our best with people in which we can be ourselves.  Belch with, swear with, laugh with and cry with.  Friends are there with the love you need when you need it most.

So, when it comes to finding your partner in life, my philosophy is that it's more likely to work if you're true friends.  Whether you're gay, straight, bi-sexual, you choose the partner you want to spend the rest of your life with because you love them.  You feel comfortable with them.  You feel passion.  You are able to be your true self.

True love means leaving the bathroom door open when you're taking the Browns to the Super Bowl.  It means not thinking twice as you pop your zit in front of the bathroom mirror with your partner right there.  It means giving high fives when a belch lasts so long you could have recited the alphabet twice.  And then there is the 'toot' test.  Do you feel comfortable enough with someone to fess up to the fact that you were the one who released the silent but deadly toxin into the air?

So, before you proclaim your 'love' for someone or something ask yourself, 'would he/she/it think less of me if I let 'er rip in front of them?'  Would they run screaming in the opposite direction if they saw how I really looked at 5 in the morning?  Would they act like popping a zit was as disgusting as chocolate-covered cat poop?

If you're lucky enough to have a partner in life, a friend or family members...look at them, do you love them?  Are you annoyed by or do you laugh at their burps, farts, and exploding pimples?  Your answer is the answer. 

It's the Little Things...

I like to look at life like a business.  Have a mission, a goal and a plan.  But, you must enjoy what you do while following the rules.  My mission in life is to be successful.  My goal is to be the best that I can be.  And my plan...well, it changes daily.  To be clear, my overall plan doesn't change, just some of the details.

A plan can't and won't work if the small details are missing or overlooked.  It's the little things that can have the biggest impact.  For example, my son is almost three and while he can throw tantrums with the best of them, this small, little boy continues to bring a smile to my face daily.  I do not take that for granted.  He plays a major part in my life plan.

Ignoring the little things can negatively affect the best laid plans.  It's like a crack in the foundation.  If you continue to ignore it, the crack gets bigger and the base in which you have built upon will fold, bringing the entire structure down.  In business, think Enron.  In life, think John Edwards.  Little things that didn't seem so important at first, continued to snowball until there was no turning back.

It's the little things in life that scare me to death.  My Type A personality aside - making lists of all sizes so that I can have the satisfaction of checking them off - I enjoy developing and implementing plans.  But, I try to make sure that I haven't forgotten the minutia when looking at the big picture.  Because, again, it takes just one little thing to escalate into a big problem.

I must have an aversion to 'little things'.  Yippy dogs that shouldn't really be classified as dogs.  Mini-Coopers that shouldn't really be classified as cars because I can't even fit my big toe into them.  Itty-bitty mobiles that shouldn't be classified as phones because they have keypads so small my big fingers find it hard to send a one-word text.

But, the smallest thing that poses the biggest problem for me?  SPIDERS!  These tiny creatures grow into big tarantula monsters with hairy legs.  It's not a problem, per se, but a fear.  A paralyzing, gut-wrenching fear that shuts down all of my faculties and renders me useless when I see or think of them.

Last week, I was driving back to my new home after meeting with some great people, talking about the big picture, life's plan, business ideas, etc. when I came upon some construction.  The day was warm, so I had the window down.  Since I was at a stop, I looked in my rear view mirror, then my side mirror to see if others were as frustrated as me.  Just then a large, black, metallic-looking spider came bouncing down the window frame.  I had nowhere to go.  I couldn't run.  I couldn't escape.  I couldn't scream.  I couldn't breathe.

I somehow found a piece of paper (probably a really important document stuffed in my car) and shrieked like a schoolgirl as I tried to push it out the window.  Nope, spiders may be creepy, but they are smart.  The little booger dodged, weaved and avoided my futile attempts of plunging him to his death.  My car swerved, I opened the door and finally he fell with a thud.  Sure, I may have looked crazy to the person behind me...if only it could have been a paramedic to help me as I endured a major panic attack.

I digress.  It's the little things.  So, as we are thrown into the throws of the presidential election, it's important that both candidates remember the little things.  Spouting about the big picture is great, but  the devil (or spider in my case) is in the details.

Another Year...Another Wrinkle

Another year has passed.  365 days.  8760 hours.  525600 minutes.  I have celebrated another birthday.  I have those minutes, hours, days to reflect upon to decide if I really learned anything or contributed to society at all.  I'd like to think I have...but sometimes what we want or wish isn't necessarily reality.

I have been blessed this past year.  I have been able to celebrate my son's 2nd birthday with an awesome Halloween style birthday party.  I have been able to strenghten my relationship with my Little and her family and I have been able to meet and bond with neighbors that I will remember for life.  I have the love of fantastic friends and family members who do not judge.

