(note:  so very tired, grammatical errors ahead.  cut me some slack.)

In the last three weeks, I’ve started a new job, finished my first big project, raced in Washington DC, had a birthday celebration (small scale) for Arden, had a birthday celebration (large scale) for Arden including mass chaos at a Build-A-Bear followed by even bigger chaos at a slumber party, followed by lack of sleep, a 10 mile run, and a huge, successful and very loud surprise party for Running Boy followed by breakfast, cleanup, dehydration and an overwhelming need for narcolepsy. 

So to back it up:  work.  Work is work, yes, but it’s also way more strategic than I’d hoped and is actually challenging me more than I was lead to believe.  This either means I’ve dumbed myself way down over the past decade or it’s just good and honest challenging work.  I like my team and have only irritated someone one (by putting lotion on a dry ankle; apparently she’s very sensitive to smells and had no issues letting me know about it).  I’ve been cramming my running and workouts into the days somehow.  I’ve also been adjusting to the unfabulous thing that is workplace food.  Communal eating is rampant on my floor and someone is always bringing in some junk or other.  This defies logic, as I work with some of the thinnest people I’ve known.  It’s wreaking havoc on my own self-esteem issues but I am trying to get over. 

Army 10-miler: I had a fabulous weekend in DC with Running Boy and our friends Andrea and Joe.  I could go on and on about it, but the Renaissance in Pentagon City is amazing, the weather was beautiful, Ethiopian food doesn’t agree with Running Boy’s internal machinery, and seeing our friends before a moving running experience was really amazing.  The race itself wasn’t what I’d call well thought out.  This is strange, considering it’s a government that can run huge projects with millions of people and . . . oh, wait.  Right.  Government.

The plus side:  running with veterans, some missing legs and arms or both, some with prosthetics and some in wheelchairs, really brings home the cost of a war.  It was an odd race in that many times throughout the 10 miles, I felt myself close to tears and not just because I really wanted to stop running.  Watching mothers and sisters, wives, girlfriends, friends . . . all of them running with pictures of their dead on their backs.  It was a hard thing to take in, especially against the backdrop of a gorgeous day, the sun crashing against the Potomac and the monuments and cherry trees at my back. 

The down side:  Joe had to stop at mile 2 for help with his knee and I ran the last 8 alone.  The first 10k was good.  The last 4 miles was just ugly and miserable.  I was hot, slow, and even all the cute army boys manning the water stops weren’t enough eye candy to keep me going.  I walked the better portion of the last 2 miles, just to find myself dehydrated and overheated while I wandered around a parking lot at the Pentagon, attempting to find a particular Hooah tent in the middle of what seemed like thousands of other tents.  Did they provide a map of what tent contained what unit?  Nope.  Nor did I realize that after 45 minutes and yes, let’s admit it, a few tears of utter frustration and the dire need to sit down, that I’d meet up with everyone just to walk another mile back to the metro station.  Even better - a runner, waiting for the metro, decided that chugging water would make him feel better.  “Chugging” and “post race hydration” do not go hand and hand.  While we all charged through the opening train doors, Chugger expelled the water he’d just inhaled in a 50 mph arc.  The last 1/4 of the arc hit my right side and legs.  Oddly he continued onto the train, still gagging, at which point the doors closed in time for him to release another jet onto a new group of people. 

It was a long ride back to Richmond, and I admit my crankiness at Running Boy’s custody schedule continues to irritate me.  Don’t know why I can’t just accept it for what it is and hope for a change in it soon, but I’m not going to lie:  losing the majority of every other Sunday makes traveling nearly impossible.  And I’m tired of feeling like his situation still dictates what I can and cannot do. 

HOWEVER.  The weekend was great and I got a tiny bit of down time before . . .

Arden turned 7. Family dinner on Tuesday, following by a whirlwind week of school stuff, work and coordination.  Her actual birthday party included 8 kids at Build a Bear workshop.  Yes, I’m still disturbed by a steel pipe shoved up the rectum of an unsuspecting bear or rabbit, but the girls really love it and Arden even stuffed the butt of an owl for me.  After, we had pizza and cake at the house.  I will admit that I overextended the invitation.  3 girls plus Arden is probably plenty; I did way more than that, and I paid the price for it.  This also includes the idea of the girls going home to their parents saying, “Arden’s mom is MEAN!”  I had to do a lot of “mom-voice” and threatening.  One girl actually left at 11.30 because the dryer beeped and she said the noise sounded like a robot. I got no sleep that night, but had to be up at 6 to get ready for a 10 mile training run.

pics:

So why not skip it?  Because the longer runs are important and after running 8 miles alone after 2 with company, I had no desire to try to get 10 miles in isolation.  I had a babysitter come at 6.30 to help get the girls up, dressed and fed before the parents came to pick them up. I paid well; that was quite a task for her.  The 10 miles itself was really nice.  A side note:  that particular route is the one I did on Christmas morning after leaving the girls with Mike.  It was my first Christmas without them since their birth, and it was a pretty wretched day.  The route is one of my favorites because it’s mostly flat and full of good people watching, but the roads still hold a trace of the utter despair I left behind on December 25. 

