What I Want to Be When I Grow Up, Part 3

So, this is turning into a series that has really got me thinking, and that is a good thing (I think). If you haven't read my other 2 posts on this topic, please click these links for the backstory.

What I Want to Be When I Grow Up

What I Want to Be When I Grow Up, Part 2

It's funny because I am finding myself thinking more and more about what I could possibly do as a job. I don't want a "career"; I never really did. I am just musing about the types of jobs I could envision doing in order to help my hubby pay the bills and not hate the job while I'm doing it. So, since I started this series (not knowing it was going to turn into a series), my imagination has been switched on.

Here are some more "would-like-to's":

I could totally see myself as a coffee taster. Wouldn't that be awesome? You walk into the office, grab a cup of coffee, and then just sit down and drink it. Then, you head back for some more - a different variety, and you drink that too. Coffee isn't just a tool to help you become productive. It is the work and focus of the company to make good coffee and someone has to taste it to make sure it is drinkworthy. Someone, somewhere must have that pleasure, that privilege because I've drank a lot of coffee, and there are a LOT of varieties of coffee, and I'm sure at some point, someone has to taste the various blends of flavors to see if they work well with each other and if they work well with coffee. I would like to hereby place myself on the hiring list for such a company. Guess I should figure out if such a place exists any place closer than the mountains of Columbia.

While I served at my children's school the other day, I really enjoyed my time there with all the children. I just enjoyed being in the environment. I realized that, if given time, I could actually heal from the burn-out that I've had with kids and could possibly see spending time with them in the context of school. I'm not saying I want to be a teacher; a substitute teacher, maybe. Or just be involved in what it takes to keep the school running efficiently. Or I could be involved in special projects with the kids. The kids in my children's school need encouragement and they need to feel important, as all kids do. I would love to be in a position to be able to help these kids uncover their potential and recognize their self-worth. Sounds like my best bet would be to approach the principal and tell him straightforward that I'd like to work for the school and I'm willing to do any job that keeps the school running. Of course, then he might make me the custodian! But hey, I've cleaned toilets before, and you can have conversations with kids on their bathroom breaks. . . . Maybe I'd better be a little more clear about the type of work I'd want to do.

Another idea: I could create greeting cards. I'm fairly good at coming up with something touching to say in a certain situation. I'm not an artist, but I like crafty cards - stamps and glue and ribbon and all that glitzy stuff. I wouldn't dream of creating a greeting card company, but maybe I could sell cards door to door, you know like the girls scouts sell their cookies. Everyone loves girl scout cookies. Or I could just let people know I have this business and they contact me, telling me what they need, and I can get it to them in 24 hours, like the fedex of greeting cards: "When it absolutely has to be there overnight."

And ANOTHER THING! (ha - sounded like I was mad, didn't I?) I've wondered what it would take to become a web designer. . . .or at least a blog designer. I don't know the first thing about HTML, so I'd obviously have to have some education. But I love the idea of being able to use my computer - my beloved, gorgeous Asus - to do something I think I would really enjoy.

Now, in all seriousness, I would appreciate feedback, not about the actual ideas, but about your ability to comprehend this post. Because I took a mild sleep aid just before I started writing this, and now it's pretty potent. . . .so I'd better be going. I think I'm fixing my mistakes, but I feel like I'm typing like a drunk, so I hope it doesn't LOOK like I'm typing that way. Good night.

Sugar, Mold & Yeast, Oh My!

Ok, so I'm making some headway in the department of health & allergies. Since the beginning of Lent (about 2 weeks ago), I've stopped eating sugar, yeast breads, and most mold-containing foods. And guess what? I've noticed that I'm not as sleepy, I have more energy, and I don't have any hypoglycemia. I'm not feeling perfect, but it's a step in the right direction.

On the weekends, I've given myself a little leeway to indulge. And I mean a very. little. bit. I do not go swimming in vats of high fructose corn syrup, nor do I feast on pounds of yeasty, moldy bread. But the past two weekends have left me feeling stuffed up and groggy. Today, for example, I feel like someone has shoved wads of cotton inside my sinuses and I'm feeling very sleepy after what I would consider rather mild indulgences of forbidden foods yesterday. This is good and bad, I guess - good, because I'm getting answers; bad, because it means I have to be fairly strict about what I can and can't eat. (I can still have occasional chocolate, and coffee doesn't seem to bother me at all - yeah!)

