The story of Maggie

As many of you know, Maggie was born under rather dramatic circumstances.  It was a surprise to say the least, because the start of my pregnancy was perfect; my symptoms few and very mild.  I couldn’t even really say I had morning “sickness” because it consisted only of nausea for a few minutes, a couple of times. 

Little seedlings of fear occasionally popped into my head during the pregnancy, which I think is common for any mother-to-be.  Is the baby going to be healthy? Am I going to successfully carry her?

As the first trimester came and went, I started to relax a little.  Knowing the first trimester is the most important for growth and viability, I felt that the scariest, or rather “most fragile” part was over.  My belly did get bigger but not overwhelmingly so.  My pants no longer fit and my baggy t-shirts did get snug.  I noticed, though, that my face and limbs were filling out significantly, but I chalked that up to “well, this is just my body when it gets pregnant.”  My feet and legs were like tree trunks, swelling well over my shoes.  Again, I thought this was just pregnant Caitlin.

I had a blood pressure cuff at home and I monitored it every once in a while at my doctor’s request.  More and more I found my blood pressure higher than I would have liked, but nothing to seriously worry about.  At my doctor’s appointments, they would take my blood pressure and weigh me as part of the routine check-up, and my doctor felt the same.  She certainly didn’t like my blood pressure or my rapid weight gain (the worst was 20 lbs in 2 weeks), so she said we needed to watch it carefully.

Here's how I looked at the beginning of the pregnancy.

Here's how I looked about two weeks before I had her.

At this point I suppose I was a little bit in denial about my health.  I was fairly well-informed to the symptoms of pregnancy, but in retrospect I think I tried to fit certain symptoms into the realm of “normal” pregnancy that truly did not fit.

Monday morning on June 16, while walking my normal 1.5 mile route, I felt very odd.  I was run-down and exhausted, but it was definitely not typical.  I knew something was wrong but again, I deluded myself into thinking everything was fine.  When I returned home, I was worried enough to call my mother.  I remember sitting on the floor of my bedroom with my back against the wall because I was too tired to stand.  I had the blood pressure cuff on the floor next to me, plugged into the outlet.  Of course, my blood pressure was very high, and my mother told me to get to the doctor.  I reassured her that I was fine and that I had an appointment later that day.  I would bring it up to the doctor when I visited.

I drove to the routine appointment and simply by chance, Greg and I made plans to meet there so he could go over some insurance related paperwork with one of the staff members so he joined me at the appointment.  In the waiting room, I told Greg that I didn’t feel right but quickly followed it up with rationalizations.  They weighed me, took my blood pressure, which had skyrocketed and did a urine test.  I remember sitting on the exam chair with Greg next to me when the doctor came in.  She cut right to the chase and told me I needed to be admitted immediately because my blood pressure was at a dangerous level and there was protein in my urine (a bad sign).  She also said she may have to deliver the baby today but she wasn’t sure.  My heart sank and I immediately started crying but nodded and grabbed my purse to go to the hospital.  I was 29 weeks and 6 days along at that point.

Of the dozens of thoughts racing through my mind, it always came back to one: Is my baby going to make it?

I was admitted to the hospital and escorted to a room.  The nurse asked me to change into a hospital gown and as I went to the bathroom to change, I sobbed.  I kept thinking that it shouldn’t be this way.  After a few minutes, I pulled myself together and got in the hospital bed.  I didn’t get out of that bed for over four days, not even to use the bathroom. I was on a magnesium sulfate drip, which keeps the blood pressure down but also caused me to be very loopy and confused.

Trying to make the best of it.

Thursday morning, I had a dull ache in my abdomen, just under my right rib. By noon, the pain had escalated to almost unbearable.  It was difficult to speak and all I could do was try to focus on unraveling my constricted body, which by this point was curled into a tight fetal position.  I remember trying to almost meditate to try to handle the pain.  It was the most intense pain I had ever felt.  I truly thought I was dying.  It turned out that my liver was distending, a symptom of HELLP syndrome.  A blood test showed that my liver enzymes were off the chart and my platelets were dropping near the point of a blood transfusion.  The only cure to save my life and Maggie’s was immediate delivery.

Despite the pain pulling at most of my attention, I remember the nurse saying it was time to prep me for delivery.  I remember looking at Greg in a panic.  He was so wonderful, saying it was going to be okay and smiling, but I knew he was scared too.  While most of me dreaded the idea of delivering Maggie early, a small part was relieved at the idea that the pain would be coming to an end soon.

This was a photo Greg sent to his family right before going in to the OR. Game face!
Look at his eyes, to me they look worried.

