In Which Owl Busts Out

At work, I am generally known for being friendly, accommodating and upbeat. This is at a company which I, overall, find to be friendly and upbeat anyway, so this is a good reputation to have.

Having J has shortened my fuse. I give her nearly all the love and attention I have (hopefully giving my husband his due as well), and sometimes there's just not as much L & A going around as there was pre-zygote.

As a result of a miscommunication Tuesday and as a further result of inadvertently being taken advantage of by a well-meaning colleague, I temporarily lost my squash, as we used to say in college. I would go so far as to say that for roughly half an hour (though my outburst lasted closer to fifteen seconds), I was utterly squash-free.

The results of this were actually pretty positive. Because of the aforementioned rep as a squash-ful person, the fact that I freaked out caused others to:
- sit up
- take notice
- deal with the issue immediately

I have to admit, it also released some building-up work tension. I've felt awfully productive since that morning.

I'm not an overly emotionally expressive person. I should clarify. I'm not overly expressive when it comes to negative arenas -- I am, I think, good at positive emotion, and much better since I became a mother.

I am working on expressing myself more emotionally when the topic is a tough one. I know it's a problem. The struggle for me is that I haven't seen it help me understand things much more, make me or anyone else feel better about a situation, or help me communicate. I've also found, through the years, that people who say they want you to express your feelings are usually deluding themselves about what they want.

Admittedly, the workplace is not the place to hone those skills. But I probably need to cut myself some slack and be OK with showing myself to be, from time to time, a little rough around the edges.

And it certainly felt good. You never saw those co-workers' heads swivel around and back so damn fast. It's like they'd all rubbed WD-40 on their necks in preparation.

In Which Kanga Shows You What Matters

In Which Christopher Robin Blogs the Oscars (Second Half)

I could seriously watch the montage of fabulous, fabulous actresses over and over and over. If seeing these inspirational women can make ME so emotional, what must this mean to some young actress who waits tables sixteen hours a day?


Ooh, Forest Whitaker. You are a BADASS.

Jack Nicholson can take whatever you throw at him. This is a fact. He also acquiesced to swapping his trademark sunglasses for tinted eyeglasses while he makes his award presentation.

Based on seeing him at the awards, I must accept the cold, hard truth that Colin Farrell and I share a haircut.

The song from "Once" wins! There is justice in the world, at least for this moment.

The In Memoriam section is classy, as always. Heath Ledger. Oof.

OK, I'm fading a little. The idea of using active soldiers as a "hook" to award a documentary Oscar just doesn't sit well with me. I'm not quite sure why.

Oh, please let NO END IN SIGHT win the documentary Oscar. Pleeeeeease.

Well, close. TAXI TO THE DARK SIDE.

"Well-Respected Man" for Diablo Cody's background music? Huh? Nice tat, by the way. She trumps even Tilda Swinton in her barefaced shock at winning.

OK, Best Actor. Daniel Day-Lewis is a twofer, right? Whoa. Is he gay? No, I just misunderstood what he said. OK. As you were.

Best director, Coen Brothers, duh.

Best film another duh.

A good night for the Coen Brothers. And, I'd say, an expecially good night for Diablo Cody and Tilda Swinton.

And...we're out.

In Which Christopher Robin Blogs the Oscars

Completely incomprehensible opening montage.

Jon Stewart cleans up nice.

OK, the "make-up sex" line made me laugh.

Things seem subdued, though I'm sure there are as many butts in seats as usual.

OK, I believe I have seen none of the contenders this year. There used to be a time when we'd scramble to see every film nominated for Best Picture; it really added to the experience of watching. Now...I'm pretty much lost.

Gaydolf Titler? Yikes. I bet Stewart can't wait to get off the stage.

The costuming winner rocks SO hard. That speech? Fifteen words, maybe. So classy.

Steve Carell channeling Michael Scott at the Oscars seems out of place.

Brad Bird! Excellent.

Is it me, or are there fewer nominees in a number of categories this year? (Makeup, Animated Feature)

Didier LaVergne has the world's best hair. I think Europeans are better at giving concise, heartfelt responses.

The fuck? "Happy Working Song"? This woman seems like an overly-earnest nanny. Oh well; it's a living, I suppose. I really like her dress, though.

Is Dwayne Johnson not going by "The Rock" anymore? He seems more hot than freaky, though just a year ago I would have said the opposite. Ah...I think he's dropped 30 pounds or so. That must be it.

Jennifer Hudson's breasts must have their own zip code.

"Oscars Salute to Binoculars and Periscopes." Brilliant, and blessedly brief.

"Raise It Up." That's what I'm talking about.

I take back what I said before. There are TOTALLY empty seats there.

