Trust Your Gut

That gut feeling.  I've talked about it before.  I referenced my sixth sense in a previous blog almost poking fun at it.  But seriously, the gut feeling.  The feeling that you just know that something isn't right, is not something you should discount.

I am firm believer that some people have it and some people don't (kind of like common sense lol).  I also believe that there are different degrees to the gut feeling. Some people feel it strong and know that they should trust it.  Some people feel it a little and  pay attention to it sometimes. Some people ignore it all together.

The people who ignore it all together are the ones that scare me.  I trust my gut.  I trust it when it comes to people.  I trust it when it comes to places.  I trust it when it comes to situations.  I probably have more of a gut feeling than most and I pay attention to it all the time.

My gut feeling has never steered me wrong.  The times that I haven't listened to my gut are the times that have gotten my in trouble.  I know that if I feel deep down like a situation is going to go wrong I need to remove myself or change the situation.

Honestly I can even have a gut feeling about a situation that isn't directly related to me.  I heard a story the other day about an online dating situation that really freaks me out. I'm not even involved and I know it's all bad. I know it's going to end bad. I know that I am going to hear the end of this story and be right.

There are places I just know are bad.  Once, while at the cabin, I was out exploring and I stumbled across a waterfall.  I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was a bad place and if I stayed there bad things were going to happen.  It was such a strong gut feeling that I was in tears.  I had to leave.  When I got home and told Mom and Dad about my reaction they both shared a look.  They feel the same way. To the point that they would never take my brother and me there. I will never go there again.

I have met people and knew from the get go that they were bad.  They proved me right.

I have left places because of a gut feeling and found shit went sideways after I left.

My gut feeling has never been wrong.  Even when I didn't listen to it.

That is why I have very little sympathy for people who blame their situation on their circumstances, or on the advice they were given from someone in their life.  You know whats right, you know whats wrong. You know what your gut is telling you to do. If you choose to listen to someones advice rather than your gut that choice is on you.

That's the thing about life, it's full of choices. The ones you make because of what you know is right and the ones you make because of what someone else things you should do.  The ones you make because of your gut, because of what you know, are going to be the ones that you are the proudest of and the happiest with.  Always go with your gut.  Always.

A Vacation is Having Nothing To Do and All Day To Do It In

Three weeks from today I am going to be on vacation.

This isn't going to be the typical vacation.  I have eleven days off.  Eleven.  And for the majority of those eleven days I am going to be without cell service.

Something that non-property managers don't understand is that most of the time, even when you are on vacation, you are on call.  You are always getting, and responding, to e-mails.  You are constantly the person who could get called in the case of an emergency and no matter how great your assistant manager is, they usually can't handle everything and will call you while you are gone.

Not this vacation.  I have made it very clear to everyone that while I am on this vacation I will be unplugged. Off the grid.  In the wind.  I will have no cell service, no e-mail access.  I will not have the ability to approve pricing in the morning.  I will be completely unable to resolve the days crisis.  It will be eleven days of freedom.

One of the great (albeit scary) things about this particular vacation is that we're moving into a new office the day that I leave and they are starting a HUGE construction project the day that I get back.  This construction project is going to displace my office and continue through at least September.  The likelihood that I am going to get any time off from the date that I get back until the end of the project is fairly slim.

In addition to all of the work stuff, I literally don't have to do anything for nine of those eleven days.  That's right, no plans, no schedules, no requirements.  Just me, Josh, the truck and whatever we decide that we do or don't want to do.  Which is extremely liberating and exciting.

It's been a rough couple of months at work.  Between adjusting to a new position that requires a lot more babysitting than the old one, moving, baseball and general everyday stuff I need a break. Only three weeks. Twenty-one days. And counting.

There's No Crying in Baseball... Except Sometimes I Want To.

Baseball season has arrived.  Actually PJ has now been playing baseball for a couple of months.  This year, rather than playing little league, PJ is playing on a tournament team.  A tournament team is completely different than little league.  In little league you practice once a week, have a weekday game and weekend day and you still get to have a life. I miss little league.  I miss the people and the schedule and the amazing baseball park food. 

With tournament ball it's completely different.  You have practice twice a week. Games every weekend from March through August with only two weekends off.  Half of those weekends are tournament weekends so there is a minimum of three games and there could be five games.  On the weekends there isn't a tournament you play one to four games. Add in the additional game during the week with other tournament teams and you are playing more than a 100 games in a season. 

This also means no vacations. No taking off the bra and relaxing with a glass of wine after work.  This means eating, breathing and sleeping baseball.  This means paying for hotels out of town and running all over the metro area on the weekends you aren't out of town.  It means parents who are competitive and obsessed.  It also means that there isn't as much great ball park food.  Even though you would think there would be more (it always comes back to the food with me lol).

So, realistically, there is crying in baseball.  At least for the parents. 

Don't get me wrong.  I love baseball.  Out of all of the sports that PJ could choose to play Baseball is the one that I would choose for him.  He loves the game.  I love the game.  Nothing has changed since last year except the amount of time that it takes up in our lives. 