They struggled to find a vein because my limbs had swelled like balloons.  The nurses couldn’t find a vein (though they kept trying, poking me incessantly with the needles), then the charge nurse tried (and failed), and then the anesthesiologist.  Finally, after maybe 9 or 10 failed attempts to start a pic line, the anesthesiologist found a vein, with the help of a machine that shows veins under the skin.

Some of the damage on one of my arms, days later, from trying to find a vein.

They wheeled me into the OR and as soon as the anesthesiologist gave me the spinal tap (and morphine because I could still feel the pain from my liver), my body began to relax after hours of debilitating pain.  After that moment, I didn’t care what they did to me. 

Greg was there with me and held my hand, for which I am so grateful.  If his current career doesn’t work out, he should be an actor or a professional poker player because he portrayed nothing but excitement to meet our baby and pride that I was doing so well.  I know now that he was very afraid of losing me, the baby, or both of us.  He put on a good face in the hopes of keeping me calm.

About 45 minutes later, Maggie was born.  5:06pm on June 19, 2014; 2 lbs, 9 oz.  She stayed in the NICU for 43 days.

My baby girl, out of the oven too soon.

That's my hand in there with her.

The reason for this long story is this: I did not plan to have this kind of experience, obviously.  This being my first child, I’d never experienced the intense worry that comes with being a parent.  Parents have told me that the worry will never go away, and I believe them.  When I left the hospital after nine days, I was so tired and knew she was in capable hands, but I worried so much for her.  I don’t think my worries were completely unreasonable, seeing that she was less than three pounds and 10 weeks early.  I had nightmares when I slept.  I visited her twice a day every day until she was home, which helped, but I still worried incessantly.  I seemed to obsess over the fear of losing her.

Then I realized something that was so freeing.  I was worried about losing her because I was in love with my baby.  I had never before experienced such a strong instinct to take care of someone else and, with her in the NICU, I couldn’t.  I misinterpreted obsessive worry with maternal love and concern.  Once I realized this, it was like my mind relaxed and I could really enjoy her without worrying so much.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m a mother so therefore I worry, but now I think it is more in the healthy realm.

When she was finally ready to come home with us! August 1!

I am obsessed with this beautiful girl and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I am so fortunate that she not only survived, but is thriving.  And I am fortunate that I am alive and healthy enough to take care of her.  I am one lucky mama and she has made me so, so happy.

My gorgeous goofball!  That's a shirt on her head.

<3

Lessons Learned

As I sit up in my bed at 1:05am pacific time, thanks in part to my beautiful 12-week-old daughter, combined with my first ingestion of coffee in almost a year enjoyed earlier this evening, I feel a mixture of various thoughts and feelings.

My first thought is how poorly I worded that first run-on sentence and how long I stared at it in an attempt to make it better. Then I thought, honestly, who cares. This is not a college essay or a published news article. I need to focus on the substance of what I intend to say and not how I am trying to come across as articulate.

So with that silly introduction out of the way, allow me to move into other topics and forgive me for any poor grammar you may endure. Please remember it is 1am and I am sleep deprived.  Also I am typing this on my tablet like one long text message.

To begin, I want to discuss the topic of my own self actualization and analysis.  While I know it will be a forever-evolving process, I must say I am fortunate to have had the time and experiences in the past year to help me better realize who I am and (in part) what I want.  

I quit my job at a PR agency about 10 months ago, where I had been for four years.  Shortly after that, Greg and I decided to start our family because I now had the time to care for a baby.  Getting pregnant, celebrating it, and preparing for Baby's arrival was a wonderful distraction for many months.  It temporarily filled the void of working because I stayed busy, and it provided the promise of a quasi-complete future to put my "work self" into.  However, the thought that I needed to be planning for my career's future always loomed overhead.  I did have graphic design gigs as well as pet sitting, for which I am certified, but those were meant to provide us with extra income, as well as something enjoyable to do.

Despite the commissioned work,  anxiety rose in my throat when I thought about the time I was "wasting" while out of the working world.  Don't get me wrong, it is important to both Greg and me that I am home to raise our kids, at least while they are little. My mother, as well as Greg's, did that for us.  Still, I envision my future interviews when I decide to jump back in going something like this:

Interviewer:  so, Ms. Ward, why have you been out of the job market for so many years and why do you wish to come back now?

Me:  well, I took time off to raise my kids and now they are old enough for me to go back to work.

Interviewer:  I see. So you have no relevant work experience in the last (x number of) years?

Me:  um... I suppose not, but I am extremely motivated to get back to work and I know I will do a great job if given the opportunity.

