Confession: I hate to shower and will only shower twice a week if I can get away with it
My husband has told me on occasion that I am a disgusting human being. That was mostly back when I used to crawl into bed without showering after playing late-night basketball. To my defense, I'd stayed and chatted with the ladies for a couple hours, I'd totally cooled off and I wasn't sweaty anymore! I didn't want to go to bed with wet hair because I'd be cold all night, and I didn't want to wake everyone with the blow dryer. I did find a solution, however. He was always zonked out when I got home, so one time I just went into the bathroom and turned on the shower while I changed into pajamas and brushed my teeth. I left the shower running long enough for him to slightly wake up to the sound of the water so he wouldn't question me when I got into bed. He used to ask me every day if I'd showered, and if I had, his reaction was comparable to the excitement for a 3 year old's successful use of the toilet.
Only we have the power to make ourselves Exceptional, and I've figured out how to do it. The greatest thing about my theory is that it's applicable in the workplace or at home.
The Art of Becoming Exceptional has really fallen into place since I've started working. I've noticed that occasionally my coworkers will compliment me; not just the female coworkers--we females always have compliments for hair, clothes, shoes, makeup, etc.--but some of the male coworkers specifically. They'd say something like, "You look nice today" and I would find myself responding with overwhelming disclosure: "Thanks, I showered." And then they'd laugh and not notice I was serious.
The thing is, I hate showering. Yes, I feel good afterword, but I can think of a gazillion other things I would rather be doing with my time. Think about it. Once you commit to the shower, you also by default commit to picking out an outfit (from the pile of clean but not yet folded laundry on the floor in front of the dryer downstairs), getting dressed (and realizing you need to make one more trip to the clothes pile), brushing your hair (and usually getting tricked into drying and styling it), applying a little makeup (because there's no point in doing your hair if you're not going to complete the facade), and applying lotions, perfumes, deodorant, or whatever floats your boat. And you might as well brush your teeth because there's no time for breakfast now that you've wasted the entire morning showering.
I especially hate showering in the winter time. It already takes me 19 minutes, but during the winter there's always the inevitable onslaught of goose bumps which requires an additional 2-3 minutes of scorching water in order to temper the tiny invaders. The key is to tap the heat up little by little throughout the routine, and save the final turn of the faucet till you're ready to get out. You have to make sure the final burst of hot water is enough to turn your skin red and make you begin to sweat a little so the cold air actually feels a little nice when you step out. It's really the only way to do it.
Anyhow, back to my theory. Simply put, it is this: what makes a good song great? A really bad song. What makes a child well-behaved? Somebody else's hellion. What makes a "C" student intelligent? Their "D" student friend. What makes a good smell good? A vomit-inducing stink. What makes a good book good? This poorly written blog. Make sense? Opposition in all things. What makes me "look nice today"? Deliberate changes in personal hygiene and appearance. These are some of my go-to solutions which can easily be mixed and matched on a daily basis: sweats; glasses; no makeup or yesterday's smeared eye makeup; pony tail or hat; hair parted to expose the most gray; ankle socks with dress shoes. We can't depend on other people to recognize our greatness on their own. We must provide a comparison; we must be our own opposition.
When I first started working at Stroops nearly a year ago, I got nervous every time the phone rang because I knew they would ask me something I had no idea about. I quickly figured out that all I had to say was "I'm new, and I don't know anything. Let me go see what I can find out!" Masterfully, I demolished every expectation and, thereby, set myself up for success when I returned with the slightest bit of information, even if it had nothing to do with their inquiry.
Every Tuesday we run an accounts summary report for the company (excluding me) meeting. I used to hurry to run all the credit cards and apply payments before the Big Dogs reviewed the report so they could see there were no accounts to worry about. However, I figured out that I could make the report look even better by making them worry initially. Now I get to work, print the report, send it into Company-Excluding-Me Meeting, then I apply all the payments. I slip into the conference room--embarrassed to interrupt--with a new report that calms all their worries. Bazinga.