This is still huge, though, because energy and hypoglycemia are intimately tied to depression and depressive cycles for me. When I'm not suffering from the ups and downs of hypoglycemia, I'm not Crazy-Psycho-Mom. And when Crazy-Psycho-Mom isn't around, I feel pretty good about myself and my life.

Maybe one day I'll write my memoirs about how I emerged from lifelong depression by making changes in my lifestyle. I'll be rich and famous, and then I'll have a whole new set of issues to deal with.

But for now, I'm very glad I'm seeing changes in this one area of my life!

Feeling Tipsy

I wonder if I'm the only person who gets stressed out about giving a tip to people who provide services for me. In a restaurant, I'm good to go because it's pretty much standard to leave a 15% tip. OK. But what about others who provide me with various services? Am I expected to tip them too? This causes me a great deal of anxiety because I'm usually not faced with this question until I am standing in front of the person who may or may not expect a tip.

For example, I do not frequent the "salon" (if you consider Bo-Rics or any other $9.99 haircut shop a salon). I get my hair cut about twice a year, mainly because I am a cheapskate. More often than not, I'm pulling my hair back in a ponytail and plastering it against my head, out of my face, with hair spray. Last week, I went for my semi-annual cut and asked for Cindy, the lady who had cut my hair the last time I was there. She didn't remember me. When she was finished, she took me to the register and, after swiping my credit card, she gave me my receipt to complete and sign. There, glaring out at me like the noon-day sun, is the line that says "TIP". So, I was supposed to put in my tip and then add up my total before signing and completing my transaction. Cindy was watching me. There was a line of people forming behind me. Sweat was starting to bead on my forehead. I nervously laughed and said, "I just can't seem to do math in my head." Cindy handed me a calculator. Ummm, how much of a tip do I leave? Should I ask Cindy how much she wants? Should I just give her 5 bucks and call it good? That's probably their ploy - stare at you intently until you cave in and give them a 50% tip. Uh, I don't know. . . . .um, how do you figure out percentage again? Is it 1 x 1.15 or is it 1 x .15? It seems I can't even do math with a calculator. I finally just threw some random number on the line to make everything come out even. No wonder Cindy never remembers me when I come in.

And the pizza delivery person. How much are you supposed to tip him or her? My husband doesn't give tips to the pizza guy, but when I'm the one receiving the pizza, I feel obligated. Or maybe I feel intimidated because the 2 main delivery people for the Papa John's place nearby are a tough-looking Asian woman with spiky hair, black lipstick and a ring in her nose, and an old guy with a total of 2 teeth in his mouth who pretty much fits the image that comes to mind when you hear the phrase "dirty old man." So, here is the pizza delivery person standing at my door - she knows where I live, she knows my phone number, and she even has my credit card info and signature. It might be wise to give her a tip. Otherwise, she might come back later and set my house on fire.

And finally, should I leave a tip at the coffee house? I mean, there is a tip jar at the counter, clearly begging for tips. Once again, the person behind the counter is standing there watching me. I feel rather compelled to leave a little spare change because I'm not fully convinced that this person won't lace my next double mocha latte with arsenic. However, out of all the places to leave a tip, the coffee house seems the least likely. I have to wait in line and go up to the counter to place my order. I have to get my own coffee sleeve, napkins and extra sprinkles of cinnamon. I have to clear my own table. If anyone should get a tip, it should be me. Maybe next time I go into the nearest Java joint, I should wear a little cup around my neck that says "tips" and see if they give me any freebies.

Just yesterday, I came across this article on Yahoo about when and how much to tip. However, it wasn't as helpful as I thought it would be. There were tips for tipping the following people:

Full service gas station attendants. Those still exist???

Shampoo Person. Did I mention that when I do get my hair done, it's usually at Kutz R Us, or some such place. I've never encountered a shampoo person in my life.

Doorman. What???

Skycap. Huh?

Soooo not helpful. I guess I'm still on my own.

What I Want to Be When I Grow Up, Part 2

If you read yesterday's post entitled What I Want to Be When I Grow Up, you may have imagined me climbing the ladder of fame with blood, sweat and tears because I said I wanted to sing, dance, or be a public speaker. Now, I really hope that you "get" me: Those are not really things I'm going to do, nor do I adhere to any fantasy otherwise. It was just my childish list of things I've dreamed of doing. Sure, maybe I'll sing in front of a group someday, but I'm not going to become a professional singer. And maybe I'll do some public speaking, but I don't think I'll travel the country being a motivational speaker. And as far as dancing, have you read any of my recent posts about getting older? I kind of doubt the spare tire would allow me to do anything except the polka at some relative's wedding.

