Hope it was magical!
]]>After a minute of searching, I told her the black one would have to do because we were running late.
She pouted a little and then said, “You get what you get and you don’t get upset.”
My husband and I exchanged a look over her head.
“Who taught you that, Piper?”
“My teacher.”
“What do you think it means?”
“It means if you get a sticker and it’s not the one you wanted, you can’t complain.”
“Oh, I see. In other words, you should be happy with things you get because it’s nice that you’re getting anything at all, right?”
“YEAH!”
I look over at my husband who just shrugged. “C’mon!” I said, “You gotta love this school! They’re giving them cute rhyming ways of coping. When we were kids, all we got was threatened.”
Would you rather a poke in the eye?
]]>Talk about being nickeled and dimed to death. It seemed like every time I hit the ATM, an envelope was in her school folder requiring twenty dollars here, ten dollars here, forty dollars there. Lunch money, after care money, trip money, raffle money, pie sale, charity drive…
Friday was the last straw. I went to the ATM for the second time this week and sure enough, the minute I came home with my 60 bucks, there was another stupid envelope asking for $40. Talk about losing it. It was reminiscent of Diane Keaton’s neurotic freak out in Baby Boom.
“That’s just it! I’ve been nickeled and dimed by this school for the last time! I just went to the ATM and now I’m out of cash. AGAIN. I… I… I… I can’t take this. Another. Forty. Dollars! UGHHHHHHHHHH!
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After the dust settled, my husband made the wise suggestion that I take a larger chunk of money out next time and then just keep it stashed away in the cabinet (like my mom used to do in 1977). Wow. Why didn’t I think of that? (Probably because I am completely unorganized?). So I made a mental note to withdraw more cash the next time.
Well, that night I had one of those anxiety dreams. You know the ones I am talking about? Where nothing goes right and it is just stress, stress, stress at every bizarre corner? Yeah, one of those. In this dream I went to my usual bank but it was closed, so I went to a different ATM and it was out of order, then another ATM but it stole my card because I kept punching my PIN in wrong. Frantically, I took a bus across town to the last bank that was open and got there just in time. Total anxiety.
Then I went through this entire charade of explaining to them how the ATM stole my debit card and, of course I couldn’t find my ID… total anxiety bullshit. Finally they agreed to give me my money.
I told the teller, “Please, Please. Give me enough cash to get me through at least one month without going to the ATM over and over again.” And she did. She stuffed $300 in one of those long white envelopes and I left. But when I finally get back home and open the envelope, I discovered the teller had given me three $20 bills and a $240 bill (apparently in my la la land of anxiety nightmare, they actually make bills of $240 denomination).
“Oh no! What is this huge bill? I’ll have to break this huge bill. I only have $60 to use before I have to break this huge bill! I…I…I… can’t do it again. I… I… can’t… Another. Trip. To. The. Bank! UGHHHHHHHHHH!”
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Not deterred by my nightmare, yesterday I went to the ATM and withdrew $120 - my new petty cash stash (I checked and they were all twenty dollar bills). So today, as I am getting ready for church, I pull out my weekly church envelopes. Since it is a new month, the envelopes for today, Nov. 1, are right on the top. I take the first two and notice yet another Nov. 1 envelope and then another one and another one.
I say to my husband, “Oh no! They misprinted the envelopes! All the envelopes for this month say Nov. 1 on them.” But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! There was no misprint. Turns out there are SEVEN envelopes for this week. He tells me that is impossible. So, I started reading them off to him:
“This one is for My Weekly offering, this one is My All Soul’s Day offering, this one is My Renovation offering, My Parish Improvement offering, My Seminary offering, My Beloved Departed offering. I…I…I… can’t. I can’t…I can’t possibly fill them all… Another. Seven. Envelopes! UGHHHHHHHHH”
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Just picture your beloved Momish in this clip instead of Diane Keaton and you’ve just witnessed my petty cash breakdown!
]]>
Hope it was magical!
]]>The holidays will be upon us soon, bringing with them a whirlwind of shopping lists, cooking, entertaining, social gathering. Then you will blink and it will be 2010. Just like last year, when it became 2009 and you looked around in shock wondering where the hell did another year go?
