Microblog Mondays - Today

Today.

My contract ended and I am not employed.

Today.

I took time to exercise--walking a half mile on a  beautiful Monday Morning.

Today.

I took an extra half hour to hug, cuddle, and play with this child who calls me mommy.

Today.

I took note of possible writing gigs and made notes of what I will want to write and maybe--be paid for it!

Today.
Is the first day in my new freelance career. I am keeping my eyes wide open and leaping.

I'm hoping I soar. If I fall I will leap again.

Today.

Microblog Monday--Why you were cut

My sister's sister-in-law, H,  was let go after 20 years at her job.

To be totally honest, we have never been close, but she's machatunim and that's family. What's more she spent the better part of this past year undergoing major chemo and radiation therapy for (I forget the stage--but it was higher than 1) breast cancer. 

Oh yeah, her insurance went with the job--she's trying to see what she's supposed to do now. Thank heaven for Obamacare. 

She was assured that her health had nothing to do with the reason she was cut. 

And to this I say, bullshit. 


A friend just lost her job. She had been there for a dozen years.  It came three days after she finally got a positive pregnancy test after years of dealing with infertility, and is the result of her successful IVF.  As many readers know, IVF can lead to absences at work. She asked if this had something to do with it. 

She was told it did not. 

Again to this I say, bullshit. 


Almost two years ago I lost my job of ten years. I lost it shortly after I got back from FMLA leave. Three months to be exact. I insisted on taking the full FMLA leave I had a right to, instead of just the 5 week adoption leave which I acknowledge my former company was generous enough to give. 

If I had given birth to Lotus, I'd have been entitled to 3 months leave, but I'm not going there now. 

Three months after my return I was cut. I was told it had nothing to do with my new parental status. 

Again, to this I say, bullshit. 


I think that this is happening a great deal and I am fairly sure it is underreported. I think this is happening primarily to women who have health issues. If you know someone who had something like this happen, please comment and let me know. 

If you think I'm wrong, also please let me know. 

Thanks.

Fain I would climb, but that I fear to fall

I got a lot done today.

I revamped my resume.

I did research for possible freelance assignments.

I wrote a bit on my novel.

I wasn't feeling well this morning and didn't go to work, dropped off Lotus at daycare. I came home, slept, watched TV, and felt better. I got to work.

My contract ends in April.

Fain I would climb but that I fear to fall.

I don't know what happens next. I will get unemployment. I will look for jobs that I think will be a good fit for me.

I will also write, blog, and try to make money from my words that way.

This is what I have always wanted. To write. To tell stories and make money from my work and from people enjoying my work.

Fain I would climb but that I fear to fall. 

Right after I was laid off we had just adopted Lotus. My mother was dying and I couldn't add one more thing to my plate.

Now, now I think I want to try. I want to spread my wings and see if I will take off.  I want to.

Fain I would climb but that I fear to fall. 

But I am scared.
Lose your mind scared.
Minutes before they put the longed for, waited for, child in my hands scared.

At one point in the life of Queen Elizabeth I, her suitor Walter Raleigh, wrote with a diamond ring on a window paine. "Fain I would climb but I fear to fall."
Elizabeth I wrote back "If thy heart fail thee climb not at all."

Will my heart fail me.
I don't know.

Flash Fiction--title to come

So at BlogHer I did this writing exercise. It became this little flash fiction story.

Here is the flash fiction story--draft one. I might polish it up to try to sell it to a magazine. Curious what you might make of it.

The writing prompt was about sensory writing.
The one I received were the following:

• A 90 year old
• McDonalds
• The sound of breaking glass
• The scent of orange peels
• Taste of something sour

Here is the flash fiction story. 

Hands which used to cup the faces of the most desired men in Hollywood now searched for the simple warmth of a McDonalds cup of coffee. Though her nails were still meticulously buffed and polished, the fingers were long and thin. The skin had liver spots, and no one would mistake them for a young woman’s hands.  They were 90 years old, like the rest of her.

They didn’t shake as she emptied two of the creams and four packets of sugar into the coffee and took a sip. The coffee wasn’t as tasty as Cary Grant. Nor as gorgeous as Brando in his prime, but it was hot and wasn’t likely to disappoint.

