I really love to know how other mothers are living their lives: working full-time, mom-preneaurs; part-timers; stay-at-home raising their kids themselves moms; moms who are not working outside the home but still have nannies; single moms and any other type of mom I may have left out.
I want to know:
- how are you managing your time
- how often you have date nights with hubby (or sex) and do you even want to
- how firm or soft are you on your nannies/babysitters
- are you a blogger and why?
- how do you feel about working and raising your children
- are you content; happy; in-love; feel you're on top of everything
- are you lonely; do you have enough friends; do you still hang with the girls
- what are the expectations of play dates - are you involved in the date or do you let the children play on their own; how do you make play dates for your child and how often?
- do you feel responsible for everything in your household
- how or why did you decide to work or not to work
- are you living your passion or are you paying the bills
- have you made new mom friends, and what have felt about making mom friends
- how do you spend your days? Are you and your kids on a schedule? What time do your kids sleep? How much time do you get to sleep?
- do your kids listen to you? Do you yell at your kids? Do you feel your discipline methods work? Do you feel like you're always saying "no?"
- what are the secrets to your success
- what areas would you like to see an improvement in
Feel free to email me!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Sunday, June 10, 2007
A Chance Encounter of Two Moms
The other day while pampering myself with a manicure on the UWS I noticed a pregnant woman having herself pedicure. She had a sweet freckled face, shoulder length shiny black hair (pregnancy does that to you)and was wearing comfortable cotton long white sleeve Tee and black pants. Moments later, I see what I think is the same pregnant woman but she's wearing a black Tee. After thinking I'm completely whacked, I realize that I'm now facing two pregnant women who could be sisters - only one is wearing a white T and the other a black one. They however have not noticed each other.
Finding this encounter most coincidental, I say, "Hello, meet your twin!" Both taken back with my forthcoming observation, they also did a double-take.
But the serendipity of the meeting doesn't stop there. After a few exchanges, they found out they have more in common than their 34-weeks of pregnancy. They're both teachers, live on the UWS, have husbands in finance and plan not to work after their first-borns. The chatting didn't stop there, and all the while I was silently smiling about this good deed that I brought to these two women - friendship. A new mom friend, a new mom best friend who lived nearby. These women should be singing my praises I thought. But to my dismay as they departed they did not exchange cards, phone numbers, email addresses or even last names. All they managed to say is "I'll see you around in the hood." What?, I say to myself? What the heck are you doing? "No,oooo - hurry, quick, get out a pen and write down every bit of information you can, because whether you think you have enough friends or not, after that baby is born, you'll be crying out for one another."
Having mom friends are essential to your sanity, to your well-being, and to your mom savvy-ness.
The meeting of these two women was organically perfect for a fabulous friendship to spring and grow. Little did they know or realize the loneliness or frustration the almost always come with it, and little did they understand that having just one mom friend who is accessible can make all the difference to their mommy disposition and contentment.
I ask myself, should I have spoken up for their shyness and told them, "Stop right there and exchange information, damnit! or I will for you." I didn't though... because of my own shyness about making a new mom friend.
Finding this encounter most coincidental, I say, "Hello, meet your twin!" Both taken back with my forthcoming observation, they also did a double-take.
But the serendipity of the meeting doesn't stop there. After a few exchanges, they found out they have more in common than their 34-weeks of pregnancy. They're both teachers, live on the UWS, have husbands in finance and plan not to work after their first-borns. The chatting didn't stop there, and all the while I was silently smiling about this good deed that I brought to these two women - friendship. A new mom friend, a new mom best friend who lived nearby. These women should be singing my praises I thought. But to my dismay as they departed they did not exchange cards, phone numbers, email addresses or even last names. All they managed to say is "I'll see you around in the hood." What?, I say to myself? What the heck are you doing? "No,oooo - hurry, quick, get out a pen and write down every bit of information you can, because whether you think you have enough friends or not, after that baby is born, you'll be crying out for one another."
Having mom friends are essential to your sanity, to your well-being, and to your mom savvy-ness.
The meeting of these two women was organically perfect for a fabulous friendship to spring and grow. Little did they know or realize the loneliness or frustration the almost always come with it, and little did they understand that having just one mom friend who is accessible can make all the difference to their mommy disposition and contentment.