WELL WAKE UP! THIS IS YOUR LIFE!
Sorry. I apologize for that outburst.
That’s actually not the real me talking. You see I just went to this seminar where I heard Marjorie Brody give a motivational and empowering speech and I guess I got a little carried away. Let me try that again:
WAKE UP! THIS IS YOUR LIFE!
Sorry. I guess she got to me more than I want to admit. She got to me so much, that I want to pass along some of the ways I have been inspired. But keep in mind that I’m learning here, so if my motivational skills are rough around the edges, I do apologize.
So, let’s see. First you need to WAKE UP! And then you need to LIVE YOUR LIFE!
Are you with me so far? Good. Wow, I really can do this.
Oh, by the way. WAKE UP! LIVE YOUR LIFE! is actually my own little pep talk. It really has no bearing whatsoever on what Ms. Brody spoke about. In fact, it doesn’t even come close to the motivational speech she gave, which was about self promition.
It is however, the important message I took away from it all.
The seminar was put together by eWomenNetwork. My friend asked me if I wanted to go because the topic (Market your Magic) seemed interesting. Once we were there however, we quickly realized that we had made a huge mistake.
The luncheon was basically an “accelerated networking” luncheon, sort of like speed dating only for business women. A place where all these amazing woman gather to promote or grow their businesses. I am telling you, it is really something to be a in a room full of such bright, ambitious, successful and super nice women. (I’ve never been to BlogHer, so this was sorta new to me)
But like I said, we quickly realized that we were probably in the wrong place. We really had nothing to offer. We weren’t promoting our company, we had no marketable products or skills that we wanted to sell. We were just there to hear the speaker. So as you can imagine, there were some awkward moments to say the least. Basically, every time a woman said, “Hello, my name is…” We had to explain that we didn’t have a business or product to sell. Yet, somehow we muddled through until then they made us go around the table and inform everyone what we had came to this luncheon to offer and what we were also hoping to find.
Um. Gee. Well. Er. Let me see…
So I chucked caution to the wind and pushed all prudence aside. Instead of telling them about my job or my company, I told these woman that I was a blogger. I had a blog to offer. And what I was looking for was more involvement with my community so I would have more interesting and meaningful things to write about, more helpful services to promote and recommend, etc.
WOW!
First off, let me tell you how awesome that felt to talk about something which has nothing to do with my job, my employer, my spouse, my child, my family or my kitchen sink. Second, let me tell you just how many of these woman were actually interested and wanted to know more about setting up a blog, writing for a blog, just breaking into the social networking world in general.
Turns out I did have something to offer! Turns out I got A LOT of what I was looking for!
WOW!
Honestly, I had do idea just how much I needed to put the roles I play aside and tap into my core self. Venture out there and tread new ground, talking about blogging and social networking as a business tool, talent and skill that I have knowledge about. Mind you, I am not going to quit my job and start a new business. But I did find that the whole experience inspired me to kick start myself. Ms. Brody talked about three things which hit me hard:
Three things needed to grow your own business and market yourself. But also three things needed to grow your own person and take care of yourself.
The night before this seminar, I went to the Ballet. It was wonderful! And I came back home after two hours of pure blissful entertainment so happy. Ballet is my thing, you see. Not my daughter’s, not my husband’s, not my employer’s. It’s 100% my thing and I reveled in it for two hours. But in the end, it was only two hours and then it was over. A great escape, sure. But I don’t want to escape my life, I want to expand it.
In other words, let’s take care of me for a change.
Going to that seminar was great. The best money I have spent in a long time. It was like paying a group of smart women therapists to talk about me. Recognize me. Value me. But not me as a mother, wife, employee, sister, daughter, worker, maid, cook, caretaker. Just me.
Indeed, it motivated me. It made me WAKE UP! It made me want to LIVE MY LIFE!
I already know one of the risks I plan to take (maybe I will have the guts to tell you about it later). But for the skills and knowledge, I am still searching. When was the last time you were inspired or motivated? What came out of that?
]]>Like yesterday when I came home from work. In her normal fashion, Piper immediately started in on me, begging me for a treat.
“Mommy! Can I have a treat! I was good at school today!”