Ohhhhhhh...Bee Movie. Well, having to listen to Jerry Seinfeld's voice did lead to some beautiful images. The animated short feature category looks incredibly cutting-edge.

Holy krapoly. I cannot BELIEVE Cate Blanchett lost Best Supporting Actress. Tilda Swinton rules the skool, but still.

Zzzzzz. Kristen Chenoweth sure can sing, but I bet you ten bucks that one of those construction workers was ABOUT to drop the man balanced on his shoulders.

Seth Rogen and Jonah Hill are much-needed about now. "I'm Halle Berry."

And now...Part Deux.

In Which Owl and Kanga Are Both Thankful

After needing about 48 hours to process the work challenges I wrote about before, I set up a plan of action (with some great help from my husband and a few co-workers). Writing stuff down really does help codify it and, in a way, de-fang it.

I'm glad I was able to wait the usual two days it takes me to work through things, instead of flying off the handle at work. You'd think after over thirty years I'd remember that when things go awry, I just. need. some. time. Often my immediate, emotional response changes drastically once I've had time to sit with things.

I've spent the past two days pretty excited about the opportunities at work, and even ready to address the problems.

And so it also was with some issues on the home front; after two days of percolation (not stewing...ah! there's a difference!) I swam back into happiness.

All of which makes me darn glad.

In Which Owl Laments Snarky Attitudes

Though a long-standing holder of a snarky attitude myself, I have to say things are different when you're the one who has done the work and now proceed to receive uninformed sh*t from others.

Deep breath. Allow me to clarify. The development of our corporate intranet has been a long, drawn-out, unwieldy and painful process. I have attempted to help by setting up rudimentary IA, but the raw difficulty of working with this software package (that task does not fall to me), the siren song of billable work, and everyone's general malaise have combined to give us a semi-functional but completely annoying information "resource."

I curled my lip when I said "resource," by the way.

Those who do use it at the company spend most of their time joking about it with me, inexplicably thinking I'm going to have a sense of humor about it. Actually, folks, no I don't. Sorry...that new skin layer is still on back order, and I'm having the current dermis repaired.

The best thing to do may be to start from the beginning -- since the software suite cannot be changed, it may mean that scrubbing from the very first page makes the most sense. They're just links, right? How hard can it be?

Oh, and then there's that search function that...doesn't...

Gah. Glass-of-wine time.

In Which Owl Focuses on Training

I almost wrote "user training," which makes information users sound like seals balancing beach balls on their noses.

My colleague and I at work have seen a good deal of success with the following approach to information resource training: instead of (well, in addition to) offering training to groups that might use a resource and might be interested in the subject, we are heavily emphasizing one-on-one instruction after the user has been placed on a project that will be using that resource.

For example, people on projects that will be using either travel photo blogs or wikis to manage information are receiving individual instruction from us "in the moment," when the resource is most relevant and they are most motivated to learn and play in the environment.

We'll continue the group brown bags and pointer emails, of course. But approaching things this way is going to be the best way for our company, I think.

In Which Kanga Expounds on Poop

Today I got together with four other women from my company, all of whom gave birth within six or eight weeks of each other. As always, it was a lot of fun and included tips on un-freezing milk, mentions of new cloth diaper advances, an Amazing Rolling Baby (tip of the hat to young C.V.) and an excellent photo session in which I inadvertently let someone else's daughter plunk sideways on the couch.

The most intriguing moment for me came when someone put forth the opinion that babies'...discards...at this age smell like either buttered popcorn or oatmeal. Both ideas sounded nuts to me -- it all just smells like formula to my nose -- but a few moments ago J filled her diaper, and I must admit:

Buttered popcorn, baby.
Really.

In Which Kanga Reassures You...

...the three-nap thing?
Yeah...that was a fluke. Lasted one day.

As you were.

In Which Owl and Kanga Assess the Progress of Things

I've spent much of the last three weeks focused on finding a system that works. What I mean is...I love systems. I love discerning them, observing them, creating them and improving them. I would have been a good Operations person. Oh wait, I am an Operations person. Though not always a good one.

Anyway, I have been trying to find the System That Works for balancing actually achieving something at work with being home with J and my husband with respect to both quality and quantity.

As always, I should have just realized it wasn't possible. Thousands of women writing books, giving talks and posting on blogs about the challenges inherent to this should have clued me in that I was rather unlikely to find the silver bullet.

So now, it's about compromise, cutting corners and letting go what other people think. I am not great at any of these three things. I have gotten MUCH better at compromise since getting married, but skimping, letting things slide and not being highly successful at what I do...makes me feel ooky.