I ask myself, should I have spoken up for their shyness and told them, "Stop right there and exchange information, damnit! or I will for you." I didn't though... because of my own shyness about making a new mom friend.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Thoughts on Carrie B. & Blogging
I think the character on Sex N the City, Carrie Bradshaw, was the one of the origins that spawned the passion for blogging (hey it's just a thought). After all, she made the columnist's life quite appealing. And, let's face it, if we could live our ideal character life's, Carrie's wouldn't seem so bad.
For one, apparently she gets to live a fab life on a columnist's salary in one of the most notoriously fab's city, NYC. She hardly ever seems that ruffled about too much. In fact, at times, she's content and happy. However she does have her contemplating moments that are seriously expressed in her well-known fab column. She's paid to voice her insights, observations and concerns to the world. What's more empowering than having people wanting to read your thoughts, your words of intellect, wisdom, inspiration or even your rants? (A blog, perhaps?)
Another point not to miss is many of the perks that seem to come with her life.
Did you say, Manolo as in Blahnik? Not only does she have this infinite collection that could turn her rare NYC walk-in wardrobe into a mini-walk-up boutique, she actually wears every pair and can languidly walk all over in the city without a complaint.
On a less superficial level, Carrie also has three uniquely beautiful and true friends that are never to busy to be by her side. Meeting for breakfast, lunch, drinks and dinner, the four never seem to have any of the normal logistical and economical complications that most New Yorkers face when they don't live in the same neighborhood.
Finally, Carrie has a fab body without breaking a sweat that looks good in any wacky trendy couture or vintage outfit.
In sum, Carrie's character was and remains an inspiration to many of us NY gals (in particular). She had the guys the best girlfriends, the shoes and her articulately insightful column that talked about the one thing that many of us girls have been interested in since we were thirteen - the hope and sustainability of true love. Although Carrie now lives in the syndicated world, she and her friends are still highly revered, memorable and aspirational to many us who watch her at 11pm with commericials.
For one, apparently she gets to live a fab life on a columnist's salary in one of the most notoriously fab's city, NYC. She hardly ever seems that ruffled about too much. In fact, at times, she's content and happy. However she does have her contemplating moments that are seriously expressed in her well-known fab column. She's paid to voice her insights, observations and concerns to the world. What's more empowering than having people wanting to read your thoughts, your words of intellect, wisdom, inspiration or even your rants? (A blog, perhaps?)
Another point not to miss is many of the perks that seem to come with her life.
Did you say, Manolo as in Blahnik? Not only does she have this infinite collection that could turn her rare NYC walk-in wardrobe into a mini-walk-up boutique, she actually wears every pair and can languidly walk all over in the city without a complaint.
On a less superficial level, Carrie also has three uniquely beautiful and true friends that are never to busy to be by her side. Meeting for breakfast, lunch, drinks and dinner, the four never seem to have any of the normal logistical and economical complications that most New Yorkers face when they don't live in the same neighborhood.
Finally, Carrie has a fab body without breaking a sweat that looks good in any wacky trendy couture or vintage outfit.
In sum, Carrie's character was and remains an inspiration to many of us NY gals (in particular). She had the guys the best girlfriends, the shoes and her articulately insightful column that talked about the one thing that many of us girls have been interested in since we were thirteen - the hope and sustainability of true love. Although Carrie now lives in the syndicated world, she and her friends are still highly revered, memorable and aspirational to many us who watch her at 11pm with commericials.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Why Creating a Mini-me May Not be so Good.
Not that long ago on the news, the Today Show - okay, so that's my version of the news - they ran a segment about Hipster parents. An emerging trend among new parents who are determined to make their children extension of themselves, more or less. You know, cool and hip like they are. These parents are resolved not to let their newly born (or children) dictate their music tastes, TV channels or even their schedules. That's right, no generational gaps here because their kids will grow up listening to the Beatles, Counting Crows or whomever it is they like as long as it's not Barney. Instead of making a life that revolves around the kids, the kids' lives will revolve around the parents.
This made a lot of sense to me about seven years ago as my hub and I were impending the birth of our first child. We had the similar thought that our child wasn't going to change or rather wreak havoc and stymie our lifestyle. No, we were determined to make that little person malleable and fit into our schedule versus the other way around.
Although we were happy about our yet-to-be-born son, we were still under this very naive and false selfish pretense about what it meant to have a baby. In some way, we (well, at least myself) viewed our baby as a house guest. Only, he was going to be a permanent one because his house was also our house and this scared the heck out of me.