Interviewer:  yeah.  Thanks for coming in.

This is my own personal nightmare: to be overlooked as a worthy candidate and forced to start at the bottom again because I left the game for so long.  I worked very hard in college with the idea that I would get somewhere with my career.  Despite the joke of a job market right now and despite my new full-time job as a mama, I cannot in good conscience abandon my dream to have a fulfilling career.  It's simply ingrained in me to work hard and have something to show for it.

I have a few extremely intelligent allies in my life who wish the best for me and have the good advice to help me get there.  To give credit where credit is due, that list includes my aunt Kathy, my mother, and my husband.  Their advice often overlaps, which helps so much when making a decision.  Recently, my mother came to visit me in California.  I asked her to, essentially, tell me what to do from this point forward with my career.  We talked it out for a while and she strongly advised that I get my Master's as my next step.  Thinking it out, she is absolutely right.  Not only is the Master's the "new" high school diploma, in that it is pretty much required to get any likelihood for promotions these days, it is also a great interim "job" while I am at home with my kid(s).  I will pursue a Master's online from an accredited college.  Immediate problem solved.  Now when the hypothetical interviewer asks me what I've been up to for the past (x number of) years, I can say: why, I've been getting my Master's degree while taking care of my kid(s)!  Multitasking!

So, the squirming about my future and the significant relief it brought me to have a game plan got me thinking.  Why am I so laser-focused on such a specific career path with such a specific definition of success?  Isn't that surely setting me up for failure? And why am I so uncomfortable with anything other than my overly thought-out and sometimes unrealistic dream-sequence future?

Ambition is certainly a factor I can't ignore.  My mother constantly tells me that I see an idealistic version of how the world works; that the amount and quality put into one's work always equals the just reward.  In some ways I still believe that, much to my mother's chagrin. Though time and time again, fate has slapped me hard in the face with its antithesis.  I had more than one instance where I felt I put in the appropriate work (or more than was necessary) to get my desired reward, be it the raise, the job, etc. and for unforeseen (and sometimes even foreseen, I admit) external circumstances, I did not get it.  Each time it was a blow to my ego, interpreting it as personal rejection, and I mourned it by wallowing and punishing myself.

As I get older and (dear God I hope) wiser, I am starting to recognize this pattern and where the kink in the chain really is.  My masochistic reaction to the big bad world's letdowns is a symptom of insecurity.  I know, I know... duh, right?   I automatically assumed when things didn't go favorably for me that it was my fault; that I didn't perform well enough in the interview or didn't have the guts to ask for more.  Well, excuse my language but that is just bullshit.  I am a hard worker, I am smart, and when people overlooked or underestimated me it was because of their shortcomings, not mine.  As a society, we encourage men to be confident and strong leaders but women are still expected to be humble and grateful for the fraction they get.  If a woman says the things I just typed about myself, they are labeled as full of themselves.  Well, I refuse to continue to carry the burden of other people's mistakes for not recognizing my potential.  I am not perfect, but at least I have enough drive for self-improvement to analyze my imperfections.  I believe as I internalize this new mindset, good things will come my way in my career while future inevitable "rejections" will slide off my back much easier.

 I shared this because I get the sense that a lot of people are going through these same pressures and insecurities.  If that's you, I hope my words can comfort you and hopefully inspire you to look inward to analyze yourself fairly.

So back to the first sentence of this entry, who cares if it isn't perfect.  I wrote what I was thinking the way I was the thinking it, and that's good enough because I am good enough.

After much contemplation, written expression, and multiple baby feedings, it's now time for bed...

The Month of ARTgust

Recently I've been feeling a lack of creativity and I started to fall into the bland sameness of everyday, which drives me crazy!  Because of this funk I've fallen into, I decided it was important to make time for creativity everyday.  When I had this moment of clarity, it was the end of July so I thought a good way to do this would be to challenge myself for the month of August.  Each day of August, I started and finished some sort of "art" piece.  I didn't hold myself to any rules about what art was or how I should do it.  It was more just "what do I have around the house and what do I want to make with it?"  So here's what I did:

Day 1: Thursday, August 1

I decided there was no better way to start a big art project than to (attempt to) capture the awesomeness that is my husband, Greg.  This took about two hours using the graphic design program, InDesign.  What I like about InDesign is that you are more-or-less bound by basic shapes.  So, using only squares, circles, and triangles, I created my husband. :)

 

Day 2: Friday, August 2



In my office at work, I have an entire wall made of windows.  The view looks out to the parking lot, which is what I drew.  This is on regular printer paper, drawn in pen.  I like using pen when I sketch fast and aggressively because there's no "correcting" anything, since pen is not erasable.  This took me about 14 minutes to draw... and my hand was aching from pressing the pen so hard to the paper.

