Happy New Year (and Everything Else)

I first want to wish everybody a very happy New Year, and I hope everyone had a joyous holiday season.  The holidays kicked off with my 42nd birthday on December 20.  I felt like I was skirting around the 40s for the last 2 years, but at 42 I can no longer fool myself:  for better or worse, I am in my 40s.  Sometimes I feel like a little girl when I’m watching Fresh Beat Band and other Nick Jr. shows with Lexie.  Other times I feel like a teenager when I’m bouncing my head in my car to Beyonce or Lil Wayne.  Sometimes I even feel like I’m in my early 20s when I’m frantically texting Reggie or obsessively checking Facebook.  And then I’ll hear some senseless hip hop song on the radio, catch a glimpse of Love and Hip Hop or the TI show, or listen to Danielle talk about some high school drama, and I feel every one of my 42 years.  It was a low-key day, and we capped it off with a family dinner at Olive Garden.  The best present of all was Lexie sleeping through the night, and come to think of it, she hasn't slept through the night since (what’s up with that??).

Christmas was equally as low key.  We had a small dinner at home with just the four of us.  Lexie got an abundance of toys, clothes, and money (to set aside for her spring and summer wardrobe).  Every day our family room looks like a toy store exploded in it as Lexie goes from toy to toy, dropping whatever she is no longer interested in.  I heave a sigh of relief every evening when she goes to bed and the family room resembles a room again.  Danielle got the usual teenager stuff--one or two presents, and the best gift of all--money.  We took her to the mall a few days after Christmas and let her shop while Reggie, Lexie, and I sat in one of the mall’s sitting areas.

The low-key theme continued on into New Year’s.  Lexie hadn’t gone to bed before midnight for several days by then, and New Year’s Eve was no exception.  We toasted the New Year, made a few midnight phone calls, and one of us (I can’t remember who) had the ominous task of putting Lexie to bed.  We spent the rest of New Year’s weekend slowly getting ready for the workweek (and year) ahead.  Danielle, Lexie, and Reggie were all home for Christmas break, and even though I went to work (in my new position), it was a skeletal staff and there wasn’t much for me to do, so it was a mini-vacation of sorts for me too.  I think it was tough for all of us to get back into the groove when Monday morning inevitably rolled around.  My early morning post on Facebook summed up the general mood in the house:  "And the merry-go-round starts again.  Ugh."  But I for one don’t want that black mood to linger around for long.  It’s the start of a new day, a new week, a new month, and a new year.  Anything and everything is possible in 2012.

I look back on 2011 with mixed feelings.  It was my first full year as a working mom, and there were definitely bumps in the road as I tried to balance working and motherhood.  Communication problems plagued my marriage at times.  I felt dissatisfied with my job most of the year.  It was hard to find any time to do some of the things I did pre-Lexie.  Two deaths in the family left me especially sad and made me feel very acutely the mortality of life.  On the plus side, my relationship with Danielle improved tremendously, and I owe a lot of that to me finally feeling comfortable with my role in her life.  I started a new position at work in late December, and I hope I have better  relationships with my colleagues here than I did in my old position.  And Reggie and I shared a glass of wine last night and pledged to both take steps to avoid the pitfalls that befell us last year.

I don’t really have any quantifiable goals for the year--no set number of pounds I want to lose or number of days I want to work out or any date by which I want to accomplish something.  I want this to be the year where I do all the things I didn’t do last year because I let time get away from me:  get more involved with yoga, run at the track, figure out the direction of my blog, write more, start exposing Lexie to all the wonderful things life has to offer.  And I want to spend more time doing my life and less time complaining or worrying about what's wrong with it.

Good-bye, 2011

As we enter the last days of 2011, many of us take time to reflect on the past year--the ups and the downs, the good times, the bad times, what went wrong, and what went right. The New Year is God's way of giving us a do-over, the perennial second chance, the opportunity to fix the messes we may have made over the course of the last 12 months. And many of us do take advantage of this time to wipe the slate clean, and we make solemn resolutions, or declarations, or promises, or intentions (or whatever you like to call it) to make positive changes in our lives in the New Year: to get a better job, stop smoking, lose weight, start exercising, make amends with estranged family members, clean up debt, go back to school, and so on. Whatever is on your "to-do" list for 2012, let these twenty questions, taken from examiner.com, guide you in your reflection of the past and anticipation for the future as we prepare to bid farewell to 2011 and usher in 2012.