I remember the first time I opened up the closet door to our yet-to-be-born son's room, which at the time I still labeled it our second bedroom, and saw his baby clothes hanging there. It was strange mix of disbelief and reality seeing all this baby stuff occupying the space that had solely been ours. Somehow it felt like an invasion.
No matter how much love we had for our permanent visitor, he was not going to be taking over our lives as we knew it, nor our household. At that time I recall not even wanting a crib right away. I viewed it as unwarranted clutter for a newborn since I was aware that they either sleep on your chest or in a bassinet. I was going to be a minimalist and only wanted the core necessities pertinent for each stage.
Just like those "Hipster parents" I thought I had it all figured out. Our baby and subsequent ones, would be like us - our mini-extensions who would do as we do, sleep when we sleep, eat when we eat and eat what we eat, and wouldn't even watch TV(although we do).
We believed this would enable our child to be adaptable and comfortable with the unstructured life. I mean we were happy with being ourselves and our spontaneous lives so why wouldn't our kids be happy being like us and living the way we do.
Because... kids are not us. They are not mini-adults no matter how hip and cool we dress them. They have their own needs, preferences and agendas. And when it comes to schedules, they do need their own, based on their developmental needs. Although these schedules might seem like a lock-down for us, it gives our kids a routine they can depend on, a feeling of control that helps ignite the process of self-regulation - which actually provides them with an understanding of who they are and what they need. In turn, this is what helps them to become people who can accommodate change and be more flexible humans after all.
It has only taken me seven years to learn all this. Too bad, for my children and myself, I didn't know it before. Life may have been easier, less stressed and more enjoyable.
But, I know it now, and as I look back I understand that I thought having my child be who I was - was okay - and sure I do like myself and life to say, "what's wrong with that? That's cool." However, what I have realized is that being who they are is much better than okay or even cool - it's extraordinary watching your child be exactly their own unique self.
So my message to all these newly hipster parents of yet-to-be-born and newborns is that when someone sends over the Wiggles DVD, dance and sing with your kids - it's okay. It won't deafen their ears to appreciate "our" music or create huge generational gaps. We parents can do that all by ourselves - by not truly appreciating and listening to who are kids are and what they prefer because we are still intent on making them appreciate and listen to who we are and what we prefer.
This made a lot of sense to me about seven years ago as my hub and I were impending the birth of our first child. We had the similar thought that our child wasn't going to change or rather wreak havoc and stymie our lifestyle. No, we were determined to make that little person malleable and fit into our schedule versus the other way around.
Although we were happy about our yet-to-be-born son, we were still under this very naive and false selfish pretense about what it meant to have a baby. In some way, we (well, at least myself) viewed our baby as a house guest. Only, he was going to be a permanent one because his house was also our house and this scared the heck out of me.
I remember the first time I opened up the closet door to our yet-to-be-born son's room, which at the time I still labeled it our second bedroom, and saw his baby clothes hanging there. It was strange mix of disbelief and reality seeing all this baby stuff occupying the space that had solely been ours. Somehow it felt like an invasion.
No matter how much love we had for our permanent visitor, he was not going to be taking over our lives as we knew it, nor our household. At that time I recall not even wanting a crib right away. I viewed it as unwarranted clutter for a newborn since I was aware that they either sleep on your chest or in a bassinet. I was going to be a minimalist and only wanted the core necessities pertinent for each stage.
Just like those "Hipster parents" I thought I had it all figured out. Our baby and subsequent ones, would be like us - our mini-extensions who would do as we do, sleep when we sleep, eat when we eat and eat what we eat, and wouldn't even watch TV(although we do).
We believed this would enable our child to be adaptable and comfortable with the unstructured life. I mean we were happy with being ourselves and our spontaneous lives so why wouldn't our kids be happy being like us and living the way we do.
Because... kids are not us. They are not mini-adults no matter how hip and cool we dress them. They have their own needs, preferences and agendas. And when it comes to schedules, they do need their own, based on their developmental needs. Although these schedules might seem like a lock-down for us, it gives our kids a routine they can depend on, a feeling of control that helps ignite the process of self-regulation - which actually provides them with an understanding of who they are and what they need. In turn, this is what helps them to become people who can accommodate change and be more flexible humans after all.
It has only taken me seven years to learn all this. Too bad, for my children and myself, I didn't know it before. Life may have been easier, less stressed and more enjoyable.