I do find that I'm more willing to let work slide -- in terms of initiatives I'm promoting -- than home. This, at least, is a good sign. There is no compromise when it comes to the time I spend with J at this early stage. I am so fortunate to share caregiving with my VERY dialed-in husband.

But boy, it's weird to feel the brakes get put on your career (for the moment) and realize that you're essentially the one doing it. And to also realize that you don't mind all that much.

When we decide to not have children, we women have to then decide to be OK with our decision. Similarly, when we do have children and decide to stay home - or to work - or to go part-time - we have to not only decide these things, but decide to be OK with the decision, and move forward.

And, since analysis paralysis and second-guessing are both my middle names, I can't seem to let this go. I keep turning it over in my mind. I keep understanding, bit by bit, what it's like to not be the focus of my own life.

Naturally, having decided not to hear the woes of the generations of women before me, I absorb the problem all on my own, as if it were the very first time it had happened to any woman.

But it seems fitting somehow, since in a very real way J feels to me like the first baby ever born into the world. And I know that other women feel that deeply with their own children.

In Which Piglet is Pensive but Present

“I never think of the future. It comes soon enough.” - Albert Einstein

Above you see listed the only thing I can claim to have in common with Albert Einstein. I have never been a future-focused person. Rather, I should say I'm not a long-term-future-focused person. I can't ever remember setting goals either as a child or as an adult. It's hell for me every year at my job review to come up with tasks I plan to complete in the next year, simply because I feel more comfortable floating along day to day, keeping things moving.

I'm not proud of this...it can make it difficult for me to carry an information services "vision"...but it also means a lot less stress when it comes to self-examination. Am I where I thought I'd be when I graduated from college? Uh, sure. I had no idea where I'd end up, so this is just fine with me.

It also makes interacting with my baby daughter a bit more natural -- not to say easy -- than I'd guessed. J lives moment to moment, and doesn't even remember stuff as it happens (at least, that's my rudimentary understanding of her little synapses thus far). How beautiful! Every emotion she experiences is very pure and all-encompassing, and then it dissipates to be replaced by another.

Coupled with this tendency of mine, though, is an odd and contradictory behavior that often leads to utter paralysis. I am always waiting impatiently for things to end. As a youth, when we'd go on vacation, I'd be heavily concentrating on when the vacation was going to end. It didn't make me sad, or happy...I just thought about it. When I entered a party, I'd only be thinking of when I could leave, even if I was having fun. That sense of desired escape was underlying everything I did. It tore me away from the moment and prevented me -- prevents me -- from being fully present or engaged. It paralyzed me.

In a way I think it still does. I think about the end of my job, my time in Portland, my life. (None of those is forthcoming, I truly hope.) But the rub is that I never plan for that time, or even imagine what it might be like. I just envision myself in that moment. And so I am cheated out of the moments in front of and around me. I spin and I twist.

Right now I am sitting at home by myself, as my husband is at rehearsal, thinking of the things I could be doing and should be doing right now -- in this moment -- to simplify and de-clutter my life. Instead, I can think only of the end of the evening, to the near future, when he comes home.

And so I wait.

In Which Christopher Robin Blogs the Super Bowl (Second Half)

Having awoken from my Tom Petty-induced slumber, I eagerly await the second half of sweaty men and mediocre advertising.

Carl Edwards is far more articulate than I would ever have expected from a NASCAR driver.

Cars.com is sort of two for two, though neither one's made me fall out of my seat.

Cartoon pandas with bad Chinese accents? The fuck?!?!?

I love the primitive nature of the challenges. I understand why the onfield penalty flags (the yellow ones) are literally thrown, since the players need to have both visual and audio notice that something has stopped play. But Bill Belichick stood around for five minutes and THEN threw a red weighted nylon flag onto the field. It's so...physical.

The Bud Light cavemen ad is, for the record, the first ad I laugh at all day. I tend to like things busting up and people tripping and falling.

Why would Bridgestone threaten to kill Richard Simmons, then leave us blue-balled by not following-through? Lack of follow-through is definitely a pervasive theme of today's commercial selection.

Gah! The Patriots are not too exciting today. I can't figure out why they went for it on fourth down. This game is boring.

Etrade.com gets the #4 vote from the babymomma contingent. Baby puke is funny.

Scratch the order...it must be reset. That Chester Pitts NFL ad was just gorgeous. I couldn't figure out where it was going till it got there. OK, my new #1. All others move down one rung.

Nicely shot Coke ad, and of course I am a sucker for anything with Stewie in it. But it doesn't break the top 5.

I walk out to get another water...the Giants score a touchdown. Brady must be hating life right now. Giants 10 - 7.

OK, Etrade got me again. Clown rental, specifically. I'm glad the kid didn't barf twice.

