Most mornings my husband has already left for work by the time I wake up. He starts early, and let’s be honest – lately I’ve been struggling to get my butt out of bed before the kids are up. And when I say “lately,” I mean for the past 8 months. I haven’t used an alarm clock since December. (In my defense, I also haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in 8 months. Thanks, baby.)

But I digress. Point being, I rarely see what he wears to work until the end of the day.

But last night when he came home wearing this, I realized I might need to stage an intervention.

Born to be a fashion model, as you can tell by that totally natural pose.

What on earth?! You can’t even tell where one khaki ends and the other begins! The bland color palette isn’t helped by standing against our beige wall, on our brown carpet. It’s like a lifesize Triscuit. What? I don’t know either.

But seriously, if it weren’t for the faint glimmer of a black belt to break up that monotone, you might think he’s wearing a jumpsuit.

The only reason he allowed me to photograph this fashion atrocity is because even he knew it was bad. The moment he entered the kitchen, he saw my eyes open wide as I looked him up and down. Before I had the chance to say anything he muttered, “I know. This looks terrible, doesn’t it.” On the upside, we shared a good laugh about his cracker outfit (cracker like a Triscuit, not a racial slur).

To be fair, I am no fashionista. My forte, if I have one, is jeans and turtlenecks. I always struggled to find work clothes that felt both comfortable and stylish. I hated collared shirts, loathed most dress shoes, and wanted to set the house on fire the few days I had to wear a business suit.

So I sympathize with the challenge of finding work attire. And it can be even more challenging for men, without the ability to mask a blah outfit by throwing on a cute scarf. (Some men can probably rock a handsome scarf, but my husband is not one of them. His clothing taste is khakis and button ups. Peas and carrots. Vanilla and vanilla.)

Fortunately he welcomes my input, and is open to shaking things up with a shopping spree. But there are a few obstacles, namely a) I am so unplugged from the work clothing scene that I lack insight and inspiration for what may look good, and b) our budget is tiiiight.

Last week one of my former coworkers told me she got loads of compliments on a dress she recently bought at JCPenney. She said their recent makeover led to some cute stuff and it’s all pretty cheap prices. So maybe we’ll try that.

We also have a gift certificate to Men’s Wearhouse. Can’t turn down free, so that’s a must. But every time I go there, I feel like the salesmen are just one breath away from trying to sell me a vacuum or home appliance. But hey – if I leave with a new Swiffer mop, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

However my main concern is finding items that can add a bit more pizzazz, while still being something he would actually wear. I can’t stomach the thought of spending what little cash we have on 4 new sweater vests only to have them gather dust.

If that sweater vest mention doesn’t strike fear in the heart of fashionable readers, it should. Because that is truly the only thing I can think of beyond his usual peas and carrots. Any ideas? Bueller? If not, stay tuned for an update on this unfolding fashion saga.

Today I cleaned out some of the papers and boxes from my office. Only 5 months since I quit – what’s the hurry? I got a tad nostalgic for a minute, and then I discovered this:

I’ll take one in beige, and one in khaki.

It’s a wrist brace that I had to wear a couple years ago when I started to get carpal tunnel from too much typing at work. Sexy, eh?

I’m going to keep it handy (pun!) for those days when I haven’t showered, I’m exhausted and my back hurts from lifting too many children or piles of laundry. I will tell myself, “At least I am not wearing a wrist brace due to a computer injury.”

Awesomely, this was not my first wrist brace incident at work. About 10 years ago I was taking a work trip with a client, for which we had to travel to multiple U.S. cities. On Day One I arrived at the airport to meet him, and he was wearing a large wrist brace. He informed me that he had sustained an injury from “keyboarding.”

This was the first time I heard “keyboard” used as a verb.

Unfortunately this left him unable to lift his own suitcase. So he asked if I could assist in putting it in the overhead compartment.

I think it’s worth noting that I was an almost 6 foot tall 20-something. He was an almost 5’5″ 40-something.

I spent the next week of my life following this wee man around the country, shlepping his luggage up and down, to and fro, all the while smiling and making small talk with someone with whom I had absolutely nothing in common. I am horrible at small talk. It was excruciating.