The timer on her erroneously named smartphone went off. Time for the pill of the hour. She reached into the purse that had been a diaper bag and dug for her pill holder. It had each pill for the days of the week. She opened the little square and put the small disc on her tongue. She gulped the coffee and liquid and pill went down.  Then she dropped the smartphone and the glass cracked. Stupid smartphone.

She dug into the diaper bag where she kept extra Ziploc bags. She opened one without thinking and was assaulted with the smell of decaying orange peels. She must have forgotten to throw them out. She’d forget her own name next. She put the cracked smartphone in an empty bag and zipped it closed.

“Here, honey.” Half of a McDonald’s cherry “pie” appeared on a napkin in front of her. Audrey slipped into the booth across from her.

Ah, youth. She thought – rather uncharitably. Audrey was only eight years younger than she was, but it seemed like decades. Audrey’s less-than-perfectly manicured hand took one of hers to give strength, no, to share strength. They had shared everything. Audrey had been her beloved friend and her sweetest lover since the beginning of that long-ago television show had launched their careers.

She picked up the cherry “pie” with her free hand and bit in. Savoring the sweet-tart mess. She looked into her lover’s eyes and savored Audrey. They ate in companionable silence. Despite the coffee, she felt herself beginning to drowse. Her eyes closed for a short time longer than a blink.

“Melissa!” She heard Audrey say. “You’ll catch your death!” She opened her eyes to see the silver hair of their daughter. She was wearing an attractive blue swing coat that Audrey was buttoning. Their daughter was sixty-two, and a grandmother, but there Audrey was buttoning her coat.

“Aunt Aud, I’m fine.” Melissa’s strident Brooklyn accent reminded her of Melissa’s father, a co-star who agreed to “stud duty” as he called it for the three months it took for her to become pregnant.

“Ma?” Melissa’s voice took her from her memories and she smiled into the eyes that were so like her own. She put her hand over her daughters. She remembered when Melissa’s hands were so little, now they were larger then her own. When did that happen.

 “You said it was important. Is everything okay?” Melissa said. The peevish annoyed tone had entered her voice. Such a good daughter, she thought. She had been so very blessed to have such a good daughter. 

“It is important. We need you here to witness a signing.” The daughter straightened up, and the lawyer came out.

“Are you two changing your wills? I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that because I’m mentioned in your will, I can’t stand as witness.”

“No darling.” Audrey said. “This.” She put the simple piece of paper down in front of her daughter who was reaching to get her glasses. She then took her lover’s hand so they could watch together when the light went on.

It wasn’t long. Melissa was straightening her glasses and saw the document. She looked up at the two women who raised her. Her mother and Aunt who were the most married people she had ever known. Melissa’s eyes filled.

“Oh Mom!” She breathed and enfolded her mother in a tight hug.

“Aunt Aud!” She said and hugged the other woman.

“But, but everyone should be here!” Melissa said as she searched through her bag to find a tissue. She found it and sniffed into it.  “Why now? Why after all this time? It’s been legal for some time.”

“She finally said yes.” She said, squeezing Audrey’s hand. “Come along now and take pictures on your phone.

Audrey slid out of the booth and took her lover’s cane. Melissa positioned it so her mother could stand. Leaning her weight on it she stood. Audrey took her arm leaving the girl she raised to get the certificate of marriage and follow after them to city hall. 

******

This is based on one of the days of my internship. I interned at a theatrical production agency and the year was 1994. My boss had taken me to lunch and we saw Audrey Meadows and Joyce Randolph eating lunch together. I had grown up watching Honeymooners reruns but it was my boss who recognized Ms. Meadows and then Ms. Randolph. 

As we left the restaurant we walked by their table and asked their pardon for our interruption, and then we said how much we enjoyed their work. Then we apologized again. Ms. Meadows took my hand. 

"Honey, you recognized us from performances we did decades ago. There's no greater complement for an old woman." She patted my hand and signed autographs for us and then we left. 

Good night, Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.

So I have a new job.

I'm settling in.

It's a contract position, which is what we used to call a temp position. What happens though is that after six months if I want a job in the company I can start looking.

I want a job in the company. I want a job in my department as they are filled with really nice people.  Or at least that is how it seems so far. But that's not what this is about.

Today I got a call from my liaison at the temp agency. I swear when I realized it was her, I thought that I was going to be let go. I had a minor freak out.