I'm sorry for my family because I really dislike cooking. I tell them I'm preparing every one of us to be contestants on Survivor. I try to like it but I just can't. Also a gazillion other things I'd rather be doing than spending time preparing food to dump down the disposal. My son said something that really proved to me that he has no expectations. We had called the kids to dinner and Ty asked, "What day is it?" Tuesday. "But we don't eat dinner on Tuesdays!" The great thing is, I've again set myself up to be Exceptional: My husband walked in from work one day and I was making dinner. His eyes popped out of his head, he dropped his bags, ran to me, dipped me over his knee and kissed me passionately. Would this happen if I cooked every night? Absolutely not!
Even though I hate cooking, I really do believe in family meal time. I love sitting with my family around the kitchen table and talking about our day and laughing at our lack of table manners--or manners in general (we always tell the kids to make sure they never do that at anyone else's house). I used to feel really bad every time I heard about the importance of family meal time, but then I realized that no one defined what the meal had to be. We often sit around the table and eat cold cereal, hot dogs, pancakes, Wendy's or Little Caesar's "Butt Pizza"; but no matter whether I've prepared a gourmet meal or not, we're still together as a family around the table, and that's what's most Exceptional in today's world.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
A Timeline
Confession: I love to work because I love the validation
I used to feel guilty for loving to work. I didn't expect the internal struggle I'd have when I had a baby. I worked up until the day I went into labor, and the Personnel Office (My First Real Job) left my position open just in case I wanted to come back. I didn't think it would be a tough decision to stay home. I had always known that once you were a mother you stayed home and that working mothers definitely only worked because they had to. I felt sad about not going back to work, and then I felt like there was something wrong with me for not jumping for joy at the opportunity to stay home with my little girl. Don't get me wrong, I was excited to have a baby and loved being with her. I just found myself missing work.
I still had school to finish, Calli was 18 months old when I graduated with my BS. We were surrounded by other couples doing the same thing, so we traded kids and finished school. Looking back, I wonder how we did it. Scott was finishing his degree in Elementary Education, so he was teaching all day and working as a custodian from 10:00 p.m. to 4:00 a.m. every day. He only slept from 4:00-6:00 a.m. then tried to nap after school if he didn't have homework and lesson plans to write before dinner.
I remember nearly having a nervous breakdown minutes before my group was supposed to present in one of my public relations classes. I was out in the hall heaving and hyperventilate trying to pull myself together. I had stayed up almost all night merging and rewriting portions of our project. Calli was sick so I had to bring her with me, and I lost it. It freaked me out because that had never happened to me before. I wasn't the nervous breakdown type. Group projects. Blah. I'm sure they are nice people.
I didn't work after I graduated. Scott got a job in Layton, so we bought a home in Syracuse and lived off of $40 per week. That's when I became The Budget Nazi. All of the other teachers at Scott's school wondered how we did it? It was easy. We used cash only and didn't eat very much. (When I say "much" I don't mean "often," we ate every meal, but very meager portions. Kind of like Survivor. We could dominate that game.) We never bought produce because we couldn't afford it. It would have been wise to eat only produce, but I hated--and still hate--cutting up fruits and vegetables so it probably would have all gone to waste anyway. I used to feel my heart beat rise rapidly at the grocery store as I would add up the cost of groceries I was putting in my cart.
Whenever I am stressed about money, I hide it from Scott. If he knows I'm worried he immediately jumps to the extreme and says he'll quit teaching and find another job. (He denies being an extremist, but whatever.) I hate it when he says that because it means he thinks he's not providing enough for our family. The truth is, I feel like I have failed him by not bugeting well enough. So, I don't tell him. I just smile and say "that's fine" when he approaches me with a purchase he wants to make. Then I go spend hours on Quicken juggling numbers around until I can make it work. I am happy that he is doing what he loves. He wanted to be a teacher from the time he was in 5th grade. I never want him to think I'm not supportive. Sticking to the budget is my way of showing support; I never want him to think I feel we don't have enough. And for the most part, we make it work!