After, my mother showed up to entertain Lily and Arden.  Through many very complex gyrations and a lot of help from friends, especially the aforementioned mother, Andrea and Renee, not to mention the boys who kept him busy Saturday, I was able to pull off a huge coup and actually surprise Running Boy with a huge birthday party. 

Side note #2.  I had originally thought I’d combine his birthday with a divorce party, because SURELY he’d be divorced by October, right?  Well, I wasn’t right, but I continued on with my planning.  I can’t even explain how complex it was trying to shuttle four kids around without setting off warning bells, but with some careful planning and some crafty lying, I had him convinced we were going “away” for a night.  When it finally clicked, he was pretty impressed.  His friends amaze me; 20+ years of knowing him and they drive all kinds of hours to make it down for this party.  It was a mixed bag of people; some of our running friends, some of my friends who have learned to love him, many of his friends I was meeting for the first time (and who got over how weird it was that I’d hijacked his phone and began sending random text messages to people I’d never talked to about coming to a party I was hosting).  Everyone seemed to click, the beer flowed liberally, and in my second major coup of the day, I managed to talk Dean Fields into doing a house party.

(actually it isn’t that hard.  pick a date he’s available and write him a check, and he pretty much shows up…)

One of my first real dates with Running Boy was to see Dean play at Cap Ale here in Richmond.  It was a ton of fun and I’ve been a big connoisseur of his music since then.  He’s readily accessible through all the social media norms, so I reached out to him when I found out he did these house shows.  Some begging and pleading to move dates around and voila - he showed up at the house, mingled for an hour, played in the backyard in front of a roaring (duraflame) fire until his hands got so cold they went numb, and ended up sticking around for the rest of the wackiness.  It seemed as though most really enjoyed the experience, but for me it was incredibly meaningful.  As I’ve traveled the better portion of the last year with RB, Dean’s music has played on my iPhone and during many an ice bath, hot bath, or afternoon of doing nothing.  His music was the soundtrack to the end of my marriage and the start of my new life, and to have him play songs that are important to me was something I’ll never forget. 

pics:  (warning, not every pic is family friendly)

Arden had yet another birthday party to attend today, so I dragged my hungover, still dehydrated rear to the mall.  We ran after the kids and rode a train and tried not to be cranky as all of us were very tired.  It’s going to feel very good hitting the pillow in the next 5 minutes.  I also was going to post a video I took of Dean in the backyard, but it’s really crappy quality and you can see what his house shows are like by clicking the link above. 

I feel like I am coming off an adrenaline bender, and so looking forward to doing nothing next weekend.  For now, however, I am so grateful to those who made the weekend possible and for the ability to give something back to Running Boy.  He very much needed a bright spot among the few dark ones that remain. 

Eventually I’ll find the time to blog.  Right now it’s enough to say that I am:

- still employed
- finished with the Army 10 Miler (and still able to walk)
- getting better at balancing my life
- thrilled my youngest is going to be 7 years old tomorrow. 

(source)

Whooo-boy, I’m officially tired.  The last week has felt like that annoying commercial of the person trying to swim in a pool filled with caramel.  Everything is going so very fast, yet it seems to take forever.  My brain works overtime during the day, trying to comprehend the many new things I’m trying to cram into it.  I attempt to cram a run into my body in the 40 minutes I have after work and before kid pick up.  Pick ups have me on edge; I take deep breaths before getting the girls from their after-school care.  They are necessary, the girding of the loins so to speak, because Arden is usually angry about something and Lily is usually sulking about something.  Both of them place the blame squarely on the school, but only because they are kind enough to not hurt my feelings by reminding me once again how I screwed up their lives going back to work full time.  Then it’s time to rush home, cram dinner in their tiny bodies that are trying to grow (but not fast enough, according to the pediatrician), and make it to whatever class they are signed up for.  By the end of the night, I’m wiped out and wondering if this is ever going to get easier.