It was a "just to see how things are going" call.
All is fine.
I freaked out for nothing.

It occurred to me that as she gets older, this is what my daughter will be feeling on a regular basis. She already gives us these amazing hugs saying "You Came Back!"  I hate like hell that she worries about this.

I mentioned this to my husband, who is also adopted. He says that yes, no matter what, there's this little wonder if you really get to stay with these parents.

I thought of the Princess Bride-- and the above quote.

I don't know what to do about this. I don't know how to make it better and I want to make it better. All I can do is try to be there for her and give her lots of hugs and make her laugh a lot.

And let her know that I love her. And let her know when she wants me to be there--I only have one answer. "As you wish."

So sorry I dinged your car

Once I read an article in the the New York Times said that the worst drivers in Manhattan had one of three things.

1. They had New Jersey license plates
2. They were SUVs
3. They were SUVs with New Jersey license plates

Today when I got home from my job, I got off the train and went to the parking lot. 

There, next to my car, was an SUV with New Jersey license plates. As I live in New Jersey, I wasn't too surprised, but what really pissed me off is that the SUV was parked so close to my car that I couldn't open my car door. 

I had to climb in the passenger side and jump over the hump in the middle.  Not fun.

I considered leaving a note telling the driver that I was so sorry that I dinged your car, but since you parked so close to my car I'm not sorry enough to leave my name. I enjoyed the thought of the driver trying to find where I dinged the car--when I didn't. 

I didn't do it--but that helped me get through the drive home without hating humanity--well, at least until I got out of the parking lot into the New Jersey traffic--but that's another story. 

Diversity

It's been now almost five days at my new job.

I like it so far.

I think one of the things that is really impressing me is the diversity.

Towards the end of my last job, I couldn't help but notice that my old publishing house was falling down in that regard. It wasn't so much that the new hires all looked the same--or similar--though they' did.  They were shaped the same--or similar.

I tend to notice that.

You see, I'm fat.

I am not trying to "rectify" this as it is as much a part of who I am as my eye color. I'm struggling to get in better shape while chasing a toddler, but I refuse to let the numbers of a scale equal my self worth. I tried that and I didn't enjoy it.

When I started at OPC (Other Publishing Company), in 2004, there were plenty of large people there. Plenty. Large women, large men.  All shapes, all colors, all races, all ages.

When I left--was asked to leave--okay told to leave, the people around me were white and thin and young.

In fact, the November before, we were asked to get on this program for a discount in our health insurance. Healthy Company.  For $500 off the price of our health insurance we would give the employer HR department access to our medical records and take actions that they might require.

I outright refused. What is said between my doctor and myself is between my doctor and myself. That is how Doctor-Patient privilege works. I did not want my employer knowing anything about it. Period.  I was willing to pay the $500 and my husband backed me on it, 100%.

Three months later I didn't have to worry about it because I didn't have a job.

To be honest I haven't thought much about it. but I got in touch with some of my former co-workers and I found that quite a few who were laid off the same time I was also opted out. Some were thin, one was a smoker, and two others were black. I've begun to wonder if the reason I was in that part was my refusal.

I look around at my new office.
Diverse as anything.
Bodies as well as backgrounds.
I'm wondering if that is why I feel so comfortable there.

We'll see.

The Newness

So, after a little over a year after I was fired from my old one, I started a new job.

It's contract work--temp--but except for one job every job I had has started out temp. I can make myself indispensable. I'm pretty good at it.

It's in a division of publishing and I look forward to calling my old job and putting some feet to the fire--as I know I will have to. So far I'm enjoying it. I like my new co-workers and the commute is far better than my old one.

It has only been two days and we're getting used to the new routine. I'm waking Lotus up early for "school" (Daycare).  So many times over the past year people said that we should have stopped daycare--it would have helped money wise--but I didn't want to stop and start again. It was a good decision, this week would have been hell if she wasn't going to teachers that she knows and loves. It is seldom that I get confirmation that I did something right with Lotus, it was good.

That being said, she's being very whiny. I'm not sure if it is because of the new schedule. Because she's three, or because we just passed our family day. Maybe it's a combination of all of them. She's being very MOMMY clingy too. Which hurts Dave's feelings sometimes.