But, I know it now, and as I look back I understand that I thought having my child be who I was - was okay - and sure I do like myself and life to say, "what's wrong with that? That's cool." However, what I have realized is that being who they are is much better than okay or even cool - it's extraordinary watching your child be exactly their own unique self.
So my message to all these newly hipster parents of yet-to-be-born and newborns is that when someone sends over the Wiggles DVD, dance and sing with your kids - it's okay. It won't deafen their ears to appreciate "our" music or create huge generational gaps. We parents can do that all by ourselves - by not truly appreciating and listening to who are kids are and what they prefer because we are still intent on making them appreciate and listen to who we are and what we prefer.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Why Does The Grass Always Seem Greener?
After the first 4-days or so, the honeymoon of not working is becoming more like the reality of being married. There's still work involved. The only difference is that I'm no longer being paid for it.
While the stress of corporate life has evaporated (although it still haunts me), a new stress of non-corporate-working as entered the picture - the stress of feeling productive. Somehow not working, not being on any one's time table and not bringing home a paycheck seems wrong. That voice of guilt in my head says that you should work, because, after all, you're healthy and capable. Not generating an income when you can is a waste!
Okay, so maybe I'm being a bit harsh, but then I have to honestly ask the question, "Is my life really that much better (like I had daydreamed on occasion) by not working in corporate America?" I'm not necessarily completing my "to-do" list. I still procrastinate (just now I no longer have a justifiable excuse of work). I still feel overwhelmed, worried, anxious about making decisions or future plans like what to do with the kids for the summer (only now it's because of money, not time). I'm also exhausted by the end of evening and would rather watch TV and veg-out versus having a meaningful dialogue with my husband. Finally, I have realized that time is still not on my side. In fact, I'm finding that time zips by faster than ever. And although I've made this discovery, I'm still under the illusion that by not-working I'll be able to make-up for the missing time and get the things I put off or didn't accomplish the following day. But the joke's on me because the next day I have a bigger "to-do" list and less time. So perhaps, I think, I was better off working. At least then I had a legitimate excuse and I was paid for it.
But wait!!! The income didn't buy me time with my kids. Nor did it allow me to cook for them, help them with their homework, put them to bed at a reasonable time and have patience with them. It didn't allow me to see their delighted faces when I pick them up at school, watch them play at the park and accomplish some physical feat they never had before. And it wouldn't have let me be there when my son lost his first baby tooth.
With that said, I ask, what's the real waste?
While the stress of corporate life has evaporated (although it still haunts me), a new stress of non-corporate-working as entered the picture - the stress of feeling productive. Somehow not working, not being on any one's time table and not bringing home a paycheck seems wrong. That voice of guilt in my head says that you should work, because, after all, you're healthy and capable. Not generating an income when you can is a waste!
Okay, so maybe I'm being a bit harsh, but then I have to honestly ask the question, "Is my life really that much better (like I had daydreamed on occasion) by not working in corporate America?" I'm not necessarily completing my "to-do" list. I still procrastinate (just now I no longer have a justifiable excuse of work). I still feel overwhelmed, worried, anxious about making decisions or future plans like what to do with the kids for the summer (only now it's because of money, not time). I'm also exhausted by the end of evening and would rather watch TV and veg-out versus having a meaningful dialogue with my husband. Finally, I have realized that time is still not on my side. In fact, I'm finding that time zips by faster than ever. And although I've made this discovery, I'm still under the illusion that by not-working I'll be able to make-up for the missing time and get the things I put off or didn't accomplish the following day. But the joke's on me because the next day I have a bigger "to-do" list and less time. So perhaps, I think, I was better off working. At least then I had a legitimate excuse and I was paid for it.
But wait!!! The income didn't buy me time with my kids. Nor did it allow me to cook for them, help them with their homework, put them to bed at a reasonable time and have patience with them. It didn't allow me to see their delighted faces when I pick them up at school, watch them play at the park and accomplish some physical feat they never had before. And it wouldn't have let me be there when my son lost his first baby tooth.
With that said, I ask, what's the real waste?
Saturday, May 5, 2007
What Are You Famous For?
Recently while I have been exploring my opportunities, that is interviewing, to my surprise I've learned that on the list of "most frequently asked" questions is, "So tell me, what are you famous for?" Taken back, the only quick-witted answer I could provide is "that depends on how you define fame." It let me off the hook, but now I realize that I need to come up with an answer to what I could possibly be famous for, or, rather, have a good reason as to why I have not gone out in the world of strategic planning and made a name for myself.
