Transitions

HI~ I write this 90 minutes after coming home from being gone for 3 days. Like, OMG, what a totally dedicated blogger! I was in Colorado for a training session, which was quite interesting, I must say. I believe I am a training junkie. I love learning the new concepts and seeing old colleagues and meeting new ones and having a break from my usual routine. Work, kids, sleep, lather, rinse, repeat. It is good for my sanity to have a change of scenery, climate, people for just a short time. I feel invigorated and refreshed, ready to take on the world! A little brainwashing is healthy! I drank the Kool-Aid, I tell ya!

Miss Mary Sunshine mentality, still coursing through my brain cells, I hopped off the uneventful, ninety minute flight, grabbed my bag, which was one of the first off the chute, went outside to catch the shuttle bus to take me to the airport parking garage, which waited for me to cross in the cross walk and get on. My shuttle stop was the very first stop in the route, I gleefully hopped off and found my car immediately. I was humming "Zippity Doo Dah" as I climbed in my car, zipped home in 25 minutes. Home sweet home.

I couldn't wait to see the kids, of course, but I had a few things I couldn't wait to do when I walked in the door. I was really needing to remove my contacts that were like little slivers of glass, stuck to my now weary eyes from the recirculated airplane air and I had to go to the bathroom and ensure I did not get toxic shock. Food would have been high up on my list of wants vs needs at that moment as well.

But those needs on my immediate to do list were fleeting. The two seconds in the door were greeted with Cole bursting with happiness and pure joy to see me and show me everything that I had missed in 3 days. It was a giant, excited run on sentence of what his homework was and kickball stories and a presentation of a little apology note he had written to me because he had accidentally broken my little crystal snowflake on my desk. Oh, and his book report project is due Friday and we need to do it now. Right. Now. Like, let's do it this very second. Mom.

So, with my suitcase in the door barely, I was promptly gluing and cutting with my contacts blurring and the toxic shock risk rising and the tummy growling loudly. Game on. Back to mommyhood with no visible transition whatsoever. My training brainwashing fresh in my mind, it was a do-able transition this time, and a welcome one.

Mall Phases In My Life

Today, I was able to go to the mall... ALONE, a far off, somewhat mystical place that is OUT OF THE QUESTION to visit with whiny, needy children nipping at my sides. It was purely euphoric, even though it was certainly not leisurely, I was just there to return a skirt that Patty rejected.

I had several flashbacks while inhaling the purely intoxicating retail-laden air. There are several Mall Phases in my life that came crashing back as I passed the perfume squirter ladies.

Cruising the Mall

Early Mall Phase with my best friend, Amy. Our somewhat neglectful parents dropped us off at the mall door with $10. We strolled our giggly little pre-teen selves all over the mall, ALL. DAY .LONG. This was recreational shopping at its finest. We followed boys we thought were cute. We ran into our friends at the food court. At the end of the day, our Jelly-clad feet found the nearest filthy pay phone and called our parents to pick us up. We never got sick of the mall.

Take It Off, It Looks Terrible

AKA: Shopping with Mom. This was general shopping for back to school clothes, or just change of season needs. This was hard core, shop till you drop with Mom, stamping her approval or stating, "Take it off, it looks terrible." This was only done a few times a year, so it was for all the marbles, Olympic-style, marathon, balls to the wall shopping.

We're On A Mission For The Perfect Outfit:

This would be specific shopping for special occasions. Mom was convinced that the perfect outfit was lurking somewhere between the now defunct Diamond's or The Broadway. These occasions included weddings, Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, school dances, sorority rush and the last one I can recall: my wedding dress.

Shopping With A Baby

Shopping with a new, little, precious baby, peacefully slumbering in a stroller, getting some out of the house time and still being able to accomplish leisurely shopping and returns of duplicate or hideous baby gifts. Ahhh. The best kind. Too bad it didn't last long.

Shopping With Kids

Lasts 10 minutes because Cole is running into the toy store BEGGING for various toys and Patty is pulling clothes off racks and CRYING and WHINING that she really, really, really, really, really, really, really wants the glittery slutty miniskirt. I can feel my blood pressure exploding, so we promptly leave. Mission Unaccomplished.

I'm sure shopping with teenagers is no better than scratching your eyes out with a fork. That will most likely be the next phase since I am not going to the mall until then, I swear it.

4th of July, Sponsored by Macy's

When I picture 4th of July, I envision an All-American BBQ, with crisp, red and white checkerboard tablecloths, lemonade, watermelon and kids dressed in red, white and blue, right out of a Land’s End catalog. When it gets dark, everyone snuggles together on a blanket and has a stellar view of the multitude of colorful fireworks. “Ohhh, ahhh” can be heard all around. It’s kinda like New Years Eve WHEN WE WERE SINGLE…we had such high hopes for the PERFECT magical evening, to be attending an amazing party with TONS of successful, interesting guys that would be swooning over us, right at midnight…

My perfect 4th of July has never happened yet. Maybe next year. We had a low key BBQ with my mom and then went for a much needed swim. Here in AZ, it is not just hot, it’s FHOT. On the news, they periodically show a zany newscaster frying an egg on the sidewalk, to everyone’s delight. I think it’s been over 110 degrees for 4 weeks now, just to give you an idea. Once in the pool, we looked to the south, to see gigantic, hovering black clouds, getting closer and closer. Our kids, native Arizonans, have had limited experience with precipitation. They immediately notice the cluster of clouds and start to WIG OUT. HARD.

