I’ve always been a working mother.

I’ve just, well, always WORKED. I’ve never had the luxury of staying home full-time.

When the boys were very little I never even entertained the idea of staying home with them.  Financially we couldn’t anyway, but at that time it was more about the fact that my career was my IDENTITY.  I mean, I interviewed celebrities for a living!  Seriously.  My parents joked that I got PAID to go to parties and concerts.  And they were right. My job as bureau chief of Sony Worldwide Networks was essentially to run around the music industry interviewing the Tim McGraws and Shania Twains of the world, talk with them about their latest accomplishments, then head back to the studio and create news stories for radio stations across the country.

Not a bad gig. Was a little challenging on the diet, but overall I wasn’t complaining. You know? (Besides, McGraw was kinda hot and I was diggin’ the free alcohol.)

But the music industry was no place for a young family.  And so my husband and I had to make the first of many tough decisions.

So we moved up North to be closer to the family and times got tougher.  I almost had to begin fresh.  It is a bit hard to translate such an over-the-top job into living-in-the-real-world work (What do you mean, I have no real world experience?  Willie Nelson offered me a joint!  Doesn’t that count for anything?) that pays well.  Especially since I ended up at a non-profit.  Not the most brilliant career move, salary wise, but I had a passion for the work and I was close to the kid’s school.  My boys loved it there though.  (Okay. They were spoiled.  I admit it. They were mini-gangstas and it was their ‘hood.)

When it comes to work, I have moved around a bit since that time, giving up opportunities here, finding my own opportunities there and overall working hard to try to find the perfect balance of family, money and career fulfillment.  Not nearly as easy as it sounds! (Can I get a holla?) Jobs might present themselves but they would be hours away and completely un-doable for our schedule.  (Is that even a word? Un-doable? Did I just make that up?)

It is through these experiences that I have come to realize that it is not about the job or how cool it sounds or the deadlines. (Because in my field, there are always looming deadlines.) It is about how I choose to react to the situations that are presented to me.  As good as the job might be, I have to always take my family into consideration when making a decision.

Not to mention all of those Murphy’s Law “mom moments.”  I can’t tell you how many times I have been perfectly pulled together for a board meeting and suddenly had a kid spill chocolate milk on my white blouse.  Or worse – being hit by a projectile potty accident from a training toddler. (shudder) To this day my little ones still manage to put me back in my place when I am feeling a tad over confident.  I think it is God’s way of making sure that realize that I don’t have any REAL control over my life.  Just in case I happen to have any illusions to the contrary.

It is in those uncontrollable moments, when I have been hit in the leg with projectile urine or I reach into my purse and pull out mysterious green slime, that I laugh at how far I have come.  Yeah, maybe I used to interview celebrities and stay in ritzy hotels, but it is how I deal with the real life “mom moments,” that define me.  And I wouldn’t trade that opportunity for all the back stage passes in the world.

So this is what my front yard looks like right now. (8:30am)  And it is still snowing and snowing and snowing.  I’ll do the follow up Vlog to this tomorrow as promised.

So we are literally STUCK HERE. Nowhere to go. Luckily, we still have power at this point.  I have heard some of my Twitter pals up the road are dealing with outages already.

That would be awful.  (And what if the Internet connection went out?  GAH! THE HORROR!)

So I am going to use this opportunity to tackle two projects – my blog redesign (yippie!) and to write the copy for my new businesses website.  (Which I fully plan to share with you once it is up!)

And can I just say that I have the coolest neighbors in the world?  We are hoping to have a snow party later on today.  We’re hoping to build ourselves an ice bar in the cul-de-sac.  How awesome is that?

This is a rant. Consider yourself warned.

I am tired of people assuming that I can’t cook.  I CAN cook. I really can.  I kinda wish I couldn’t. I’m not kidding. Because if  I COULDN’T cook, then I wouldn’t have to feed people all day long every single day. 

Basically I have enough cooking skills to NOT kill my family and to NOT to force us into bankruptcy from continuous fast food runs.  Which stinks, you know?  I know just enough to get me by and make me the primary chef in the house.  Oh joy oh joy oh joy.

What I can’t do is create a culinary masterpiece or even, err… a pie.  In my house there is simply no need to have ingredients like baking soda, flour or molassas hanging around.  Seriously, I have no idea what would I use those for.  I buy them every once in awhile for a random recipe (usually around Christmas) and then banish them to the back of the cupboard until they go bad.  My sister is always running out of these ingredients because apparently she knows how to use them.  Either that or she is trying to play mind games on me. 

Hold the phone… are you actually SNICKERING at me?  What?! You’ve got some reason to stock baking soda?  Is that it?

People, is is not because I don’t want to do it.  Oh no.  I just don’t have TIME to devote to reading a recipe and experimenting with various flavors and textures of food.  Oh how I wish a were a foodie!  One of my secret (Well, not anymore!) ambitions is to become a tremendous cook.  But I think that family position was filled by my sister.  According to my friends and relatives, I just know how to “warm dough.”

Can’t I just get an “A” for effort?  You know, one of these days I am going to make one hell of a meal and amaze the world.  I’ll have my 15 minutes of foodie fame and never again will people ask me if I know how to boil water.

Let’s get realistic… that is not gonna happen. Ever. (BTW – Contrary to what you may be assuming, this post was not inspired by my husband. Even though he can also cook better than I. Darn brat.)

My family is headed for an adventure folks.  We have embarked on our most courageous and ambitious journey yet as a family – the journey to Budgetville.

