A Dead End? No Way!

Most recently a bridge was removed from our road. (We don’t exactly own it, nor have they named it after us yet. But I feel a claim to the gravelly path since we are the only residence on the ¾ mile stretch.) Now we live on a…dead end. The sign humors me every time I make the corner to go home, especially after a long day at work. There’s nothing metaphorical running through my mind! Really!

Actually, I have been thinking how quickly I blinked and found myself at the age of 44. Didn’t I just turn 25 a few years ago? 31? Then I wonder, have I achieved everything I set out to achieve? If my 25 year-old self would look at me now, I’d probably say, "Pretty much." Yet, there has been a certain restlessness–a certain lingering feeling, making me wonder if there was more that I should be doing. 

So I got some ideas!

Working hard. Learning the ropes. Obviously, all important in the making of a career. Purpose has almost always consumed me. And now that my kids no longer need their steaks cut into bite-size pieces (most of the time), the question of purpose really hovered over my cup of morning tea. Recently, I was inspired into action after reading two books: When Everything Changed by Gail Collins and Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg.  Ms. Collins gave me an education on the Women's Movement and Sheryl Sandberg reminded me of all the gender challenges I've faced in my career. Together, Sandberg and Collins convinced me to start a mentoring program at work. And after conversations with some other high-performing women at the Shelby County State Bank, we all decided to carry on the dialogue in formal framework–to encourage each other, to boost confidence, and to help each other in our careers. While we've only just begun a program, our roundtable talks are being received with great fervor. And just as Ben Stiller's enthusiasm soared when his Museum came alive in Night of the Museum, I'm feeling a sort of second-wind in my career as well.

Without trying to sound to cliche, I really do think God works in mysterious ways. I read a book which inspired me to laugh at the newly posted "Dead End" sign on our road. I guess when a bridge closes up, you just turn around and take the long way around. Sometimes, the scenery isn't only nicer–it's a better route. 

Just to give you a taste of Lean In and the conversations we've started at our place at work, see Sheryl Sandberg's Ted Talk here. It's fabulous.

Back to Work, After a Week Off..

A Message to Boomers...

I really do have a great respect for all you Baby Boomers. After all, you are a pretty cool bunch. You brought us The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, and other way-awesome bands. You made this country realize how important diversity is. You redefined the role of grandparents by refusing to age. There is no doubt that the Boomer generation deserves respect. But there’s an issue we don’t see eye-to-eye…

Is it really so bad that we younger generations would like a better balance between work and family? The nights I leave the office by 5:00, my boss looks at the clock and makes a comment like, “Oh, you’re leaving already?” Yep. And it isn’t like I’m going to go home, put my feet up and eat bon-bons. If I don’t have to pick up a prescription or get groceries or run kids to some activity, I’m usually rushing home to toss in one load of laundry (so the kids have underwear tomorrow) while making a mediocre supper and skimming the daily headlines so I have a vague idea of what’s going on in the world. Quality time usually begins around 9:00.

Well, that kind of sucks! We’re all half-dead by that time.

My Boomer Mom and my Boomer Dad raised me to work hard and get ahead. I do believe in hard work. It’s good for many more reasons than “keeping up with the Jones’” – like contributing to society, putting food on the table, etc. But I you know what I think? I think we should all wake up at a reasonable hour to take a long walk, smell a flower and spend time talking with the kids in the morning. I think we should get home early enough to take the family to the park, play some catch and settle down in the evening and read a good book together.

It’s been said that Boomers live to work. That’s fine if that’s really what makes them happy. (I think there’s a badge of honor associated with number of hours worked. Or maybe it’s just more money.) But I’d rather work to live. And really live. So, what do you say Boomers? Should we reduce the work week to 40 hours? Maybe 39?

Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say! 

The Missing Female Trait

I'm missing a gene --the one that calls to the depth of a female's soul and says, "You must provide food. There must be plenty, it must be aesthetically pleasing, and most of all, delicious."

Ok -- maybe I have the gene that calls the command. But I certainly don't have the gene that can pull it off.

I would love the idea of entertaining guests in our home, if it weren't for the expectation of food. Doug always says that chips and salsa are "plenty good". But deep inside, I know he's not right...

Appetizers (more than one)should be adorably displayed on a clever serving dish.

At least one of the beverages should be blended and require foo-foo glasses.

Meat should be marinated and handsomely prepared via grilling or roasting methods.

Potatos and/or vegetables should be basted in exotic spices and served casserole-style to ensure the masses will all be able to enjoy.

Dessert should consist of at least 15 ingredients and require a four-hour lead time for preparation. Of course, an alternative (such as cookies) should be available in case of dessert failure.

Oh, crap! What about a salad? A soup? And what about the mess in the kitchen I'll create trying to make off this stuff?

I would much rather give a speech to a large crowd than prepare a dinner meal. Heck, I get nervous just bringing a dish to someone else's dinner party. I just can never seem to ever get my hands around an entire project involving food. Maybe it's because I try to take shortcuts when I cook. Maybe it's because I haven't bought enough Pampered Chef products. Nonetheless, my disfunctional "entertaining" gene is bound to haunt me for life.

But I continue to work on it. Today I made a suggestion that gave by pysche a smattering of hope.

I'm in a management group with three other men. And tomorrow, lunch is being brought into our staff. (We made our sales goals two months in a row.)

"What do you guys think of bringing a dessert for the crew? You know, to show how much we appreciate their efforts?"

Some chuckles. They don't respond. I volunteer first.

"I'll bring a pan of brownies."

"Oh, you're serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. I think the staff will appreciate it!"

"Um. OK. You'll bring brownies for everyone then?"

"Well, the idea is that we all bring something."