In addition, I have grown a backbone.  One year ago, employees at my company went on strike.  They went on strike right before my birthday while I suffered walking pneumonia.  I battled through.  Did media interviews and sounded like a cracked-out Kermit the Frog.  But, my confidence in my ability to work under pressure, to remain calm, cool and collected during a media storm grew as did my love for my profession. 

Then in the Spring, another strike, more volatile than the last.  Voo-doo dolls were made of me.  I was called names in the media and at every union-related meeting in Michigan.  But, they couldn't touch me. I am the voice of an organization.  An organization that does great work.  That helps save and improve people's lives.  I could rest easy at night.

In a year's time, I also quit that beloved job.  I put my house on the market and embarked on the unknown.  My confidence has wavered and my humor has lessened.  But, I remain optimistic.  I am a good person.  I have improved as a mother, as a daughter and as a friend.  I have vowed to continue to grow and prove to everyone who is important to me that they are, in fact, important to me.

"They" say that with age comes wisdom.  But, I disagree.  I have always been smart (don't judge me on the pompous statement...I was never told that as a child), but I believe that as you get older, your IQ doesn't increase, your tolerance of ignorance or ignorant people does.

I have seen my fair share of trials and tribulations - both personally and professionally.  But you know what the most obvious sign of success is?  I am still here.  I am still fighting.  And I will continue to fight to make sure that I am happy and that my son is happy.

I can't wait to update you (my three followers) on my happiness level when my next birthday arrives.  My life will either completely change or greatly improve and no matter which it is, I am excited to embark on another year...no matter how many more wrinkles the journey entails.

Finding the Diamond in the Storm

Everyone has that point in life when chaos abounds and uncertainty prevails.  I'm not an expert in many things, but in this I am well-versed.  As a self-proclaimed Type A personality, disorganization and lack of a plan is the pure and unequivocal definition of insanity.

Abiding by the definition, I swear that in the past month or so I would have qualified to be put into an insane asylum circa 1963.  I quit a job that I love to move to a city that I love to be near my family that, while I love, can drive me bat-shit crazy.  Alas, throughout the entire duration, I have remained strong.  I have kept a level head - regardless of the curve balls that have been thrown my way - and I have learned more about myself than I ever wanted to know.

I pride myself on being intelligent - while not the valedictorian by textbook standards, I do have some street smarts - but even the sharpest tool in the shed finds itself a little dull at times.  The best thing to do in this circumstance is to sharpen the tool and use it to hack down whatever roadblocks are in the way.

Traveling 12 hours with an almost 3 year-old to return to a job (that I was good at) for a temporary gig gave me plenty of time to ponder the uncertainties of my life.  After looking at the laundry list of items (yes, that's a symptom of being Type A - we love lists), I had and still have every right to question my capabilities and my strength.  However, to quote Stewart Smalley, "I'm good enough, smart enough, and gosh darn it...people like me."

It feels good to be back in my old stomping grounds.  To use my brain again.  To share my wisdom.  To have people respect my talent and my drive.  What's more is that they love my son.  Everyone at work wants to see him.  My old friends want to babysit him (which really helps when one is trying to work).  And I get to hug him and kiss him every day.

Hurricane Isaac has recently come and gone.  And like the eye of the storm, circumstances in my life have weaved and bobbed and left a path of destruction.  But just like in the aftermath of any storm, the Red Cross is there to pick up the pieces.  I came back to my job to help, but the Red Cross and the people it employs has helped me.  My confidence has been rebuilt.  I have been reminded why it is I do what I do.  I now can say with my head held high that I do have a skill set that benefits not only businesses, but people who work in those businesses.

I thank the employees of the Red Cross.  I thank my soon-to-be-former co-workers.  I thank my friends for building me up.  And I thank the future Red Crossers and future friends for being there when I need them...being the diamonds in the storm.

The Dollar and Sense of Chaos

For the past couple of months my life has been a roller coaster.  I'm not sure I would put it down as a main attraction at an amusement park...but it has been a roller coaster nonetheless.  There have been many dips - enough to make one lose their lunch - and there have been twists, turns and sharp, unexpected veers that are pronounced enough to get whiplash.

So, what awaits me at the top of the hill?

In one month's time, I have left my job, put my house on the market, and moved in...with my parents.  I loved my job.  I was good at what I did - being the face and punching bag for an organization in crisis.  But, it was a place I felt needed and respected.  Tomorrow I travel 800 miles to return to the place I left to help train my replacement.  Again, it feels good to feel needed, but what happens when the two weeks are gone?  Where will the job be?

Then there's the house.  While there were many showings the first couple of weeks...nobody is looking now.  My biggest fear is that there will be a major mortgage payment to make with no income.  And my parent's basement will become a permanent fixture.

