Author Archives: pearlsandfire

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About pearlsandfire

Mom of three amazing, active, individuals, marketing executive and wannabe chef and decorator, married to Mr. Amazing

Resolution

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Whenever I hear of a friend, colleague, family member or acquaintance that is going through some kind of rough patch, I resolve to always reach out in some way to let that person know that someone is thinking of them and they are not alone.

I was recently informed that my position was being eliminated.  I am so grateful and touched by all the wonderful people who have said something encouraging to me in the hallway, stopped by my office or dropped me an email or left a voice mail message just to let me know they are thinking about me and in many cases pledging offers of assistance or propping me up by saying that they were shocked when they heard the news.  Something so little, so simple and it means so much.

I know that most people are uncomfortable and because they don’t know what to say, they end up not saying anything at all.

With experience and empathy comes wisdom.  I resolve to always reach out.

Working Together

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My husband and I are spending a lot of time home together.  He is recovering from major surgery and I am, as they say, in transition.  My position was eliminated.  What we are finding is that my career transition is coming at a great time because, regardless of how much it pains him to admit it, he needs me to do things for him.

We find ourselves practicing the definition of insanity on a daily basis.  You know the one. It’s where you do the same thing over and over again but expect different results.

My husband has always been very active and physically fit in his daily life.  He’s a general contractor and has been his entire life.  He can add fractions faster than any calculator on the planet.  Now, while I try to get on the elliptical every day, I have a desk job.  I have a Master’s degree and like to think of myself as relatively smart.  But when something minor is broken around the house and he is talking me through the repair, not only do I feel physically at a loss, but also incapable of understanding the simplest directions.  Or maybe he just stinks at giving instructions.

Here’s an example of a recent exchange…

Him:  “You need to push Up on this end”

Me:  pushing in the direction that most seems like “Up”.

Him:  “No, you aren’t pushing Up.  You have to push Up.”

Me:  pushing a little harder in the same direction that I thought was “Up”.

Him:  “You aren’t listening.  I said to push Up.  Push Up.”

Me:  stopping for a second, taking a deep breath and resuming pushing in the same direction.

Tomorrow will be the one week anniversary of his surgery.  And to think we only have five more weeks to go!

Slow Down

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Slow is…

Waiting for a call when he says “I’ll call you”

Waiting to see if the pregnancy test is a plus or minus

Waiting to hear his first cry

A deep well-worn recliner, soft throw covering legs, feet in slouchy wool socks and slippers, cradling a sleeping infant

An animated movie for toddlers that you didn’t want to see and played “Rock, Paper, Scissors” with your husband to see who would go

Practicing math facts at the kitchen table

Refusing to eat dinner because you don’t like it even though you haven’t even taken a bite and it’s getting cold but you aren’t going anywhere until you take a bite and everyone else is finished and the dishwasher has already started

A holiday concert of first time musicians

The last three days before Christmas

The last three days before Summer vacation

Traffic when you are running late and need to pick your child up from practice

A roast that refuses to reach temperature even though your guests have been there for hours

Going there…returning is always faster

Watching the patient number board in the surgical center waiting room to see your husband’s number move from Green/Procedure to Blue/Recovery

Following someone using a walker after hip replacement surgery

Sitting together before dawn, sipping coffee and waiting for the pain medication to take effect

 

Backseat Driver

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My husband recently had hip replacement surgery.  He’s relatively young for the procedure but was in such intense pain and getting virtually no relief from medication, there really was no choice.

Well, the plan was that he was going to be released from the hospital today.  I went to the hospital early today to be there for his physical and occupational therapy sessions.  I wanted to know everything about his recovery exercises and how they wanted him to get in and out of a chair so I could provide the right kind of physical support and reminders once he was home.

We decided he would ride in the back seat of our car for the ride home.  So, one of the things they had him practice was how to get in and out of the back seat using a trash bag on the seat to help him scoot across the seat.

And for some reason, once he was in the back seat, he seemed to think he was required to critique my driving ability.