Four months after we moved into our house, my parents arranged with Scott to have one of their pianos moved up to our house as a birthday gift to me. I'll never forget walking into the house and seeing the piano there in the living room! I think I immediately lost all ability to stand on my own because I was instantly on my knees and sobbing. I couldn't believe I had a piano! I was pregnant with Ty at the time, so I started on my plans to teach piano. I passed out more than 500 flyers. I was dreaming big, but the reality was I only got one student from those flyers. The other two were from Scott's school who heard by word of mouth. I was disappointed and realized it was going to take more time to build my studio. (I like to call it a studio even though it's my living room. Maybe someday I'll have a real studio!)
Scott applied for his Master's Degree two years in a row but wasn't accepted; he needed more years of teaching experience.
After we realized that money wasn't going to start pouring in, we did what every sane couple would do, we certified to ref soccer. It was actually pretty good money, but really hard on my emotions. Scott could care less if people yelled at him, but I was like a mama bear ready to attack anyone who complained about his calls. I also felt bad that we had to leave our kids with neighbors or family members when we'd go. We reffed for a couple of years until Scott got head-butted by an assistant coach. To make a long story short, I didn't really like reffing after that. Then I tore my ACL so I had a legitimate reason to quit! Yea ACL!
More than six years have passed since I started teaching and I've built my studio up to 23 and back down to 16 students. I wish I could take on that many students again, but it's time when my family is home. As much as I love teaching, it's really hard when my kids need me and I can't be there for them, and it's really hard for them to understand because they're staring right at me. That's the hardest part of the job. I'm pretty sure my family gets sick of hearing the piano constantly on Mondays and Tuesdays. I'm also pretty sure that that's the underlying reason behind Scott's recent offer to buy me a digital piano!
I started working at Stroops almost a year ago. Stroops is a manufacturer of athletic training equipment and have some really cool patented products! We ship stuff all over the world and to really cool places like The Biggest Loser ranch and professional sports teams. The most recent line is Stroops MMA. (Once they asked if I would fight if they sponsored me. I haven't watched Cinderella Man because I can't even watch Hollywood fights without my stomach churning. There's no way!) Anyway, I really enjoy it there; the people I work with are great, the job is more flexible than I could have hoped for, and I'm getting opportunities to help the company improve. I've worked primarily in Accounts Receivable and built really great relationships with a lot of our customers who now send us money like they're under a spell! I've also had the chance to proofread and write product descriptions for the company's newly marketed athletic products. It's rewarding to be a part of innovation and growth. And we have birthday cake once a month. What's not to love?
I used to feel guilty for loving to work. I didn't expect the internal struggle I'd have when I had a baby. I worked up until the day I went into labor, and the Personnel Office (My First Real Job) left my position open just in case I wanted to come back. I didn't think it would be a tough decision to stay home. I had always known that once you were a mother you stayed home and that working mothers definitely only worked because they had to. I felt sad about not going back to work, and then I felt like there was something wrong with me for not jumping for joy at the opportunity to stay home with my little girl. Don't get me wrong, I was excited to have a baby and loved being with her. I just found myself missing work.
I still had school to finish, Calli was 18 months old when I graduated with my BS. We were surrounded by other couples doing the same thing, so we traded kids and finished school. Looking back, I wonder how we did it. Scott was finishing his degree in Elementary Education, so he was teaching all day and working as a custodian from 10:00 p.m. to 4:00 a.m. every day. He only slept from 4:00-6:00 a.m. then tried to nap after school if he didn't have homework and lesson plans to write before dinner.
I remember nearly having a nervous breakdown minutes before my group was supposed to present in one of my public relations classes. I was out in the hall heaving and hyperventilate trying to pull myself together. I had stayed up almost all night merging and rewriting portions of our project. Calli was sick so I had to bring her with me, and I lost it. It freaked me out because that had never happened to me before. I wasn't the nervous breakdown type. Group projects. Blah. I'm sure they are nice people.