“MOMMY,….THERE’S A TORNADO COMING!!!! HURRY!!! LET’S GET INSIIIIIDDDDEEE NNNOOOOOWWWWW!!!! NNNOOOOWWWW!!!"

Full panic has set in. They were reacting like the folks in a scene from Twister. Cole and Patty were scrambling to get their soaking wet, little bodies out of the bathwater temperature pool, scurrying into the house, shrieking, hysterically. They insisted we get away from the windows, that they would smash in at any moment!

We figured fireworks were cancelled, with the upcoming storm heading our way. The storm lasted 30 minutes. Glad to say we all survived. We watched fireworks on TV, sponsored by Macy’s. How All-American.

I'm A Soccer Mom In Heels

Ok, so hence the name, Soccer Balls and Conference Calls, today will be the first theme related post. Yippee! I am exploding on where to even begin when I ponder upon the array of experiences that I have encountered as a working mom.

Throughout my 8 years of mom-hood, I have been working. Working full-time. I still don’t seem to have a handle on it. There are soccer balls rolling around in my back seat amongst the files and pens and maps. Inside my sales bag, I there are Pokemon cards, a few Lego pieces and a silver Barbie shoe at the bottom, along with photos of my kids, which I whip out throughout the day, to catch a glimpse of those precious smushy faces. These odd combinations of elements often pull me in several different directions both emotionally and physically.

As most moms, I am always rushing. Rushing to get the kids to school in the morning. Rushing to get to work. Rushing to pick up both kids from 2 different schools, attempting to get to soccer practice on time without forgetting the cleats, shin guards, a full menu of snacks, books, crayons, paper and a pink plastic Dora cell phone for Patty’s entertainment. I am standing on a soccer field with heels on. The other moms are comfy in flip flops. I am a fish out of water. Where are all the working moms? Could I be the only one working? No, not possible. I just need to find them. This will validate my insanity. Hopefully.

First Time

Hi! My name is Amy and this is my first time in the blogging universe, so please be gentle. I didn't even know exactly what a blog was until just a few months ago. I live under a rock. Seriously, it just took me 3 hours of blood, sweat and tears to set up this Blogger page, and I still need to make obvious changes. I must be extra remedial, huh?



My husband, Jerry and I have been married for 11 years and have 2 amazing kids: Cole, age 8 and Patty, age 5. We live in Scottsdale, AZ. I work full time as a pharmaceutical sales rep.

I decided to write this blog primarily to help make sense of my role of a working mom. This is a role I have always struggled with. It will be short in length due to the fact that if you are a mom, you have little, if any time to read leisurely. The content will be simple to understand, since my current reading comprehension ability is about a 4th grade reading level. So, here we go...

Today was a monumental day for our family. Patty, our "spirited" child, decided she wanted to spend the night at the camp sleepover. She had been solicited and brainwashed by the multitude of targeted marketing the camp aimed at these little people that this would be THE night of all nights, complete with:

*gourmet dinner: cafeteria style pasta, salad and fruit
*entertaining camp "talent" show"
*critically acclaimed classic movie: "Alvin and the Chipmunks"
and the finale...
*getting to sleep at the camp (on the filthy social hall floor where they eat lunch daily) with a few hundred sweaty, cranky, tired campers, who would be giggling, talking and NOT sleeping...

But wait,...there's more!

In the morning, there was a field trip to... THE CIRCUS!!! So the whole thing was a circus within a Circus.

Who planned these back to back action-packed series of events? Obviously not a parent.

Please keep in mind, this child is only 5 years old. She has never had a sleepover. And she was so out-of-her-mind-excited to attend this life-changing event, she had been on her very, very best behavior for the entire week, which we had not witnessed for about 2 YEARS. What a sublime week of "yes, mommy!" and no fighting with her older brother, Cole all glorious week. Patty has been prime Super Nanny material, if that gives you a picture. The deal was, if she had a "good" behavior week, she could go to the sleepover. Mission accomplished. She was perfect. Who was this child? So, she got to attend.

I picked her up this afternoon, and she was standing upright, comatose. She looked right through me with her dark, droopy eyes, sucking on a chocolate lollipop. Good, I thought, she's zonked. She'll go home and crash. Six seconds in the door and she had reverted back to the Old Patty, having a complete meltdown, totally naked with chocolate surrounding her mouth, stabbing her plastic piggy bank with a fork, trying to get her money out because her brother spent his allowance on a $9.49 Lego set while she was at the sleepover, so why couldn't she go spend her money "RIGHT NOW?!?!" What a picture. And just like that, the good behavior streak was over until another worthy bribe comes along. She was in bed, snoring at 7:15 p.m.