My legacy

I will never win a Nobel Peace Prize. I will never cure an incurable disease. I will never invent a new technology that changes the way people live their lives. My only legacy on this earth is what I do to ensure my kids are happy, productive, contributors to society. I want them to be kind. I want them to be responsible. I want them to be open minded. I want them to reach for the stars. I want them to stay grounded. I want them to be selfless. I want them to never settle.  I want them to love. I want them them to live life. If I can do this, I've fulfilled my purpose. That's what I'm thinking about this Sunday  night.

I'm a bad blogger

So, blogging once every 6 months sort of defeats the purpose of blogging, right? I haven't posted anything since August, so what does that mean. Am I just busy? Do I have absolutely nothing to say? I think it's a bit of both. I have been working like crazy, caring for my father who is dying of leukemia, training for a half-marathon, and going through the motions of a working mom and wife. Busy? For sure. Nothing to say? Maybe in my mind, nothing of interest to anyone else. Should I just stop kidding myself and hang up my blogging ambitions? Really, do I really need to share my innermost thoughts in such a public way? Is it even public if no one reads this? I guess this is just my 40 year old version of a diary. I tried writing in a diary when I was a little girl. It looks very much like my blog. Lots of activity...then nothing for weeks or months at a time. After long periods of not writing in my diary, I would actually go back to each page I miss and write, "Sorry" "Sorry" "Sorry" - as if I was letting my diary down by not recording a daily thought. Is that something I should apologize for? Why do I feel compelled to express myself some days and not others? I am doing a lot of things. But am I really living? Experiencing? I think I'm begining to realize that I have to LIVE my life MORE in order to have something to write about. So what will I do next? What experience will I force myself to have - get outside of my comfort zone - that will ultimately be blog worthy? Stay tuned. This will be the challenge I give to myself in 2011. Live. More.

It's official. I am NOT smarter than a fifth grader.

So, school is back in session. It's only been one week and two days and I've already needed a Botox session to wipe away my stress lines. (Now if I could just squeeze in a hair appointment to cover the entirely new section of gray that has started to sprout up in places it never did before.) My kids are now in second and fifth grade. So after doing a full day's work at the office, I must go home and muddle my way through elementary math, science, social studies, and reading for two children. (Two children who would much prefer to be playing outside or watching an episode of their favorite Nickelodeon television show rerun for the 37th time.)

Thank god my husband is good at math and science. As a communications professional, reading, grammar, and English related subjects are a piece of cake for me. But math and science are a whole different story. I am finding already that I am of no assistance to my fifth grader. Just looking at a word problem makes me sweat. And we haven't gotten close to the chapter that will involve a protractor. I am embarassed to admit that I don't remember half of that gobbledy gook they are covering in fifth grade! I'm not sure how long I can keep up the charade in front of my son, who will soon figure out that not only can I NOT help him with some of his homework, but the reason I can't is because I haven't used or needed that information in 20 years! If he finds that out, it will further reinforce his belief that becoming a professional skateboarder is the most logical career choice and his time would better be spent doing kick flips in the backyard then wasting his time on homework. I'll have to figure out a way to keep up the ruse.

On an unrelated, stream of consciousness note, my new nanny is working out great! Her car died yesterday (muy malo) but she made it to work today. When I asked her in my best broken Spanish how she got to my house she answered proudly, "I lease Toyota Corrolla. No dinero, pero goooood credit!" God bless America.

What's for dinner?

Because I work full time, I rely on having a nanny/babysitter to be with my children in the afternoons when they come home from school or camp. I already suffer from working mom's guilt, so nothing is more important than having the right person to take care of my kids when I can't be there. If you've read my previous posts, you'll know that I haven't had the greatest luck with nannies and my expectations are constantly being lowered. Nannies have become the bane of my existence. When we were hiring our first nanny almost seven years ago, we of course wanted Mary Poppins....a chipper loving type who would help the kids do homework while whipping up a nutritious meal. By the time we got to nanny #5 two years ago, our job description was basically "No pedafiles or convicted criminals, must drive and be able to operate a microwave."

