freewriting at 2am

It's a rare thing to have unallocated time. Having just found some right now, I feel that I have to do something with it and so here I am, writing in my blog. Tending to something that I have largely ignored for the past few months.
I am smack in the middle of working on the Olympics. It's 1:45am and I have been told by NBC's car service company that there are no cars available to take me home until 2:15am.
What to do... what to do...
I think back to the moment when I got the job in the Olympic archives for CBS. I had been in Network Sales for a year and a half and had just had a conversation with my boss in that department that went like this:
Me: "So, is this IT?"
Her: "What do you mean? Of course this is it. This is GREAT!"
Me: "Just checking."
I began to pummel the Olympic unit with my resume, using internal office envelopes. Even the woman in HR disuaded me, reminding me that I had no experience. I thought to myself, 'how much experience does one need to be an assistant in a videotape library? And doesn't EVERYONE at this stage in their brief career have little or no experience? With that thought in mind I built up my confidence. And got the job.
I still remember what I was wearing when I got the call. Almost as a direct statement of "you'll never keep me" to the sales department I was wearing my most hippiest of dresses to work that day. I got the call asking me to come down to the Olympic unit and received the offer: lower pay, no health insurance and an end date to a contract. I had never been happier with a job offer in all my life. I still remember getting back into the elevator and jumping up and down so hard that the chamber shook. You're always told to follow your heart and there had been times that I wasn't sure I always heard it, but this time it was clear as a bell. I was following my path. I had never been surer of anything.

40?? 40??

I don't know HOW the hell this happened, but I am forty years old. FORTY. It's so cliche to complain about it, but that's why things become cliche, because we're all running on this hamster wheel experiencing close to the same things as everyone else, right? But this one was a toughie. I have never had a problem with a birthday. On the contrary, I LOVE my birthday! There was little to love about this one. As a matter of fact, I was a downright p-i-t-a about it.
To Ken: "I think I want a party." Next day: "Forget it. No party. Nothing." Three days later: "You know, I think I'd be upset if I didn't have a party." The next week: I don't want anything. No celebration. Nothing." The day itself was lovely. Ken and the kids had many surprises for me and I loved them all.

(I started this entry when I turned 40. I am now a little older than that.)

Since I wrote this, much has happened. First and foremost, Ken threw me a surprise party. It was perfect. Exactly what I wanted. Not too crowded... just local friends. Even though I was hopeful that I would have one and was fairly certain of when it was going to be, as I walked up the stairs I was stunned when everyone yelled "SURPRISE"! There's that gullible side of me. I'll upload some pictures when I get them sent to me (since I didn't have my camera, which was VERY difficult for me)!

With the passage of time the sting of forty has worn off, thankfully, as I knew it would. Fortunately, the sting has subsided regarding many things. For that, I am eternally grateful. Perhaps I sound a bit dramatic about joining this new demographic, but I am not the same person I was a year ago. Time heals. I'm feeling the subtle click of the puzzle pieces again and it feels good. They're not the final pieces, they never will be, but the acceptance of knowing that the puzzle is never complete, is in it's own way, another reassuring click.

Happy Thanksgiving.

They just love each other!



Such chubby cheeks, he's smiling as big as he can!

Mama's Day and our six-year anniversary

It was a gorgeous day here in NY. We spent Mother's Day at Bourbon St. Cafe with Mom, Ashleigh et al. Had a bit of a frustrating time leaving the house because no matter how hard I try I STILL cannot leave early enough to get to places on time. I try. I really do. I got angry with myself and didn't do a good job of managing my frustration and raised my voice and so of course, my four-year-old all-knowing sage tells me (and Ken) that I need to "sit and think about my tone of voice". G-d, this parenting business ain't easy.