"Oh. Well, I can bring Oreos."

"My daughter just made Monster cookies. Will that work?"

"My wife makes a killer strawberry pie."

That's the spirit! I have a Betty Crocker mix that only requires one egg and some vegetable oil. It even includes the frosting.

Maybe the key is starting small. Today it's Betty Crocker. Tomorrow, who knows? Maybe I'll try a Martha Stewart recipe.

Maybe. Or, better yet, have my friend Charlene sell me more of her "Tastefully Simple" items. They are killer.

Keeping our Teeth. Losing my Mind?

Two cavities? But my oldest never had any, and she didn't brush her teeth either!

All kids are different, my dentist told me. Don't blame yourself. So, it's okay that we don't always get a brushing in our hectic mornings? Or exhausting evenings? Flossing is really out of the question.

Anyway, I had it all set up to take my son to a pediatric dentist, in Omaha, which is an hour away from our residence. I rearranged my work schedule and my husband, being the supportive guy he is, even took the day off. Mom was picking up my daughter, from play practice, and shuttling her to dance, or one of her many extra-curricular activities.

We picked Cole up from school. Of course he was excited to get out of school, not fully understanding the implications of his scheduled dental appointment. And after missing a turn or two, because I thought I knew exactly where the building was, we made it to Dr. Dana's office.

Busy -- this place was swarming with kids! We made it to the reception desk, where a polite young lady asked if she could help us. "Oh, yes. My son, Cole Kramer has an appointment." Looking a bit confused, she said, "Really? I don't have him down." Smugly, I pulled out my letter which indicated the date and time of the appointment. She reviewed and apologetically said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Your appointment indicates next week." Next week? Isn't it really the 27th today? Can you please get us in? "Sorry, we are completely booked."

My husband sighed in disgust.

My son said under his breath, "She did it again."

"Again? Cole, when have I done this before?" "Last week, at the other dentist." Oh, yeah. I took off early to take the kids to their local dentist -- the one that was sending me here. Only to find out they were closed -- the appointment was the next day. Thanks God my mom's around. Not sure if I could take off early with "more children's dentists appointments" .

Maybe I need a personal assistnant. Or, maybe we should just start brushing our teeth.

Good Mommy, Bad Cook

Do you remember some of your mom's favorite dishes? I can think of a few. Do you know what my kids are going to remember? Those cherished moment when Dad said, "Should we go out to eat?".

When I'm considering taking a dish to take to a new mother or a grieving family, I ask my husband, "What should I bring? What's the best dish I make?", he's quiet a moment. Then he suggests I buy a Pizza Hut gift card.

Anyway, I discovered a great dish today. It's called a "Burnt Grilled Cheese". Really, it's pretty good. Here's what you do...

Take two pieces of your favorite kind of bread. I recommend sourdough or pumperknickle -- something without a bunch of high fructose corn syrup.

1. Heat a skillet -- spray cooking spray. Always spray cooking spray when you cook.
2. Instead of buttering the bread, spray it with cooking spray. (You might know this already -- it saves calories.
3. Place your favorite cheese in between the bread. (Unbuttered sides in.)
4. Place the sandwich on the grill.
5. Wait a few minutes until the bread is toasted on one side just as you like it. (This can be tricky with pumperknickle.)
6. Turn over, then leave the room and start doing something else. Laundry, Googling on the computer, help the kids with homework, anything really.)
7. When you begin to smell smoke throughout the house, run to the kitchen and turn off the stove.
8. Place your Grilled Cheese on a plate and let cool a few minutes.
9. Pull the good side of the sandwich off the burnt side and nibble on the edible parts.
10. Enjoy and think about all of the extra calories you saved.

Dream on, Kids!

Staring at my sleeping six-year old, I think to myself, “how beautiful this little creature is”. And then a completely disjointed thought occurs. Why didn’t I become an actress? Why didn’t I pursue journalism? Or become a critic?

He has dreams. Dreams of becoming Spiderman. Somedays it’s Batman. There’s even been talk of Ben-10, whoever that is. But Spiderman is typically the superhero of choice.

I can't really say that I dreamt of becoming a banker. A doctor, a rock star, an actress! (I even wrote to the Love Boat when I was ten! They graciously sent me a rejection in the form of a postcard.) Now, I’m the retail manager of a community bank in a small town --"Senior Vice President of Retail" Julie McCoy, eat your heart out.

I love my husband dearly. I love my two children dearly. My job is fine.

His eyes are slightly open. His lashes are so long. Not quite as long as his sister’s. He has the same white eyelash as his father. It’s in the center of their right eyes. I rarely have a chance to watch my daughter sleep anymore. Her head is usually buried in the pillow.

How do you encourage children to always follow their dreams? How do you make sure they don’t always take the "safe route" and forsake their passion?

My son loves his sister. She is annoyed by him, but takes care of him. I love it when she calls him “Buddy”. I still love her little-girl laugh. She’s ten now. Why does she seem so much older?

Mom encouraged me to try out for a play in college. I never did. In high school, I surprisingly was selected to play the female lead in “Flowers for Algernon”. But I had to kiss the male lead. I kissed him on the cheek. My drama coach was not happy with me. I would like to play the supporting actress in a movie. That dream has passed, I think.

I brush his hair back with my hands. It calmed him as a baby. Being a mom is the best. There’s much more to me than pricing CD rates, going over schedules and listening to complaints. I still dream too. Maybe of not being an actress, but I dream. Someday I will become a published author. Someday I'll make the bestseller list. Someday I'll be a guest on Oprah -- that would be the ultimate. Actually, I would love to be a guest...

Anyway, dream away little ones. Keep dreaming.