When I left home at the age of 18, I swore on everything that I could, that I would never move back home.  One couldn't pay me enough to live in an environment that promised constant groundings and disciplinary actions.  Not to mention, I have my OWN family to worry about.

My poor son is so confused.  Where is HIS home?  And tomorrow I will take him back to our old stomping ground to see our old house...further confusing him.  But, the silver lining, the small rise in the roller coaster, is that it will be great 'Mommy and Me' time.

I have more than 15 years of professional experience.  I know that I am good at what I do.  But, I'm in a new town, with minimal contacts and no home.  Is putting my resume in a pool with recent college graduates an option?

Life is a roller coaster, and I have been told and heard to enjoy the ride.  But, I don't like this ride.  I have paid way too much to stand in a long line only to get whiplash and wait for the climb to the top.

Right now I'm climbing.  I hope the ride is worth the hype.

Moving On...Moving At All

I have moved a couple of times in my life.  Actually, I have moved a total of 11 times.  This move back to my hometown will be the sixth move for my husband and I.  But, the second official large move wherein a moving company was involved.

Sure, I moved from my parents' house to go to school.  Moved back to KC, in with a roommate, then to the town where my first big-girl job was, then to Columbia, Missouri where I lived in a crack-apartment where people just decided to pass out on my doorstep.  Once shotguns were fired in my parking lot, my then-kind-of-boyfriend, Rick asked me (really told me) to move in with him.  So, I moved all of my stuff to the storage bin of his apartment complex.

Fast forward six months and we find out that all of my stuff had been stolen from the storage bin.  We tried to get compensated, but we failed.  Then we moved to a townhouse.  There were plush trees and wildlife in the back until six months later the city decided to plow it all down to build a bank - a much needed bank.

After we were married, we wanted a house.  Not the white picket fence, but definitely a house with a backyard.  My agenda was always to get a dog.  Rick had never had a dog (except for his childhood dog Rascal).  But, I grew up around dogs and had one that I had to give to my brother when I went back to college.  I missed having a dog.  Plus, being the 'cat couple' wore on me...and I wanted to be able to go to a dog park and play fetch.

So, we move into that house using friends, not a professional moving company.  We were settled.  We got a dog (Kaeli) and the house felt like home.  Until a little more than two years later we experienced a house fire that sent us to temporary housing.  All of this is documented in my book, "Diary of an Unemployed Workaholic: Lessons Learned from Chaos."  But, for that move, the insurance company took care of the dry-cleaning and storage of anything that survived the fire.

Eight months later - yes, they built two Super WalMarts and then some in the time it took to get us back into our home - we moved back to our refurbished house.  The cat ran away.  The cat came back.  The cat passed away.  We got another dog.  During that time the paradigm shifted at work and we both agreed to move to Michigan.

I moved up for a job.  Rick stayed behind - charged with packing up the house and hiring the moving company.  When we got to Michigan, half of our stuff was broken.  No more end tables.  China hutch cut in half (which actually benefited us because it made a great TV stand)...even the lawnmower was broken.  Not to mention, the drivers, unloaders, whatever they're called, were very rude as they unloaded.

So, this time around, it was my turn.  I stay behind in Michigan.  I finish my job.  Get the house on the market.  Hire the Realtors.  Cancel certain utilities.  Hire the moving company.  And I did.  But, it's a lot easier said than done.  I thought I got a great deal.  I researched companies.  I researched options.  I spoke to representatives on the phone.  I thought I did great.

My Type A personality doesn't like to fail.  Sure, I'll admit it when I'm wrong or when I do fail.  But I absolutely detest choosing the wrong path.  And this time, I definitely chose the wrong path.  Customer service?  The guy who booked us has been great!  Follow through and any other person I have tried to deal with to solidify my move date?  Awful.

I have been told that the company that shall remain nameless until they piss me off even more would be available to pick up my stuff on a Saturday.  That turned to nobody returning my call to get a confirmation.  50 phone calls and irate messages later, a phone call from someone who doesn't speak any English called to say they were coming on Monday between 8 and 5p.m.  Really?  Not only had I approved my house to be shown on Monday...what happened to the 2-day notice they were supposed to give me.

Since then, I have been on the phone trying to call someone to see if they are coming to move my crap.  They keep saying 'we'll call you back'.  The latest is that they need to determine if the contract moving guys can make it on Tuesday morning.  Hmmmm...the contract I signed said they were available Sunday through Tuesday. 

So, I'm currently waiting for them to call me back.  Have been told I need to sign a new contract.  have been asked what is the latest date I can now have them pick stuff up.  Um....TUESDAY?  Like in the original agreement?!?!