In today's business world, self-promoting seems to be the magic ingredient to any successful and sustainable career. I wonder if they are now teaching this in business school?
No longer is it about the work you do, but it's also about how you tell others or let them know about the work you do, a.k.a, self-promotion. Write a book and it tells the world that you are an expert. You have enough knowledge and confidence to say your opinion, state your beliefs and devise a winning strategy for others to follow. Have your picture taken in several photo opps and it tells people that you are indeed popular and that everyone should know you or at least want to get to know you because you're invited or attend all the right events. Get published in your career's trade magazine and you become an intellect, a person who has a point of view and is not afraid to use it.
Whatever it is that you choose to do - don't worry - you just need to choose something and make sure you're not sitting on your laurels working as a team member being another cog in the wheel; you need to become the wheel... of your fame and your fortune.
In today's business world, self-promoting seems to be the magic ingredient to any successful and sustainable career. I wonder if they are now teaching this in business school?
No longer is it about the work you do, but it's also about how you tell others or let them know about the work you do, a.k.a, self-promotion. Write a book and it tells the world that you are an expert. You have enough knowledge and confidence to say your opinion, state your beliefs and devise a winning strategy for others to follow. Have your picture taken in several photo opps and it tells people that you are indeed popular and that everyone should know you or at least want to get to know you because you're invited or attend all the right events. Get published in your career's trade magazine and you become an intellect, a person who has a point of view and is not afraid to use it.
Whatever it is that you choose to do - don't worry - you just need to choose something and make sure you're not sitting on your laurels working as a team member being another cog in the wheel; you need to become the wheel... of your fame and your fortune.
To Do & Be in New York
If you've lived in New York City for any given time, you may instantly recognize when engaging in small talk that one of the first sentences that comes out of any one's mouth is the infamous question, "So, what do you do?"
For New Yorkers, the question of "What do you do?" is a normal and an essential part of any respectable small talk. It's up there as, "Hi, my name is John, and how are you?" In fact many times, you'll find out what someone does before you catch their name.
This question may seem intrusive and forward to NY's Western or Southern-region neighbors - where the question may never arise - at least not in the first 30 seconds of a conversation, but for New Yorkers it's about being efficient. In a big city there's only a few minutes for one to size up the situation and conclusively decide if talking to that person is worth the time to pursue. Answering the question of what one does can be very telling (so it's believe).
"What do you do?," tells, whether the person has a job or not and, then, does he/she make serious cash or not. Okay, maybe that's a cynic's view but New York is an expensive place to live and to live well. On the flip side, New York is also an extremely interesting place, where one can practically do any vocation of their choice. So, with a more humane view, questioning about what people do also tells us how fascinating they are, how creative they are, how adventurous, ambitious, or wildly strange they are.
You see, when you live in NYC, you quickly realize that this is a place where one does; it's not a place for one to just easily be. There's too much stimuli. Doing is no doubt fun, exhilarating and motivating. But it can also be taxing, overwhelming, and wreck havoc on being in touch with one's natural state of just being. To just "be" in NYC is very tough. Because somehow the "do" of the city nags you, and the word, "should" forms in your thoughts. "I should be doing;" even, "I should be being" takes on an active voice. Only NYC can take being and turn it into doing.
In short, after you live in New York City, you become a doer no matter how much you try to resist it. So the question of, "what do you do?" is quite logical and sincere because once a person lives in New York City for a while, doing becomes their natural state of being.
For New Yorkers, the question of "What do you do?" is a normal and an essential part of any respectable small talk. It's up there as, "Hi, my name is John, and how are you?" In fact many times, you'll find out what someone does before you catch their name.
This question may seem intrusive and forward to NY's Western or Southern-region neighbors - where the question may never arise - at least not in the first 30 seconds of a conversation, but for New Yorkers it's about being efficient. In a big city there's only a few minutes for one to size up the situation and conclusively decide if talking to that person is worth the time to pursue. Answering the question of what one does can be very telling (so it's believe).
"What do you do?," tells, whether the person has a job or not and, then, does he/she make serious cash or not. Okay, maybe that's a cynic's view but New York is an expensive place to live and to live well. On the flip side, New York is also an extremely interesting place, where one can practically do any vocation of their choice. So, with a more humane view, questioning about what people do also tells us how fascinating they are, how creative they are, how adventurous, ambitious, or wildly strange they are.
