Confessions of a Working Mom - Oh, the Guilt

The best part about working full-time is the nice paychecks.  The worst part about working full-time is the guilt.  Oh, the guilt.

Two months ago, I finally got the full-time job I had been looking for.  It was an arduous process, to say the least.  I graduated in December of 2011 and had been looking for a full-time job since.  During my searching process, I stayed home with my two girls and worked sixteen hours a week on the weekends.  I enjoy staying home with my two girls, but I prefer to put my skills to work in an industry, so each night I would apply online to as many jobs I qualified for.

I am so happy I got the job I did.  I love what I do.  I really enjoy it.  My boss is amazing and the people I work with are a delight.  The guilt does not come directly from my job, it comes from my babies.

Each work day when I have to wake my girls up super early in the morning to get them all dressed and ready to go to the sitters, I feel guilty.  I just want my sweet babies to have their beauty sleep.  When my four year old snaps at me with a sassy tone, I feel guilty.  I feel like she's sassy because I'm not there enough to keep her in line.  When my tiny baby poops right as I take her out of her car seat to go to the sitters, I feel guilty.  I don't want her to think I'm sending her away because she has gross pants!

So much guilt.

I debated even writing about this, because I feel like I should have a solution to my guilt by now, but I don't, at least not yet.  I try to spend time quality time with my girls when I'm home.  I tell them stories that I make up, play blocks, write with chalk and bike.  I also try to have conversations with my four year old in the car.  Sometimes these things disperse my guilt, but usually not.  The hardest is when I'm trying to be nice, and both of the girls are just mad and tired because they've already had a long day.  My tiny baby is whiny and my four year old turns into Sassy Pants Sally.  Not fun to be around, but then I feel guilty for thinking that they aren't fun to be around.  Ugh.  Never ending games inside my head!

I think this is going to be a working process.  I need to find what works for me and the girls.  It has only been two months, so my hopes are that I will be able to iron out these guilty feelings as time passes... wishful thinking?  ...maybe.

-Amber

      

So... my garden might be done for the season...

This morning I woke up, stretched, and smelled the beautiful after-rain smell in the air. I opened the blinds to the window looking out in my backyard and I was greeted with this:

...hooray.  That is my garden.  Was my garden, destroyed by my awesome dog Cayenne.  Oh,... Cayenne.

Shame.  ShaAAAAAme!!!!!

So cute, yet the causer of so much destruction.

This is the third time she has done this, FYI.  The first time it was just dirt in the garden box, the second time it was just seeds, and the third time -this time- it had my two inch pea and onion plants.  My beautiful plants that I have babied for the past month and a half.  We just got a ton of rain yesterday (which is pretty rare of as of late in Colorado), so I was thinking, My garden is probably looking real good! It probably was, too.  I haven't even gone out there to clean up the mess yet.  I might just water the dirt with my tears.

"I think we just need to accept that we cant have a nice yard with a dog" Tim says.

Um...

IT'S POSSIBLE!  I really want to believe!!!

So, my goal is to find a way to dog-friendly-ize our yard. Multiple fences might be in order.  This is going to be a tough feat because I'll be working against Tim on this one since he is already convinced:

THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS

I suppose my first goal should be convincing Tim that we CAN have a nice yard. Okay, TWO PART GOAL.  Part one: Convince Tim we can have a nice yard. Part Two: Find a way to have a nice yard.... 

Oh geez.  Cayenne just came inside with grass hanging from her jowls.    

Cayenne and the Squirrel

This is my dog, Cayenne.

Today, Cayenne caught a squirrel.

The ballsy squirrels that roam our neighborhood regularly scamper precariously across the top of our six foot fence while Cayenne runs along the base of the fence, staring down the squirrel as she runs.  How she doesn't run into the bushes without looking where she's running, I'll never know. There are times that the squirrels taunt her, chattering in the tree branches that hang over the tops of our fence. I'm quite sure that the *click*click*click sound that the squirrels make is equivalent to "Na-na-na-na-boo-boo". When the chattering starts, Cayenne gets desperate and literally parkors up the fence.  Her head will clear the top of the fence, but I think she is too bottom heavy to get any higher than that.

Since she is bloodhound mix, all of this chasing is accompanied by "Rowrowrowrow!" and "Boooooooooooowwwwwww" (Bow, as in bow and arrow) This is what a bloodhound bark looks like when written out.  The more you know.

This morning started like most mornings.  Cayenne was out back and an occasional "Rowrowrowrow" echoed throughout the neighborhood. I'm sure my neighbors love me.  I'd call Cayenne inside every now and then to break up the monotony of her barks, but after a while a different sound was echoing in the neighborhood.  A mix between a squeaking mouse and a kid playing dead.  I walked outside onto the deck and what to my wondering eyes should appear?  Cayenne, tossing a mortified squirrel five to six feet into the air.  "Cayenne!" I yelled.  Of course she paid me no mind.  I mean little to nothing when there is a squirrel in her sites, and this time it was in her mouth.  No way would she let me stop her play.  I'm sure Cayenne was convinced she was simply playing with the helpless animal, and tossing it in the air was a mere gesture to get the squirrel to play back.

