Tuesday, March 22, 2011


Since my work-blogging went over so well, I am going to do some more.  We're "aligning" our corporate something or other and we're all going to get standardized job titles.  I work at a HUGE, giant, soulless multinational corporation, so this is really quite an undertaking.  But rather than, say, giving us titles that in any way reflect our relative importance in the company or what we actually do, we're going to be given titles that I'm pretty sure are just code. So, here is my version of the (powerpoint, corporate template) slides teaching us all about how awesome this change is going to be, or maybe some HR goons just needed to justify their existence and the large contract they have with the consultants.  Whichever.

{Begin Slide complete with picture of innocuous nature scene or earnest child in underdeveloped nation studying}
  • Purpose of Major Job Title Inflation Realignment
    • Standardize something
    • Get new business cards! Maybe something in grey! FONTS!
    • Ensure competencies at all levels of the organization
    • Total rewards/compensation
    • Succession planning (for when that old guy who writes the schedule finally retires)
{End slide and have it disappear left with a little zinging noise as a new slide fades in pixellated}
{New slide, wherein we forget everything that was on the last slide}
  • New Job Titles, Decoded
    • P1 through P6 not eligible for new business cards, just cross stuff out and write with pen
    • S6 are all the commsioned sales force, they get to work from home, have cell phones, business cards, company car, and expense account, and no we won't tell you the career path or succession planning for S6 jobs, but just know that it's not S5 that feeds into S6, k?
    • C4 plastic explosives
    • D1 through D9 are now called Seven of Nine
    • M1 through M3 are your boss, but you have a dashed line to M4
    • M4 is out of the office on business
    • MI6 don't ask
{End Slide and fade to a black background with the word: "QUESTIONS?" in white letters, then refuse to answer any questions about actual jobs/titles or the specific letter-number combination that goes with any specific job function}

So long as my checks keep getting direct deposited into my account, I don't really care, but it's fun to watch the young engineers who are in their first jobs out of college actually care about this kind of thing.  I used to care about it.   But now, as long as the checks keep coming, I just don't care.  Give me the title of Chief Cook or Underling #17 or even Sr. Peon.  I'm cool with it.

So, for 6 minutes this weekend, both Mr. Long-Suffering and I wanted a 3rd baby (at the very same time).  It was awfully amazing.  But since I have the mirena and those 6 minutes were while we were serving the kids lunch, we were unable to act on it.  However, after those six minutes, one kid backtalked and the other one puked, so there's that. 

And now Mr. Long-Suffering is sick.  There is very little more pathetic than a sick husband.  He did put up the large fever numbers though just to prove it and get out of bedtime duty.  Any adult with a 103.1 degree fever gets a pass on bedtime duty (mostly so he doesn't infect Bobo...sweet healthy Bobo).

Chuckles went on Monday (Spring Break!) to get his hair cut.  I let him pick for himself. He asked the nice lady for a Beiber.  Heaven help me.  This is the first time he has ever indicated a preference for anything other than a spiky Mohawk.  It's just the beginning, and I am not fully ready for his autonomy yet.  I think I need another baby to get me through.

Friday, March 11, 2011


My post title is TLA.  It stands for Three-Lettered Acronym.  We use a lot of jargon at work.  To make fun of ourselves, we call something a TLA when we make up a word for it.  On my buzzword BINGO card, one square is called "Random Four-Lettered Abbreviation Pronounced Like a Word". 

Anyway, there is something that happens at my work called a Lightning Bolt.  Rather than call it an LB (because clearly that would eventually be shortened to #), we call it LGBT, which of course, always makes me think that we're talking about Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender manufacturing issues.  I giggle a little whenever a giant PowerPoint presentation comes up with that in it, because if they only knew what I was thinking....

You want to know what else is on my BINGO card?
  • Synergies
  • Proactive, not Reactive
  • impactful (gah, kill me now)
  • these trying/difficult economic times
  • world-class or dynamic
  • ROI
  • Key Performance Indicators
  • Urgency, sense of
  • sustainability, corporate responsibility, green
  • strategic
  • safety
  • progress
Part 2:  THREE

I am jealous of people who are certain that their families are done.  Done done done.  My little family is done, but I want another sweet little baby to hold and nurse.  I don't even like babies.  They're all need-filled blankets.  And yet...I want one. 

When I was 25, I didn't want any kids.  When I was 26, I wanted one, some day.  When I was 27, I wanted one rightnow.  I got Chuckles at 29.  After his traumatic birth, my infertility, his no sleep ever ever, and my difficult adjustment to motherhood, I was sure that I could be one and done.  Then I quit my job and was a SAHM for a while and was sure that I did not want any more kids thankyouverymuch.

Then I went back to work and had Bobo.  He was conceived relatively easily (only one drug required!), I felt pretty good during the pregnancy (placenta previa and pelvic rest notwithstanding), the not-totally-unplanned c-section was very easy, he slept through the night from 6 weeks to 3 months (and not again until age 2).  He nursed, grew, and slept.  And I thought about having another.  I actually like being pregnant, and I don't mind nursing. 

But my husband is done.  He's just done.  Consequently, I am done.  We have two (beautiful, healthy) kids.  He doesn't want any more.  He said if we had an oops, he'd be OK with it, but he just can't decide to have another.  He wishes we didn't actually have to decide.  He says normal people have too much wine and wind up with a baby.

So, we agreed that we're done.  There are a few remote conditions where I get a third baby but they aren't very likely (an oops, we win the lottery (we don't play), someone leaves a baby on out front porch, or my 16-year old sister or one of her friends gets pregnant and wants us to adopt the baby).  So, you can see that I don't get to have another baby.  And yet, I want one.  I never thought I would want 3 kids, but I do.  Chuckles was about the age Bobo is now when I started thinking about having another one.  Maybe that's some kind of hormonal thing.  I wouldn't want my kids more than 3.5 years apart so I have less than 6 months to get pregnant.  I guess I better go buy lottery tickets.

Subpart 3:  I signed up to run a half-marathon in August (since I'm not having another baby and won't be pregnant then).  I am crazy stupid, but whatever.  It's done.  Now I am training.  I don't even like running.  And the worst part?  The other night I ran, came home, went to bed, and then dreamed I was running.  Can I count that on my training log?