When work is the escape…
I have never been more thankful that I gave up teaching than I am today. If I were a teacher, I … Continue reading When work is the escape…
I have never been more thankful that I gave up teaching than I am today. If I were a teacher, I … Continue reading When work is the escape…
For months I have been working with colleagues who are mothers of young children, newly entered into childcare situations and … Continue reading Still a mama…
Twenty years ago today, I wrapped myself in satin, lace, and bows and made myself a birthday present — a bride … Continue reading When it all points to God…
Just a week ago, I was in a Seattle apartment icing a painful bruise to my shin bone, barely able … Continue reading Formerly streetless in Seattle…
Writing about my “hostage situation” in McDonald’s made me think of my father’s week-long experience as a McDonald’s hostage — at least … Continue reading Singing to free the hostage…
This is what my daughter posted to make the announcement of her first pregnancy Facebook official: Since she posted it … Continue reading It’s Facebook official…
I made the mistake of calling my mother. I was on my lunch break from work; she was safely ensconced in … Continue reading Sara: Don’t call Mom at work…
For the past month, I have been reminding myself that my mother-in-love’s birthday is coming soon. I had October 5 … Continue reading Blame it on busy…
My son just got offered a promotion. It would mean working more hours in a congested city away from those he loves, but he is proud of the offer and should be. In his case, a promotion means a significant raise and a leadership role in his profession. It is a vote of confidence, a round of applause, a hat’s off, and any other idiom that means “good job!” His company is offering him praise in a tangible way.
And a chance to get his parents’ affirmation.
He called both my husband and me to give us the news individually. He then visited us at home and gave us more details. It was THE topic of conversation through the weekend. Why? In addition to our advice, my son wanted our praise.
Likewise, my youngest son, knowing that his older brother was coming to visit, casually placed his last two trophies earned on the coffee table. In May, he had been awarded “Best Pitcher” from the varsity baseball coach; the next day he was named “Best Actor” for his role as the Beast in “Beauty and the Beast.”
He has since graduated from high school and begun college, but he thought enough of those accolades to get them from his bedroom and place them conspicuously in the family room where they were sure to be seen.
When his older brother didn’t seem to notice them anyway, my youngest son pointed them out.
“Did you see my trophies?” he asked, as he lifted them for his brother’s inspection while explaining their significance.
“You graduated, right?” the older one said, as if the significance of these trophies had diminished with the passing of a few months.
My youngest had just wanted his brother’s affirmation. I’m not sure he got it.
This week at work, the Marketing Associate began sending emails to celebrate the number of inventions that our office had licensed or optioned. My job is creating marketing campaigns for those inventions, and I was curious as to whether our marketing campaigns had influenced the various companies’ decisions to purchase the licenses to market our inventors’ ideas. Part of my desire to know is just good business: Does marketing make a difference? Is the paper campaign effective or are we attracting more potential licensees via our online efforts and social media?
But part of me wanted credit. I wanted at least the personal knowledge that my efforts had contributed to the numbers marking our company’s success. I wanted praise.
Down at the beach, as the sun begins to set, the photography begins in earnest. Romantic couples and lovely families … Continue reading The photos I didn’t take…
In addition to my ability to return from a beach vacation as pale as when I arrived, I pride myself … Continue reading One stingray a chicken doth make…
My husband noticed something was wrong. At first I hesitated. Then I told him, “No, it’s stupid.” “I can tell … Continue reading An afghan as a symbol of regret…
This week, my son played what could be his final baseball game. Certainly, he played his final game of high school, … Continue reading Packing it all in…
“Let me see. If Adam is turning 18 today, and I was X when he was born. Then X + … Continue reading When your youngest turns 18…
It isn’t often I wax political in the blogosphere, and for today’s post I blame my husband and his Popsicle … Continue reading Piggies and poor politics…
You oughta be in pictures, You’re wonderful to see, You oughta be in pictures, Oh what a hit you would … Continue reading Christmas: Memory vs. photographs…
As I may have mentioned, this is my weekend for Christmas baking. So why did I say to myself, “Get … Continue reading Domestic A.D.D. …
This morning, my 17-year-old son was up before 7, despite having filmed the varsity football semi final and arriving home … Continue reading My mother was right, of course…