 

 

Day 3: Saturday, August 3

 

Greg and I spent Saturday morning at a store where you paint on ceramic things.  He and I both picked different variations of coffee mugs.  Once we finished painting them, they had to be cooked in the kiln to set in the paint.  I picked them up the following Thursday.  The one above is mine. (Greg painted the Green Bay logo on one side of his mug and Notre Dame on the other, with a football handle!)

 Day 4:  Sunday, August 4



This is an example of something that becomes what it is without any forethought from me.  I just layered it until I felt it was done.  It's paint markers on cardboard.  When I get boxes in the mail or from the store, I cut them up to make them art!

 

 

Day 5:  Monday, August 5

Okay, I realize this isn't a very good "art" project but listen!  My Mondays are crazy busy so by the time I could actually sit down to work on something, it was almost 9pm.  So, I just whipped out a piece of printer paper and some markers and went to town.  It counts. :)

 

 

Day 6:  Tuesday, August 6

 So, the most bad-ass slogan I have ever heard in my life belongs to Lockheed Martin's U2 spy plane, nicknamed the Dragon Lady.  It has a logo with a dragon on it similar to this one, so it inspired me to do a sketch.  I free-handed all of it except the plane, which I just used a ruler to guide the straight lines (obviously I free-handed it, as the dragon is sort of weird looking but hey, she's my weird looking dragon!). 



Day 7:  Wednesday, August 7

Back to coffee!  I love coffee.  It makes me feel calm and time slows down a little when I drink it.  I usually have one cup each morning.  I also enjoy the artsy atmosphere of a café.  Hence, my café coffee art.  It's acrylic paint on canvas.  I personally really like that the coffee cup isn't perfectly symmetrical, so I left it that way.  I am probably less familiar with painting than any other art medium.  I feel like paint brushes allow for way less control than a marker or pencil, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

 Day 8:  Thursday, August 8

Busy Caitlin!  So, on a piece of scrap note pad paper, here is my art for the day.  How creative I am.  Tomorrow will (probably) be better.  This masterpiece took me 3 minutes, if that.

 

 

Day 9:  Friday, August 9

 

After a long week, it was finally Friday after 4pm, which meant the weekend could officially begin!  Greg and I went to Chili's for dinner, expecting to have some margaritas and some peace and quiet to bring down our stressful week, to no avail.  There was a screaming, horribly behaved child in the booth behind us, wailing on the seat and shrieking for attention (facing my ears).  Needless to say, it was not a relaxing dinner.  When we got home, I realized I still needed to do the day's art so I took some sidewalk chalk and drew a fun little garden scene with a happy snail... then I drew that little girl in the restaurant.  Art is expression, and I wished to express my desire to punch that little girl in the face (really her ignorant and lazy mother).  Voila!  Art.  By the way, the blue thing in the bottom right of the girl picture is a fist, in case you can't see it.

 

 

Day 10:  Saturday, August 10

My plan for Saturday was to take my camera on our hike but, unfortunately, we could not find the battery charger for it.  It was probably better that I didn't bring it because we hopped from rock to rock over a stream... and I fell in... multiple times.  Anyway, as we finished our hike and we were taking off our drenched and muddy shoes, I thought I'd better take a picture with my phone to attempt to use it for this art project.  So here is my shoe, thrown into Photoshop for a little artsy flair. 

 

 

Day 11:  Sunday, August 11

 

 
I sketched this quickly with paint markers, some of which were running low.  The fast pace caused firmer lines, as opposed to going slowly and shakily.  I didn't really think out the colors.  Instead I just grabbed a handful of colors and let that dictate what I was going to draw.



Day 12:  Monday, August 12

 

I love my paint markers!!  I cut out some cardboard from a 12 pack of soda and painted on the back of it (the brown, unprinted side).  I tend to like layering with the colors behind the black.  I also like the concentration and form that's required for this type of picture.  The focus forces me to exert  excess energy, which is similar to unwinding for me. 

 

 

 

Day 13: Tuesday, August 13

 

 

I used paint markers on canvas paper for this one.  Most of the time I grab a color at random, which will dictate what it becomes.  It's a cat on a windowsill (just kidding).