I love to watch PJ play.  I get so nervous for him when he is up to bat I almost can't stand it. When he's trying to catch a fly ball to left field my stomach is in my throat. Whether he strikes out or misses the catch I still scream and yell and clap.  I am so proud of him for playing on a team and being a good sport and supporting his teammates.  Even with all of the time sucking that Baseball is doing this season there I still love it, because it makes him happy. 

The Joy of Being Unapologetically Yourself

This is blog post 100.  It's a milestone for sure.  What started out last September as 30 days of blog challenge inspired by my friend Veronica has turned into a habit.   Not just a habit but something that makes me happy and keeps me sane.

 It seems to me that there is nothing more appropriate for a 100th blog post than talking about being myself.

One of the joys of being female is the need for hair removal.  I go every four weeks or so and get waxed to remove unwanted hair.  It seems like that isn't being unapologetically myself except it is.  I like myself better when I have less hair. So whatever.

Anyway, I love my waxing lady.  She is tall, has huge boobs, lots of tattoos and is always wearing an amazing pinup dress. She told me at my first appointment with her that she is bisexual.  But she didn't say it in the typical, almost defensive way.  She was very matter of fact and casual about it.  It came up in conversation, it's part of who she is.

Today as we were talking she mentioned her partners wife.  Her current partner is male and he is married and obviously they all know each other and have this great open relationship.  Now, I don't understand this arrangement, I could never do it.  I'm way to possessive.  But that's neither here nor there.  It was the way she told me that was impressive.  She didn't care what I thought.  She wasn't worried about be judging her.  She didn't feel the need to explain her relationship, or explain why her boyfriend has a wife.  It was what it was.  She was, and is every time I see her, unapologetically herself.

As I look back over the last seven months of blog posts I realize that through these 100 blogs and life changes and challenges I am more myself today than I ever have been.  I know who I am.  I know what I want.  I am in a relationship with someone who lets me be that person and I surround myself with friends that let me do the same.  I am learning to CTFD and that means getting to be more myself.

The person that I was a year ago was a high stress, high strung, OCD basket case.  I couldn't be myself because I didn't know who I was.  I could only identify who I had turned into and who I didn't want to be.

Not anymore and never again.  I am loud.  I have weird idiosyncrasies.  I like to read and drink wine and coffee.  I love to eat.  I love to be in control.  I don't need to apologize to anyone for anything that makes me who I am.  Sometimes I'm a bitch and I do need to apologize for that.  I need to write.  I am completely unwilling to change the fundamental basics of who I am.  I don't want any more kids.  I might want to get married again someday, the verdict is still out. I only have to justify my decisions to two people on this planet.  I really like to complain about my job but the truth is I like the numbers part of it so much that I'll probably just stick it out.  I like that I'm short and I love the size of my ass.  I'm always going to need to lose 10ish pounds.  I'm not good at taking compliments.  I am blunt.  Fuck is my favorite word unless I am having an off day and then it's Shit.  I always see the best in people, even when I shouldn't. I am pretty funny, even though I never knew it.

You can judge me all you want because I don't care (Big Jesus hands).  I am who I am.  And who I am is pretty awesome.  And isn't that what everyone should be?  Exactly who they are deep down.  There's no real good reason to be anyone different.

The Art of a Mom Lecture

I was told today that I give a good mom lecture.

Interestingly, the word lecture has such negative connotations that I'm not sure being good at the Mom lecture is a good thing.

lec·ture

ˈlekCHər/

noun

1. 1.

   an educational talk to an audience, esp. to students in a university or college.

By definition a lecture is not a bad thing.  No matter what setting you are in.  How often do you hear someone say "don't lecture me" or "I don't need the lecture.  All the time. 

Obviously PJ isn't the one who told me I gave a good mom lecture.  He isn't quite old enough to appreciate my lectures yet.  He pretty much sighs and rolls his eyes. 

I have three employees who are all girls in their early 20's.  They actually come to me looking for the mom lecture and advice.  I suppose that should make me feel old but it kind of just makes me feel like maybe I'm finally doing something right. 

You only ask advice from someone who you feel has pretty good life experience and who you feel like has their shit together, at least a little bit.  

So I guess over my thirty something years I have somehow managed to perfect the art of the mom lecture.  In care you aren't clear about what exactly makes a mom lecture different let me help you.  Mom lectures consist of not passing judgement and not giving the lecturee the answers.  You present your personal experiences, ask the right questions, point out both sides of the situation and wait for the person you are lecturing to figure out the answer for themselves.  

Funny thing I just realized.  Being the manager of three girls in their 20's and four guys, no matter the age, is kind of like being like a mom to seven kids, all day long every day.  No wonder I'm so tired when I get home.  I have more kids than I thought.  

The Happiness of Convenience

I'm baaack...

I know, I really haven't been gone that long.  I think  it's been about two weeks but now I am for real, legitimately back.  I haven't been blogging a whole lot mostly because I have this new job (not so new anymore but it's still newer than my old job) and the time that this has taken has kept me from blogging on my lunch break and I didn't have a computer at home.