And yet in hindsight I’m grateful for the experience. It’s moments like those that make you feel like you really ‘earned’ your living. Plus bad work stories make for good happy hours.

Today I decided to wear the wrist brace for old time’s sake, and to see if it could still be useful with my new daily activities.

It helped me make egg salad.

Sidenote: I used this egg salad recipe, which links to Martha Stewart’s method for making a perfect hard boiled egg – which totally worked. Who knew you weren’t supposed to boil it the whole time??

It helped me slice a watermelon.

Do a craft with my daughter.

And made sure I didn’t hurt myself when lifting an end of day beer.

I could get used to this. It kinda makes me look like a badass, no? Like some sort of domestic ninja. But I don’t want to intimidate the other mommies at the playground, so I’ll keep it in retirement until I really need to whoop some arse. Or, until I fracture my wrist cracking an egg. Whichever happens first.

Lord knows blending two parenting styles when you have kids is hard. And you aren’t just blending your own styles, you are blending your parents’ too – since for good or for bad, many of their ways became your ways (I am buying stock in Post-Its now).

Thankfully my husband and I tend to agree on the majority of major parenting decisions. One area we have been tackling in the past year is teaching our 4 year-old about manners. Neither of us wants to raise a disgusting creature who talks with her mouth full or sasses her elders.

But there are a few subtle distinctions in the manners our parents instilled in us, which have become a constant source of conflict conversation between us.

I will openly admit that my husband grew up in a household with a more stringent sense of dinner table etiquette. One of the biggest offenses a person could commit in his home was to put their elbows on the table. To this day, the sight of elbows on the dinner table drives him crazy.

The greatest offense known to man. And I’m not talking about the dino nuggets.

This rule was not enforced in my home. It’s not like we ate in a barn or anything, but we are a more casual folk when it comes to dining. We converse, we laugh, we relax – and in so doing, we end up with our filthy wenis* on the table now and again.

*Holy shit – did you know that ‘wenis’ is slang for the skin on your elbows?? In researching another word for ‘elbow’ I came across this discovery and now I’m not sure I can complete this post because I can’t. stop. laughing.

I think it’s important to look at manners in the broader context. While my family may have unruly elbows, we are overall a respectful and polite crew. We also care deeply about maintaining a clean home. My father’s garage is cleaner than most people’s bathroom.

My husband’s family, on the other hand, may have obedient elbows, but let’s just say they leave something to be desired in the cleanliness department. I’m gonna guess if you had to choose where you’d want to dine for an evening, you’d pick my family’s casa (in part cuz we could talk about our WENIS all night) over his.

However, as much as I have mocked my husband for caring so deeply about this issue, over the years I have worked to correct my crude behavior and keep by elbows in check – at least until the meal is finished. After that, when I’m crippled over in pain from eating one too many bratwurst, all bets are off. Mama needs to lean on something while she unbuttons her pants.

But my family, particularly my father, still violates this sacred rule frequently. I usually don’t care or notice, but now that my husband has brainwashed taught our child, she has taken it upon herself to be the Elbow Police at all meals and will forcefully berate offenders.

At a recent family dinner, she authoritatively scolded her grandfather by screaming loudly in his face, “NO ELBOWS ON THE TABLE!”

So while she has mastered the all-important elbow etiquette, it appears we’ve still got some work to do on the ‘sassing your elders’ thing.

We recently bought a plastic toy gate at a garage sale to help as we start babyproofing. It’s in relatively good shape, but clearly needs a new set of batteries.

We’ve had many toys over the years that have become possessed once their batteries start to fail. A music table that started to sound like a funeral procession. A baby swing that refuses to shut off (we stopped using this one after a harrowing baby extraction).

But this gate takes the cake in terms of creepiness. I added a few of my older daughter’s most haunting dolls for effect.

Seriously – if I die in my sleep tonight, I know without a shadow of a doubt that this doll did it.

So. Who wants to come over for a playdate?

I had lunch today with a former coworker. Last night I prepared myself for the possibility that it could make me miss my job a bit. So I thought long and hard, “Do I miss it?”

The resounding answer was “No.” I can count on one hand, maybe one finger, the number of times I’ve missed my job in the past 8 months. I was ready to leave. Mentally and emotionally burnt out. Spent.