“Give me a minute,” I told her, as I started to unload my computer bag, my hand bag, my coat, my coffee mug.
This is the same routine every day. One would think she was stuck in the house all alone, with no other adults or humans around because the minute she sees me, all her needs and wants must be fulfilled at that exact instant. And my response to her every day is to wait, to give me a minute.
Yesterday was no exception, I gave her the usual response, “Give me a minute.” But apparently, this was not EXACTLY the right response she expected. Because she looked at me all puzzled and said, “Mommy, don’t you mean I have to wait a minute because you just walked through the door?”
That stopped me in my tracks. I suppose I do always say “Give me a minute. I just walked through the door!”. I just never realized before how often I say that. Or even why, for that matter. Just one of those typical sayings that come out of my mouth that Piper of course expected to hear, and was thrown off balance for a second when I left that part out.
So later that night, I called my mother to tell her this latest adorable cutism from Piper.
{Bring, bring…}
“Hello?”
“Mom,” I said, “wait’ll you hear what your granddaughter said to me today…”
But then she cut me off before I could say anymore-
“Hold on, give me a minute. I just walked through the door.”
Oh my God, that old cliche is true. I sound just like my mother.
]]>Shortly after, I overheard my oldest daughter warning Piper not to sit in the stroller or it would break. To which Piper responded, “That’s OK. Mommy will just buy me a new one. In blue.”
Ugh!
That was when I realized she was indeed now three years old and in danger of becoming a spoiled brat if I continued to buy things on a whim. Before, she was too young to notice or care whenever I suddenly showed up with a new toy or a new outfit. But then somehow she grew up while I wasn’t looking.
When I heard her say that to her sister, I didn’t correct her or do anything. Instead, I vowed not to buy things for her unless there was an occasion, like her birthday or the first day of school, etc. And for the most part, I have kept to this vow. At times I have bought her DVD’s or books, but I figure she could never know to ask for them.
So last spring, when her play Tinkerbell phone broke, I more or less shrugged my shoulder and said, “Oh well.” Not wanting to throw it out in front of her, I told her we would try to get it fixed. I stashed the broken phone away in a drawer and I totally forgot about it.
Piper didn’t.
Yesterday, she asked me when could she could start her Christmas list (she must have noticed all the holiday stuff cropping up in stores). I said we could start it right now and got out a piece of paper.
“What do you want to ask Santa for this year?”
“A new Tinkerbell phone!” Then she ran to the drawer, rooted around until she found the old one. “This is all I want! A new one of these, or maybe Santa can fix this one for me!”
Ugh!
Now don’t I just feel like a total and complete shit!
All this time, this poor kid has been aching for this stupid phone that costs all of five dollars if that. As if five dollars would have killed me. Honestly, I was completely heart broken. I could have easily picked up a new one ages ago. She use to play with that thing all the time, so I should have realized it was a treasured favorite toy and worth replacing. It’s not as it she actually broke either, the batteries just died.
Five freaking dollars.
I tell you, I don’t know what the hell I am doing sometimes. I thought I was avoiding turning her into a spoiled brat, but now I just feel like some big mean bully that fucked over a helpless four year old for nothing.
Ugh!
]]>BASED ON A TRUE STORY
Any time I see that sentence, I am so there. I don’t know what it is about a movie which is based on a true story that causes me to be that much more interested, that much more involved and that much more compelled to know more.
I guess it is the skeptic in me that draws me in, because fictional events are all too easy to dismiss. And although fictional movies can (and do) effect me emotionally, it is rare that I am inspired by them or gain any strength from them. But if there are facts involved, with real people and real events with actual outcomes, then I am inspired, outraged, moved and motivated all the more. Fictional characters, no matter how realistically they are portrayed, can not reach me in quite the same way.
Take fairy tales for example. Like everyone else, I grew up with the basic princess stories about beautiful women who defy their birthright, conquer the odds, outshine all others and succeed in the end. However, once I got older I tossed those stories aside. They were fairy tales after all and nothing more. How can you take them seriously when we all know such things don’t actually happen in real life? But then I saw a movie about Grace Kelly. A beautiful girl born into Philadelphia’s high society, who defied her blue blood upbringing to pursue an acting career. She quickly became a famous and glamorous Hollywood icon who eventually married a handsome prince. And that shit really happened. Her story brought more magic and sparkle into my world than a thousand Cinderella or Snow Whites could ever muster.
