Loud Music

The kids have been home for DAYS because of the snow. My routine…what’s a routine?

The bloodmobile is close by at a local church. I’m going. I’ll honor my decision to donate as often as possible.

It’s four o’clock. I hope I’m ahead of all the people that plan do donate after work.

I’m here. The parking lot is not too full; good. I have my book and I’m ready to step into the trailer, shut off my brain, ignore all of what’s going on around me, and read in between all the administration I have to go through. The actual donation should take ten minutes or so, and I’ll have a snack afterwards. I should be able to rest, read, and enjoy my respite from the house and children. Right?

WRONG!

I step into the trailer and I hear music - loud music! For a split second, I wonder if I’ve stepped into the wrong trailer; this must be the place to complete the sign in. The comfy chair in the quiet, serene atmosphere must be inside the church.

No, I’m in the right place.

“Okay Anita, you can do this. You can tune out the thump, thump, thump. Read a page. Get into the story. It’s a good book. Or maybe, just try to enjoy the music. Pretend you’re dancing around the house with the kids.”

Not happening. I’m annoyed. I’m wondering why CLUB MUSIC is playing at a place where people need to be relaxed. Do I tell them to turn it down? Will my blood pressure rise after they all look at me incredulously; this “uppity $#&!%” or “old lady” trying to tell us what to do?

I try reading again.

It’s my turn to be seated for the donation. I’m directed to one of the four lounging chairs and as I sit back, the blaring of the music is louder. I turn slightly to see that the embedded wall speaker is right next to my head!

I’m just on the verge of saying something when I’m moved to another seat because my right arm is not cooperating.

“Just take it Anita. Put down your book. Listen to the technicians talk to the each other, and to the jovial man on the other chair. You need to relax so the process will end quickly.”

Okay, I’ll admit it - I’ve gotten old…I guess. The women and the one man in the trailer appear to be in their thirties through forty. I wonder if this is uncomfortable for me because of my age. But, on the other hand, I hear loud music occasionally and it doesn't bother me; just not in the confines of a trailer.

As I think more, I’m back to it being more bothersome than not. Weddings can be challenging. Seems it’s okay when you’re dancing, but when you’re trying to talk to your dinner partner who is sitting right beside you and you still have to scream at each other…

Do I write a letter to complain? Do I risk taking away the pleasure they may be feeling as they endure their monotonous eight hour day? Hmmm… Probably not. So I didn’t get my half hour of vegging. I’ll get it later.

Does loud music bother you?

After you leave your thoughts on this post, page down to the previous post and tell us about your present and/or past jobs. And read some of the comments too. Good stuff!

I used to be a computer programmer

Every once in a while, I find myself saying to someone, “I used to be a computer programmer.” And when I say it, the memories of my fifteen year career download and play in my mind for a few minutes.

It was 1994 when I left the job, but the memories linger. There were good times and bad times; and as I raise my girls, I try to categorize each experience to pass on to them - preparation for “Corporate America” - a place where they might start their careers, too.

I went in blindly - the child of blue collar workers - with not a clue of what to expect. Yes, I’d been “taught” what to expect, and did an internship, but, well…

It took some time to get used to the “team” concept. An independent spirit, I had to learn to trust people, but not get trampled on. My easy-to-read, error free programming code was a definite asset, but not enough. I needed to love the company and learn the business; love the meetings and care about what the company stood for and how it made its money. Did that happen? Well…not really, or not enough. I loved the technical, but struggled here and there with the rest.

My introduction to computers started when I was a high school senior in need of electives. A friend told me she was taking Data Processing at the vocational center and that it would be three credits. “Hmmm…one class, three credits…a bus ride off campus.”

She tried to explain what it was, and I blindly (I do a lot of things blindly) signed up too. Turned out I had a knack for it, and when the teacher said I could make $7,000 right out of high school or go to college and make $12,000, I thought, “Sounds good.” It was 1975 and most teachers hardly made $12,000.

There was no question about going to college; my parents, especially mom, had planted the “college seed” when I was still in diapers. It grew, I did my four years, and in 1979 was employed at an annual salary of $13,500. Woo hoo! Fifteen years later, in 1994, it had more than quadrupled.