The Patriots are about to look like schmucks.

Uhhhh...scratch that. Things get interesting with 5:22 remaining in the 4th quarter.

Go baby go baby go...

Point-after is good. Pats 14 - 10. Oh me of little faith...well, still 2 minutes left.

Giants threatening with this drive. OK, I just saw the first truly interesting play this game, and it was amazing. Manning breaks the sack and throws under pressure to Tyree, who. catches. it.

Giants on the 25, using their last timeout at :51. And now...Giants 17, Pats 14. Plaxico. Plaxico. Plaxico.

It's over. That last second lasted a long time.

Giants 17, Patriots 14.

Whoda thunk.

In Which Christopher Robin Blogs the Super Bowl (First Half)

Having just put J down for a nap, I'll be noting my thoughts on the Bowl as it happens.

First of all, Jordin Sparks is NERVOUS. Wow. Just get the songs started, and it will all flow from there...OK, she's done. She did well.

Tedy Bruschi needs a stylist.

I think there should be a quota on Super Bowl rings (and this is from a Patriots fan). Tom Brady has three?!?! And a possible fourth today?

First major section of ads, precipitated by an onfield injury. Fire-breathing ad for Bud was the dumbness I would expect. The Audi ad tried too hard and just ended up being tasteless.

I enjoy saying "Plaxico." It sounds like a DuPont polymer. Plaxico. Plaxico.

Giants end zone toss intercepted. But they answer back with a field goal.

OK, the Diet Pepsi Max ad wins so far. I'm sure "Wake up, people!" originated in some dismal marketing meeting at Pepsi, and it just rolled from there.

Brady not too impressive yet.

Bridgestone promised a big payoff with a screaming squirrel, but left us hanging.

Touchdown New England. The kick is good! Score 7 - 3.

Man, GoDaddy just doesn't even CARE. I kind of like that.

Dell guy = schmo.

Wow, Chris Tallman was just in a cool Cars.com ad. Yay for ComedySportz.

My TALKING STAIN?!?!?! But...it's funnier in retrospect. Okay, #2 ad so far.

Interception by New England. That just got them out of trouble...

Hey, Hank made the Budweiser Clydesdale team! That's nice for him. #3.

Giants botch the handoff. Yikes.

Hang on. Nursing break. While I'm gone, discuss the dancing "Thriller" geckos.

7 - 3 at halftime? Zzzzzz...

None of these commercials seems to make sense. And, today at least, I can't blame lack of sleep.

Tom Petty and his beard are on stage. He opens with "American Girl," no surprise there. "Won't Back Down" is a little too mellow-sweet for my taste. This is a song we used to yell at each other on the farm crew when the bales got too heavy.

"Free-falling." As my husband notes, this would have been a really hot show about 20 years ago. Everyone is so...calm. But I have to say Tom Petty seems to find the whole thing hilarious, so I imagine he's in on the joke.

Ah yes, "Runnin' Down a Dream." And....we're out.

In Which Roo Shakes Things Up and Kanga Gamely Follows

Well, this definitely qualifies as "minutiae," but I'll take what I can get nowadays...

For a while J has taken four (!) 45-minute naps every day. If she misses that last one, oh the drama that ensues...

Anyway, for a few days she has been fussy going down for her first one, which after all is at 7:30 am. Geez Louise. Isn't that when most babies get UP? Today it didn't happen at all...

...and today we figured out that she is bagging that nap. Yes, she still gets up at 6-6:15ish ("the farmer checking her crops"), but now she goes down for the first time at 9 am or so. This seems a bit more normal...

It's definitely true that by the time Mom and Dad settle into baby's schedule, it changes.

This whole process is fascinating to me, mainly because J isn't doing *any* of it deliberately...that is, it's her body giving us the cues, not an active decision to change behavior. The advent of clear circadian rhythms really affects everything around this age.

It does mean less rest for Dad for the moment (since he's on baby duty after I go to work each morning), but naturally we'll go in the direction J points us.

In Which Pooh Enjoys a Pedicure and Kanga Brags on Roo

Well, the last time Pooh enjoyed any visceral pleasures, it was also in the foot realm (the massage at Barefoot Sage). This time, I took J to Zenana Spa with a friend and her six-month-old son.

I was, of course, nervous about taking J out, compounded with concerns about the weather. And, as usual, things turned out fine. With a bottle of "Mom" and her sling to ride in, J did well and even fell asleep for a few moments.

I'd highly recommend Colleen at Zenana. She did a great job juggling two clients at once, was patient with the babies, and helped us wrangle our diaper bags, etc.

And now...time for another picture of J, this time hanging out with her Aunt Val.