We're getting to a better place--and yet I've missed mom more in the last two days than I have since I was called that she had died. She loved listening to me rattle on about my new jobs--whatever they might be. She would have marveled that we get free drinks (soft and coffee) all day long and free lunches. She would have asked lots of questions about my new boss and coworkers. She never wants to see me in another bad situation. I miss her.

Things are looking up--I just wish that I could talk to mom without doing that too.

Microblog Monday--Long Term Unemployment Hell

I had an interview on Thursday.

It went well--at least I thought so. I coaxed a smile and shared laughter from what I am told was a panel interview. I was excited leaving it. I started planning for possible call backs and other things. Friday I got a call from the headhunter that set up the interview and was told they hired internally.

If they were going to hire internally, why bother interviewing me in the first place? I'm not saying it was a waste of my time, but it was a waste of my hope.

I've been over a year without a job. Unemployment is gone and I am eating rapidly into the savings I have. I'm lucky to have my safety net, but I need to be earning money. The hope was nice but knowing I didn't have it when I walked in is not.

4 Things to do BEFORE that Outing With Your Children

My first paying job after college (I had an internship prior) was a worker in a children's museum. I have often thought that some of my infertility had the groundwork in this work. Why, you wonder?  Simple. Often when I went home from my job I thought that I never wanted to see another child--not my adorable nieces, not a child of my own.

The museum was a great place for kids. There was a supermarket where they could "shop" and ring things up.  There was a "castle" where the kids could fight with sword and shield. There was a fire engine where the kids could climb all over, and fall off of it as well. There was a bouncy room. It was a great place.

I noticed though that the parents--were not all that great. They were so distracted--and this was before the invention of the smartphone. I didn't understand why some basic things were not done or discussed before hand.

Now that I am a parent, I realize the distraction is just a desire to think while the child is happily occupied. I also realize that you don't know what can or might happen at one of these places--so here are a few tips.

1) Put things back where they belong--even if the kids who came before didn't do the same. This is a version of the golden rule.  I'm not saying that you have to make the area sparkling--but if you came to the "supermarket" and everything was at the registers--don't say "It's the museum's job." and not do anything. It is busy and the people who work there can't be everywhere at once. Did you like seeing all the stuff at the registers? No? Then put it where it belongs and then your child can play with it.  Then after your child is done--have the child put things back.

2) Waiting has a place in any adventure.
 A lot of my parenting choices has to do with what I saw my brother and sister-in-law do. They are excellent parents. One of the most brilliant things my brother came up with was "The DisneyWorld Test". Once my nieces were old enough to ask to go to Disney, they had to pass the test. It consisted of standing in one spot for a minute without complaint. Then after one minute--they took one step forward and then had to stand in the new spot for one minute without complaint. This went on for 25-30 minutes. If they complained, they failed the test and could not take it again for a month. They were allowed to fidget, sing, and talk to dad. They were not allowed to whine. Once they passed the test, (at age 7 for my oldest niece, 8 for the younger) they went to Disney and had a great time. Anytime they saw a kid having a tantrum they wondered--how did that kid ever pass the test? Kids need to wait and take turns. It is not easy and I think for kids on the spectrum the fast passes are a godsend. But chances are they will need to wait sometime at the park--and this is a great way to teach it.

3) "NOT MY DADDY!!"
The scariest day at the museum--bar none--was when we heard this cry. There was a birthday party going on for a couple with two kids. The parents were distracted. The kids were distracted. A man--a cousin to the family--took the younger child, a little boy of about four years old, in his arms and was leaving the museum. The kid was screaming his lungs out. None of the workers there gave it a second's blink. Kids were always screaming when it was time to go. It was what the child was screaming that drove everyone into action. The child was screaming "THIS IS NOT MY DADDY!!!" The man at the front locked the front doors--and sent others around to secure the back. Someone tackled the man in question and brought the child back to his incredibly spooked parents--who hadn't noticed anything yet.  The police were called and I don't really know what happened after they took the cousin away. The parents were very glad they had taught their child this part of stranger danger, and it saved the family from disaster.