This morning before I left, I read this article titled “Generation Xhausted,” which describes the plight of professional parents in their late 30s. Good Lord did I identify with this. It talks about the challenges we face as “victims of two colliding trends” -having children later in life right as our careers are also peaking. Amen! Train wreck!

Reading it reaffirmed my decision to stay home.

So without any lingering doubt hanging over my head, I enjoyed the chance to catch up with my friend at lunch and hear the latest office gossip. Budding romances, client drama, happy hour shenanigans – I got all the scoop.

Then she informed me that a former business partner passed away last month of a heart attack. I only met him once and rarely worked with him.

But all day I’ve been thinking about him. He was a rare combination – extremely successful and good at his job, while being genuinely kind and smart. His reputation preceded him everywhere. Not to mention, he was working for and with organizations that truly make a difference helping those in need. Without a doubt, he made a positive impact in the world.

And while all of that makes for a tragic loss, the most gutwrenching part is that he was only 32. And his wife is pregnant with their first child.

On a day when I was already feeling the need to appreciate this time with my kids, away from the stress of a job, I can’t help but feel an even stronger need to savor every minute.

Even if it ends tomorrow, today I was lucky enough to watch my daughter take a 10 a.m. swim class on a Monday, followed by an afternoon trip to the zoo. One year ago, sitting at my desk at work, I never imagined this would be possible.

I went for a walk today. These are things I saw.

A funky blue boat fit for Magnum PI.

Captain – get me my boat shoes and a mustache

A sad blue car.

😦

A warning to the canines of America.

For dogs who can read?

I’m going to repurpose that one and hang it above my master terlit.

Mailboxes that remind me of my grandma’s old cabin in northern Minnesota.

They don’t handpaint ’em like this anymore

Artchoke flowers. I HAD NO IDEA. My husband informed me that artichokes are the buds of a plant, and if not harvested, would flower just like this. Am I the only person who didn’t know this?

I’m totally gonna make a dip outta you

So fascinated by this discovery I had to look it up. Learning is rad.

A pedestrian walkway OR a murder scene. TBD.

Dead man walking

My in-laws just left after a week-long visit. Due to my new stay-at-home status, this was the most time I have spent with them without my husband.

It’s always fun to feel that your in-laws are watching your every move, silently critiquing your parenting skills. It’s extra fun when your spouse is not around to share the spotlight. This was just me and my A game on display.

On day two my daughter jammed her hand up my father-in-law’s shorts, using the exact same maneuver she used on me. I didn’t witness it, but I saw her chasing him around afterward and feared the worst. I asked what was happening, which led to an awkward conversation in which my father-in-law tried to explain this odd encounter by telling me my child did some “penis touching.”

I do not wish that conversation on my worst enemy.

I spent several minutes trying to stop her from doing it again, but she was having trouble taking me seriously due to my giggle fit the first time around. “Mom – remember, this is funny!” Very effective and responsible parenting.

On day five we were packing up after several days at a vacation property. My husband had already left because he had to work, so it was just me, my kids and the in-laws. Both kids were in meltdown mode, but the 4-year-old was particularly saucy. She was demanding more orange juice, which I normally limit, but in my desperation to get the hell out of there, I poured her another glass (#3? or 4?), gave her my iPad, and asked her to stay quiet.

Thirty minutes later I heard her screaming, “I’m going potty on the carpet!” I looked over the balcony and saw her standing still, peeing down her legs, making no attempt to move whatsoever. For some reason I also froze and just watched her with my mouth hanging open.

My mother-in-law sprang into action, shooed her into the bathroom, and then began cleaning up the puddle. As I finally came to, I wiped up my daughter’s legs and asked her why she didn’t go to the bathroom. She explained loudly that she was afraid to leave the iPad.

Next time before I waterlog my child, force her to watch a movie and tell her not to speak, I’ll make it clear that bathroom breaks are allowed.

I appreciate that my daughter saved the most unimpressive parenting opportunities for the moments when my husband was nowhere in sight.

To return the favor, yesterday during the final hours of my in-laws’ visit, I walked out of the room, went upstairs, and pulled a nap attack, leaving my daughter on her own to entertain them.

HA! Take that, you 4-year-old!