Good money for a single lady. Had the house, the car, mutual funds, savings, a few nice suits, a great eating-out allowance and enough to hop on a plane for a vacation.

Do I appreciate those years?
Yes.
Was I fulfilled with my skill and knowledge?
Yes.
Do I miss the career, the pay check, and the nice suits?
No.
If I had it to do all over again, would I be a computer programmer?
I don’t know.

It’s hard to erase part of a life that has landed me in a comfortable place.

There are people who are passionate about their jobs and always have been. How fortunate they are to wake up most days with anticipation; to get paid for doing something they love.

I felt that way when I was in control of a project that was going well, yet at other times, I wondered how I could continue with the same career until I was sixty-something and retired.

My occupation afforded me a financially sound life, but is money enough? Does every surgeon crave the next patient to mend? Does every lawyer get excited as more and more business comes in? Is every best selling author thrilled to promote his or her book on the TV talk show circuit? Are the average John and Mary Doe happy with their average jobs and average salaries, and their good middle class lifestyle?

Hmmm….if it was only that easy.

Many people are currently unemployed or desperately holding on to jobs. They (you) may see this post as moot. Keep in mind…things change.

Have you changed careers/occupations during your adult years? What did you “used to be?”
Would you like to do something else now?

If you haven’t read my post titled, “Passion,” click over if you'd like.

What's in a name?

What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.

Romeo and Juliette by William Shakespeare

The name of my blog, “Beyond the Diapers and Spills,” is also the title of a manuscript I wrote a few years ago. It’s about stay-at-home moms - mostly about our daily feelings - not so much about the specifics of diaper changes, colic, baby’s first steps, etc.

I was inspired to write it because people would ask me, “What do you do all day?” Strangers at the mall seemed to be puzzled as I pushed my fully occupied double stroller with another child walking beside it. Some satisfied their curiosity and asked questions, expressing a little surprise when they realized that I wasn’t on maternity leave; that there was no job to go back to in six weeks. It occurred to me that my life was a bit of an anomaly; that lots of people didn’t get it – especially when I stepped outside of small town suburbia.

No job? What about money? Aren’t you bored? Don’t those kids get on your nerves all day?

But there were others who said they’d “stay home” if they could.

So with tape recorder in hand, I interviewed twenty-seven stay-at-home moms (a few worked part time), asking questions about their lives, like, “How do you handle phone time?” and "When you're socializing at an adult party, what do you talk about - your kids, or other interests, too?"

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In all, about thirty questions. I learned that there is much diversity in our thoughts, actions, and lifestyles – just as there is with everyone else.

The manuscript got shelved when I discovered blogging – no income, but immediate publication and feedback from readers.

My blog name is meant to reflect my life as a complete person. Being blessed as a mother and having the great duty of taking care of my children is much of my identity, but not all of it. I had to get beyond the diapers and breastfeeding to have this realization, and I would never trade those days. To everything there is a season - Ecclesiastes 3:1.

But lately, I’ve thought about changing the name. When blog surfers see the word “diapers,” do they bolt? I hope that many will stick around because I love hearing from everyone - female, male, parent, non-parent, young, old, from the U.S. and around the world!

How did you come up with your blog name?
If you’re not a blogger, how about your club, band, Bunco group, sports team…? What’s the history behind the name?

Connections to the Past

My seventy-six year old mother has no pictures of her father who died of tuberculosis when she was three years old. Her widowed mother struggled with five children and lost many possessions during a few moves in the following years; pictures included. Mom has pieced her dad’s face together by looking at herself and her brothers and sisters, and by hearing them and her mother describe him.

Fortunately, my parents took pictures of my brother and me as we were growing up, and they managed to hold on to the tattered scrapbooks filled with black and white photos taken in the late fifties and early sixties. How exciting it was for them to be introduced to color soon after.

Because I treasure those old pictures and memories, I’ve inherited an appreciation for pictures, and also for video, letters, and journals. I have several photo albums, lots of video, and the recent addition of digital photos stored on computer hard drives.

