Wanna write for ParentsConnect?

Here's the deal: I'm now in charge of gathering together literally hundreds of short (150-500 words) essays-that-aren't-really-essays for ParentsConnect*, which is a Nickelodeon/MTV/Viacom website for parents of children of all ages.

Here's what you need to know: You do NOT need to be a 'writer' to get in on this. We're currently calling these essays-that-aren't-really-essays Blabs, because that's really what they are: little blabby email-to-your-friend type things that talk about your feelings/emotions/reactions to some parenting topic, whether good or bad. We don't want stories with a narrative; we don't want things all tied up in a pretty little bow at the end. We want things that look at parenting as it really is--a work in progress. So, for instance, we have a blab from a parent who is, in the piece, literally standing in her child's doorway, trying to decide whether or not to go in and search her kid's room, because she thinks she smelled pot on his clothes yesterday, and what will it mean if she does go in and ransack the place? Or we have a blab from a parent who talks about how she really doesn't like kids other than her own. Or we have a blab from a parent who is exulting because he forced his daughter to get involved in a drama production at school, and now she loves it. In other words, it doesn't have to be all bad, sad, deep, dark stuff. It just has to be about *you* rather than about how cute or annoying your children are.

Here is more of what you need to know: There's a TON of paperwork to fill out to be paid the (yes, measly, very measly) $35 per accepted Blab that we pay. We have a 3-Blab limit right now per Blabber, so that means at best I'll be putting an extra $105 in your pocket. But, hey, why not, right? More than the money, you'll be able to say that you were 'published' by Nickelodeon. And you'll get some stuff of your chest.

So, if you're interested...and I hope you will be...drop me a line at tinycoconut@gmail.com, and I'll take it from there. No need to send writing samples or anything like that, though if you want to tell me what you'd like to write about for your first Blab, that would be great. At that point, if you want to see examples of what I'm looking for, I'll send you a couple, along with a document that explains a little bit more about all of this.

Feel free to pass this along to family, friends, other bloggers, email groups...you know the drill. I will literally need at least a hundred people even just to get this started! (Have I mentioned there's work stress in my life? And this is the FUN stuff for me!) Oh, and if you already said you were interested in something like this before now, chances are you're on my "people to respond to" list, and you'll be hearing from me or one of my colleagues VERY soon.

*Note: There's a reason there's no link here. That is because, while ParentsConnect does very much exist at the moment, the version of ParentsConnect that these Blabs will appear on doesn't resemble the one you can see if you click that link. The focus is different, the voice is different, the content is different, the architecture of the site is different...you get the point.

Plan v. Reality

The plan: Fly into NY Tuesday, April 24; get up the next morning and go in to the city to meet with my new boss and *her* boss from 10 to noon.

The reality: Wednesday's meeting stretched from 10 to almost 5. Thursday's hastily scheduled 1 pm meeting stretched from 1 to 4. Monday's hastily scheduled 9 am meeting stretched all the way until 6:30 that afternoon. And there was still so much that didn't get done.

The plan: Drive upstate with my sister and nephew to see my dad on Saturday, expecting him to make a huge deal about us staying overnight in a hotel and only having brunch with him the next morning.

The reality: The pain meds my dad is taking caused the "usual" (as those of us who've needed narcotics at any time in our lives know) side effect of extreme, um, bowel issues. Dad was in such pain from the side effects of the pain meds--and how ironic is that?--that he couldn't concentrate long enough to have any kind of conversation. We got to where he's living with his girlfriend at around 2 on Saturday, stayed less than an hour before he was unable to keep his eyes open any longer, helped get him tucked into bed, then went to check into the hotel. Returned at around 5:30 for dinner; he couldn't even make it downstairs long enough to sit with us--because of the cancer, he hasn't eaten an actual solid meal in over two months--so we just had dinner with his girlfriend. He came down for about 45 minutes after dessert, and then we went back to the hotel. The next morning, his girlfriend called to tell us that she was going to be taking him to the hospital (an hour and a half away), because he was just that sick from the side effects, but that he wanted to see us before he left. So we went for less than half an hour, said goodbye to him, and returned to the city.

I know that's only a recitation of fact. I just don't have much more than that to say. I got back home yesterday afternoon, and I'm simply exhausted. That was the closest I've even come to spending seven straight days steeped in pure, unadulterated stress. Thank god for my funny, sweet, silly nephew, who took me to Special Friends Day at his school on Friday, and who absolutely personified denial when we were at my dad's. To wit:

Dad's girlfriend, at the dinner table: Matt, how are you doing with all of this? Are you OK?
Matt: I really like that broccoli.
Girlfriend: Thanks. But are you doing OK with the way Grandpa is looking and acting?
Matt: The garlic in the broccoli is the best part.

Me? I did an internet search on ways to relieve constipation in people taking large doses of narcotics, and I fell asleep the second we walked in the door after we checked into the hotel, while Matt and my sister took a swim. I didn't say Matt had a monopoly on denial, did I?

