I look over and recognize the building of the company/organization/agency (to keep you guessing) immediately. “If they have a job opening one of these days up my alley, I’ll apply,” I say brightly.

Mom: “You’d be perfect there. They’d love you.”

It was a casual, playful exchange. We continue our day and I don’t give it another thought.

Until . . .

Until that following Monday, when I open up my Google Reader feed and check out a folder lovingly entitled “D.C. Jobs.” I laugh out loud when I see that the company/organization/agency my mom pointed out is looking for someone. And the job is right up my alley. It seems challenging and I’m a bit intimidated, but I apply. Moms are wise, y’know? Might as well give it the good old college try.

I apply, tell my mom about it, chuckle, then move on. I continue to apply for other things as time passes.

Mom's always encouraged and nurtured my talents and interests!

Shortly after I apply, I’m going home one day and happen to be walking in front of an annex office of the company/organization/agency. I have my work security badge on my hip, and it jangles a bit as I walk. All of a sudden, without warning, right in front of the annex building, my security badge snaps off its badge reel and falls to the sidewalk. I scoop the badge up, shrug, then tell myself to look for a new badge reel when the little basket by the security desk at work has some displayed. In the coming months, though, none appear. Ah, well. I have to carry around my badge, but it isn’t a big deal. Nine times out of ten I have pockets.

Some time later, I receive a call. Phone interview with company/organization/agency!

I think I do okay. I flub one question. I am told that call backs will happen at the end of the week, but of course they don’t. I’m fretting, but IP tells me not to worry—things like this get pushed back and I’ll probably hear the following week.

While stuck in a miserable meeting that next Monday, being treated like crap by the feds, my phone starts to ring. I jump, recognizing the number. I quickly excuse myself and take the call. Full interview. I squee like crazy and send IP and my family quick emails and text messages.

The interview happens. I get a good vibe about everything and everyone. I interview well and am excited by all I hear. I’m told a decision will be made in May. I go on vacation and do my best not to think about it, and succeed quite well. It helps when you’re being doused by the sun and sand and surf.

On a Friday, I look at my phone after work and see that I’ve missed a call. I again recognize the number and my heart starts pounding. I get off the train at a station where there’s a signal and listen to the message.

They want me.

I can’t help it. I start crying in the station. I call IP and freak him the fuck out, but when he learns my news is nothing but good, he’s all congrats and happiness. I hang up with him, then call my mom while I’m waiting for another train. “You were right,” I say to her, laughing.

“Yes!” she says. “Congrats, m’ija! I knew they’d love you.”

It’s happening. After all my bitching and moaning and wanting to move on, it’s finally happening.

Moms are psychic, yo.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

With my parents visiting for the weekend, I was able to have Friday off (which was fantastic after the latest installment of the Great Crony Debacle of 2011 at work). I picked up my parents from Reagan on Thursday and proceeded to have a fun time with them. Among other things, I took them to the Mega Spanish Supermarket in Rockville where we got sal de uvas (an antacid popular in Mexico—here’s a good write-up on the product), some good pan Mexicano (which seems hard to find in the D.C. area, Tapatío hot sauce for IP (who was missing it since the Giants we frequent appear to have stopped stocking them) and some chiles ancho and árbol for our midday project: mole and sopa de arroz!

After a brief pit stop at Montrose Crossing for some more ingredients and for some Jameson for IP as a gift from my dad, we headed back to our place and my mom proceeded to show me how to make mole. It’s surprisingly easy and I can’t wait to try to do this on my own—it always seemed hella complicated and I would shudder to think of the mess I’d make if I did this on my own. However, I’m fairly confident that I can pull this off now. I would invite y’all over for mole and arroz but . . . well, y’know.

I had good conversations with my parents, with and without IP present. It was fun to laugh with them, talk about stupid stuff, talk politics with my dad, hear updates about the family from my mom. It was different from talking with them at this place or on the phone—I feel like they were just able to relax here and not get antsy. My mom especially has a history of getting clingy (and on my nerves—I love her, but I famously don’t have oodles of patience), but this time she was very chillaxed. IP seemed to have a good time, as he always delights in hearing silly stories about me as a kid. On Saturday, we headed downtown for some views of the White House, a walk around the Mall and a huge lunch at Gordon Biersch (my dad particularly favors their Märzen beer). Saturday night was spent a) taking naps as we all needed them and 2) just talking during a very small dinner.

They left early Sunday morning, at around 5:15am. IP and I went back to sleep for two hours. My alarm went off again, though, and that was my cue to head outside for an eight-mile run.