Then onto the NYBG to celebrate our six year anniversary, a tradition we have shared every year since we were married there. I just love love love going back there. It reminds me that our wedding day was the best day of my life. I actually felt a little guilty telling Ava that today... thinking that even at age four she might think to say, "What do you mean your WEDDING day was the best day of your life? What about the day I was born?!" Fortunately, she didn't. But even down the road I don't think I'll be able to lie to her about that one. I feel like that author Ayelet something-or-other that everyone took a wild hate to when she said something about loving her husband more than her kids (I'm totally paraphrasing... but it was something along those lines), and that is NOT what I'm saying here, but to be clear... when else but your wedding day (or any other massive celebration for oneself) do you get to dress up in a beautiful gown, be surrounded by everyone on the planet that you love and make such a declaration? Suffice it to say, I wasn't at my best in the hospital during my deliveries. With Ava they practically had to handcuff me to the bed since I was so ill-prepared to have a baby (one month early) and with Ryan I was so sick I barely remember it! (I'm admittedly going into detail here so that when they both read this in 15 years they won't be angry with me for saying that their actual birthdays weren't the best of my life).





Highlight (and subsequent low-light) of the day: laying in the tall grass at the gardens raising both kids high up into the air and hearing their giggles. (Low-light part was when I laid down in a pile of animal poop. No, seriously. Right in the middle of my back.) And while it was a fabulous bicep workout mostly it was a moment in time I hope to always have at the forefront of my mind. Pure bliss.

Inauguration Day

I haven't been a diligent blogger as of late. While I have much to say about many things, I don't have much to say that I have felt like sharing lately.

Until today.

And so even though I am really not in the mood to post tonight, I am compelled to write this for moments like this are truly once in a lifetime. On Tuesday, January 22, 2009, Barack Obama took over the reins of the leader of the free world and not a moment too soon. The litany of troubles that our nation faces today is monstrous. We have a leader in office who will not (I pray) shy away from the difficulties that await his acumen.

I felt just as I had on Election Night only with more certainty and more assuredness. Jubilant. We all did. May it be just as we hope it will be. May we all be inspired by this great man and may he make sound decisions based on rational judgment. As citizens of the world, may we all be recognized and respected as such again.

I am proud to work for the organization I work for and I feel lucky as hell to feel that way. Being involved in this moment in history in even the small way I was is an honor that I will always be grateful for.

We won.

I had the pleasure of covering the elections for NBC News. I was in the DPS area as we were on the air from 7pm until 3am for our lengthy coverage of the most important historical moments I have ever witnessed. To many viewers I'm aware that it was a landslide victory from early on, but since I was there to do a job, I didn't notice what everyone else probably did much earlier than I.
That we won.
I mostly work in sports, where you are not allowed to cheer for your team (not that I really have one, so this isn't really a problem for me... plus my husband's team doesn't win often enough for me to cheer loudly). But that night, in that tiny little playback area that I was assigned to, we cheered. Because this was so much bigger than sport.
We cheered because a brilliant man, a thoughtful unifier of people, a black American became the 44th President of the United States of America. I don't care that his middle name is Hussein. I cheer because the majority of Americans could see beyond such a thing and STILL elect the best man for this job.

"She's invited..."

Let me start by saying that I will never, ever judge anyone who has help and doesn't work. Let me clarify: when I say 'doesn't work' I simply mean 'doesn't get PAID for their work', as is the situation of all stay-at-home-moms. Not that I judged before... but having the experience of caring for two now gives me true insight into the plight.

It's wonderful. Don't get me wrong. We're blessed. I'm thrilled. But I'm also just plain exhausted.

I've been talking to Ava about G-d. Trying to explain the intangible essence. I explain that G-d isn't a person, but rather a spirit. Then I start using pronouns and say 'he/she'. This confuses things, of course.
Me: "G-d is everywhere, honey. He or she is always with us.
Ava: "G-d's a she, even though I know she's a spirit and is neither a boy or a girl" (she really said this -- after several conversations with me about G-d)
Me: "Really? OK. I'm glad that you know that."
Ava: "I love G-d. G-d's invited to my birthday party."

How do I address the invitation?