Here I am

We found out about my dad on Thursday; four days later (a week ago today), I found out that my boss at ParentsConnect had resigned. I'm going to be taking over for her for the interim, which is a lot of pressure at the same time as that of my dad's diagnosis. Worst of it is that the people in New York who run ParentsConnect want someone to replace her in New York. Which makes sense if you're not a person who lives in LA who was hoping to take over part of her job on a permanent basis and finally get a staff position (read: benefits). So that's more stress--the stress of who will come in to replace my boss, and will she want me to continue to work at this more managerial level to which I've become accustomed? Or will she want her entire staff to be in New York with her (it could be a him, but it's unlikely, given that this is a site aimed primarily at mommies) and thus will I find myself suddenly out of a job--out of the only job I have right now, the only job anyone in this whole family has right now?

Oh, and the kids are off for spring break this week. And I'm heading out to New York to see my dad and meet with the ParentsConnect folks a week from tomorrow.

There isn't enough Xanax in the world to keep me calm.

Ooof

A week since my last post? How'd that happen?

Oh, right. I know.

1. I spent several days obsessing over a work evaluation, convinced I was about to be booted from my job, only to get a really glowing initial report (more to come) and be forced to realize that I am STILL that girl in college who used to convince everyone around her that she had really failed the test this time, not like all those other times, here let me show you just how I know I failed...only to wind up with the highest grade in the class. It's OK to hate me for that. You'd think by now I'd know better.

2. I celebrated my 11th wedding anniversary by having a steak dinner at a local establishment where somehow Baroy and I decided we should discuss our pre-marriage sexual indiscretions in greater detail than we ever had in the past. It was only after we left, however, that I realized that the fact that I knew the general gist of the conversations at the three tables nearest us in the restaurant--and had realized I actually knew the occupants of one of those tables, based on what they were saying about mutual friends of ours--means that, um, yeah, maybe the topic of sexual indiscretions is one that I should have reserved for HOME?

3. The other half of said celebration involved us renting a movie at Blockbuster--a bad movie, disappointingly bad--and watching it on the couch at home, with a large black-brown Labrador shoved in between us, while we waited for our kids to return home from their trip to see Wicked at the Pantages Theater with Uncle Stevie. It still kills me that this was his "gift" to us--leaving us home while they went to see a hit show. (Even killinger--no, not a word, so sue me--is the fact that it actually did turn out to be a gift. We had a lovely time, inappropriate conversations and less-than-mediocre movies aside.)

4. We had a parent-teacher conference with N's new kindy teacher. This required much prep work on my end, as I worried (and worried and worried) about what she might say. What did she say? He's great. He's doing fine...right on grade level, even edging toward above grade level, in all subjects. She ADORES him. We still need to work on social skills--duh--but even those are getting better. Nothing to worry about, here. I left with my mouth hanging open.

5. Malaise has taken over my life. What is it with this fucking malaise? I simply, literally, CAN NOT SLEEP ENOUGH. Can not get out of bed in the mornings to take the kids to school. Can not stop myself from taking an afternoon nap, except by going out for long walks, during which I find myself really considering laying down on the sidewalk. I always assume these things are mental health related, but am considering this time the possibility of something a little more physical. Every time this has hit me in the past, however, I've had tests done, and no, my thyroid is fine, and no, I'm not anemic. So rather than go that route, I'm trying a few supplements, to see if they might give me the pick-me-up I need. We'll see. Meanwhile, if you're looking for me, I'm probably still asleep. Or napping. Or laying down with N or Em. Or going to bed early. You get the idea.

I'm an idiot

Haven't posted much of late because it's been work work work 24/7. Fun work, frustrating work, challenging work, inane work. But work. Which is, of course, a good thing.

Except for when it takes up every available neuron in your brain, leaving only enough for you to think, dully, as the knife you were using to try to pry apart the frozen salmon patties slips toward the meaty part between your thumb and forefinger: Oh shit. This is going to hurt.

I was right. It hurts like a motherfucker. (Sorry, Mom.)

[Baroy said it needed stitches, but after holding a towel to it for half an hour and then applying a 'second skin' bandage, it's stopped bleeding. It's impressive, though. A perfect stab wound. Maybe just over a quarter inch in length, but DEEEEEEP. Did I mention it hurts? Because it does.]

More another time, when I can type with both hands without cursing.

Things

* Not so much on the ire. Or on the agreement. Or on anything, for that matter. I have a feeling you all think I'm turning into Crazy Religious Lady. Well, you definitely got the crazy part right.

* N got on the scale in my bathroom the other day, and then insisted that I get on after him. I outweigh him by exactly 100 pounds. Damn, that Lexapro is helping me to pack on the pounds.