 

 

 

Day 14: Wednesday, August 14

 

 

Acrylic paint on canvas.  Didn't think about what I did before I started painting.  I just threw the brush to the canvas and let it go.  It became a simple painting of grass and a semi-dark sky (it looks lighter than it actually is).  I must say,  I was feeling anxious from my day today until I worked on this.  Art melts the anxiety away sometimes. :)

 

 

 

Day 15: Thursday, August 15

 

This is a logo I designed for Greg's class.  He is on a team that needed to create a mock business, complete with business plan and logo.  His team decided to make their business "Walt's Waffles," which is basically like a Chipotle for waffles.  Anyway, this took me about 20 minutes because I needed to conceptualize it first.  It's simple, but hey, logos are supposed to be simple.

 

 

 

Day 16: Friday, August 16

 

I guess it's logo week.  This one was a draft I started for a potential client.  Whenever I'm tasked to draft a logo for a client, I start the logos without going into too much detail, then create multiple logos that are very different.  This way, the client can see what the feel of each logo is without me spending many hours on them, because in the end they're only going to select one.  Once they select the one, I continue and put detail to it.  This one was not chosen, but I like it.

 

 

Day 17: Saturday, August 17

 

 

See above.  Enough said. :D

 

 

 

Day 18: Sunday, August 18

 

 

 Lazy Sunday.  I drew a glass of wine on a paper plate. :)

 

 

 

Day 19: Monday, August 19

 

 

 

I started this on Sunday but walked away from it after I threw some red acrylic paint on the canvas paper.  A few hours later, I penciled some eyes and eyebrows on the paper.  Then, on Monday, I used the paint markers to finish it.  I thought I could make the eyes pop a little more.  By the way, it was not intended to look as creepy as it turned out.

 

 

 

Day 20: Tuesday, August 20

 

 

Layers again!  These type of pieces take the longest.  I like the flow underneath the sharp shapes.  This too is on a cardboard box, and you can see that a little by the rough edge on the bottom.

 

 

Day 21: Wednesday, August 21

 

 

Kokopelli! For those who aren't familiar, Kokopelli is a Native American deity of tourists.  Just kidding, he's actually supposed to be a fertility god or something, but whenever you go to the Southwestern states like New Mexico, he's on all the souvenirs.  Anyway, here are a few different versions I drew.  Pencil on copier paper.  Frankly, I'm surprised I didn't smear the pencil lead way more, since I'm left-handed.

 

 

 

Day 22: Thursday, August 22

 

 

This is on cardboard, obviously.  Everything is paint markers except for the white part of the flowers, which is acrylic.  I ran out of my white paint marker, so I pulled out a tube of white acrylic paint.  I always though cherry blossoms were so pretty.

 

 

Day 23:  Friday, August 23

 

 

Bold colors for a bold day.  These are paint markers on canvas paper.

 

 

 

Day 24: Saturday, August 24

 

 

 

Here we go, that's more like it.  If you look closely, you can see all my left-handed smears.  This was pencil on copier paper.

 

 

 

Day 25: Sunday, August 25

 

I was feeling sort of blank in the art department, so I thought I'd just scribble different colors on some canvas paper.  After I did that, I colored them in and boom!  Art.



Day 26: Monday, August 26

Acrylic paint on canvas.  Again, painting is the hardest for me because I lack control with the brush.  I'm learning though.  I think you must be the most confident in your work when you use a paintbrush because there's no going back and the strokes, even on a thin brush, are blunt and bold.



Day 27: Tuesday, August 27

 

 Can you tell that this was on the back of a cardboard soda pack?  The black circles on the right sort of cover it up, but you can see the circles indented in the cardboard on the left.  I used paint markers on it.

 

 

 

Day 28: Wednesday, August 28

 

More practice with acrylics! Trying to work on shading and smoothing out my brush strokes.  Painted on canvas paper.



 Day 29: Thursday, August 29

Paint markers are so convenient and easy.  No clean up necessary!


Day 30: Friday, August 30

 

Today's theme for my art is the Drink.  Sobriety on the right, drunkenness on the left.

 

Day 31: Saturday, August 31

 

 

And the grand finale!  Greg and I painted our master bedroom.  The room was originally all tan (top right): ceiling and every wall.  We painted the ceiling white (top left),  the walls gray (bottom right) and the accent wall a deep blue.  Dramatic, I know, but Greg and I LOVE it!  The rose painting is more of a place holder until we get something bigger to put there.

 

AND THAT CONCLUDES ARTGUST!

 

I found it very difficult to find time to do this each day, and honestly there were days I was simply not in the mood, but I'm so glad I did it.  It showed me that, no matter how challenging, I can produce creativity as much as I want.  I am not a professional artist, but that doesn't mean I can't express myself with art, and I'm so glad I did.