The run went well, I can happily say! The only thing that slowed me down was coming up a steep incline in Rock Creek Park that I’ve never tried to run before; I still finished in 1:20:25, which made for a 10:02 minute/mile pace. I’m hoping that this bodes well for the Cherry Blossom; I would ideally like to finish at a 10:00 minute/mile pace, but wouldn’t mine it if I made it to 9:45 or 9:30. That might be a pipe dream, but I did run my 8K at a 9:17 pace and felt like I had more than enough to spare. Fingers crossed that everything goes well on April 3!

After I finished my long run, IP and I got ready and trudged down to D.C. again to meet a friend for brunch. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her, it was a special day for her and she got hitched not too long ago. I wanted to congratulate her in person, and even though I was tired as hell and half-tempted to skip my eight-miler, send a text message that we couldn’t make it and go back to sleep, I’m glad we made it to the brunch. It was nice to catch up with her and hear how things were going. We were invited to visit her; we’ll see, because she does indeed live in a beautiful place.

And now, as I write this (written on Sunday afternoon), IP and I are finishing up some laundry. I am tired and wouldn’t mind a nap; IP will probably end up hitting the gym before we both gather ourselves and head over to the supermarket for some needed grocery shopping.

A very busy weekend, a very nice weekend. However, we are looking forward to next weekend, when we have absolutely nothing special to do!

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

There’s a lot I want to work on, but setting down resolutions is another thing—do I really want to do that? And what would they be? Lemme see . . .

1. Run More. While I did quite the number with weight lifting, I dropped off on cardio in general and with running specifically. I don’t want to go back to the days where I was running only, but I would like to find a run/weight balance that allows me to get faster with the running and allows me to build on the muscles that I have been nurturing these past few years. Thing is, the weight lifting has complimented and improved my running; towards the end of 2010, I would go for runs and feel as strong as I did when I was running in my early 20s. I kept on getting faster and my legs and core would carry me with no problem; my heart and lungs had a bit of catching up to do, but they did it quickly. With the Cherry Blossom 10 Mile Run on my plate again this year, I want to have a better time than I did in 2009 (I did not run it last year after all). After the 10 miler, I’m flirting with the idea of doing a half marathon, and then maybe venturing to marathon territory for 2012. I feel running calling to me; the question is, will I answer its summons? Let’s see how the 10 miler goes, and then we’ll see from there.
2. Write More. I am currently working on a short story that’s going very well, and I really hope to have it done and ready to have IP beta read it no later than mid-February. It’s far from perfect, but I’m not cringing each time I sit down to write it. The seed for the short story came to me out of nowhere. I’ve enjoyed it, and I hope to do more creative writing this year than I did last. I have two short story ideas that I really should expand upon. Finishing this first one, I think, will help me with the other stories.
3. Budget Better. I’ve done a decent job of this so far (having started in late 2010), but I think I could continue to do better. The nice thing is this: our car is nearly paid off and I am putting a lot more into my remaining student loan. I have been pretty good on the whole “do not buy clothes you don’t need!” and am really looking to have a healthier checking and savings balance than I have for a while. I’m not sure what would be a realistic percentage to aim for when cutting down my student loan, but IP and I will put our noggins together and try to figure that out so I can be debt free (and this is the only debt I have, so all in all, I don’t feel too badly about it, especially given how I nearly max out my 401k these days). I think I can do better. Yes, we can. (See what I did there?)

I think those are my biggies for the calendar year 2011. I feel like, faux-resolutions from 2010 aside, I was able to achieve a better balance with a lot of things in the past year. I don’t get upset at work as easily as I used to, so I find that my ability to hate on the job is tougher than it once was (unless they force me to outright lie like they did in May; then I get annoyed). My home life is very happy and I adore my family. I don’t feel like anything’s missing at all. I have an amazing husband who I know cherishes me and whom I love very much; rare is the time when I’m not laughing when we’re together. I am a very lucky woman to have such a fantastic man in my life. My siblings and parents make me laugh and groan, like all families should, with their wonderful selves. They care deeply about me, and I feel loved every time I talk to them (even when my mom is nagging me to give her a grandchild soon). I have some pretty good friends who I don’t see often enough, but love to talk to when I get the chance. I am a snarky, sardonic, sarcastic, curmudgeonly, impossible kind of woman, yet many, many people show they love me on a day-to-day basis. I hope that even though I’m snarky, sardonic, sarcastic, curmudgeonly and impossible with the rest of the world, they know I love them, too, and I treat them like they should be treated—with the same love and respect they give me.