When we ride in a car together, he does the majority of the driving.   I’ll take my turn at the wheel during long road trips and if he needs me to drop him off when his car is being serviced.  And, for the most part, when I’m driving, he keeps his mouth relatively shut.  But on this trip home from the hospital he had a comment on nearly every block.  “Why are you breaking?”  “Why are you in this lane?”  “You can go faster, you know.”

I counted to ten and held my tongue and decided that the critiques weren’t really because of my driving.  I decided that he knows for the next six to eight weeks, he’s going to have to rely on me and the kids at a level he’s not accustomed to and which makes him uncomfortable.  He, the man who always takes care of everyone else, is now the one who needs the care.

Adieu 2013, Hello 2014 – Life with Teenagers (LwT) 1

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Last night, at the stroke of midnight I was standing in our living room with my two daughters.  The youngest had grabbed a frying pan and wooden spoon as was banging away — and to think she’s had 4 1/2 months of percussion lessons at school!  My older daughter was counting down the seconds to midnight but for some reason was off by one second…Ryan Seacrest and the crowd in Times Square were counting down “10, 9, 8…” and my daughter was counting “11, 10, 9…”  I think she somehow thought this was funny.  I didn’t get it.

Earlier, between the TV shows that recapped the best and worst of 2013, I had informed my daughters that I wanted them to help me “stay current”.  This meant that every week, I wanted them to share what topics they and their friends were talking about, what was trending, videos and vines they were watching (see I learned about vines last night!) and music and artists that were hot.  They asked “why?” and I said I didn’t want to be a “fuddy duddy”.  They fell off their chairs laughing.  I suppose in hind sight, I might have picked a different word or phrase that a bit less telling as to my state of hipness (or lack thereof).

I was filled with dual conflicting emotions.  On the one hand I was immensely relieved that my husband would now have release from the pain of arthritis in his hip — he had just had hip replacement surgery.  I was so proud of my kids.  Their posts about their father and the relief they felt for him brought tears to my eyes.  I was with 2 of the greatest joys of my life and we were getting along and being silly (at my expense but that was okay).  But I was worried too because my son was at a party.  I had no qualms about the party or his behavior.  But New Year’s Eve is called “amateur night” and it was the other drivers that had me on edge.  Usually my husband is the one to wait up until everyone in the house was home and safe.  But he was resting in the hospital and so it was my job to stay up last night until everyone was accounted for.

I heard the garage door open and close.  I heard the back door open and close.  I heard footsteps down the creaky back hallway.  And then my phone buzzed with a text from my son and one simple word…”Home”.

 

Daily Project — Life with Teenagers

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I’m not sure I want to call it a New Year’s Resolution.  Too much commitment.  Too much disappointment if I fail.  I like the idea of “personal challenge” better.  Maybe that is splitting hairs or rationalization.  But if it works, then that is what I’m going with.

So, I’m personally challenging myself to write everyday.  I’m now following the Daily Posts feed and I downloaded the 365 writing prompts to help me along.  There are so many projects and topics that I could choose – a couple of the obvious contenders:

  • My husband’s recovery from hip replacement surgery — but that is problematic for a couple of reasons:  1) It is his project; 2) I hope it doesn’t take 365 days; and 3) I’m sure it will work its way into some of my posts but just the inspirational ones and the funny ones
  • My professional journey to find a new career that is meaningful and impactful:  1) Whoa, that is really personal and maybe putting myself a little too much out there (yikes); 2) Again, hoping this one also does not take 365 days; and 3) Also I am confident this subject will work its way into numerous posts
  • My personal health and fitness goal to lose 50 lbs by the time I’m 50 years old: 1) Whoa, and I thought the job thing was a little too personal; 2) I don’t have 365 days until that lovely milestone; and 3) I envision a lot of cranky posts that won’t have the inspirational impact I was hoping for

So, I’ve landed on the idea for my 365 writing project as being about Life with Teenagers.

End of a Relationship

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Recently someone asked me if it was true that having your position eliminated and being told you are no longer employed evoked feelings similar to the death of a loved one.  Being laid off is definitely has some similarities and can certainly be devastating news but I don’t think it is the best analogy.  And I think most people who have dealt with the death of a loved one might be insulted to have that comparison drawn.