Engineers: The Practical Spouse

For those of you who are single, I would like to highly recommend an engineer for your spousal consideration.  Not only are they smart, they make life so much easier!  Be it a male or female engineer, I believe you will thank me for this great insight into the pros of getting with those left-brained geniuses.

1:  They know how to tip. 

Due to the fact that those little nerds know math better than they know about relationships, it is totally to your advantage to have them handle the tip, which inevitably approaches after every nice meal out.  I tend to err on the side of overcompensation, so if your potential engineer is really on it, he/she won’t even wait for you to awkwardly ask him/her, “is this too much for a tip?”  He/she will just handle it.  Let’s just say, your calculator purchases will be practically zero over your lifetime, since your lovey also happens to be a walking number machine and indulging their talents also saves you money.

2:  They are natural builders/assemblers/installers.

Pay no attention to the fact that he's wearing different clothes in the before and after pictures.  He started at like 6pm the day before, worked for like an hour and then picked it up the next day.  Whatever, I could drink my merlot while he did the dirty work.  No judgement here.

Who hasn’t purchased that 400 lb bookcase from Ikea or Wal-Mart, only to find that it’s in roughly 10,000 pieces that require assembly?  Well, fear not!  Those engineers will not only do it for you, they enjoy it!!  So your time can be better spent walking to the fridge and grabbing some beer/wine and heading to the couch because they will take care of it.  Note: it would be misleading if I left out that occasionally, be it a rare occurrence, they ask for you to go get a hammer or some sort of screwdriver, but it’s a small price to pay for that assembled furniture!

3.  They are fixers!

Personally, I have no patience when something malfunctions or breaks in my house.  Needless to say I get infuriated and prepare to banish it from our household.  However, this is where those engineers come in handy.  They will voluntarily take on the role of handyman to repair broken items!  Granted, they may take it completely apart first to see how it works, but as long as it ends up functional, so be it!  And get this… they sometimes even make it function BETTER than it did before.  Mind = blown.  Seeing that I would pay good money for someone else to endure such frustrating tasks, I would argue that it’s economically in my favor to marry an engineer for that reason alone.  Good thing I did!

4.  They are technology gurus.

Here is Greg and me. Greg is fixing the OnDemand nonsense while I sit, watch, and take a photo like a stereotypical woman. Meanwhile Seamus and his charming smile wish to photobomb.

So duh, engineers love to update themselves on the latest in science and technology and are itching at the opportunity to practice such innovation.  For example, when I bought a Google Nexus, which is like an iPad, except cheaper and better, I didn’t know how to download movies for my flight to Chicago and frankly had no interest in learning.  Alas!  Greg the Engineer came to my rescue and figured it out in about 30 seconds so that I could watch two movies, internet-free, for the duration of my flight.  Insert little floating hearts here.  Those engineers and their doodads, I tell you. 

5.  They tend to memorize important numbers. 

This picture is unrelated, but it goes to show that we non-engineers tend to make silly economical mistakes. I got a ticket for parking in the street on a 2nd Wednesday of the month. See my passive-aggressive note on the memo line.
Greg the Engineer wouldn't have let this happen, I assure you. 
He would have remembered that the 2nd Wednesday of the month is a no-street-park day.

In my experience with dating/marrying an engineer, he is great with all sorts of numbers.   He never misses a birthday or anniversary and he has a habit of memorizing bank account and credit card numbers. Now, you may say, “um, that could be a problem if you break up,” to which I retort BLAH BLAH BLAH.  This is actually very useful when you are sitting on the couch in your sweatpants, eating ice cream, and surfing the internet for random items to buy online.  Dilemma arises: my purse is in the next room but I really want to buy that no! no! hair removal thing without getting up.  Solution follows: “Greg?” I shout into the next room (because he’s playing his video game, obviously).  “What’s my credit card number?  I want to buy something from Amazon!”  And boom.  He shouts back everything you need to complete your lazy purchase.  On a similar note, engineers tend to be good bill payers and keep the books looking good so we have discretionary funds to buy stupid things like a “no! no!”

6.  They have excellent salaries.

I ain’t sayin’ I’m a gold digga, but it’s comforting to know that when my competitive field of communications is not exactly fruitful in job prospects, I have an engineer making decent bucks to pay the bills.  Those masterminds had it right from the beginning!  Go to college and get a degree in something that’ll pay a lot for your brain.  And those two-engineer couples I know will soon be enjoying a summer home in the south of France with servants ready to pour them more wine.

In conclusion, engineers are not just good count-the-jelly-bean-contest winners or good cooks (because those brilliant devils know how to measure without actually measuring!), they are invaluable to day-to-day life!  Please consider having an engineer in your life, if not as a spouse, then at least as a friend.  They will pay for themselves, I promise.