It sucks because they hold all the power.  To try to find a new mover on such short notice will cost an arm and a leg.  Not to mention, if I piss off the moving guys before they even get here...I can best be sure that there will be much more than a few broken end tables and china hutch.  I'd really like our HD TV to make the move.

So, my advice to those getting ready to move?  Don't take my advice.  My project plans and anal notes and organizational skills aren't worth a hill of beans.  Just find a friend.  A truck.  Two strong people and move yourself.  It's like the old adage...if you want something done right...just do it your damned self.

When a 'Little' is 'A Lot'

As many of you (all three total readers) know, I am moving.  I am moving back to my hometown of Kansas City to not only be reunited with my husband, child and four-legged children, but to start a new life.  I am leaving my home of four years, my identity of four years and the friends and neighbors I have come to admire over the past four years.

While the move is a good one, one that promises new adventures and more blogs, I am disturbed by how much this move is affecting me.  Not only am I jumping into the abyss of the unknown, but I am leaving behind a precious, precious soul.

I have been a staunch supporter of Big Brothers Big Sisters.  When we moved from Missouri I had to leave my Little behind.  We didn't keep in touch and I think about her often.  I hope and wish my time with her had a positive impact.

Though I moved, I knew the moment I got settled in Michigan I had to become a part of this fantastic organization once again.  The goals and mission of Big Brothers Big Sisters is to match a younger person with someone who can mentor them, teach them and inspire them.  After a few months, I was matched.

I was matched for life.

When I met my Little, I knew we were meant to find each other.  Rightfully so, her mother had reservations.  Her daughter's previous Big had just up and left.  Said she moved, but really didn't.  We had some growing pains, but I fell in love.  I fell in love with a girl who holds all of the promise the world has to offer.

When people tell me that I 'do great work' as a Big, my response is genuine and consistent.  I get so much more out of it than I think my Little ever does.  Sure, I'm supposed to mentor her.  Be there for her.  Listen to her and laugh with her.  We have done all those things.  But, while I have been there for my Little, she has been there for me.

I truly have been paid back tenfold.  Seeing her smile.  Seeing her grow up.  Seeing her confidence grow and her grades improve.  She's a typical teenager.  Defiant.  Scared.  Funny and All-Knowing.  But, she has the most wonderful heart.  The most wonderful demeanor.  The most wonderful soul.

Everyone seems to think the kids that go through the Big Brothers Big Sisters program are lacking.  On the contrary.  These children come from families who love them.  Who want them to thrive.  Who want to expose them to things they otherwise would not see.

I thank my Little's mother everyday for trusting me with her daughter.   I thank Big Brothers Big Sisters for trusting me to be a big, to influence someone who might benefit from my life's experiences.  I thank my Little for giving me unconditional love, a lifetime of laughs and inside secrets that I'll take to my grave.

Yes, it's sad to leave Michigan, but the absolute hardest thing for me is to leave my Little and her family.  They are my family.  They are my friends.  I will be in their lives forever (not in a stalker way) and I hope they want to be in mine as well.

As I hugged my Little goodbye, I had to tell her it would be okay.  I will still be her Big Sister forever.  I had to be strong.  I didn't cry.  But, if she could only know how much I will miss our weekly adventures.  Getting lost on our first outing.  Trying to find our way (on foot) to a movie theatre in snow - when she was wearing dress shoes.  Acting crazy at Bowl for Kids Sake.  Acting crazy...all the time.  Seeing her face light up at the smallest of gifts.  Being scolded by people who didn't speak English while trying to enjoy a relaxing pedicure.

Most of all, I hope she remembers my smile.  When I hear of her making the honor roll.  When I see her play basketball.  When she performs in the school's talent contest.  When she has faced bullies head on by being the bigger person.

I am proud to be a part of Big Brothers Big Sisters.  But, more importantly, I am proud of my Little.  My sister for life who continues to make me proud by being her true self...her amazing self.

I will miss her, but will forever love her.

When 'Me' isn't "ME"

It's no secret that I'm a self-proclaimed work-a-holic.  I even wrote a book about it: Diary of an Unemployed Workaholic.  But, I never thought that I would ever need to write a sequel.

I have spent four years with an amazing organization.  There have been ups.  There have been downs.  But, I think the worst part of my job is where it brought my family so many years ago.  We loved where we lived, in the Heart of America.  I uprooted my family to move North to a state with the worst economy and the most instability when it comes to growth and fortune.


But, I have to say, I have loved my job.  I've even grown to love the state of despair.  The state featured in every Michael Moore, Eminem and Kid Rock video to help boost tourism.  Why?  Because it was the first time I moved away.  I mean, really moved away.