And it will.  Right now certain activities are being dictated to me, and for right now, I’m going along with it.  Once this week is over, I will be able to impose more calm to the current chaos, and I think both of the girls will respond well to having some downtime and perhaps be less grumpy.  I don’t really blame them; this anti-superwoman is pretty cranky herself. 

The positives:  I do love my job.  On a conference call today, all my old coaching skills came back and I found myself leading a discussion with an attorney about how best to position the firm in this particular situation.  It was natural to me, and it wasn’t until after, when my boss commented on it, that I realized I still have most of my brain cells and can occasionally leverage them for other people’s benefit. 

I LOVE working downtown.  I know many people think it’s a drag - the drive, the tolls, the homeless bugging you for your spare pennies . . . but I love all of it.  Well, not the tolls.  I love getting out of the suburbs every day.  I love learning the names of the security guards on the bottom floor of my building.  I love rapidly changing out of my uncomfortable 2.5” heels into my running shoes, and heading out across one of the many bridges spanning the James River, just 2 blocks up from my office.  Or I’ll run up to Broad Street and distract myself with the amazing people watching; the runs go by quickly and my steaming brain, cooked beyond recognition, begins to reset and still in the sweating cage of my skull. 

The honest truth is that yes, I made the right decision, and no, it hasn’t been easy.  There are things going on with the ex that really bother me, but I’m not able to discuss them here and I’m certainly not able to discuss them with him.  At least not now.  Things that bothered me about him during the marriage are now quite huge and ugly; I’m sure he feels the same way about me.  And sometimes the idea that we are tied together, trying to coparent and raise children together for another decade plus, feels overwhelming. 

Add Running Boy’s ex who is still legally his wife and all of their issues and the mixing and melding of our combined four children and you start to get the picture of why, on random nights like tonight, I just want to tell everyone to go pound salt and drink a martini while lounging in bed. 

The silver lining in all this is that after the last two years, I’ve become an expert on myself and my limits.  When I begin to feel like I’m doing and doing and doing for everyone else, I need to reel it back in, back down, sleep more, be kind, be relaxed.  I know that I’ve hit the wall mentally, at least for a little while, and I need to just chill on worrying about everyone else.  This kind of behavior is ingrained in me, so it’s going to be a life-long struggle.  The best I can do for others is to simply state what is bothering me, and what I am able to offer, and move on.  It’s ironic that I was just telling someone I run with to stop fighting so hard and just “be the rock in the stream”.  In other words, instead of walking against the current, trying to envision yourself as a polished stone with everything just flowing around you.  You can observe the water, but it doesn’t affect your position or life.  This kind of new-age crap talk really works well for me, except I can never remember to do it.  It seemed to help the person I was running with, but I promptly forgot it and by the time I got home tonight I was wound so tightly you could have used me as a slingshot. 

I’m ready for better, less chaotic times.  The financial pressure easing from me has been a huge source of peace, but it’s going to take a couple of months for me to catch up and really start saving for a house.  I’m ready to stop finding new ways that my divorce has damaged me or my kids.  I want to make amends and move on, instead of just saying the words outloud and hoping they come true. 

I started my official job today.  I decided on a comfortable dress hand picked by Chelsea*, personal shopper extraordinaire at Nordstrom, threw on some very uncomfortable wedges (Chelsea swore they were better than heels!  She LIED!), and hit the road. 

I’m not really sure how to summarize the experience other than to say it was a good one.  It was also an intimidating one, but I’d say excitement won out over fear.  After being presented with my super-duper security swipe-card badge thing, then forced into a chair for a mandatory headshot, I spent the remainder of my day trying to navigate the hallways to the bathroom (got lost twice), figuring out which bank of elevators took me to my car or my floor, or sometimes a random floor or even another building, and filling out massive amounts of forms and learning the specialized lingo and jargon big corporations tend to have. 

Later, I found out that they actually provide floor plans to you so that you can figure out how to get around because it feels THAT COMPLICATED.  I totally should have studied them before coming in today. 

I was also amazed at how much is DONE for you.  Having been a small business owner for years, and before that working in primarily small to mid-sized businesses, I’m not used to anything like what I saw today.  While meeting one of the team members for lunch, a team of people were buzzing around my cubicle installing computers and phones and leaving me typed instructions on how to do everything.  Press a single button and a help desk person answers your call and remote controls your computer.  Need something shipped, even if it’s personal?  Send it downstairs; they’ll deduct the cost from your paycheck.  Someone set up my parking for me so fast that this morning, I had to take an hourly parking ticket and by the afternoon, I was swiping my new badge to get out of the garage. 