I bought a computer today!!!!  It's pretty and red and connects to the internet and had a real keyboard with a  10 key which means I can blog whenever I want.

My last few blogs have been written on my cell phone.  Granted I have a Samsung Note so my cell phone is huge, but it still doesn't have a real keyboard with real keyboard sounds that I can happily type away on forever and ever.  Now I do.  The happiness that this brings me is ridiculous.

I can also work from home now.  Seems silly but I spent five hours today on a project that would have taken me two if I had been able to do it from home without getting interrupted.  I won't get to work from home super often but occasionally I'm sure I can get away with it.

I can also go back to school now.  Well, I at least can't use not having a computer as a reason to not go back to school.  I'm definitely going to use baseball for the next few months but no more computer excuse.

Interestingly, you don't realize how inconvenient it is to not have a computer until you don't have one.  You can have huge phones and tables and it still isn't the same as having a computer.  It's so convenient and happy.

You know what else is convenient?  Having water and ice come out of your refrigerator door.  The guy that fixes refrigerators came and made that happen for me today.  It's been a day full of making Rachel's life easier.

Now it would sure be convenient if I could think of some good blog topics...

What if Your First is Your Last?

I have a habit of reading random blogs that show up in my Facebook newsfeed.  I think that Huffington Post is awesome and I love all of the different views and ideas I get to read because people post their blogs.  

Anyway, the other day I read this blog about what it's like to give birth to, what you know is going to be, your last child. How you cherish all of their firsts because essentially, with that last child, those firsts are your lasts.  I'll admit by the end I was VERY teared up.  I won't admit to full blown crying but there were tears. 

It was at that point that I was hit with a realization.  What about those of us that think that we are going to have more, so while we are appreciating our child's firsts we miss out on our lasts because we don't know they are our lasts.

Let me be very clear about something. I absolutely do not want any more kids.  It's not that I don't like kids, or that I can't love whatever kids come permanently into my life.  I am just completely unwilling to start over.  PJ is 10, I am past the point of diapers, temper tantrums in the grocery store (I think), potty training, the terrible two's and the even more terrible threes.  I'm almost to the point where I can leave him home alone. Pretty soon he's going to be driving and dating and I'm going to be traveling and going out.  I'll get to do the things that I didn't do in my 20's but I'll be in my 30's which means I'll do those things WAY better than I would have back then.  I do not want any more kids.  But I did. 

 

I wanted more kids desperately.  Since PJ was born, ten and a half years ago, I have spent a large part of time wanting and hoping and trying to have more kids.  I never thought that PJ would be my last and my only.  As awful as it sounds, if I had know that he was going to be I probably would have spent more time and paid more attention to all of the things that I was never going to get to do again. 

I would have loved every minute of being pregnant and paid more attention so I could remember it later.  I would have cherished the bond of breast feeding even after he bit me, rather than quitting.  I would have paid more attention during the nine months that I got to stay home with him and maybe figure out a way to stay home a little longer.  I certainly wouldn't have spent time stressing about getting pregnant again.  Hind sight is 20/20 and I didn't know that I wasn't going to have any more kids of my own.  

I guess maybe the point is that you should never take anything for granted. It's not defeatist to think that every time could be the last time so you should make the most of it.  You never know if you are going to have any more kids so cherish all of their (and your own) firsts and lasts.  Never assume that you are going to get a good morning hug or a good night kiss.  Not just from your kids but from anyone.  Never leave without saying I love you and always make sure that the people around you know how much they mean to you. 

After all you don't want to look back in ten years and wish that you had paid  more attention because you didn't know that the firsts were also going to be the lasts.   

Stuck...WTF? How did that happen?

I remember when I was little always wondering how adults got stuck in jobs and careers that they didn't like.

I can remember thinking that it was a lack of school or a lack of motivation or just plain complacency.

Now that I'm an adult with a job that I don't like I get it and I feel bad for the judgment that I passed as a younger person.  I had no clue what I was talking about.  Just one more reason I try my hardest not to judge now.

When you're 30 something years old and you dislike the career path you've ended up on, it's really hard to change course.  There are kids, car payments, rent, food and all sorts of other things to think about.

When you're 30 something years old and you dislike the career path you've ended up on you realize you've spent so much time and energy on that path that you aren't qualified for anything else.  You realize that if you start over you're never going to make as much money.  You realize that if you go back to school it's just going to take time and energy and effort that you don't have after working all day at the job you don't like.  Plus when you finally get that ever elusive degree you'll probably make just as much, if not less, than you're making right now.

When you're 30 something years old and you dislike the career path you've ended up on you realize you're just plain stuck.  So you get up every morning and go to the office you don't like to do a job you wish you didn't have and try really hard not to think about how stuck you really are.

Maybe this isn't the positivity I've been trying so hard to convey but it's certainly realistic in this middle class America existence that we somehow end up stuck in.