When I went off to college.  I went with big dreams and aspirations and no desire to look back.  I got out, relatively unscathed.  I now had my future ahead of me and nothing could stop me.  I would make a name for myself and be the most successful person I could be - on my own.

And I did.

I met great people.  I met stupid people.  I met best friends and I met enemies.  But, I did it on my own.  With no help.

You can ask any of my college friends (especially the one who became my best man at my wedding) that I took getting ahead and using my brains so seriously, that while they all wanted to go to the bars, I chose to work at a bar to pay my way through school.  And during finals, while they all wanted to play pool and de-stress, I brought my notes and books to the pool hall to study while they had fun.

I'm not a party pooper.  In fact, I like a good happy hour.  However, I stress out more when I know there is work to be done and I'm not doing it, than when I'm in the thick of the chaos navigating my way (and my company's way) to safe shores.

But I got out when I went to college and I made a name for myself and made myself proud.  Today, I know that I got out when I needed to and I have made a name for myself.  A name that embodies loyalty and devotion to an organization that I truly and firmly believe in.

My last official day with the Red Cross in Michigan was this week.  While I'm glad to be finally going home to a great city in the Midwest and I'm FINALLY able to see my husband, child and two doggies, I am sad.  I am nervous and anxious.

Just like an abused child, who balks and screams for the parents who abuse him/her, I am nervous to leave the main identity I have known for four years.  I miss the norm my family and I created on our own.  I am anxious for the new norm that awaits me.

My time at my job was fortuitous.  While I got threats, migraines, stress-induced illnesses, I knew and will always know I did my job.  I did a good job.  That defined me.  I felt my organization needed me.  But as I leave, after vetting out my replacement and agreeing to train him, I feel sad.  Four years - gone. 

What awaits me is a mystery.  Many find that exciting.  I find that unnerving.  It messes with my Type A personality of always wanting and needing a plan.  What is my plan?

I've discovered in my time away from my husband, little boy, and four-legged kiddos that the plan will come.  The unexpected may be welcomed.  A plan needs to be flexible.  I've always firmly believed that in the workplace, now I need to apply it to the home front.

My number one priority is getting back to my norm with my family.  I miss them. I love them.  The job will come, but the family has been there, patiently waiting for me and for that I will always be grateful!

A Crisis is Just a 'Situation' With No Plan

In my current role as a communications professional in the 'real world', I have seen many events, occasions and people to promote.  However, I have seen many events, occasions and actions of people turn very quickly into a 'situation'.  When that moment happens (typically in an instant), a communications person should be able to think on their toes and react appropriately.

The problem with working for an organization - for or not-for profit - is that more often than not the trained communications person has to jump through hoops to get a message out to the general public.  These are internal hoops that involve non-communicators adding their two cents.

I like to think that I have some talent in my field.  In fact, I've been told by the best marketing/public relations professionals that I don't bat an eye when the media is hammering me on an issue.  I've had people in MY field tell me that I know the media and communications world better than some still-practicing journalists.  But, many times, my talent, my experience, my knowledge of the business takes a backseat to the internal politics that inevitably runs all organizations.

My number one philosophy in effective communications is that a plan needs to be in place.  A comprehensive, strategic plan should be developed and implemented for all businesses wanting to succeed.  Not all situations are similar and you can't necessarily use a blanket 'template' to address all issues, but a general outline of key messaging needs to be defined so that all involved - internal and external audiences, decision makers, customers, board members, etc. - can be on the same page.

Too often I find that a situation is not appropriately addressed at the right time.  This pushes the situation forward into a full-blown crisis.  Then, to make matters worse, everyone becomes so busy trying to do or add to the role of the communicator that any plan that was in place at the beginning has fallen to the wayside.

Individuals are reactive by nature - but businesses should not be.  A well-laid business plan includes a comprehensive marketing plan which includes a well-executed communications plan.  If the business objectives don't coincide with the mission of the organization, or the marketing plan doesn't incorporate well-written communications materials, or the communications plan doesn't address the specific traditional and social media targets - the crisis will overtake the objectives of the business and business will fail (whether it's for a short amount of time or indefinitely).

I am a crisis communications expert.  I didn't go to school hoping that I would become an expert in putting out fires.  But, my professional experiences have shown me that an ounce of prevention is, in fact, worth a pound of cure.  They have also taught me that the general public views communicators, spokespeople, as they do news reporters.  They trust us.  They feel they know us.

I have received hate mail.  I have had voo-doo dolls of me displayed for many to see (by disgruntled employees who probably don't even know what the CEO looks like).  I have stuck to my guns, remained calmed in the face of adversity.  My internal crisis communications plan is to continue to reiterate the goals and mission of the organization while being blasted with a myriad of negative comments.