• What were my resolutions or goals for 2011?
• What were my greatest accomplishments for 2011 that I am most proud of?
• Now, what was one more?
• What are the actions I took to achieve these accomplishments?
• What strengths did I tap into to be able to take these actions?
• How can I apply these strengths to move forward in 2012?
• What did I intend to do in 2011 that did not get done?
• What were the biggest challenges or barriers I faced in 2011 that contributed to not accomplishing everything I wanted?
• How did I deal with each of these?
• Where do I get my strength to overcome barriers?
• How have I grown from these accomplishments and challenges?
• What am I most grateful for as I reflect back on the year?
• What have I learned?
• Who are my greatest supporters or support systems that I can rely on as I move forward?
• How can I show my gratitude and appreciation to those who have supported me?
• What would I like to be different in the upcoming year?
• What would it feel like to experience this difference?
• What am I willing to do to make this change a reality?
• What barriers do I anticipate and what strategies can I put into place to overcome these barriers?
• What is the first step I need to take to get closer to my goals?

Looking Back and Looking Forward

I’ve long stopped making traditional New Year’s resolutions per se in favor of intentions, which don’t sound quite as ominous.  Resolutions are often broken before January is over, as is evidenced by the surge in gym memberships the first week in January and the inevitable drop off in attendance four weeks later.  Here are some intentions I set at the end of 2010.  Let’s see how I fared over the last 11 months and how I can improve in 2012.

Continue to be a good steward of my money.
I would grade my credit card usage this year as B-/B.  I didn’t splurge on items I didn’t need just because there was a sale or I had a coupon.  But in general, I could plan major and even regular purchases better.  Cash is always the preferred option.  But if I do use credit, my motto is:  If I don’t have a plan to pay it off in two payments, I don’t need it.  If I continue in this fashion, I should be good for 2012 and beyond.

 
Continue to make fitness a priority in my life (maybe even start running again this summer).
I've had some ups and downs this year with working out, times when I aimlessly wandered from machine to machine at the gym, occasions where I punked out on the treadmill after two minutes.  I stopped going to one class because it was too tough.  After struggling for a month to keep up, I realized I wasn’t in the right shape to be in that class, and instead of forcing myself to take the weekly punishment, I wisely stopped before I did my body and ego serious damage.  But I'm in a pretty good groove now with yoga, slightly easier conditioning classes, treadmill running, and occasional walking, which I intend to keep up in 2012.  I didn’t make it out to the track to do any serious running this year though, and that’s one thing I need to change in 2012.  I miss running outdoors.  And I may even try that killer class again.

Continue working to have mature relationships with the people in my life.
There were hits and misses this year on that.  “No” is still a hard word for some people to hear.  Maturity is still a hard concept for some people to wrap their heads around.  But I hold fast to the fact that I’m a grown woman, and I make decisions based on what’s best for me and my family.  People don’t have to agree with them or even understand them, but they need to respect them.

Continue to be the best mother I can be to Alexandra and enjoy watching her grow and explore the world around her (and also think of some fun things to do with a one-year-old this summer).
I’ve tried to do my best by Alexandra this year.  Any mistakes I made had only the best intentions.  It’s amazing watching her grow into an inquisitive toddler, and I hope she continues to be the cheerful girl she is today.  But I must admit, I really dropped the ball on fun activities with her this summer.  You might be able to get away with that with a one-year-old, but I’m not going to be able to entertain a two-year-old on my own for an entire summer, so I’ll need to find some fun weekend activities soon: Gymboree, dance, gymnastics are being considered.

Make my marriage a priority again by making time for it and not letting it fall by the wayside.
Sadly, some distance had developed between me and the hubby at times. It's so easy to get caught up in Alexandra, work, running the household, etc., that we forget we're a married couple and we need to relate to each other as married people. Every conversation doesn't have to be about family, work, requesting the other to do something, divvying up the responsibilities for the week, and so on.

We both know intelligently that we should make spending quality time together a priority, even if it’s just ten minutes with a glass of wine at the end a long, busy day after the kids are in bed, but somehow we get caught up in our own agendas and that quality time almost never happens. Clearly, it needs to start happening.