When we recently found ourselves having to hire someone new, I vowed to raise my standards once again and hope for the best. We were lucky to find a lovely woman, recommended through a friend of a friend, who fit the bill in every way. Except she only speaks Spanish. I decided that a simple language barrier wasn't enough to stop me from getting my dream nanny....and how great that my kids would be exposed to and potentially learn another language! So, thanks to a very cool iPhone translator app that I'm using to help with dinner instructions (para la cena!) and otherwise communicate, we survived our first week. (My husband has also downloaded the same app, but he uses it to figure out how to say dirty words in Spanish.) She's not a 100% comfortable in my kitchen yet, and we almost had an "exploding pea" incident as she was learning how to use my microwave last Thursday, but for the most part, things are working out.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that she'll be able to concinar el pollo y arroz blanco esta noche, so wish us luck!

I love when I'm right

Validation of my theory that you have to be mental or a jackass to get offered a reality show (see previous post). Check out this actual casting call that I received as part of a regular PR/media query service we subscribe to at work:

Category: Entertainment and Media
Media Outlet: Cable network
Deadline: 07:00 PM EST - 16 July

Query: A new docu-series is looking for people who are struggling withan issue that is taking over their lives. Whether you are addicted to plastic surgery or have anger management issues, we want to hear from you. Are you or someone you know… … a shopaholic? … a self-harmer? … a serial cheater? … a compulsive gambler? … a sex addict? … an alcoholic? If you want to make a positive change inyour life, please e-mail us the following information: 1.Name 2. City, State 3. Phone number 4. E-mail 5. Photo 6. Aparagraph about the issue you are facing and why you want help.The more you tell us, the better. **** WE ARE ONLY CASTING IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA ***

My Life: The Reality Show

I've decided that if I ever had my own reality show, it would be the worst rated show on TV. How am I supposed to complete with the likes of the Housewives, Kardashians, and Bachelor/Bachelorette's of the world? I work in a regular office, not a fashion magazine. I've had both of my kids "in-wedlock." And I've never bitch-slapped a single soul.

Let's use my week so far as an example. "This week on Cindy Haas, the Reality Show...Cindy fights the urge to have a medium size Dunkin Donuts iced coffee with cream and sugar on her way to work but ultimately succumbs. Stay tuned to see if Cindy's guilt leads her to make a healthier lunch selection in the company's cafeteria." Nail biting, right? I'm mean, unless my weakness for iced coffee constitutes an addiction worthy of a visit to Dr. Drew, I don't think anyone would tune in.

Am I the only boring one? Let's take a poll. Is your life like a TV show? If so, which one?

1. Modern Family
2. Cougar Town
3. The Bachelorette
4. Housewives
5. That channel where they just show the inside of a fish tank or a fireplace

I'm going to work to relax!

Did you ever in a million years think parenting would be as exhausting as it is? It may sound crazy, but in so many ways, work is just easier. Honestly, if I was half as good at parenting as I am at my job, I'd be mother of the year! Think about it.

At work, I have clearly defined responsibilities as part of my job description. At home, one second I'm a chef, the next a doctor, then a referee in the middle of a light weight boxing match (parents with more than one child know what I'm referring to in that last example).

At work, if someone needs my time, it's appropriate to schedule a meeting in advance. At home, children barge into the bathroom (urinatus interuptus) whenever they are moved to tell me something they deem important..."mom, next week if it's not raining and we have time and if I don't have a basketball game and if my friend's mom says it's OK can I go to the skate park?"

At work, I'm relied on to monitor and interact with important journalists and respected members of the national media. At home, the media I'm responsible for monitoring almost always involves Sponge Bob Square Pants.

On the other hand, at work I can't really scream like a maniac and send someone straight to their room...at least not if I wanted to stay employed. And I certainly couldn't run into a colleague's office, pull them up from their chair, squeeze them and shout, "oh my god how did you get so damn cute?"

So don't get me wrong. It's not that I would choose being at work over being with my family. But geez, sometimes life is hard work!