You see, when you live in NYC, you quickly realize that this is a place where one does; it's not a place for one to just easily be. There's too much stimuli. Doing is no doubt fun, exhilarating and motivating. But it can also be taxing, overwhelming, and wreck havoc on being in touch with one's natural state of just being. To just "be" in NYC is very tough. Because somehow the "do" of the city nags you, and the word, "should" forms in your thoughts. "I should be doing;" even, "I should be being" takes on an active voice. Only NYC can take being and turn it into doing.
In short, after you live in New York City, you become a doer no matter how much you try to resist it. So the question of, "what do you do?" is quite logical and sincere because once a person lives in New York City for a while, doing becomes their natural state of being.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Being Erased
It's so weird being laid-off. If any of you have ever experienced it, you know that it's a jarring experience.
One moment you're a paid employee diligently doing you job, the next moment, if allowed, you're literally packing your office. That's it. You go from having an email, a blackberry, a client, a phone number, a security card to nothing. In some offices, emails are immediately shut down, computers disappear, your voice mail is erased, your security card no longer works and to top it off, you are escorted out and all you can take is your personal belongings like your handbag (they'll pack up the rest and send it to you).
Your clients are unaware, and so are your team members, sometimes even your boss or the person you report to had no idea. All they know is that you're not responding to their calls or emails. And there you are with maybe a box of personal belongings standing on the street corner saying to yourself, "This is it? Did that just really happen?" It's a surreal experience met by a harsh reality.
Meanwhile your box feels heavier and heavier by the moment as the weight of what just happened deepens in your vein, and yet you feel guilty about taking a taxi because of the cost. The next day you wake up and it definitely does not feel like you've entered the movie Ground-hog day. Instead you've enter the TV show, Lost. You keep thinking you hear your crackberry go off and run to your handbag to check it, but it's not there.You go on-line to check your email but then you remember you no longer have one. And if you do have a personal one, your ex-co-workers most likely don't have it nor do they have your personal numbers. If they do, some may feel uncomfortable to call, so you may never hear from them. And then, poof - it's like you no longer exist in that corner of the world that only consumed 85% of your life if not more. It's done, it's over, move on - the tie is severed, and name is no longer in the directory.
Now go out and make a new name for yourself - put yourself back into existence.
One moment you're a paid employee diligently doing you job, the next moment, if allowed, you're literally packing your office. That's it. You go from having an email, a blackberry, a client, a phone number, a security card to nothing. In some offices, emails are immediately shut down, computers disappear, your voice mail is erased, your security card no longer works and to top it off, you are escorted out and all you can take is your personal belongings like your handbag (they'll pack up the rest and send it to you).
Your clients are unaware, and so are your team members, sometimes even your boss or the person you report to had no idea. All they know is that you're not responding to their calls or emails. And there you are with maybe a box of personal belongings standing on the street corner saying to yourself, "This is it? Did that just really happen?" It's a surreal experience met by a harsh reality.
Meanwhile your box feels heavier and heavier by the moment as the weight of what just happened deepens in your vein, and yet you feel guilty about taking a taxi because of the cost. The next day you wake up and it definitely does not feel like you've entered the movie Ground-hog day. Instead you've enter the TV show, Lost. You keep thinking you hear your crackberry go off and run to your handbag to check it, but it's not there.You go on-line to check your email but then you remember you no longer have one. And if you do have a personal one, your ex-co-workers most likely don't have it nor do they have your personal numbers. If they do, some may feel uncomfortable to call, so you may never hear from them. And then, poof - it's like you no longer exist in that corner of the world that only consumed 85% of your life if not more. It's done, it's over, move on - the tie is severed, and name is no longer in the directory.
Now go out and make a new name for yourself - put yourself back into existence.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Handbag Envy
Recently, I read an interesting article about the precious handbag in Brandweek. Essentially, it compared handbags as being emotionally-charged as a woman's diamond. I'm not sure if that's taking it a bit far, but I do agree that handbags (a.k.a., purse; pocketbook) have become the must-have accessory.
When you think about it, handbags are the one true accessory that looks good on ANYONE! No matter if you are young, old, heavy, thin, making six-figures or in credit card debt, a great handbag can always be envied! Shoes don't have that ability. You can easily negate the envy idea of a sexy pair of shoes on someone because you know you could never walk a NYC block with those 3-inch heels. But a handbag on the other hand, even if it's slightly larger than you might be known to wear or extremely more expensive than you can afford, still can stir up your fashionista fantasies of what it would look like thrown over your shoulder dashing through the airport on your way to some jet-set destination.