Use my time wisely, learn to delegate, ask for help, and don't feel guilty if sometimes I just want to sit around and do nothing.
This is a work in progress. Being organized, having superb time management skills, a super-clean house, and everything in order is great, but I’ve (sometimes reluctantly) come to realize that I can’t do everything and that sometimes having fun takes precedence over a clean house. There've been days when I did absolutely nothing and didn't feel guilty about the laundry that didn't get washed or the floor that didn't get mopped. And there have been some evenings when after Alexandra went to bed, I soon followed and luxuriated in 7-8 hours of straight sleep.  And there have even been times when I gratefully let somebody else handle it.

Have a consistent home yoga practice. It doesn't have to be long and it doesn't have to be every day, but it has to be something. I bought a basket a few months ago and put my yoga mats in the living room for a reason: to encourage me to do yoga at the drop of a hat. If I don't get on my mat, then they might as well still be in the closet in my bedroom.
Sad to say, my yoga mats should still be in the closet in my bedroom. I hardly practiced at all, and that clearly needs to change for next year. When I practice, however long or short, even if it’s just a few down dog-plank combinations or a long tree pose, I feel grounded and more focused.  Yoga both energizes and calms me.  It’s good for the body, mind, and soul.  A renewed home practice plus taking classes at the charming studio near my home where Lexie and I did Mommy and Me yoga are part of the plan for next year.  Yoga meets you wherever you are; you just have to get on your mat.

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Much to Be Thankful For

The end of the year is a time for reflection and introspection for many people.  Thanksgiving was created specifically for people to give thanks and express gratitude for all the bounty in their lives.  Whatever happened in later years, I'd like to think that the first “Thanksgiving” meal between the Pilgrims and Native Americans was one of sincerity and good intentions.

Sixty Minutes recently did a segment on homeless families in America.  Of all the homeless families in the United States, about a third live in Florida, a state that suffered horribly when the construction industry collapsed in the wake of the real estate bubble bursting.  Many of these homeless families live in their cars.  These were families with working parents, but jobs were lost and unemployment ran out, and soon they found themselves foreclosed out of their homes.  Several families were profiled.  It was eye-opening, humbling, and heartbreaking to listen to their stories: washing up at different gas stations to avoid the attention of gas station attendants; the husband who cried while he recounted the story of staying up all night sitting on a cooler watching over his family as they slept; the children who think this is an “adventure”; finding a “safe” place to park for the night; the mother who talked about how her family went from three meals a day to one to make the money stretch.

The children profiled seemed especially mature, and despite their hardship, all were in school and made studying a priority.  One of the girls struck me as particularly wiser than her fifteen years, especially when she said that even though she was homeless, she felt sorry for other homeless people and wanted to help them.  Her and her brother sought comfort performing in a community theater, doing something normal in their not-normal lives.

I was riveted, and so was my teenage stepdaughter, who usually doesn’t show much interest in TV beyond sitcoms, music videos, and reality shows.  But there she was, quietly watching with me. I wondered if she was thinking that her problems are trivial compared to what these kids face every day.

I myself couldn’t help but think “there but for the grace of God go I.”  It could be me and my family living in a car.  So many of us are a paycheck, a medical catastrophe, or a downsize away from financial ruin.   My husband and I are both blessed that the recession has not affected us personally.  We have never missed a payment on any bill and are able to buy Christmas presents for our daughters.  That is something to be thankful for because regardless of the billions of dollars spent on Black Friday, there are plenty of families who won't be buying a thing for Christmas, because it’s all they can do to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads.

When I think of some of the petty things I have complained about, I’m embarrassed.  It’s time for me and anyone else who falls in this category to stop looking at what’s wrong or missing in their lives and be thankful for the small things like a clean pair of socks to wear and the big things like a house to live in.

New Beginnings

Recently, I reopened my search for a new position within my company, desperately trying to break out of production into the more popular and interesting field of editorial.  I want to work more closely with authors at the beginning of the publishing process.  I want to help them bring their ideas to paper, or the screen, and shape their manuscripts.  I want to be the one to sign the next bestselling author at my company.  That’s the dream.