So here’s a 2011 filled with more running, writing, and budgeting, but also filled with all the stupendous people I am lucky enough to have in my life. I hope that anyone reading this is also surrounded by people they love who will help them throughout the coming year. The best to everyone in 2011.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

Let’s talk about something pleasant, shall we?

As I mentioned in my Monday post complaining about the tourists’ ignorance of Metro, I met up with my little brother on Saturday night for dinner and drinks. It is a venial sin to admit (and my mother would actually think this a mortal sin), but we hadn’t seen each other for more than a year, not since the wedding. A lot of conflicts have gotten in the way, but suffice it to say: we need to get our asses up to him before his graduation from the Most Intelligent Tower. (And if you can’t figure out what that actually is, then you really, really would never belong at Most Intelligent Tower.)

We had fun—IP and Mathgeek shared sushi while I had myself some modified drunken noodles. We then went to a bar where the beer didn’t come quickly enough and a woman flirted with IP, asking him where his costume was. There was much catching up to do, a bit of commiseration and bitching, but when we parted, we promised to never, ever let another year go by without seeing each other. Fact of the matter, Mathgeek cracks me up and is fun to talk to, and having changed his diapers when he was a wee babe, I’m pretty close to him. I missed him big time even though Skype has come into our lives and at least we get to see each other that way. I have a cool younger brother who is quickly becoming a very cool young man who has a lot of the world at his feet. He also has some challenges ahead, but I know IP and I are more than willing to stand by him because dude? Is pretty awesome.

So Mathgeek, tonight I’ll have some more beer in your honor and IP and I will plot and plan to make our way up to you soon.

Picture me caressing the monitor, by the way. ;)

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

1. Hunting down friends’ baby pictures on Facebook
2. Plotting to stop taking birth control . . . without your husband’s knowledge because you say you’re “secretly” going to stop taking it
3. Allocating space for baby’s belongings
4. Bookmarking websites for the things (i.e., clothes, furniture, cute stuff) the baby will need
5. Researching cloth diapers versus disposables
6. Deciding what color the kid’s room will be
7. Actually buying baby clothes and storing them away until they’re needed

Then yeah—I don’t have it.

What struck me about this post (on a board I lurk on) was how superficial it was. It was all about the material things that babies need or the spaces they will inhabit, instead of the idea of raising a child for 18 years. Sure, the cute poofy-cheeked goodness stage is awesome, but then they’re toddlers, and then kiddies, and then tweens, and then teens and then, good lord, you have to pay for college. For one or more people.

I admit to squealing at poofy-cheeked goodness—it can’t be helped because we’re wired to squeal at said goodness. I will sometimes demand that IP give me a baby RIGHT NOW because of their adorable antics. I read MO Mommy and Mila’s Daydreams because, holy hell, cute babies. I enjoy MO Mommy and Dooce a lot because, holy hell, not just cute babies, but actual musings on how difficult it is to parent. Beyond thinking babies are cute, the idea of parenting (read: not just focusing on what you will buy for Junior) weighs heavily on my mind, weighs tremendously on IP’s mind. We are scared, y’all. We want to be good parents, and we both have histories that make us worry that we could really, really suck as parents. We also have people in our lives whose reaction to any kids we might have worries us. In thinking about procreating, we’re not just concerned with what type of rocking chair to get for those sleepless nights, but what type of person we’re raising and whether we’ll do it right of if they’ll hate us and if they’ll be productive, well-adjusted members of society. Because neither IP nor I considered ourselves particularly well-adjusted. Different factors made us not so well-adjusted, but we were both late bloomers, and with late blooming comes insecurity that we’re not bloomed enough to be parents.

Does that make sense?

I hope everyone on that board who’s stashing away links and clothes and paint colors for baby realizes that they’re going to be raising a human being—the kid won’t stay nine months old forever, you know? I really hope they’ve talked about the biggies: religion, grandparents, how to handle schools, socialization, balancing home with the overabundance of extracurricular activities, discipline and engagement (will you actually talk to your child and allow him/her to express themselves reasonably, or will you parent only when needed?). I find it frustrating to see them conflate the desire to have cute baby things with the task of raising a person—they’re two totally different things in my mind and they don’t seem to realize it. Is it cliché to scream, “Won’t somebody please think to the children!”? Because I really want them to think of the children, the people, they’ll be raising, not the cute baby stage because, honestly, it all ain’t cute. They try to discuss more serious things on the board—why not discuss the perceived difficulties of being a parent and how you and your spouse have decided to proceed? That’d be a lot more helpful and interesting and thought-provoking than saying Etsy has some really cute baby stuff.