4) Make sure your child knows your names--not just Mommy and Daddy.
When kids got separated from their parents they were told to find people with red aprons--us.  We asked them what their mommy's names were. More often we got a look from the child as if we were the stupidest being on the planet.
"Mommy!" was invariably the answer.
Then we asked, "What does Daddy call Mommy." (Please note that this was the early '90's. Everything was hetero. Heather Has Two Mommies hadn't even been published yet.)
This usually got us a decent response and we could go to the PA system and call for the mommy in question. On one memorable occasion a little boy of about three was lost. We had asked his mommy's name and had gotten the "Mommy!" answer.
"What does Daddy call Mommy?"
The little boy thought about it for a moment and then smiled.
"Yo, Bitch!" was the enthusiastic response. The little crowd around the child collapsed in laughter, except for a few who were trying to figure out how to get the kid's mom on the PA system. The mother in question came to the front and after the enthusiastic reunion, we told her why we were all chuckling. She was horrified but then started to laugh. "It was one time--and he was joking!" It astonishes me that that child has probably graduated from college--and I'll bet it is still a big family story.

Who I Am Now

Hi,

This is for all the people who might not know me--and are arriving for IComLeavWe.

Who am I anyway?
Am I my resume.
That is a picture of a person I don't know.

I am, the mother of Lotus, the most beautiful child born in China--or anywhere else on the planet. We adopted her a few weeks after her first birthday. She is now nearly three, talking up a storm and refusing to nap with the best of them.

We adopted her after 12 years of infertility hell. This included IVF, IUI, and one miscarriage. That miscarriage happened, coincidentally--or not so coincidentally--on Lotus' birthday. We waited seven years to adopt a non-special-needs child from China. I have no issue with those who didn't choose to wait. I have no issue with those who adopt a special needs child. We are all parents.

I was let go from my job of ten years nearly a year ago.  Am I still bitter? Kinda. I'm trying to find where I fit in career wise and get money. So much of who I am was wrapped up in my career, I am still finding out who I am.

Mostly though lately, I'm a daughter who is grieving the loss of her mother. I didn't know how grief can touch everything. While I am much better than I have been, I still stifle the urge to call her to tell her something that Lotus did.

So, welcome to my blog. Glad to meet you.

More later.

Friday Five--Five things I have already done, that I swore I wouldn't do when I became a mom

So...Happy Friday!

My Friday Five today shows the difference between parenting before the kid and parenting after the kid. For a dozen years I was on the outside looking in to parenting. I had my thoughts of what I would "never" do with my toddler.

Some of them went out the window while we were still in a hotel room in China. Others had to wait until she got to that stage or that behavior.

In the words of my parents and grandparents. Oy. Parenting is not for the timid.

Anyway here are five things that I said "I'm not going to do that when I have a kid."

• 5) Preparent Me: Whatever we are having for dinner, that's what we are having. I'm not a short order cook and I don't take requests.

To be honest, I'm still not a short order cook (unless it is leftover night). However if the bill of fare is not to her majesty's liking, I have my go-to. Plum Organics. She loves them. (And no, they are not sponsoring this post.)

• 4) Preparent Me: After a short time of readjustment where I expect to co-sleep, I will gradually get my child sleeping in her own crib in our room and then her own bed in another room. 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Yeah, right. There is a crib which we plan to turn into a toddler bed in the room with Lotus' toys and changing table. She has never even gone into the thing. Most nights we, meaning I, will rock her to sleep and then D will put her in her crib. Most nights in the middle of the night, I will be awakened to the dulcet tones of MOMMMMEEEEEEEEEE! Where I will stumble to her crib, lift her out, with a small diaper check on the way. Then I will put her between me and my husband and we will all, hopefully sleep. Last night, she slept in her crib all night. After I checked that she was still breathing--I began to hope that maybe I can transition her to her own room. Before she goes off to college.

• 3) Preparent Me: My child will not eat fast food. Not ever. 

While we have only ever gone to McDonalds once, and that was in China; we eat fast food. More than I want to.

• 2) Preparent Me: We will find a sitter and once a month go out on our own. 

Yeah, well we haven't found a sitter. We did have one once but it didn't fit. Also. Money. We don't have it. Often we will leave her with my in-laws when they visit.  But not even close to once a month.

• 1) Preparent Me: I would not even consider giving up my career for a child. 

I didn't really think about what would happen when my career gave me up. I am still looking for a job but I'm not getting anywhere. Now I'm starting to shift to think of what I can do to make money. It's a brain shift, but I think it is a good one. I think I want to be responsible for my work.  We will see.