When a loved one passes the sense of loss can be debilitating for many.  Maybe they were sick for a long time and as a result, their death does not come as a shocking surprise.  But that doesn’t make it any easier.  The reality is that our grief is prolonged.  We grieve because we miss them and what they meant in our daily lives.  We grieve because of our memories.  When faced with a sudden death, we have to deal with the shock, the grief and the immediate need to make plans for something we had not expected.

What I’m feeling is more like the break-up of a long-term relationship when you suddenly realize, “he’s just not that into you.”  It is the blow to the ego and the loss of a major component of our identify.  Employment is one of the first three things we typically say when we introduce ourselves to someone new…”Hi, my name is Blank, I work at Blank Co.”  (Family situation and Alma mater are the other things we typically include in early introductions in my extremely informal poll.)  Similarly, when we are in a long-term relationship (dating or married), being a couple and being with that person becomes part of our identity…”Hi, my name is Blank, I’m Blank’s girlfriend/wife.”

 So, in my situation, we had been together for over 10 years.  Part of my identity is tied up with the company.  My youngest child has only known me working at this company and the thought of me working anywhere else just doesn’t make any sense to her.  So, I’m grieving the break-up of that relationship.  And besides grief, I have that feeling of “What do you mean you are breaking up with me?  What, I’m not good enough for you?”  It’s the emotional bruise to the ego more so than grief or anger or bitterness that has been the predominate emotion.

But there is a silver lining, light at the end of the tunnel and a cup half full of possibilities. As Scarlett O’Hara said, “After all, tomorrow is another day!”  Every situation and experience can make us a stronger and better person if we let it.  I know that I will be a more compassionate, empathetic and authentic leader as a result.  And I’m giving the journey my all.

 

Back With a Vengeance (or at Least Renewed Enthusiasm)

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It has been a long time since my last post.  Believe me, I’ve frequently thought about writing.  But something always seemed to come up.  No real excuse, I know.  It’s not as if this past year was particularly boring.  There were life events and challenges and triumphs and mundane activities.  All good fodder.  But somehow I just couldn’t get the umph to write.

But as I reflect on wrapping up yet another year and mentally review my lists of potential resolutions for 2014 (running a marathon is not in the cards), I have a renewed desire to get back in the habit.  And so, if that constitutes a New Year’s Resolution, so be it.

I Must Have Blinked

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Tall and graceful greeting her guests at the door

Easy, natural smile

Deep dimples and a warm embrace

And a sincere “Thank you for coming”

Fuchsia summer dress, demure, elegant, timeless and uniquely her

I blinked and there she is, newborn fragile in her proud brother’s arms

I blinked and there again, suffering to breathe in the hospital

I blinked and she’s twirling in circles, princess dress and tights puddling around her ankles

I blinked and she’s on a porch in the bright beach sun and a cherry red Popsicle is dripping and melting and staining her father’s crisp white T-shirt that’s as long as a ball gown swimming on her tiny frame and her cheeks and lips and hands are stained and it’s a wonder any Popsicle found its way into her mouth

I blinked and she’s flying down the field red pony tail bobbing and shorts too big for spindly legs

I blinked and she’s memorizing a Shel Silverstein poem and I catch myself surprised that she not only memorized the words but she’s delivering them and it’s funny

I blinked and commanding presence on the court and there is no I in team

At strange times insecure, she underestimates her gifts and diverse talents

Standing back watching her tall and graceful greeting her guests at the door, I blinked because my eyes were wet

Red Bird Sighting

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Standing at the kitchen sink

Dish drudgery…fill the dishwasher, empty the dishwasher…staring out the window

Backyard remnants of winter, spent shrubs, broken branches, brown and grey

No leaves except the dead ones piled against the back fence, brown and grey

Brown and grey

Flash of color zips across the yard, lands on a branch, darts and bounces, pecking, looking, hopping, sailing

Flash of Spring