My personal journal writing has been on hiatus for five years, but occasionally I write in three journals that I have for each of my daughters. When they were born, I started making entries – not many – just when I thought about it; mainly during bouts of insomnia when I was in my mid-forties.

I tell them how cute they are, about new accomplishments, habits, and difficult times, too.

No insomnia now, and I haven’t carved out time to write to the little darlings much. The last entry was in September, 2009, and prior to that was November, 2008. Still, I enjoy reading the journals; reminiscing.

I know people who run from the camera. (There are days when I do, too.) It may be during a special occasion or just an ordinary day. Sometimes I think, “We’re not here forever. Somebody is going to want to remember what you looked like, what you were interested in, how you felt.” So have pictures taken, write letters, step in the view of the video, leave a journal – don’t let your life have to be pieced together.

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Do you have pictures, video, letters, and/or journals from your past?

Laundry

Laundry is not my friend; never has been. Will we ever form an agreeable relationship?

What is it about laundry that makes it so difficult (for some of us)? I have a washer and a dryer just outside of my bedroom, living comfortably in a small laundry room, complete with two rolling bins and a closet for detergents, cleaning supplies, and miscellaneous.

Two of the three children place their dirty clothes in the sectioned bins, and I know where to find the dirty clothes of the other kid…still working on her.

The husband and I have a laundry basket in our bathroom that gets emptied in with the kids’ laundry when it begins to overflow.

So far, so good.

Okay…the bin with the darks is high. The kids are looking for their favorite jeans in the laundry room. When found, I do the sniff test, run the iron over them, and...no problem.

Well…yes...it is a problem.

I’m behind…AGAIN…on the laundry!

I’m waiting to wash a load because the washer is filled with wet clothes that are waiting for the clean clothes in the dryer to be taken out and put on the top of the washer and dryer, but it’s occupied with the clothes that are waiting to be folded and put away, that are waiting for its owners (the kids) to come get’em…which could take an eternity.

So once again, I’m searching for the solution, which I already know, but can’t seem to get implemented.

My friend, Beth, told me that she gets help and motivation from FlyLady.net. One of the bloggy friends mentioned that site, too.

Another friend, Linda, told me that her boys do their own laundry - and they’re seventeen and fourteen! Talk about envy. My girls do an occasional load when their underwear drawer is empty. They know how to use the washer and dryer; why am I so slow to get them on a schedule?

My friend Robin and I decide to take action to get caught up - one complete load (from the hamper to the drawers/closets) per day. We agree to call or email each other to ask if it’s been started or done. I start off on a roll, and get half caught up. I email her, but no response.

The weekend comes along and I’m behind again, and I know she is too, so I email her and tell her we’ll start fresh on Monday.

Monday arrives, I call her, and she says, “I KNOW YOU’RE NOT CALLING ME ABOUT THAT LAUNDRY!”

Actually, I’m calling her to see if she wants to walk. Talk about sensitive. Umph!

Soooo…I’m going to catch up, then brag to her, and see if she’ll want to be like me, and have laundry bins that are not spilling over.

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What's your "domestic chore" challenge?

If you don't have one, it's okay to let the rest of us know that you're perfect. Really. :)

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Got time to read another post? Click on a thumbnail below and leave a comment if you'd like. I read'em all.

Children

“I don’t know how you do it with three kids, Anita. I only have one, and she keeps us running non-stop.”

A friend said that to me years ago when my daughters were five years old and under. His daughter was eleven and already well seasoned on the activity circuit. I was a new mother, oblivious about what was yet to come.

When my husband and I were dating, we planned to have three children. I was already thirty-six, but somehow I felt that I would conceive easily…it helped that I was able to feel myself ovulating. TMI?

The children came, although not the way I envisioned.
- They were all born by c-section, but…the experiences were not that difficult. (Ignorance is bliss.)
- I thought I would have a boy (for my husband), but…I didn’t, and I don’t miss having one of the precious little testosterone filled creatures. (My nephew comes for a week in the summer, and a few other quick visits during the year. I kinda get the "boy" experience - just a little.)
- When I was in my early twenties, I thought I’d be married before thirty and finished having children before thirty-five, but…I didn’t get married until I was thirty-six, and I still feel like a mother - not a grandmother. :)

Having three children is work. (At one time, I wanted a fourth. Ahhhh!!!!) Having one child is work. Having eight children is work. For many, “trying” to have a child is work, be it physically or by adoption. Still, most of us desire children, knowing all that it involves – joy, fun, nurturing, time, energy, exhaustion, and love; but also sadness, concern, and heartbreak.

