Real Conversations From My Life

  • Posted on July 24, 2009 at 7:23 am

Me: Isn’t Graceland in Nashville?

Coworker: No, Graceland is in Memphis.

Me: Oh. So where is Never Neverland?

Coworker: You’re thinking of Neverland. Never Neverland is the second star on the right and straight on ’til morning.

I Need to Stop Judging People’s Hair

  • Posted on May 20, 2009 at 9:39 pm

It seems that every time I make a comment about someone’s hair I make an ass out of myself.

Yesterday at work I was sitting in a meeting next to a team member, and I happened to look over and see a single gray hair poking out of her black hair, in that way that wiry gray hairs bend and poke. I made a comment to M. about her gray hair “M.! You have a gray hair!” or something like that–and she had no idea it was there. She was heartbroken. She made me pull it out. She’s only 23. I felt like I aged her 30 years in my single little comment.

And then today, I was in the elevator and a woman stepped on with a cute short bob.

Her: “I love your skirt–I noticed it in the meeting this morning.”

Me: “Why thank you!” (curtsying). “And I was noticing your hair–it’s so sleek and smooth! And the highlights are perfect! What’s your secret?”

Her: “Actually, it’s a wig. I used to be a cosmetologist.”

Me: (gulpohshit) “I never would have guessed! I was going to ask you what hair products you use! It looks so nice, maybe I need to rethink my entire hair strategy and try some wigs!”

Just listen to that idocracy. I need to just stop talking about hair in general. Starting now.

Broken Heart, Starving Brain

  • Posted on July 27, 2008 at 9:13 pm

Tomorrow I return to work after about fifteen weeks of maternity leave. I am broken hearted at the thought of leaving Stella at daycare. Even though I know she’ll be in good hands, I still worry: will she remember that I’m her mommy? Will I get enough time with her? (NO!) Can I do this?

I know I’m not the first woman on the planet to struggle with this. My brain wants the intellectual challenge of work, and stimulating conversations with successful adults, and I want to wear business casual and heels.

But I also want to be the best mother I can be for Stella. I want to be there for all her firsts. Ah, the dilemma.

Realistically, I HAVE to work, unless we move to North Dakota and live in an a-frame and buy our clothes at Walmart and eat processed foods and drink budweiser.

I know I just have to do my best, as a mother and a professional. Too bad I can’t be a professional mother.