As I tried to save this helpless soul from the jaw of my dog, the following exchange happened:

AMBER: [Yelling] "Cayenne! Sit!  Drop it! Leave it! Cayenne! No!"

(I imagine if Cayenne were to talk, she would speak like Mrs. Doubtfire, so try to read the following exchange in her voice for an accurate immersion into the situation.)

[Cayenne tosses the small animal into the air]
CAYENNE: "Mom.  Seriously chill.  We're just playing."

AMBER: [Calmer, but firm] "Cayenne, drop it!"

[Cayenne catches the rodent softly in her mouth]
CAYENNE: [A bit muffled] Squirrel is not an it! Squirrel is an animal and my best friend!
[Cayenne tosses the squirrel into the sky]

AMBER: [Apprehensively steps towards Cayenne, extremely calm] Cayenne... come here.

CAYENNE:  [Suddenly stop in her play] Oh are you sad?  What's up?  What's wrong?  How can I help? GAK!
[Amber grabs Cayenne's collar as squirrel lands on the ground]
CAYENNE: MY FRIIIIIIEEEEND!!!!

My guy took the limp squirrel to the side of the house in the front yard, in hopes that it would emerge from its petrified state and find safety elsewhere... Unfortunately, I think it may have chattered its last chatter.  Poor little guy.  I let Cayenne back out back and she immediately ran over to the closed fence gate, peaking through the fence slats, craning to get a glimpse of her petrified friend. "Rowrow! Rowrowrowrow!"

CAYENNE:  [Sniffing frantically]  Squirrel!  Are we still gonna play?!  I had so much planned for us today! That was only the beginning! Squirrel!  This isn't fair!  This is a lame game!  I can't even get over there to play!

"Rowrowrowrow!"

After about thirty minutes of Cayenne switching between barking at the unresponsive squirrel and sniffing frantically, she accepted that her friend had left her.

If only squirrels could read.  I would post a warning sign on my fence:

DO NOT ENTER, YOU MAY NOT ESCAPE.

-Amber

The Difference Age Makes While Singing

I am an observer.  Some people call it creepily staring... I prefer observer.

A few weeks ago I was at church and my eyes began to wander and observe as the congregation sang.  I noticed two things:

1. My arms are way hairier than the lady's arms across the aisle
2. The older generation sings completely different than the younger generation.

Because some things are much better acted out than written, here's what I watched unfold:

(If you're having trouble playing this video, just follow this link!)

So when does this phenomenon start, exactly?  Is there a specific age?  I hope 50 is the magic age.  I want to turn 50 and BOOM! I sing with so much vibrato that the Earth quivers.

-Amber

Worst Spontaneous Poses

Today I was looking through all of my Facebook photos that I was tagged in.  I like to get an idea of what my stalkers look at when they come to my profile.  (I like to think I have stalkers.  It makes me feel wanted.)  Anyway, as I scrolled through my tagged pictures I realized that I may have chased off any possible stalkers because of my awful photo poses.

Picture this:  My stalker comes to my Facebook page.  "Hmm, I wonder what Amber looks like now?  She used to be pretty cute".

As this said person scrolls through my pictures, a look of disgust forms.  "Oh geez.  Well, she went downhill."

I admit it; I take awful pictures.  I'm actually not sure if it's that, or if I'm just not that of an attractive person.  Either way, the pictures of myself are rarely appealing.  I started to realize a trend in my bad photos. To help you avoid bad poses, I have compiled my worst poses in one place.  You're welcome.

So here you go. Worst spontaneous poses a girl (or guy) can do:

The Poop Squat

What are all those girl on the bottom row squatting for?  That's why the picture is cut off.

Make It a Double

I imagine my voice is a few decibels lower.  "I love you baby".

Ugly Face Winner

"Hey everyone!  Let's make this picture our silly face!"  Silly face or the ugliest face I can manage?  It's such a fine line.

Chatty Clickclick

"Ohhhh he's sooooo cuuuu-" *click*.... I should have guessed my friend was taking the picture since the camera was pointed at me.  I also may think I look cuter when I talk than I really do.

Secret Teeth

Someone with full lips just can not pull this off and look good.  Ever seen a duck try to smile?  Well, now you have.

Head In, Body Out

"Guys.  Guys, am I in the picture? Guys? I'll just tilt my head to make sure my face gets in... the baby can stay out."

The Chin Is My Leader

I have such a carved chin, I point at things with it.  Thankfully, my guy was kind enough to make this a bad picture for both of us.

The Eyeball Pop

The thinking behind this pose has gotta be "Maybe my eyes can be as big as my mouth".  With enough stretching, maybe.

Rear and Turn

Please.  PU LEASE remind me to always turn completely around for pictures.  My butt will never look as good as I think it does.  Also, remind me to never wear my jean like that.

Don't you feel better about your awful pictures?

-Amber