Very rarely is there a comprehensive crisis communications plan in place at an organization.  That is a shame.  So, if you know your business is without one, here is some advice in constructing one.

Identifying a crisis:

1) What is the situation?
2) Who is involved?
3) When did the situation occur?  When is expected end date?
4) Where did the situation occur?
5) How did the situation occur?
6) Why did it escalate into a crisis and what can we do to resolve?

How to address it:

1) What is the message that the organization wants to get out?
2) Who needs to be involved and who is the target audience?
3) When should the plan be initiated and for how long?
4) Where should the plan be executed (traditional media, social media, direct mail, etc.)?
5) How can you minimize negative publicity and promote positive stories?
6) Why have past plans failed or succeeded (analyze past plans and learn from best practices)?

Again, a situation does not need to escalate into a crisis.  But, if it does, thinking like a reporter (Who, What, When, Where, How and Why) can help alleviate the stress and chaos that typically comes with reactive thinking.

You Don't Have to Be Boring to Be a Professional

On the roller coaster of life, there are very few things of which I am an expert.  I have stated before that I know a little about a lot and a lot about little.  But the one thing that I do know with absolute certainty is that to get through the ups and downs and twirls of life's ride, one MUST have a sense of humor.
I am a sarcastic individual.  I would say I'm witty, but that's a bit egocentric as I believe in order to be witty or drop-dead funny, one has to be intelligent.  Some of the best comedians are smarter than many CEOs of Fortune 500 companies. 
Take, for instance, John Stewart.  Not only does he have one-liners that can cause soda to come out one's nose, but he combines his humor with his political knowledge to fill a niche that very few can.  Professional comedians are just that - professionals.  It is their business to be funny. 
So, I find it fascinating when people who don't understand my business call me unprofessional because I actually try to insert humor into stressful situations.  I am a professional.  I can hang with radio guys, television personalities, old-school reporters or rookie 'journalists'.  I speak their language.  That language does not involve words in which they need a thesaurus to translate.  That language does not involve data and pie charts and ROI speak.  Their language is 10 second soundbites using language so easy a caveman can understand it.
I am a professional.  Throw me into a fire and I will come out smelling like roses...not charred ash.  It takes a certain skill set to be able to keep a level head when everything around you or your business is teetering to the brink.  Some call it 'crisis communications'.  However, I feel that if you take the right approach to any situation, if you have a strategic plan in place, there should be no crisis involved.
Communications is communications.  Talking is talking.  But knowing how to say things, when to say things and where to say things is more than a learned trait.  Like humor, you are born with the ability to read a situation or setting and adapt to it.
I am a professional.  A professional communicator.  A professional problem solver.  A professional money saver.  A professional marketer.  A professional thinker with the professional ability to get from idea to implementation with a snazzy, professional project plan.
I have been called immature, unprofessional, silly, sarcastic and sometimes funny.  So, I may be a bit humorous, but one thing I am not?  A professional comedian.

Traveling from Point A to Point B - Watch Out for Detours

This past week has been chaotic to say the least.  Anyone who has packed up the family and made a 14-hour trek with a two year-old, two dogs, and two cars filled to the brim is deserving of a medal.  My husband and I can share one...but we definitely deserve some accolades.

We drove back home to start planning our new life.  We got in on Sunday night, exhausted.  First thing Monday morning we had a meeting that can change the course of our lives forever.  After that meeting, we planned to look at houses, visit a bank, see our families, go on a date while Grandma and Grandpa watched the little one.

Needless to say Date Night on Monday didn't happen.  One of many plans that had to change during our 'mini-vacation'.  We found ourselves in 'expedite mode'.  Our number one priority was to find jobs.  But, until that happened, we had to find a house that was in a price range in which we could walk into a bank, ask for a loan and not have them laugh us out the door.

We searched and searched.  But, the houses in our price range were run down, former crack houses that belonged right next to the Ghetto Superstore we currently frequent.  My spirits began to fall while my anxiety level began to rise.

It's bad enough to be a grown adult with a child and have to depend on your in-laws for help.  Not only are they helping us while we get our feet on the ground, they agreed to co-sign a loan if need be.  But, they are also allowing the family to stay in their basement until we have a home.  While I love my in-laws, I would rather someone drill a 1/2" nail in the side of my head and pull it back out with no anesthesia.

My husband and I had a couple of great meetings with contacts to help us get our feet in the door at various businesses.  By Thursday night, I felt a bit better.  We bought my in-laws dinner and went over ground rules with them.  1) We will pay rent, we are not taking hand-outs.  2) WE are the parents.  We will discipline our son.  3) We will abide by your house rules, but we have ours as well.  4) We will buy our own groceries. 5) We will do our own laundry...please don't touch or fold my underwear.