I’ve heard moms respond when asked questions about the number of children they have. One mom was asked why her children were so far apart in age. She didn’t actually answer with this quote, but reading between the lines, I heard, “Duh, because I didn’t get pregnant for ten years.”

I was once told that I was microwaving babies, which I didn’t get initially. It had to be explained to me that that meant I was having them quickly. “Ohhhh…” I said. Too bad I didn’t get it at first, because I think it was supposed to be friendly and funny.

Or many of you, I’m sure, have heard, “You’re having another BOY!” (or girl) And what about, “You only have one. Ohhh…”

But there’s also, "I’m so happy for you!” and, “Congratulations!”

I digress.

There was a period where I wondered if I would be a mother. My doubts led me to think of other ways to have a fulfilling life. Just as I was contemplating a huge change, the husband and kids happened.

Just wanted to tell you I’m glad I have my husband and children, even as I enter the teen years. Really…I do. :)

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What influenced your decision to have children and how many?

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The children of Haiti need our help. Contact your charitable organization of choice if you're willing and able to donate.

facebook

Never say what you will never do.

In early 2009, two friends and I were walking and talking. When the facebook subject came up, one friend had no input, and the other (also a blogger) said she’s not interested. I told them that I wasn't interested either, and told them why.

“I know a few people who are on facebook, and they seem to enjoy it. I think they “chat” with their friends and use it to find people from their past. I don’t have any interest in finding people I went to elementary school with, and I don’t have that much time to spend on the computer…blah, blah, blah..”.

In a nutshell, I didn’t get it; I didn’t know why people loooove it.

But that was…then.

Now…I’m beginning to get it.

When I started blogging, I announced my blog to family and friends via email, and added the link to my email signature. As I received replies, at least three people said, “I’m on facebook. Why aren’t you using facebook?”

Still, I was not fazed. Email was serving me well.

But one day, it clicked…I said to myself, “Anita, keep the blog link in your email signature, but also use facebook to let family and friends know of a new post to your blog!”

So…every time I publish a blog post, I pop over to FB and “write it on my wall.”

Example for non FBers: I type, “Today’s blog post is: Ebay,” then I click on “link” and type it in – http://btdas.blogspot.com/2010/01/ebay.html and "attach." I click on "share," type the security words, submit, and voila! – my message and blog thumbnail (blog post picture) is now on my wall.

When my “friends” (people who I have a facebook link with) sign on, my blog link is on their homepage, ready to be seen with a simple click – although people who have hundreds of friends who update FB constantly, may not see mine unless they scroll down.

If I’m interested in one particular friend or organization, I can go to my “friend list” and click on the icon to see the friend’s wall. Typically, I will browse their “photo album” to see vacation, wedding, and birthday pictures.

The avid FB users write random thoughts on the cold weather and snow, biblical scriptures, vacation tidbits, sports…you name it, they say it. It’s there for any friend to see and comment on, and the comments will be sent to the email inbox of everyone in a particular "conversation" - similar to blogging.

That’s the basics; easy.

I can see the appeal; families all over the country and world share photos and conversations. A friend of mine is selling her daughter’s Girl Scout cookies using FB.

Currently, I only use it for my blog. There is a mail function, but I don’t put anything personal on it; I’m afraid I’ll hit the wrong key and it will be there for all to see - not that my life is that exciting. I don’t play the games, send the hearts, etc. It’s that “lack of time/interest” thing again.

So, PJ at "Seens from the backs of my eyelids," I hope this gives you a little insight into the facebook craze. Thank you for suggesting it as a blog post. I’m not a model user, but who knows…next it could be twitter!

Do you use facebook? What do you use it for?

The media is crediting social networking for its help with the Haiti crisis. If you are able to help, contact your place of worship or your charitable organization of choice.