My cousin-in-law is pregnant, and she's a knitter. When The Captain was born, she made him a Yoda hat. It was green, had ears, and was all kinds of awesome. I am somewhat seriously considering sending it back to her, because it is cool enough that it deserves to be on the head of more than one kiddo.
I am feeling like I ought to knit her something. This is frustrating, because I am in the middle of several large projects right now. The wedding rug from heck for my cousin, my brother's knitted armor, and my personal pet peeve, the ugly rug of doom made from my wool scraps, and scheduled for felting the second I get it done. So lots of large projects.
I usually knit blankets for babies, but she's a knitter! She'll know if I take the large garter stitch and acrylic approach, and she'll know if I buy the super nice stuff and use dinky needles and lace stitches. So What the Heck do I Do? Knit the super complicated stuff cause she'll know and appreciate it? Admit that I have no time, and weave something? Admit that I have no time and garter stitch something, or admit that I have no time, and buy a target gift card that I know will go toward diapers...
Actually, Diapers are a pretty good idea.
But seriously! It's intimidating. To compound the issue, her mom quilts, and I know that she will make the baby a blankie. So any blankie I make will (justifiably!) take second string to grandma's baby blankie.
Grumble grumble. I guess I could make a sweater? Or perhaps a pair of booties. Oh heck yeah! Baby booties. Here we come. Short and sweet.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
A middle manager's guide to mediocrity...
I think I'm going to write a book. I'm going to call it, "A Middle Manager's Guide to Mediocrity."
This is triggered by the fact that I just finished reading "Lean In," by Sheryl Sandberg. You'll be happy to note dear readers, that I did not dent my wall when I flung the book across the room after I finished it. Actually, I didn't fling the book either. I would never do that to a library book.
http://www.amazon.com/Lean-In-Women-Work-Will/dp/0385349947
Anyway, I finished it, and as a working momma, took several hours to digest the fact that this woman, with her dual Harvard degrees, privileged upbringing, and her humongous house expects me to find solidarity in her statement that if I just worked a little harder, and paid a little more attention to my career, I too could find success in my job, and be among the high profile professional women out there.
Anyway, Sheryl seems to think that if I'd just sit at the table with the big boys, and focus on the job, I'd be happier, and more successful. I call shenanigans. For all that I'm good at my job, I don't really like it that much. If I had the option, I'd stay home and take my kiddo to the park all day every day, and be perfectly happy doing it. Since that isn't an option, I work. I am fortunate enough to have a wonderful nanny - my momma - best person I can possibly think of to watch after kiddo if the honey and I can't, and he goes to baby school twice a week at a church daycare with some lovely ladies. So it's not the fact that I couldn't stay and work 50-60 hours a week to impress the CEO with my dedication, it's that I don't want to.
Here's the thing - I am darn good at my job. Yes, it frustrates me to no end some days, but I am very, very good at what I do. I also work in a very specialized field, in a position that is traditionally held by men. Let me put it this way, I wear steel toe boots to work every day. My job does not now, and never will pay what a CEO's job will pay, but I don't aspire to that. I just aspire to make enough money to pay the bills, and have a little left over at the end of each month after putting money in kiddo's college fund to save toward a vacation, or a new pair of shoes. The honey and I are not extravagant people, and we don't live a jet setting lifestyle, and I'm OK with that. That isn't to say that we don't budget, - of course we do. In fact, I think most folks would probably describe our household budget as tight or frugal. We're working on paying off our school debt so I can think about reducing my work hours so I can spend more time with kiddo and the honey.
Maybe if I'd gone to the Ivy League school that I was accepted too and couldn't attend because of financial issues, instead of the perfectly respectable, well ranked state college that I ended up at I'd feel differently. Or maybe if I were willing to sacrifice feeding kiddo dinner every night, and having trucks and snuggle time, or didn't value spending weeknights talking to the honey, or hanging out with the rest of my friends and family, I'd feel differently.
As it is, I go to work because they pay me. I do the job, because they pay me. I don't particularly care about the technical documents that I write or the reports I submit to regulatory agencies. I just care enough to make sure they are done correctly, because, I'm beginning to sound like a broken record here, they pay me.
If I didn't have to work, I wouldn't. This isn't my first choice. But I would never ever, presume to try to speak for other working women, and tell them that if they just worked a little harder, and made a couple more sacrifices, they too could do my job. Because to be honest, I'd love to have Sheryl Sandberg, wear her Louboutins and try to keep up with me for one day. I'd crush those tiny little stilletos under the heels of my Redwings without even trying.
This is triggered by the fact that I just finished reading "Lean In," by Sheryl Sandberg. You'll be happy to note dear readers, that I did not dent my wall when I flung the book across the room after I finished it. Actually, I didn't fling the book either. I would never do that to a library book.
http://www.amazon.com/Lean-In-Women-Work-Will/dp/0385349947
Anyway, I finished it, and as a working momma, took several hours to digest the fact that this woman, with her dual Harvard degrees, privileged upbringing, and her humongous house expects me to find solidarity in her statement that if I just worked a little harder, and paid a little more attention to my career, I too could find success in my job, and be among the high profile professional women out there.
Anyway, Sheryl seems to think that if I'd just sit at the table with the big boys, and focus on the job, I'd be happier, and more successful. I call shenanigans. For all that I'm good at my job, I don't really like it that much. If I had the option, I'd stay home and take my kiddo to the park all day every day, and be perfectly happy doing it. Since that isn't an option, I work. I am fortunate enough to have a wonderful nanny - my momma - best person I can possibly think of to watch after kiddo if the honey and I can't, and he goes to baby school twice a week at a church daycare with some lovely ladies. So it's not the fact that I couldn't stay and work 50-60 hours a week to impress the CEO with my dedication, it's that I don't want to.
Here's the thing - I am darn good at my job. Yes, it frustrates me to no end some days, but I am very, very good at what I do. I also work in a very specialized field, in a position that is traditionally held by men. Let me put it this way, I wear steel toe boots to work every day. My job does not now, and never will pay what a CEO's job will pay, but I don't aspire to that. I just aspire to make enough money to pay the bills, and have a little left over at the end of each month after putting money in kiddo's college fund to save toward a vacation, or a new pair of shoes. The honey and I are not extravagant people, and we don't live a jet setting lifestyle, and I'm OK with that. That isn't to say that we don't budget, - of course we do. In fact, I think most folks would probably describe our household budget as tight or frugal. We're working on paying off our school debt so I can think about reducing my work hours so I can spend more time with kiddo and the honey.
Maybe if I'd gone to the Ivy League school that I was accepted too and couldn't attend because of financial issues, instead of the perfectly respectable, well ranked state college that I ended up at I'd feel differently. Or maybe if I were willing to sacrifice feeding kiddo dinner every night, and having trucks and snuggle time, or didn't value spending weeknights talking to the honey, or hanging out with the rest of my friends and family, I'd feel differently.
As it is, I go to work because they pay me. I do the job, because they pay me. I don't particularly care about the technical documents that I write or the reports I submit to regulatory agencies. I just care enough to make sure they are done correctly, because, I'm beginning to sound like a broken record here, they pay me.
If I didn't have to work, I wouldn't. This isn't my first choice. But I would never ever, presume to try to speak for other working women, and tell them that if they just worked a little harder, and made a couple more sacrifices, they too could do my job. Because to be honest, I'd love to have Sheryl Sandberg, wear her Louboutins and try to keep up with me for one day. I'd crush those tiny little stilletos under the heels of my Redwings without even trying.
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