Dinner was fine.  Everyone was receptive.  I felt better as I began packing my stuff so that I could leave at the butt-crack of dawn on Friday.  Why did I leave my husband and son behind to fend for themselves?  Because I have to finish out my job.  I have until the end of July (shoot me) to wrap up my work, to paint walls in the house, put flooring down, pack up everything else and then put the house on the market.  Fun times awaited me.

But, I had faith in my husband.  Faith that he could carry the torch on parenting while dealing with the awkward situation that is living with your mother --- when you're past your 30s.

I drove back with no dogs, no child, no husband.  I actually worked from my car and spoke to some friends, which helped the time pass.  And pass it did.  I made it back to the soon-to-be former Stoneking house in record time - 10.75 hours.  I'm not saying I was Speed Racer or anything.  But, there were less potty breaks, no time wasted trying to get dogs to eat regular, dry dog food with no treat food on it, no holiday traffic.

To say I crashed when I got home is an understatement.  But, Saturday was a new day.  A day to start painting.  A day to start packing.  A day to realize that there is a long, long road ahead of me.  Please for the love of all that is clean, PLEASE let it be a road with no detours.

Stress...It's a Funny Thing

Trying to find an exact definition of the word 'stress' is, in itself, a stressful thing.  I found 'symptoms of', 'relief for' and 'preventative measures'.  But nowhere does it say, "Stress is X". 

I stumbled across a half-assed attempt to define the word on Wikipedia (the go-to source for all things) and it states "Stress is a term that is commonly used today but has become increasingly difficult to define."  No crap.  I could have written that.  In fact, I do believe I did.

I can tell you from experience the symptoms of stress: hair loss, migraine, sleepless nights, spontaneous bouts of sobbing in your office while banging your head on your desk.  I can tell you some of the causes of stress: work, lack of money, lack of sufficient amount of time to get everything done...a two-year-old boy.

I would even go so far as to say I could regurgitate some advice from medical experts on how to prevent stress in your life.  Last week our Human Resources Director sent some tips on avoiding stress.  Number one?  Take a deep breath and evaluate the situation.  Well, that advice could be given for anything.  Say, for instance, you're drunk on a bar stool and you're contemplating having another alcoholic beverage...take a deep breath and evaluate the situation...or take a deep breath into Mr. Policeman's breath-a-lizer.

Take a moment and walk away from a situation.  That's another gem of advice.  Sometimes, though, when I feel the nondescript signs of stress, I CAN'T walk away from the situation.  The end result would cause me more stress.

So here's my definition of stress - an intangible sensation of pain that consumes the entire body.  First attacking the brain, followed by all body parts from head to toe.  There is no absolute cure for stress.  There's no pill that can be consumed, beach that can be visited or hitman to take care of all of the stupid people in the world that cause you the intangible sensation of pain. 

Sure, I have learned not to sweat the small stuff, or the big stuff.   But, I still sweat.  And you know what they have for that?  Antiperspirant - Deodorant.

Moving to the Beat of My Special Little Drum

Anyone who has ever moved knows the chaos that is involved.  Anyone who has ever moved an entire housefull of stuff, along with a child and two dogs knows that a stay at the insane asylum is not unrealistic.  Anyone who has attempted the aforementioned move across multiple states while in the midst of a recession has probably already booked and been a resident at the mental institution of their insurance company's choosing.

That is where I am at.

My family is moving.  Moving out of state.  Moving on.  Moving ahead.  Moving.

I'd like to say that we're organized.  We are on track.  We are checking things off of our to-do list and abiding by timelines set forth by --- me.  But, 'I can not tell a lie'.  Even the best laid plans have some cracks in their foundations.

Being the Type A personality that I am (the fun, sarcastic type), I made a project plan.  I made assignment lists, packing lists, mental notes of who we need to contact and when.  Then an itty-bitty needle got thrown into the haystack of our lives and the plan needed to change.  Not only changed, but expedited.  Whereas I thought I had two full months to get ready for the move...I now have one.

One month to put new flooring down, to paint crayon and fingerprint-covered walls, to put the house on the market, to find a new house in a new city, to find a new job...to finish my current job.

Now, us Type A personalities love stress.  We thrive on it.  As a journalist, I love deadlines.  I love chaos.  But COME ON!!!  There are too many things to do and not enough resources in the world to help in such a short amount of time.  Oh, and throw getting tooth-work done on top and it's like throwing a cherry on top of a melted ice cream sundae.

Some may ask, "If you're so busy Monica, why do you have time to blog?"  That's a fair and valid question.  And my answer is a simple one:  If I didn't take the time out to do what I love (write, not bitch), then I wouldn't just go insane, I'd go criminally insane.  And quite frankly, I don't have time to do time in the slammer.