Here’s the reality.  A lateral move to a different department working on different books and working with different people.  Starting not quite over, but I like to think of it as a new opportunity to reinvigorate a lackluster career, bring some enthusiasm back to my work, and create better working relationships with people. 

My whole career in publishing I’ve suffered (and I use the term lightly here) from being the only (or one of a small handful) African American.  As many other black professionals, I got used to being the only black face around (although I often can’t help but wonder where are all these black folks I see on the train in the morning going to because they are clearly not going to my company, but I digress).  But for some reason I’ve always felt slightly isolated and overlooked by my colleagues in my current company.  There are only four of us in my group: 

The Group Leader (the guy with the most seniority who makes the most work for himself)

The New Guy (he came from another group last November and still hasn’t gotten up to speed)

The Kiss-Up (the other woman who wants to take over without taking over)

Me

Everybody has buddied up but me.  It’s pretty obvious that the three non-minorities have a social relationship that excludes the minority (that would be me).  The two men in my group act like I don’t exist unless they specifically need something from me, and the woman is okay enough to chat with from time to time, but I don’t particularly trust her.  Now I’m not looking for best friends, or people to hang with after work, and since I go to the gym most afternoons, I’m not even really looking for lunch buddies.  But cordiality and politeness would be nice.  “Good morning” works.  How about not walking by me like I’m not even there when you pass me in the halls?  Even this kind of rudeness I could live with, but then my manager retired, and the group leader assumed more responsibility and “appointed” the Kiss-Up as his psuedo second-in-command.  They’ve created a fiefdom, and the two of them discuss policies and workflows and new ideas, before letting the masses know (that would be me and the New Guy).

Even that I might have been able to tolerate, then a small thing happened (it’s usually the small things) that pushed me over the edge, and I decided that I didn’t want to stay in this group that I’ve been in for 11 years a minute longer.  An editorial assistant who we work closely with was leaving the company.  I heard her tell the Group Leader and the Kiss-Up face-to-face.  I expected the same courtesy.  After all, we were currently working together on a project.  I’ve known her since she started.  She’s one of the few who’ll speak to me in the halls and bathroom.  Surely, she's coming over to my cube once she finishes with the Kiss-Up.  Or maybe not, as out of the corner of my eye I saw her walk off in the opposite direction of my cube.  I didn’t even get a I-don't-want-to-talk-to-you-face-to-face-so-I'm-emailing-you-instead email, which I would have accepted as being "in the loop."   That was the first time I acutely felt deliberately left out.  I mean, she made a conscious decision not to tell me.  Her good-bye party was set for 4 p.m. a week later.  I leave at 4.  I didn’t even poke my head in the conference room to say good-bye.  As far as I was concerned, since she didn’t tell me, I didn’t know she was leaving.

Fast-forward to today, and a job offer to move to a different, larger group, with three (count ‘em) African Americans.  I haven’t formally accepted the offer, though I will, I just wanted to take 24 hours to think about what I was doing.  Emotions, aside, and yes, they played a part in this:  I’ve been in the same group for 11 years.  If I can’t move into the editorial field I covet so greatly, at least this lateral move will give me the chance to move to a different floor, meet different people, work on different books, and do things a little differently.  You work anywhere for 11 years, you get complacent, you take short cuts, you drag your feet because you know you can. 

This couldn’t have come at a better time, near the end of the year.  I can start 2012 with a clean slate as far as my job is concerned.  I’m going to do things differently this time; I’m going to cultivate relationships I didn’t cultivate in my current position.  People are going to know my name and know me, and yes, people are going to speak to me in the halls, too.  Part of my isolation is my own fault, but it’s hard to cultivate relationships with people who don’t reciprocate.

And believe me, everybody in my group and the other groups I work with will know I’m leaving, but I promise I won’t gloat (at least not to anybody’s face).

Oh, No!

That’s Lexie’s favorite line these days. She’ll throw her sippy cup to the floor from her high chair, look down at it surprised, and say, quite convincingly, “Oh, no!” She’ll be teetering around the house on unsteady legs and unexpectedly fall, look around, and say “Oh, no!” It’s very amusing because she says it with just the right amount of emotion, and it’s the first phrase that she’s used in the right context. You make a mistake, you say “Oh, no,” and when you get older, you replace no with other, uh, more colorful words.