I didn't work after I graduated. Scott got a job in Layton, so we bought a home in Syracuse and lived off of $40 per week. That's when I became The Budget Nazi. All of the other teachers at Scott's school wondered how we did it? It was easy. We used cash only and didn't eat very much. (When I say "much" I don't mean "often," we ate every meal, but very meager portions. Kind of like Survivor. We could dominate that game.) We never bought produce because we couldn't afford it. It would have been wise to eat only produce, but I hated--and still hate--cutting up fruits and vegetables so it probably would have all gone to waste anyway. I used to feel my heart beat rise rapidly at the grocery store as I would add up the cost of groceries I was putting in my cart.
Whenever I am stressed about money, I hide it from Scott. If he knows I'm worried he immediately jumps to the extreme and says he'll quit teaching and find another job. (He denies being an extremist, but whatever.) I hate it when he says that because it means he thinks he's not providing enough for our family. The truth is, I feel like I have failed him by not bugeting well enough. So, I don't tell him. I just smile and say "that's fine" when he approaches me with a purchase he wants to make. Then I go spend hours on Quicken juggling numbers around until I can make it work. I am happy that he is doing what he loves. He wanted to be a teacher from the time he was in 5th grade. I never want him to think I'm not supportive. Sticking to the budget is my way of showing support; I never want him to think I feel we don't have enough. And for the most part, we make it work!
Four months after we moved into our house, my parents arranged with Scott to have one of their pianos moved up to our house as a birthday gift to me. I'll never forget walking into the house and seeing the piano there in the living room! I think I immediately lost all ability to stand on my own because I was instantly on my knees and sobbing. I couldn't believe I had a piano! I was pregnant with Ty at the time, so I started on my plans to teach piano. I passed out more than 500 flyers. I was dreaming big, but the reality was I only got one student from those flyers. The other two were from Scott's school who heard by word of mouth. I was disappointed and realized it was going to take more time to build my studio. (I like to call it a studio even though it's my living room. Maybe someday I'll have a real studio!)
Scott applied for his Master's Degree two years in a row but wasn't accepted; he needed more years of teaching experience.
After we realized that money wasn't going to start pouring in, we did what every sane couple would do, we certified to ref soccer. It was actually pretty good money, but really hard on my emotions. Scott could care less if people yelled at him, but I was like a mama bear ready to attack anyone who complained about his calls. I also felt bad that we had to leave our kids with neighbors or family members when we'd go. We reffed for a couple of years until Scott got head-butted by an assistant coach. To make a long story short, I didn't really like reffing after that. Then I tore my ACL so I had a legitimate reason to quit! Yea ACL!
More than six years have passed since I started teaching and I've built my studio up to 23 and back down to 16 students. I wish I could take on that many students again, but it's time when my family is home. As much as I love teaching, it's really hard when my kids need me and I can't be there for them, and it's really hard for them to understand because they're staring right at me. That's the hardest part of the job. I'm pretty sure my family gets sick of hearing the piano constantly on Mondays and Tuesdays. I'm also pretty sure that that's the underlying reason behind Scott's recent offer to buy me a digital piano!
I started working at Stroops almost a year ago. Stroops is a manufacturer of athletic training equipment and have some really cool patented products! We ship stuff all over the world and to really cool places like The Biggest Loser ranch and professional sports teams. The most recent line is Stroops MMA. (Once they asked if I would fight if they sponsored me. I haven't watched Cinderella Man because I can't even watch Hollywood fights without my stomach churning. There's no way!) Anyway, I really enjoy it there; the people I work with are great, the job is more flexible than I could have hoped for, and I'm getting opportunities to help the company improve. I've worked primarily in Accounts Receivable and built really great relationships with a lot of our customers who now send us money like they're under a spell! I've also had the chance to proofread and write product descriptions for the company's newly marketed athletic products. It's rewarding to be a part of innovation and growth. And we have birthday cake once a month. What's not to love?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)