Bottom line: I feel like they approach parenting like they did wedding planning. They make the decision seem so easy.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

And this week I have to start working full weeks again. The hell? Well, at least until April, when IP and I take some time off and head down to Cancún for what will be a well-deserved break away from D.C. We’re actually thinking that, if we haven’t moved by then, that we’ll take another vacation this year to Greece in Septemberish. Sounds good to me! So we’ll definitely have our Cancún trip, a visit from IP’s brothers, and a visit from my sister upcoming; IP and I also want to make time to visit my wonderfully geeky brother in Boston at some point, too. Throw in another trip to the South Pacific for me, and another wedding in the Pacific Northwest for the both of us, and IP maybe heading out to Cali at some point, and then both of us maybe going to Greece, and you’ll see we’ve actually got a lot of travel and visiting on our plates. Lots to look forward to, then, with these visits and trips breaking up the monotony that is life in D.C.

But first, I took a swing through Michigan during President’s Day weekend. It’s the easiest time to get away given the holiday and it’s also my dad’s birthday. So not only do I get to visit my family, but I get cake. What’s there to lose? For me, Michigan’s always filled with treats I can’t get here (although I did find Frozen Coke at 7-Eleven, it’s still not as good as Meijer), a trip to Meijer, a nice breakfast with the family at Big Boy or Bob Evans, playing Wii and, this trip around, watching the Olympics.

Ah over the clothes I bought at Kohl’s, Old Navy and M-Den (including my nifty ¡Vamos Azul! tee)! Oooh over the fact that my mom had to give me one of her pieces of luggage again because I couldn’t help myself when it came to buying new stuff. Hold your breath in anticipation as I describe having to substitute chili powder for cumin in my carnitas recipe because my mom hates cumin—only to have it turn out tasty and beloved by the Michigan WordNerdias.

The weekend was very fun, gentle teasing aside. I had fun being in a place that has less than half a foot of snow on the ground. To make me feel at home, my family even made sure I had some throwback Coke, which is basically Coke imported from Mexico since they still use real sugar down there:

Ah, tasty! Brings back lots of memories, too. Also in the cards was a Frozen Coke; my sister and I hit the Saline-Ann Arbor Road Target because, as she said, “They always have Frozen Coke there.” Imagine her surprise when there wasn’t any Frozen Coke; just Frozen Dr Pepper. While it was good, it was no Frozen Coke.

I wasn’t around a TV for Torino 2006, but I saw plenty of Vancouver 2010′s first weekend. I watched as Gretzky grimaced, a technical difficulty spoiling the lighting of the Olympic cauldron. I cringed when the Canadian women’s hockey team absolutely decimated Slovakia and Switzerland; as much as I’m rooting for them, the lopsided scores (18-0, 10-1) are painful to see. Hanging out with a friend, I saw Apolo Ohno win his sixth Olympic medal, watching the sure podium sweep by the Koreans become a disaster as the silver and bronze medalists-to-be knocked themselves out, allowing Ohno and his teammate J.R. Celski to move in and medal. I saw China’s Shen Xue and Zhao Hongo finally take the gold in pairs figure skating; although their programs were enjoyable, I was reminded that nobody comes close to being like Gordeeva and Grinkov these days.

In the end, it was just really nice to sit down and relax with my family for a few days. We celebrated our dad’s birthday with the aforementioned breakfast trip to Bob Evans, then filled up on ice cream and cake in the afternoon. We all pitched in and gave my dad a camera—he’s always been fond of taking pictures, but has never gotten a digital camera for himself. We found one that was mid-range, to get him started, but was more than just point and shoot. It was a quiet weekend (except for the afternoon where my sister and I did a Jackie Warner workout through On Demand; it was difficult, because I usually rest in between my damn lifting sets; my mom burst out laughing when I called Ms. Warner a bitch for making me do what was essentially five or six body weight matrices in a row—OUCH!). My mom also taught me how to make a new dish, which I’ve already made for IP and myself, which made us go “¡Delicioso!”

IP and I have to get through about eight weeks of work before heading to Cancún. He’ll take time off during that span when his youngest brother visits, and I’ll probably end up taking a day or two to work from home in order to greet our new dresser (whenever we may buy it; I didn’t suggest looking for it this weekend or next only because it seems to snow every single time I do). It’ll be a tough slog, but we’ll get there.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

I really admire my parents: not only did they successfully raise four kids in an alien environment, but they fought against racism; crappy jobs such as, yep, picking fruit; losing their first child; and dealing with it all with little to no support from their families since they chose to try to make it in Michigan as opposed to California (where the majority of our family is). My father’s father left his mother when my dad was five, yet he refused to repeat the same patterns and is the best dad ever (I guess I might be biased). My mother married my father a shy, retiring teenager, but has come into her own as a working, outspoken and caring woman. I hope IP and I can face changes and challenges with the same poise and resourcefulness that my parents did. I think my parents remembered, for the most part, that they were on the same team. It’s been a philosophy for IP and me for ages, but I didn’t realize that my parents also followed that mantra. Now, as they look to selling our childhood home and retiring to Mexico, I hope that we kids have made them proud, and I hope that they can go to Mexico knowing that they did an absolutely fantastic job: they really set us up to make it in the real world, whether they know it or not.