So yeah, tell me it’s based on a true story and my ears suddenly perk right up. I have spent more rainy days than I care to admit glued to the Lifetime channel crying my eyes out in sorrow, shaking my fist in fury and humbled by the purest acts of humanity.
But the best part about watching these movies is they don’t leave you hanging. Almost every movie with a tagline BASED ON A TRUE STORY gives you some sense of closure once it ends.
And that closure comes in the form of those little white words.
Those brief, but powerful paragraphs that scroll across your screen after all is said and done, wrapping up the past two hours of events like a lovely satin ribbon sewn out of the fabric of reality.
“So-and-so died peacefully in his/her sleep x years later. Thanks to his/her work and perseverance, only x number of people have died from y in the United States since 19xx.”
“So-and-so was eventually found living under an assumed name in Central America and brought back to the US to stand trial. He/she was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. He/she will be up for parole in 20xx. The body of So-and-so’s was never found.”
“In such-and-such year, a bill was passed that would protect all y’s who are victims of z’s. That bill is known as So-and-So’s Law.”
Oh, be still my heart.
{I had to write this post after watching the remake of Sybil (on Lifetime, of course). Throughout the two hours of watching, I kept saying how much I liked the original movie better. Until the white words showed up. So much had changed since Sally Field had played the title role in 1976. For one, we now know the real identity of Sybil, as well as what a talented artist she was. In the end, because of the end, the remake redeemed itself.}
]]>Right after high school, I got this job working in an upscale boutique as a stock girl. I didn’t make much, but it was a job. I lived paycheck to paycheck in the most literal way. Payday was every Friday and by Thursday, I was counting my pennies to pay for bus fare.
My best friend was about to move and I really wanted to get her something. I found this travel diary that was simply perfect. Overpriced and completely frivolous, but perfect. I debated for weeks on whether or not to spend the money and get her this gift.
Finally on D-day, I decided to get it for her despite how it would set me back considering it was nine bucks, which was A LOT to me back then. So, during my 15 minute break at work, I ran over to the shop, bought it and ran back to work. That night I wrapped it and gave it to her with tears as she left.
The next morning, I opened my wallet and found a surprise. I had more money than I should have had. Turns out the cashier gave me the wrong change for the travel diary. They rang me up as if I gave them a 20 dollar bill instead of a 10 dollar bill. So in essence, I got the gift for my friend for free and even gained a buck in the process. I was on cloud nine. I wasn’t broke for the rest of the week!
So at work, I was telling my co-workers about this amazing twist in fate when my manager got all upset and told me, “You need to give that money back! You can’t keep it! IT’S JUST BAD KARMA!”
This, said by the manager who made five times as much as me. This, said by the manager who was enjoying her frappucino and raspberry scone that cost more than the gift I bought. This, said by the manager who never counted pennies in her life.
At first I was heartbroken, but then I stood my ground and said, “But how do YOU know it wasn’t good Karma coming back to me for doing a good deed and something meaningful from my heart?”
And I still believe that to this day. After painfully struggling over a decision and making the one that meant more to my friend than me, I felt as if I was being rewarded for being nice. For being thoughtless. For letting go and having faith that goodness brings goodness.
I thought about that today.
I woke up at 6:00 this morning on a rainy and miserable day and met fellow Philly bloggers of Bossy, Fever & Dream Kitchen to do something good. We participated in Philadelphia Care’s Volunteer-A-Thon. We spent our Saturday morning painting an elementary school hallway with a bunch of other folks, from all walks of life and all ages. It was great! It was fun! And it was exhausting!
Man did it feel good! It made you glow from inside just seeing so many people willing to help and knowing you are a part of this huge project that was born out of goodness.
When I got home and finished cleaning my house, food shopping and all the other shit I still had to do {my poor hubby is battling a wicked bug}, I checked my email. The first message I saw was from Suburban Turmoil. The subject was “Congratulations!”
Turns out I won her Hasbro games give-a-way. I won TWO games which I just know my daughter will flip over and love.