As I re-entered the room 2+ hours later, with bedhead, pillow indentations on my face, and only 15 minutes left before they had to leave, I felt confident knowing for sure I came out of that situation looking like the winner. Or notsomuch.

I read this post last week and it got me thinking so much I’mma write my own post about it.

The author laments the dumbing down of our culture as evidenced by ridiculous shows like “Honey Boo Boo.” Have you heard of it? I hadn’t until I saw it getting a bunch of attention on Twitter last week (yuup, Twitter is my CNN). It’s an offshoot of Toddlers & Tiaras, which I have only ever seen 10 minutes of, and that was enough. Those fake flipper teeth freak. me. out.

As I read the post, I nodded my head in agreement. How can you not admit that we celebrate and obsess over some pretty stupid shit in our society. As part of this “cesspool of inanity” she mentions Honey Boo Boo, Toddlers & Tiaras, Snooki and Sarah Palin – check, check, check, CHECK.

She points out that among other negative implications, giving attention to these nutjobs can take away opportunities from others more deserving.

And then I found myself making some pretty fuzzy distinctions.

Damn right – I do NOT watch Toddlers & Tiaras. I do however partake in other TLC fare on occasion like Hoarders or Storage Wars. But that’s totally different…right?

I did NOT watch Jersey Shore. At least not the last few seasons. I did however watch the first two, but the cast was unknown, and it was still so new that I watched out of fascination, disbelief and novelty. It’s not like I bought The Situation’s cologne or anything. So that’s different too.

I did NOT support Sarah Palin’s endeavors in any way. No doubt on this one.

Huh. I thought about my other media consumption habits.

I do NOT watch Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Yet somehow I know that Kourtney had another baby, Kim is dating Kanye and Khloe wants a baby…so I guess I’m keeping up with them somehow.

I do NOT watch Big Brother. But I loves me some Survivor, and I have been known to watch a few episodes of Amazing Race. But the people on those shows are put to the test mentally and physically. Big Brother contestants just sit in a house, eat chips and make out/fight. Very very different.

I did NOT enjoy the last season of The Bachelor. I’m still pissed that he picked that bitch Courtney. But I did enjoy The Bachelorette.

Ahem. So maybe I do feed the beast of inanity a wee bit.

However my pop culture indulgences are far fewer than before I had kids. And I think it’s OK and downright necessary to give yourself a break from reality with some mind-numbing trash every once in a while.

But I realize that since quitting my job, I’m not balancing the scales like I used to. My consumption and knowledge of ‘real’ news has declined almost as quickly as my hygiene.

My job required me to know what was happening in the world. Every morning I read a summary of global headlines. I listened to NPR on the way to the office and I read the news online with regularity.

These days the only thing anyone expects of me is to know what channel the Backyardigans is on, and how to download a new episode of Dora (NOT the Snow Princess one – FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SHE’S ALREADY SEEN IT!).

But just because no one is paying me to stay informed, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. I do like knowing what the hell is going on in the world and being able to hold a conversation with adults about things other than how my baby’s sleeping or pooping (don’t get me started on the latter – I won’t stop).

So my goal starting today is to wake a tad earlier each morning and ensure I consume some news – and not just via the abyss known as Twitter.

My favorite quote in the post is this one:

• The only way to revive the American Dream, and resuscitate the intelligence of America, is to stop providing oxygen to the stupid.

OK OK I GET IT. I will also cancel our cable TV like I’ve been promising to do. Sheesh.

This post by Rita Arens about being halfway to death, although said more eloquently, is one I liked, probably in part because I’m about the same age and have shared many of these thoughts lately. My 20 yr high school reunion is next year. So I guess I’m officially old enough to be having a mid-life crisis. yay.

I also like this post by Galit Breen about being an introvert. I’ll be honest that the #1 reason I love it is that she admits she takes a nap every day. Oh. My. Hero. But I really like the message about figuring out who you are and what you need in life, and not apologizing for it. “…first, you need to know your zone, what fills you up, and what empties you.” Naps! God I could rule the world with more naps.

This last one is a humdinger about the stupid Chik-Fil-A situation. It’s laced with profanity, which I endorse wholeheartedly on this topic in particular. I loved reading this.