So, let me muse a little more seriously here about things I could possibly do.

My kids had a snow day yesterday, so I set up a "spa" day for them. I created 4 stations for them to visit. One was a heated foot bath, one was a heating pad with a back scratcher and one was a shiatsu massager. The 4th station was a blanket on the floor, where each of my children took turns relaxing while I massaged them with mint-scented lotion. I put on a CD of Ocean Sounds: whales, pounding surf, foghorns, etc. Then it occurred to me: without having to invest my life in another college degree, I could actually become a massage therapist. I think I would like that. But I have a friend who does this and she said it's a lot of work and long, exhausting hours. Hmm, not liking the sound of that, but maybe I'll put that idea on the back burner.

Here are some other realistic ideas I've had:

I wouldn't mind cleaning other people's houses. But I'd have to come up with a catchy slogan like, "I can't keep my own house clean, but I'll clean yours if you pay me."

I think it would be fun to do a side business of baking cookies and cupcakes for kids' birthday parties and school functions. Forget decorating, though, because every time I try to decorate a cake, it ends up looking like it got run over by a tricycle.

If I ever had the gumption to start a business outside my home, I would start a drive-through coffee shop. There is a little business at the end of our street that pretty much changes hands yearly, so maybe one of these years, I can buy it and convert it into Jen's Java Hut: Drivethrough only! I figure I can get the attention of many Capitol Commuters since we live just off a main thoroughfare heading straight to downtown Lansing.

If I had to work retail, Kohls would be my number one choice. It would be my only choice, actually. I love that store like it was my own: all other department stores pale in comparison. However, if I worked there, I'm quite sure I would regularly take advantage of their fabulous sales and the accompanying employee discount so that I would never really make enough money to do anything but fill my car with gas to get to and from work.

My final, yet favorite, idea is to be a Blogger. Yes, I'm already blogging, but I'm talking about the kind of blogger that makes more than $17.52 per year in ads. Maybe some really cool organization needs a blogger and fate is just waiting for the right time to bring us together.

I don't have to make any major decisions yet. Hopefully I won't need to seriously think about this for at least a few years (20 years would be preferable, but my hubby seems to think I won't make much if I start working when I'm 60 and then retire when I'm 65 - he's such a pessimist). In the meantime, I'll keep sitting here in my cozy house, dreaming and blogging away.

Read Part 3 of What I Want to Be When I Grow Up

What I Want to Be When I Grow Up

I haven't figured it out yet. I still want to be good at something. . . .the best, even. Or just do something because it would be fun to do. I'm doing the Mom thing, which is all I ever wanted to do. But now that I've gotten the kids through the first few years of their lives without them falling off a cliff or eating poison, I'd like to try my hand at something else.

The problem is that many of the things I'd be interested in doing would most likely require much practice and skill-building. They're not the kinds of things that you just go out and DO.

I really want to sing. I love to sing. I have no idea how "good" I really am because I have never (nor do I plan to) stood in front of the American Idol judges to allow them to scrutinize my ability to sing. My sweet youngest daughter once told me that when I sang to her, I sounded like an angel. How precious! And I've had odd comments here and there saying, "hey, you're a good singer." But those were about 20 years ago, before my vocal chords were destroyed by pregnancy and yelling at children. Hey, maybe I should post a video of me singing here - that way, if you like my voice, you can leave a comment and if you don't like it, you can not leave a comment, and I won't have my feelings hurt by those who don't like it. But if I didn't get any comments, I might be crushed. . . . hmm, let's not do that.

So, I would love an opportunity to sing in front of a crowd. Like the National Anthem at a sports event. Or to sing backup for Mac Powell at a Third Day concert. Hey, as long as I'm dreaming, I might as well dream big, right?

I would also love to dance. I love how free and fluid a dancer looks when she's dancing. She makes it look effortless, but we all know that it takes hours, days, months, years of training and starving oneself and beating one's body into submission to make it look that easy. I just like to imagine myself, just once in while, spinning around or leaping across the stage. Corny? Yes. But this isn't your list, so shut up.

I'd like to be a motivational speaker. I like to think I have lots of wisdom to share. In reality, it might just be the musings of a sanity-challenged mom, but at least I like to think I have that wisdom.