THANK YOU! Thank you, thank you, thank you!
WhoooOOOOoooOOOOoOOO HoooOOOOooooOOOO!
Let me tell you, I never win anything! NEVER. (honestly, my husband actually calls me the cooler) And yet for the first time in forever, today I won something. Now you tell me…
And the bonus? My ugly old beat up hiking boots are now a lovely shade of robin’s egg blue, thanks to all the paint I managed to spill on them.
]]>Only, when I got back to my office, I couldn’t find my phone. But I have this bottomless pit of a handbag, so I called my cell to make sure it wasn’t just buried in there. {crickets}
OK, so I must have left the damn thing home on the charger or something. Minor worry, but nothing to panic about.
When I got home, no phone. The charging station was empty.
Holy shit, where the hell is my phone? My husband asked me when I last saw it. Well, I know I had it Monday, because I updated my Facebook status while waiting in the doctor’s office. Did I have it on Tuesday? YES! I called T for our playdate. Wednesday? When was the last time I used the stupid thing?
Starting to panic (company paid phone and all), I gave it another call. {ring, ring} I heard it, but faintly. So I go searching for it. Calling it again and again each time I get the voice mail.
Finally, I found it in our hall closet. On Tuesday, I had a play date after work and took my backpack instead of my handbag, then forgot to transfer it back. Schwew!
“HA!” I told my husband. “No one can say I’m slave to technology!” In this day and age when everyone practically lives by their cell phones, I just went two whole days without even KNOWING mine was missing!
Then I checked and saw I had five missed calls. Oh No. I hope it wasn’t work or my boss or my mom or anything serious. But nooooooooooooo, turns out all the calls were from me while trying to find the damn thing!
Talk about your bursted bubbles. Not being a slave to technology is one thing, but being completely unpopular and unimportant is quite another. Two whole days??
What if I was lying dead in some ditch somewhere? Huh? Huh? Then you’d be sorry!
]]>Seriously though, I did a few online surveys that took me less than 10 minutes a pop and I got a five dollar gift certificate for each. You just can’t beat that. In these tough financial times, I figured I would post again about my little “part time job” doing online surveys.
If you are looking for an easy way to make a few extra bucks, you should check out my survey links page. After much experience, that page outlines the best panels to join and what you can expect from each of them. Surveys are easy to do and even fun at times (watching commercials, choosing magazine covers, etc.). I belong to about 7 different panels so I get a lot of surveys sent to me. There are also times I get invited into a focus group or am offered some other type of unique opportunity. For example, one on-line focus group I did was worth $75.00 for just an hour of my time. Another time I was asked to record my credit card balance each month (got $5 a month) and at the end of the year they sent me $60.
My husband always chuckles when I tell him, “hey, I just made 2 bucks,” or “I just did a survey worth three dollars.” But then when I tell him I have to go to the bank and deposit the $150 dollars in checks I have, he doesn’t laugh so hard. Those two and three dollars add up.
When you are forced to live on a tighter budget, you have to monitor all the frivolous spending you do. So, it really does help to have a side income, no matter how much money that amounts to in the end.
Here’s a breakdown of what I have bought over the past three months thanks to survey money and some of the free products that were sent to me:
$46.50 was deposited into my Paypal account (some survey sites pay directly to a paypal acct which I then used for these Ebay purchases):
$15.00 in Amazon.com gift certificates:
$167.00 in checks (I always wait and deposit the various checks I receive at once):
Free products I received to use and got paid to evaluate:
Grand Total (not including free items) = $228.00 (about $75.00 a month)
That’s a lot of stuff! It may not seem like much when you only get a dollar here, a dollar there. But if you do several surveys a week, it really adds up! Who couldn’t use an extra $75.00 a month?
Honestly, it makes the difference if you are like me and second guess buying a DVD for your kid or that cute sweater that finally went on sale or even the occasional dinner out. When you know it isn’t even touching your budget, but is “extra” money, it really makes you feel good or least not as guilty! And the kicker? You get the chance to voice your opinion and have an influence in the marketplace.
So go check out my survey links page if you are interested. And if you already do surveys, let me know if I am missing any! I can always use an extra few bucks myself.
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