 

Glorious Goals and the Awful Ways To Them

Reaching a goal is awesome.  Working toward a goal sucks.

 

Why the heck do we make decisions that put us in uncomfortable, boring, stressful, and just dumb situations?  *raises hand eagerly* Ooh, ooh! I know!  It’s not because we are stupid creatures that don’t know what’s right for us.  On the contrary, we are intelligent beings who are working toward a … say it with me … GOAL!  A goal is to make one’s life better one day, at the cost of sacrificing everything good and beautiful in the interim. *Dramatically puts hand to forehead in a woe-is-me stance*

 

At risk of sounding like that high school kid who can’t stop living in my nerdy past, allow me to explain my first real memory of working toward a big goal.  The year was 2003 (I think). Oh, how little chubby 16-year-old Caitlin wanted to be in wind symphony!  Most of my band friends had auditioned and got in the year before, but dear little C and her saxophone were too afraid to try (or maybe I did try and didn’t get in. If so, my brain has blocked any recollection for self-healing reasons.  P.S. I see I can’t remember relevant parts of this “important” memory.  Moving on).  For some reason, I would get so nervous performing alone and it showed.  Blah blah, long story short, I decided to try out the next year and I practiced until my bottom lip was practically falling off AND I GOT IN!  This memory sticks with me because it was the first time in my life that I remembered working hard for something and actually getting it.  This memory coincides with one of the Harry Potter movies when the camera pans up on Hogwarts at night time.  Not sure why.  It’s not like it had ANYTHING to do with that.  Maybe I went home and watched Harry Potter to celebrate.  OR MAYBE I was taking movie situations and comparing them to my life…you know, like, Harry Potter (aka Caitlin) doesn’t fit in in regular Muggle (symphony) classes, Harry Potter (Caitlin) gets invited to an exclusive group that you have to be talented enough to get into (Hogwarts/Wind Symphony)…?  Yup.  I just compared my band days to Harry Potter.  Deal with it.

I promise I will bring fresher, more current stories in future posts... starting... next time.

 

All that practicing sucked.  A lot.  But the payoff was great.  It made me feel that if I worked hard, I would get everything I ever wanted.

 

College brought with it the typical goals: high GPA, becoming president of a campus organization, getting a good boyfriend.  Check, check, check.

 

So we graduate from college and we are prepared for the real world, right?  I mean we’ve paid our dues and worked hard to get where we are, right?  I like to compare it to walking out from your wedding ceremony, thinking this elation is what life is going to be and then getting hit by a bus.  A bus called… reality.  Boom.  You’re welcome for my amazing prowess with metaphors.

 

Turns out the big, bad world is not going to softly embrace your goals and create cloud stairs to get to them.  Even if you do everything by-the-book right, there are factors we cannot control that will create overwhelming obstacles.  This is the time that you get creative about how you will get around those obstacles.  As Greg says, “work smart, not hard.”

I’m certainly not saying not to pursue your goals, I’m not the Dreamcrusher.  I’m just saying, when it seems impossible to get there, think creatively to get around your problem and back on track.

 

Let’s conclude this post with some of my goals, to be attained at some point in my life:

 

Write a novel and get it published

 

Have healthy children and raise them well

 

Live in a house with a huge backyard, like, I’ll be back in an hour because I’m walking around my backyard.

 

Earn a highly respected job at a large organization where I can make a considerable difference

 

Learn to take it easy and enjoy the present instead of always planning for the future. I KNOW that’s an oxymoron…to make a goal to not make so many goals and to live in the present. LET ME HAVE THIS!

 

I’m very aware that most of these things will be difficult and strenuous, but they are what I want out of life and I’m willing to work for them.

Behavior Self

This is a topic I come to think of often. I realize we are all human and there are times when each of us has behaved in a way that makes us reflect with a wince. I acted like an idiot, or I was so mean, are just a few of the responses that have come to my mind with regard to my own behavior, usually bundled with some level of regret. On the other hand, there are times when we behave just as we are supposed to and we feel proud, on track, and in control of our lives.

The Beginning: My Mother’s Glare

I don’t know about you, but my mother was ON IT when it came to grooming our behavior. By the time I came around, she had a seven-year-old and a fourteen-year-old, so she was fluent in the language of tantrums. Some fond memories I have are when I would get so angry at her, I would stomp my foot on the ground in frustration. Then, the dark clouds would gather over our house and my mother’s eyes would become large and round, her mouth would get small, and her voice would turn to all but a whisper. “Don’t you stomp your foot at me, GIRLY!” she would say quietly, ending with an abrupt “GIRLY” that made me shake in my stomping boots. At the time I thought my mother was unreasonably strict about such a little thing but as an adult, I see that it was a lesson in being civilized: keep your emotional crap together. You do not act that way to get what you want.