Rest assured, I have a new plan in place and it goes something like this.  My family is moving.  Moving out of state.  Moving on.  Moving ahead.  Moving. 

See?  I've got a lot accomplished.  The beginning and end have already been done.  The middle has yet to be written.

Ghetto vs. Trailer Park...Showdown at the Superstore!

The action never seems to stop at my beloved local Superstore. I've experienced rude customer service, angry workers, bruised apples...but last night's visit to the decrepit store in which I've come to rely really takes the cake!

I'm in the self-checkout lane (I still haven't learned my lesson) when I saw two young girls approach me. As they inched up on me, I felt the need to protect my place in line. I could tell they were ready to bolt for the next available scanner.

But then, I heard their mother calling for them to 'wait up'. She was a good 10 feet away and I had assumed the girls backed off. Apparently I was mistaken, as was another patron.

"Did you just f'n cut in front of my kid? How could you cut in front of my kid?"

I heard the scream clear as a bell seeing as this distraught mother was inches behind me.

"No, I didn't f'n cut in front of your kid. She was with YOU. Don't make me go ghetto on your ass. I'm from the ghetto and I will go ghetto on your ass."

I stifled my chuckles...too intrigued with the level of ignorancy at this place.

"Did you just threaten me? You have a baby in your cart and your threatening me?"

"So what? You have three kids with you and YOU'RE threatening me. You'd better back off bitch."

As I picked up my scanning pace, I looked over to the Superstore employee. Nothing. No reaction. Perhaps it was just another day at work for her.

I quickly ran my credit card and exited the building in time to hear (finally) "Security to lane 1. Security to lane 1"

As the sun was setting on my white-trash town, I hurried as quick as I could to my car. Unloading my groceries I heard the sirens. They got closer and closer. Next thing I knew the cops were pulling up to the front of the store.

It should be mentioned that as the women were shouting at each other (and their kids were crying from embarrassment) they continued scanning their items right next to each other. That takes talent.

It's hard enough for me to figure out what I'm scanning - I have 'Look Up Item' memorized. But to do it while screaming at someone in front of or behind you is pure talent (or insanity).

In hindsight, I wish I would have stuck around. I wish I could report on the outcome. I don't know who won the battle, but I fear the Ghetto vs. Trailer Park war wages on. (and I just can't wait to stop at the store tonight!!)

Happy 2012 and a half...

First of all, let me apologize to all of my (2) fans for not blogging on a more regular basis. Almost an entire year has gone by and in those 365 days, I can assure you that at least 365 outrageous, ridiculous, hilarious or moronic things have happened. I pledge to you, my avid followers (who have nothing better to do than to read various rants on the Internet), to be more consistent in my blogging and to continue to sprinkle a little sense of humor on top of the crap-cake that is life.

In a year's time, I have adopted a son and have weathered numerous storms on the job front. I have endured two strikes from employees, two bouts with pneumonia and the fun that is potty-training a two-year-old. I would like to say I've come out stronger. If the mentally insane are stronger than the sane, then yes I have.

The 'funny' thing is, I love my life - as crazy as it is. I love my husband. I love my son. I love my two four-legged children and...I love my job. But, what I love most is going home to my husband, son and furry, canine companions at the end of a workday. They put everything into perspective. They remind me that though the world is filled with idiots who hang voo-doo dolls of me on picket signs, I am loved unconditionally. They make crabby mom into happy mom.

If only everyone was fortunate enough to love and be loved. The people who lash out, who scowl, who not only try to throw you under the bus - but proceed to get in the driver's seat and run you over, who yell and scream and throw a temper tantrum to rival my two-year-old's, are the people who hate their life.

We've heard the mantra, 'don't sweat the small stuff'. But, people shouldn't really sweat the big stuff either. Everything happens for a reason and a reason can be made for everything. Financial worries? Cut back on the non-essentials until you've saved enough to indulge again. Family issues? Let the storm pass and be the one to extend the olive branch. Ignorant boss? Let him/her continue to be ignorant and true colors will shine. You never know, you may get a much-deserved promotion.

At the risk of sounding preachy, I can admit that I have not practiced what I am preaching very well this past year. While I'm financially sound, happy with my Stoneking family and have become immune to ignorant people...I do internalize my thoughts and feelings - until I decide to blog about them.

What I have learned - thank you therapy sessions - is that continued internalization of stress and anxiety can lead to chronic health issues or...jail. Not that I've committed a crime, but I am becoming more empathetic to those who go on a bender and stand at the top of a bell tower threatening bodily harm. But the fact is, stupid people do exist. If we let their stupidity affect our health, our well-being, then they have won. So, in the battle of smart versus stupid...let's all work together to help smart win.