I’m a little frightened.  Scratch that… I am A LOT frightened.

Truth be told, I have always been mindful of what I spend.  I was raised in a family with four kids.  My dad was a cop.  My mom stayed home with us.  It felt like we never had money.  I know what it means to be frugal.

As a professional adult though, I’ve been blessed enough that I didn’t have to live paycheck to paycheck. Certain times in my life have been more tight than others, but then again, I’ve never been a huge spender.  (Meaning: I don’t own Prada. K?)

But this new BUDGET thing is yucky.  <—- I’m trying not to say the bad words here.

We are big Dave Ramsey fans so we are trying to work the budget “Total Money Makeover” style.  In case you are not familiar with it, let me tell you, it is a strict plan.

And I blew it to bits immediately. Well, the eating out part, at least.  I think I am, like, $100 over or something ridiculous like that.  Business meetings generally involve food so I am gonna have to try to figure out some way to be creative.

And get this -  Because I am so not used to this I ended up cutting into my grocery budget for a haircut the other day. So now I am afraid that I’ll have to tell my kids, “No, we don’t have any milk this week. Or eggs. But doesn’t mommy’s hair look all silky and shiny? Who wants to touch it?”

And speaking of… My biggest challenge by far is GROCERY SHOPPING. Here is where I need you guys! I need to RELEARN how to shop for groceries. I know NOTHING about coupons  and all that.  I’ve only used them here or there and I know there must be resources out there to help.  Come on – the Internet must be filled with them, right? Please give me a clue!!! (Leave a comment.)

So if I seem like a Scroog-Miser then you know why.  Budgeting has become a four letter word.

I’m launching my own business in two weeks.  Let me say that again… I’M. LAUNCHING. MY. OWN. BUSINESS.

There.

I’ve said it out loud.

What in the world am I thinking?

Remember my goals for 2010? I believe this one falls under the “hop off a cliff” and “take leave of my senses” category.  Wouldn’t you agree?  In any event, I am learning a lot.  A WHOLE LOT.

Like the fact that it is way easier to advise clients regarding their own logos, websites, written copy, marketing and social media than to DO IT FOR MYSELF.  You guys, I am a maniac.  I have thought and rethought and reworked and rewritten more in the last three weeks than IN MY LIFE.  I know you think that I am exaggerating.  But ask anyone close to me and they will tell you the truth.

Now, compounding this issue is the fact that I am still full time at my old job.  Remember that one?  The one I wrote about here? That job will finish up at the end of this month.  Theoretically, I will then be able to BREATHE.  Then again, maybe not.  Until that time I find myself mired in websites, marketing and all of that rigmarole.

So stay with me on this new business journey.  I’m sure you’ll be hearing more about it.  That is, unless I never actually get the darn copy done.

Don’t ever ask me to get involved in international espionage.  I can already tell you that I would fail.  If the fate of the country rested in my hands, then let’s just say….y’all are toast.

I know this because every year birthday espionage gets harder. I don’t know why, but trust me, it is true.  This year, I almost failed….HORRIBLY.

What in the world am I talking about? Why, THE BIRTHDAY ROOM, of course.

Every birthday my husband and I conspire together in the wee hours of the morning to assemble a “birthday room” for the boys.  This basically consists of a ton of balloons all over the floor,  streamers draping across the ceilings and beds, and other random festive decorations.  So when the birthday boy wakes up on his big day…VOILA!  Birthday magic!

Now, for some reason, each birthday gets harder.  Case in point: tomorrow is the Jedi’s birthday.  While we were in the process of assembling his room the boy woke up three times.  Each time I stood there frozen, streamers in hand, like a Greek statue hoping he wasn’t fully alert.  I couldn’t move. I didn’t even breathe.  I was petrified.

It took thirty minutes to put together a couple of balloons and some streamers.  I mean, REALLY!  Apparently I am like a bull in a china shop when it comes to my non stealthy ways.

However, I am happy to report that the mission was successful, despite the sad spy skills demonstrated by this mother.

In any event – here’s hoping Young Jedi wakes up to a terrific birthday!

I feel like my children are obsessed with me dying. Actually, scratch that. I feel like my children are obsessed with the the way in which I want to die.  Or maybe they are just curious?  Or maybe they need psychological help?  Or maybe they are plotting something?

It seems like every time I turn around they are asking me bizarre random questions about my  untimely demise.  It usually goes something like this:

BOYS:  So, mom.  Would you rather die from a shark attack at sea,  be thrown into a vat of lava or fall into a pit of snakes?

ME:  Err…. none?

BOYS:  C’mon, mom. You have to choose something!

ME:  Okay, then. I guess lava because it is quicker.

BOYS:  Would you rather be eaten by a dinosaur or killed by a Jedi lightsabor?

ME:  I don’t know. Why?

BOYS:  JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION, MOM!

ME:  Dinosaur.

BOYS:  How about a million killer bee stings?  Or a giant wall of fire?

ME:  Oh for heaven’s sake!

BOYS:  What?

This kind of thing happens all the time.  They think up the most ridiculous situations and give me a preference between the two.  Which makes me wonder….  Are they plotting against me? Am I in danger, here?

The next time I say no to iCarly on a school night should I look over my shoulder for a dinosaur or a swarm of killer bees?

Or is it all some kind of pre-pubescent male mommy mind trick?

Call me crazy but I am beginning to feel like perhaps we should seek family counseling.