See what I mean? - this now practically stylish bag has transported me from a thing that carries my stuff to a ticket to a living a glamorous lifestyle.
Where's your handbag taking you?
The fetish for shoes now has a rival - the handbag.
For some women, handbags may be leading the way as their new fetish.
See what I mean? - this now practically stylish bag has transported me from a thing that carries my stuff to a ticket to a living a glamorous lifestyle.
Where's your handbag taking you?
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
From Working to Not-Working Mom
I've always dreamed about being a stay-at-home mom, and as of yesterday, I am.
Massive lay-off, and it hit me. Sad? Yes. Mourning the change? Yes. Somehow delighted and relieved? Yes. Worried about $? Yes, yes, and yes. There's a mix of emotions certainly, and of course, after being in corporate America where the structure of your day is more or less defined, it's a bit daunting to now be back in charge of your day or for that matter - yourself.
What the heck am I going to do with myself? Yes, if you're wondering I already hit the gym.
Will I be happy? Will I find fulfillment? Will I became a mom-preneur and be profitable? Will I find myself, my purpose, my passion and my motherhood skills? Oh yes, that's something I could do is spend time with my kids! And, maybe in between, I'll make some mom friends over lattes (obviously, skim).
I do have some job interviews in my glamorous profession coming up, and six figures are definitely nice to have in the city, if not necessary - but what is freedom worth?
Mmmm - can you get paid for blogging?
Massive lay-off, and it hit me. Sad? Yes. Mourning the change? Yes. Somehow delighted and relieved? Yes. Worried about $? Yes, yes, and yes. There's a mix of emotions certainly, and of course, after being in corporate America where the structure of your day is more or less defined, it's a bit daunting to now be back in charge of your day or for that matter - yourself.
What the heck am I going to do with myself? Yes, if you're wondering I already hit the gym.
Will I be happy? Will I find fulfillment? Will I became a mom-preneur and be profitable? Will I find myself, my purpose, my passion and my motherhood skills? Oh yes, that's something I could do is spend time with my kids! And, maybe in between, I'll make some mom friends over lattes (obviously, skim).
I do have some job interviews in my glamorous profession coming up, and six figures are definitely nice to have in the city, if not necessary - but what is freedom worth?
Mmmm - can you get paid for blogging?
Monday, April 16, 2007
Working Out Mom, Never So Sane
Monday couldn't have started out better. Rain, rain and more rain that makes a whole city declare an accepted state of tardiness. So what's a mom to do after dropping jr. off at school. That's right, if you're like me, an addicted workout mom, you pounce on the opportunity for some gym time. Rain, nor floods will stop a majority of NY moms from burning calories from last night's more-than-5 oz glass of pure antioxidant vino and 72% dark chocolate. Not even being late for work - especially on rainy days like today.
Honestly, how are moms supposed to do it if they don't steal the time whenever they can?
It's not like our jobs, hubby's, babysitters or schedules are thrilled about us not being there to muli-task and manage every minute of every day. In a time of "hot moms" and always being pulled in many directions, isn't it nice to hop on the treadmill, stick in your ipod ear phones and zone out to entertainment reality news like Extra, Top Model or even The Hills and be glad you're life hasn't become exploited reality on Super Nanny (although you secretly wish she would show up at your doorstep sans the cameras).
The way I see it, being in"the zone" while working out has taken on a new meaning - beyond burning the belly fat from my last child 5 years ago. It's a 30-minute reprive of reality that enables oneself to experience pure and healthy self-sanity.
Rain hats off to your zone of sanity!
Honestly, how are moms supposed to do it if they don't steal the time whenever they can?
It's not like our jobs, hubby's, babysitters or schedules are thrilled about us not being there to muli-task and manage every minute of every day. In a time of "hot moms" and always being pulled in many directions, isn't it nice to hop on the treadmill, stick in your ipod ear phones and zone out to entertainment reality news like Extra, Top Model or even The Hills and be glad you're life hasn't become exploited reality on Super Nanny (although you secretly wish she would show up at your doorstep sans the cameras).
The way I see it, being in"the zone" while working out has taken on a new meaning - beyond burning the belly fat from my last child 5 years ago. It's a 30-minute reprive of reality that enables oneself to experience pure and healthy self-sanity.
Rain hats off to your zone of sanity!
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