As I'm writing this, I'm sensing a theme: I want to be in front of an audience. I wonder what that says about me - am I confident, or am I just a self-centered narcissist? (Is that redundant?)

Let's move on to things I would not want to do.

When I was in high school, I really wanted to be a marine biologist. There were 2 things that prohibited me from following that dream: 1. I didn't want to have to go to college very far from home. 2. I have a profound phobia of deep water. That could be a problem, don't you think?

I would never want to be an astronaut. I'll just wait until I'm dead and see the universe from God's point of view.

Although I like to perform in front of people, I wouldn't want to be an actor. Unless I got to kiss a cute guy, but most of the hot actors are like 20 years younger than me, and that's just disturbing.

Well, if you've read this far, I commend you. I've rambled on quite a bit. I see here that I'm much more free with my thoughts and words at 1:30 AM (insomnia) than during normal business hours. Time to go and dream about what I want to be when I grow up.

Read more in What I Want to Be When I Grow Up, Part 2 and What I Want to Be When I Grow Up, Part 3

Identity Crisis

OK, so I wrote a post about my adorable babies and how stinkin cute they were when they were still wearing poopy diapers and puke-crusted shirts. But it was boring, right? I like Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop and I plan to go back and get another topic.

But somehow, whenever I have a writing "assignment", I feel as if I have to please my high school English teacher, which Kat used to be (not my English teacher, just an English teacher). And when you want to please an English teacher, you don't use words like "stinkin" and "dang" and "poop". And you don't type words in bold print just to get your message across. Well, maybe you don't. Or maybe you do - things have probably changed a lot since I was in high school English, which was during the Reagan administration.

The point is that I just want to write. I thoroughly enjoy writing. I think about things to write about all the time. And then when I get to the computer, duh. . . . .. (insert drool here). It's not that I don't have anything to write about. It's more the case that I always want to make someone else happy - like YOU, the reader who is reading this right now. I actually want you to be more than happy - I want you to fall off your chair laughing and even occasionally wet yourself because everything I say is so darn funny. And I want you to be my follower because I secretly want to get tons of followers just like I want to have the most friends on Facebook.

There! I said it. I would like to pretend that I'm writing just for the sake of the craft. . . .just because writing is in my very soul. But I like approval too. And I absolutely love making people laugh. But I guess I have to be OK with the days when there is nothing laugh-worthy in my repertoire.

Just keep coming back and you'll get some laughs eventually.

Writer's Workshop - February Photo

I've been wanting to do this for a while, so I'm finally picking a topic from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. Head on over to her site if you want to pick up a fun writing assignment.

The assignment I chose: Open your pictures folder, pick a random February picture and write about it. Well, Mama Kat said to write a story, so I don't know if that means to write a fictional story about the photo, or just to write about the photo. I guess I'll use my creative license and do what I want with it!

When I first had children, the occasional well-meaning, more "experienced" mom would say to me, "Cherish this time because it goes by so fast." I knew in my head that this was probably true, but now that I no longer have any babies in my home, I have much deeper, more nostalgic experience of what those older moms meant.

If you don't know me, you might assume that my children are all grown up and married and having babies of their own. Not so - my oldest is only 10, going on 11, and my baby boy (who hadn't arrived in our family yet when this photo was taken) is 5 years old. Nonetheless, I have very real pangs of longing when I look at a picture like this and reminisce about my children's babyhood. Aren't they darling? (I can't help it if I'm biased.)

The saddest part about looking back at these tender times is that I was often so overwhelmed that I didn't enjoy them as much as I could have. What I wouldn't do to hold a chubby little baby in my arms again! (And I think we can agree that it's pretty fun to do what it takes to get a little baby in your arms, but that is a topic for another day.) I even told myself that those days wouldn't last forever, but it didn't always help me to weather the tough moments of having three babies under the age of 3.

My children are now older. I am certainly much wiser. I'm ready to have another baby. . .. once I get my allergies, depression, cholesterol and fatigue under control. My husband? Not so ready. Once I get into full health again, he wants his wife to stick around for a while and not this tired and cranky mom that's been hanging around for too long.

I know I will grieve deeply if the day ever comes when another baby is an absolute impossibility. For now, I pray that God will soften my husband's heart and make me healthy enough to have at least one more child.

Until then, I'll have to be content with remembering my precious babies through the wonder of digital photography, cherishing the present, and holding other people's babies as often as I can.