Sometimes, though, my mom thought it best to use the old “Irish Guilt” method on us to help mold our behavior. She would put her head down and she’d say slowly and softly, usually clutching her heart or occasionally wringing her hands, for maximum dramatic effect, “I can’t believe you would do such a thing. I’m so hurt that you would act that way.” Ugh, just kill me already.

NOTE: Her strategies still affect me to this day. When my niece was around eight or so, she took a needle and carved the word “Hi” into my mom’s chest of drawers that belonged to my mother’s grandparents. I was with my mom when she called my niece into the room and worked her Irish guilt voodoo on her. I have to say, my niece was a heck of a lot stronger than I was at that age, because I would’ve been bawling. Instead, she put her head down, with only the slightest quiver in her chin, and apologized sincerely. When she left the room, I started laughing and my mom, having instantly switched back to Dr. Jekyll mode, asked me what was so funny. I said I felt like I was right back to my own personal ‘Nam of getting in trouble and her skills had not worn off.

On the other hand, the times when I acted like a decent child by doing what I was told, my mom had no shortage of compliments. She would always thank me for doing the task I was asked, even if it was something like “go brush your teeth.” She also would repeat on and on what a good girl I was and what a good day I’d had with her to my dad when he got home, assuming I was low on the brat scale that day. We all like that sort of positive reinforcement and I agree with her method.

Witnessing the Dark Side

Everyone has had that moment where they witness someone’s kid being a little beast. Grocery stores, restaurants, airplanes, whatever, there is no shortage of kids acting like monsters. In those scenarios, I look immediately to the parent(s).Are they trying to calm/appease the beast? Are they trying to distract the beast? Or are they disconnected and allowing their children to run feral? I am aware that children are a lot of work and some days they are just going to scream like a banshee for no reason. That said, if the parent(s) are attempting to be parents, then I understand. If I’m sitting next to a screaming baby on an airplane because his ears keep popping, I will be annoyed but I will certainly understand if the parents are attempting to soothe him/her and we all will suck it up until it’s over. If I am sitting next to a toddler who is screaming that he wants his apple juice, I’m tempted to step in and show that kid some old-school discipline that’s likely frowned upon by parents and possibly FAA regulation.

You’re Old Enough To Know Better

So now we are past the years of little hellions, where bribery of some form or another will usually suffice to get the little monkeys to dance as we like, and we have moved on to adulthood. We can pretty much sum up the philosophy of appropriate adult behavior to the Golden Rule; treat others as you would like to be treated. Okay, that’s all fine and good, except that in order to comprehend and live by this rule, it means you must have a certain level of introspection and compassion, which some people simply lack. Other times, you flat-out know you’re behaving poorly but it’s difficult to reign in your emotions or you feel so justified in the moment, that you make an exception (and usually regret it later).For instance, I always laugh when someone asks me if I’m sick. “You look sick. Are you sick?” I’m amused by this because if we stop for a moment to play the “best-case/worst-case” game, you will find how inappropriate this question actually is.

Best-case scenario: you are accurate, I am sick. This means I already feel like garbage and now you’re telling me I look like garbage too. Awesome.

Worst-case scenario: I am not sick, and now I am offended. This one's usually the case when someone asks me if I'm sick.

On to more fun adult behavior! This one usually reveals a person's socioeconomic status pretty quickly: cracking open that bottle of soda that they grabbed from the check-out fridge BEFORE paying for it. Other variations of this include a bag of chips, gum, etc. Really? You are unable to wait three more minutes until you've...I don't know... purchased it? I'm not saying I eat with golden silverware in a ball gown or anything, but I find that to be very trashy. Also, to those people who do that, don't you realize you're paying like a dollar and a quarter for that Mountain Dew, which costs more than a TWO LITER in the soda aisle...sheesh...

So now let's change up the flavor of this topic (to end on a positive note). Occasionally I witness someone doing it right and when that happens, my hope for humanity is restored. One of these things is thank-you notes. I really appreciate when someone gives me a thank-you note and I write them frequently. Even if it's just in an e-mail, I think acknowledging that you appreciated a gift makes all sides feel good. If the zombie apocalypse comes and we lose our thank-you notes, the world will fall into utter chaos.

I know none of us are perfect and we will all make behavioral mistakes. However, it's for this reason that I appreciate when someone else behaves appropriately, regardless of age.