These little things impress me greatly, and yes, I realize that some of them are novel.  I’ve just never worked for a corporation so large and so segmented that every tiny task is assigned out and perfected into an art form.  Soon they’ll be expecting me to make art forms from my tiny little pieces of work, and I’m looking forward to that, but in the meantime it’s fascinating learning how a company this big remains fluid and able to react to the economy, client needs and general tweaks in planning.  Sitting through the benefits meeting was like shoveling fistfuls of cake into my mouth.  I’ve never seen benefits like these and could only sit there, marveling and drooling, over how this could make my life so much easier and so much better.

A small dent in my ego:  being escorted to my cubicle, I ran into someone who has been newly appointed a higher-ranking job than mine.  She’s someone I know from an organization, but mostly just by name.  We are both on an upper floor and she has a beautiful office with a huge window.  At the time I met her, I was presenting to the organization and she was in the audience, a newly minted marketing professional, me the seasoned expert.  It was a bit weird shuffling off to my desk while she tried to put together the pieces of how I ended up where I am.  Then I realized that the previous tenant in my cube had removed the fluorescent lights from above the desk and I was back to my normal happy self. 

The girls did well today.  It’s going to take them some time to adjust, just as it will me.  We were all tired tonight and I am still trying to piece together how I’m going to fit everything into my days.  A warning:  I’m going to drop some balls, and I apologize in advance.  That being said, I suppose I need to pack some running clothes so I can squeeze in a small run after work and before kid pick up, pack lunches and finish doing laundry. 

*If you haven’t had the personal shopping experience at Nordstrom, I recommend it.  Nordstrom may be more expensive than other stores but it is worth every penny of it, especially if you are fashion-challenged as I am. 

10 years has passed since I “officially” worked for anyone, though it seems like I’ve been working for people constantly - and I have.  The only difference is the benefits were non-existent and the paychecks came sporadically, usually long after I actually needed the money.  When I lost my business partner, I lost a lot of motivation.  It was too hard to keep selling as well as servicing the clients I had.  I was torn in three directions - and that is 2 too many. 

So a week from tomorrow, I’ll be channeling Ms. Parton (with a lot less in the top-heavy department; can’t even imagine what running with those things would be like):

Ironically enough, I can’t seem to get the legal sector out of my blood and I keep coming back to it.  I think it’s fair to say I like the challenge.  This job is different than others I’ve had.  The firm is huge and they have lots of people to do lots of individual things; I’ll be spending most of my time responding to RFP’s and figuring out how best to position the firm, and what attorneys should be teamed up, to get the business.  It leverages one of my strongest skills:  pulling the best parts out of people and making them dance on paper.  It also proves one CAN make a living with a degree in English and Creative Writing. 

My team is small and I’m excited about the amount of work and autonomy involved in the job.  I like to be left alone to crank out the work; writing is a solitary art anyway.  I’m also, frankly, excited about things like working with other people who are smarter and more successful than me, working downtown (yay for crossing into city limits!), meeting new people (cliche but true!), and having health insurance that doesn’t cost me 1/3 of a mortgage payment.  I’m nervous about how it’s going to affect the girls, or how I’m going to manage to fit runs in between a career and mothering, neither of which is very part time, and I’m going to miss the flexibility I’ve enjoyed so much over the last decade.  Sporadic paychecks are easier to swallow when you can set your own schedule, even though the truth is this:  if you own your business (in sole proprietor style), you are never on vacation and you can never fully disconnect. 

I say all of these things lightly but this was a very difficult decision for me.  The career person still buried inside me was yanking on the chain, wanting to be let loose to make a difference in a new environment.  Instead of intimidating me, the firm seemed to energize me and I realized what kind of assets I could bring if I could just get my foot in the door.  Back at home, I struggled and suffered through Lily’s tears as she begged me not to put her in after-school care.  She’s really had the Kool-Aid mom for as long as she can remember; I’m always arranging play dates and dragging kids all over.  Those days will be over when I start my new job, but I also felt it was important to listen to her and let her know that I too am sad about those things.  In the end, I told her, I have to save money to buy a house for all of us and that requires me to work. 

The hard cold fact is that I work very, very hard for someone who makes almost no money.  I’m tired of working for free, even if that’s for myself.  I can’t afford it and mentally, I have to find a better way to work like normal people do.  This means working during the day, and leaving the work at work.  It means I can read or watch television at night without my laptop open and on, laundry piled up in the corner, my refrigerator a mess because I forgot to grocery shop again and am once more eating cereal for dinner. 

It’s going to be a big transition for all of us.