And you know what? They’ve more than earned their retirement in Mexico (hopefully next to the beach, ‘cuz you know that nothing gets the kids down there faster than proximity to the Pacific!). After many years of effort, they’ve gotten to a point where they should just chillax, marinate in the shade. And even though they think we won’t, we’ll definitely join them to celebrate them and to chillax alongside them when we’re able.

So happy anniversary, Mom and Dad. May you have at least 37 more, and may you focus on the most important people involved in your next step: the two of you. We’ll be here, your kids forever, no matter what you choose to do next.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

Today we received the catalog for Macy’s Biggest One Day Sale. I was flipping through it, lamenting the fact that we have no space for a KitchenAid mixer, would like to buy new luggage and a Magic Bullet blender, and was outraged that there weren’t any nice leather jackets for women showcased within.  I flipped through the kids’ section, giving the items a cursory glance, until my eyes fell on this picture on page 20:

Holy hell. Brown hair and eyes on the girl? Check. Cheeky grin? Check. Light hair color and blue eyes on the boy? Check. Bored expression that indicates his wish to be asleep? Check. IP and I gawked, laughed, pointed, then gawked again. All they needed were a stuffed scorpion and stuffed rattlesnake (sounds creepy, but they’re both quite cute!) to make the picture complete. We’ve actually failed to throw away the catalog while the rest of the mail has gone into the trash.

However, I would not be dressing our twins in velour track suits. Major un-check.

Hi, Princess and Dom! Thanks for making Mommy and Daddy some money by modeling for Macy’s on the side. We love you!

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

Even if I’m irritated from time to time, I really do appreciate all the love and support my parents have given both IP and me throughout this whole process. I am who I am because of all the struggles they went through for me, and I’ll make sure that they know that on the wedding day.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

Look, I get it: Parenting is a huge responsibility (it’s one that I’m not sure I’m cut out for), and I give kudos to people who throw themselves into caring for their children (note: I can’t give kudos to just any parent because most people can have sex and procreate, but not all of us are good parents). I understand that people talk about what’s on their minds; I totally understand that parents are constantly thinking about their kids. But is it really too much to ask for people to diversify their conversation with books they’ve just read, news they’ve been following and other sundry matters? I’m serious when I say get a blog. The reason why I have a blog is partly to write, partly to blab; not everyone wants to hear about the minute details of my existence, but if you choose to read it, thanks. If not, that’s okay since I blog for me. I really wish my acquaintances would do the same with their kid talk: become mommy and daddy bloggers.

I know this may ruffle some parental feathers (after all, you’re probably just proud of your kids, which is cool), but understand: the stuff that I hear are trivialities: how Hannah Montana tickets were acquired, the various outfits that were purchased for a one-year-old, how a seven-year-old threw a tantrum at a team practice, how the kids are learning how to swim. All of these stories have me falling asleep at my desk, head lolling forward as I try to listen. I think I could stand it if it happened once or twice a week. But every single goddamn day? For more than three years now? Any topic gets boring when you discuss it every single goddamn day, especially for the past three years.

I’ve longed feared becoming boring, and my current observation is that some of the parents I know can be very, very boring. Please mix it up, people. We child-free people aren’t necessarily pining for chubby-cheeked kids of our own, nor are we jealous of the stories you regale us with constantly. You are not burrowing an idea into my mind, that of desired and impending parenthood; this actually makes me averse to wanting to have a kid because I don’t want to risk becoming just like you. Which is what’s said to me: “One day you’ll be just like us.” Hell to the no. Even if I have a kid, I make this solemn promise to myself: while my life may be consumed with little Princess’s hockey games and Dom’s improvised chemistry sets, you will not hear me talking about it at work all that much. I will seize the opportunity to talk to adults about other matters. Detailed discussions of cartoons that my kids like can be a conversation that I will actually hold with my kids, not my colleagues and friends and acquaintances, especially not my poor, bored child-free colleagues and friends and acquaintances whose eyes are rolling to the ceiling during lunch.

In the meantime, I think I need to invest in some glasses like these, except I need them in brown:

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.