* I've recently started doing some freelance work for a female essayist/comedian/radio personality who has, for many years now, been one of my heroes and among my absolute favorite writers out there. (I'm not naming names only because I'm never sure about whether or not it's 'kosher' to proclaim yourself as so-and-so's scriptwriter, or if you're supposed to help them keep up the fiction that they regularly produce a body of work so broad and so wide that it would require no sleep and several additional hours in the day for them to even attempt it.) So you can only imagine my elation when, after she went to edit one of the first of my pieces, she emailed my friend and editor and told her that "this writer is clever" and that there was "some quality prose here." Swoooooooooooon. Of course, she then went and added on a single phrase at the end of what I'd written that brought the entire thing together and left me sitting there, slack-jawed, thinking, "How does she DO that?" Still, as a result of her praise, I can now officially die happy.

* I've been given a bunch of new work and a whole new set of responsibilities over at ParentsConnect, which are keeping me engaged and busy and occasionally pulling my hair out. But in a good way. I guess. In any case, we're putting together lots of new content in preparation for some changes that are going to hit the site sometime in early spring. Stay tuned.

* My university job? What university job? Oh, the one which is still paying me until the end of the year, but which I wrote off as of the day that I had to begin arguing with them over vacation pay, and shut the door on as of the day that I filled out an application for medical insurance that will eventually bankrupt us--not with premiums, which are low, but with deductibles, which are almost as high as what I make in a year. Yay for healthcare in the U S of A!

Glad That's Over With

[WAH! I had this post all written out, and then went to put N to sleep, and fell asleep on his bed with him, and so missed posting it yesterday, and now I'm worried that I'm going to be ruthlessly shunned by all other NaBloPoMo participants because even though I'm keeping the original posting date of the 13th, this really didn't go up until the 14th, and I feel so INADEQUATE! Damn that decision to be a mother; it screws up everything!]

So: My car. Nearly $900, a new water pump, a new radiator, an engine flush, a fluid replacement and an oil change later...It looks like I've been spared. There aren't that many times in my life when I will be willing to admit that dropping a grand (if you add in the cost of the rental car) is being "spared," but when you consider that I'm less than two months away from losing two-thirds of my salary, and a major engine overhaul would have probably meant we'd dump that car and get a new-to-us/used one instead, no doubt taking on SOME kind of monthly payment in addition to the health insurance we're now going to have to pay for...well, I call that spared.

I have been spending such an inordinate amount of time thinking about/worrying about/obsessing about money lately. And yet, I've come to realize, I'm kind of a hypocrite about it, because I don't really want to take anyone's advice on how to solve some of the problems-to-be, since that would involve doing things I don't want to do, and/or giving up on things I do want to do, like staying home.

It all came home to me about a week and a half ago, when I was working in the kitchen of my synagogue during Mitzvah Day, making ziti casseroles for families in our community who are in need. I was talking with one of my friends there, telling her about how I was losing my job, and she went straight into "I'm going to fix this for you" mode. And me? If I'd been furred, you'd have been able to literally watch my hackles rise. Instead of thanking her, I argued with her about how I really did have a plan, I really did have it under control, that I didn't have to give up my working from home just yet, that it would all work out in the end. I'm sure she was completely confused by my reaction; I know I was. In retrospect, I'm not even sure the words 'thank you for your concern, though' came out of my mouth at all.

Ah, well. It's not like any of this will stop me from kvetching about it constantly; I'll just have to watch who I kvetch TO. Like you guys. If you all start giving me advice I don't want, I can ignore you. It's harder to do that, though, when you're elbow-to-elbow in a small kitchen, hands sunk deep in marinara and ricotta cheese.

Ferget It

Sticking that NaBloPoMo post at the top here was interfering with Bloglines somehow, and annoying the crap out of me. So, never mind. I'm doing it. You'll just have to take my word for it.

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Our current health insurance is going to run out by the end of the year, unless we sign up for Cobra, which will run us...wait for it...over $1400 A MONTH for the four of us. This, at the same time that our family's for-sure income will be dropping to under two grand a month...less than we owe in mortgage payments. (That makes it sound more dire than it will be; I've always done ample freelancing, and expect to continue to do so. And Baroy's been working steadily on a freelance project that will continue into early next year. But none of that income is guaranteed, so while it's good to have, I can't really spend it on a month-to-month basis, you know?)

Let's just say that I'm not signing up for Cobra.

I did this whine in the past, when I thought I was quitting my job earlier this year, and it turned out OK; we ended up getting accepted at a fairly low monthly rate by Blue Cross on one of those huge out-of-pocket plans that would probably work out OK for us. But I've been hearing so many ugly stories about Blue Cross since then; about them pulling benefits retroactively on people for flimsy excuses. Considering N's disappearing/reappearing testicle and the Hernia That Wouldn't Leave, I see issues for us in the future.

Feh.

So...Have any of you recently applied for private insurance? Is ehealthinsurance.com (or whatever it's called) any good? Has anyone used a broker lately? I'm somewhat spoiled in that I really don't want to have to go Kaiser after years on a really good/expensive PPO; in fact, I'd rather stick with a PPO than an HMO, but I know that may not ultimately be possible.

Your advice is requested...and will be appreciated.

P.S. Could this post BE any more boring?
P.P.S. That was a rhetorical question, thankyewverymuch.