My little gooseberry took off the first week in October, a little over a week after she turned 15 months (resting my fears that she wouldn't walk until she was 2). And since then, her independence, determination, and, dare I say, feistiness have taken off right behind her. My Alexandra is a willful little girl. She’ll wave away her sippy cup or snack like a disgruntled customer in a restaurant, then not even 5 minutes later is pointing at said sippy cup or snack to be handed to her. She’s already learning the art of the temper tantrum, and I expect some good ones in the next year or two. I’ve learned to pick my battles with her, and I’m not above bribing her to get what I want. A Fresh Beat Band episode often keeps her quiet enough so I can catch my breath and even comb her hair. A handful of Cheerios will hold her attention while I slip on her sneakers or look through the mail. If she wants to play with an empty paper towel tube or an old pan or a box--fine, and maybe I can get the chicken seasoned.

I’m still navigating the parenthood highway. I--now I realize unwisely--thought that once she started sleeping through the night that I would go back to getting 7 to 8 hours of sleep. But I use those hours when she’s sleep to get stuff done: take care of the house, work on my proofreading jobs, take care of me, and maybe squeeze in a TV show that’s not on Nick Jr. And weekends are no longer for lounging in bed. I'm usually up at 6 to get the day started before Lexie gets hers started. The waking hours still revolve around her.

I have amazing help in the form of my husband and stepdaughter. Hubby and I take turns putting Lexie down for the night, and he’s the main one who gets her ready in the morning in--incredibly--less than 10 minutes. I’m just at 10 minutes, which is much better than the 30 it used to take me to get her ready. My stepdaughter entertains her when I need a few moments to myself, crucial in those first few minutes when we come home. Try taking your boots off with a 1-year-old clinging to your leg.

Being a mom doesn’t come easy or natural to me. Children were never on my list of must haves, but being a mother has taught me that life is bigger than me and your heart can expand to love another person unconditionally, and even I can learn to put another person’s needs before my own. But it can be frustrating at times. Lexie marches to her own beat and is strong-willed and stubborn--just like her mama--and it’s led to some difficult moments while I struggled to remember that’s she’s just a baby and not maliciously making my life miserable.

But I’m a sucker for the smile that greets me in the morning, the happy dance for Cheerios, and the little feet that run away from me almost as much as they run toward me.

The Career

For good or bad, I've never put a lot of emphasis on having a career. I've been a senior production editor at a major publishing house in northern NJ for the past 11 years. My job is okay. It's led to an abundance of freelance work (I proofread for several major publishing houses) as I do jobs for former colleagues and they recommend me to their colleagues, and, well, it just mushrooms from there. As a person with a day job, there's only so much freelance work I can take, and now that I have a small child, I've had to scale back even more. Freelancing's always been a catch-22 with me. I've always wondered if I could make a decent living doing it full-time, but in order to know for sure, I'd have to do it full-time, and I'm afraid to take that plunge, especially now that I'm a homeowner and a mother. Taking those chances are cool in your twenties when you can bunk on your parents' couch for a few months when things don't work out and you need to plan your next move. They are not cool in your forties when you have bills . . . and dependents.

But like I said earlier, my job is okay, but after 11 years it's pretty monotonous and mundane, and I need a new challenge. I've looked for work both inside and outside the company off and on, the most recent being in 2008. I've reignited the search recently, solely inside the company this time (for several reasons leaving my company isn't a good option at this time). I applied for two jobs I saw on my company's internal job posting site. One was a no-go at the resume stage. But this morning, I had an interview for the second one.

I don't know. I'd like to be optimistic, but I was a little intimidated when the people (two gentlemen) outlined what the position would entail. I suppose once I was in it (if I got chosen, of course), it wouldn't be that daunting (my job might sound scary if I explained it to somebody, but truly it isn't). But as I was hearing it my mind started racing: "Do you really want to be doing that?" "Maybe you should just stay where you are now." But there's no growth if you don't stretch out of your comfort zone. You don't learn if you refuse to embrace new concepts and new ways of thinking and doing things. So I just have to shut off the part of my brain that's trying to convince me to stay put and continue to apply for jobs in different departments and divisions.