Def jam

On my way home from work yesterday, I heard “Pour Some Sugar On Me” on the radio. It almost made me cry.  Instead, I opened the sun roof, rolled down the windows and started singing along – “You got the peaches, I got the cream…” I just miss my sister so much! I wish she’d hurry up and move so she’s only FIVE hours away instead of SEVENTEEN.

Go team!

I am part of a rapidly growing, but still relatively small, segment of the population. I am a woman who loves sports. Like any fan, there are certain sports I don’t like – wrestling, for example, gives me the willies. On the other hand, the thought of spending a summer afternoon at the ballpark with nachos, a hot dog, and an alcoholic beverage (or not), sounds pretty good. And March Madness is awfully close to my favorite time of year. 

But yesterday, in a conversation with some co-workers, I discovered that perhaps I haven’t come by this love of athletics honestly. Perhaps I am (gulp) a Woman Who Likes Sports Only Because of Men. 

The co-workers (male) were discussing how much the both dislike ice hockey and soccer. I happen to really like both sports, particularly soccer. While standing there, I thought about why I liked those sports and was horrified to discover that the back-stories were shockingly similar.  See, in high school, I went to a lot of soccer games my sophomore and junior years. Often, a couple of other girls and I would be the only people in the stands, and we would share algebra homework and conjugate Latin verbs on the fiberglass bleachers while our boyfriends played on the field. After attending so many games, I eventually ran out of homework and discovered the finesse and athleticism soccer demands. I began to appreciate the game. Eventually, that boyfriend and I broke up. He went to college, got married and I hear has at least one son by now. Good for him. He is my favorite ex, and I’m not afraid to admit that I did him wrong and am very very sorry please forgive me. 

My senior year in college I began attending college hockey games. There was this guy, see, who played goalie, see… After meeting him (a story in itself, involving my mother, the hockey team and this drinking game called Cups), my mother said I had a daddy complex. That did not deter me. I pursued him and pursued him until I conquered him and then I went on with my life (and graduate school) without him. But I still like to watch the Stanley Cup finals every year and was one of a few people who noticed when the NHL suspended operations for a year. 

What does this say for my desire to seem like the cool chick, like one of the guys? Am I really a sheep in wolf’s clothing? I pondered and worried and considered for several hours, but I think it’s really very simple – I love to watch competition of all kinds (SlamBall, anyone?), and the reasons behind it aren’t all that important. 

So while all the rest of the women are in the kitchen gabbing on Super Bowl Sunday, I’m the one in front of the HDTV with my Peyton Manning jersey on. Don’t worry, I don’t want to steal your husband, I just want to watch the damn game.

I’ve decided that first entry was a terrible introduction to the really wonderful world of me. But, for the sake of posterity, I’m going to keep it. Plus, I don’t know much about this whole blog thing quite yet, so I’m not sure if in deleting the first post I’d delete the entire thing or not. So, so scary, the big Internet.

 To better clarify Who I Am and What I Stand For (I hate ending even phrases in prepositions), I will offer the following comments:

1. I am a wife and the mother of one beautiful little girl.

2. I’d like to have more kids (most days), but I think my husband is worried about the expense.

3. I hate to shop. Except grocery shopping. I know, anti-woman or something. But I still love pretty clothes and kicky shoes. I just wish someone else would buy them for me.

4. I got my master’s degree right after college because I couldn’t find a job. But since then, I’m not sure it’s done much for me. Maybe I should ask my current boss.

 5.  I work at a large nonprofit organization in the Midwest, and I can’t tell you its name or bad things will happen. To me. Or maybe I’m supposed to tell you its name in the spirit of full disclosure. I’ll have to review the company policy. I probably should have done that first.

6. I love my job, at which I get to write a lot, talk to people a lot and pretend I know stuff about Web sites, blogs and Internet stuff when really I just nod my head in meetings and use Google when I get back to my office. Don’t tell.

7. My daughter is the most amazing, wonderful, perfect and heart-stopping thing (person?) that ever happened to me.

8. I come from what people call a “blended family”  – I am the oldest of three siblings, but my mother remarried during my junior year in college and made me the oldest of six.

9. I believe my parents’ divorce was one of the defining moments of my life. The failure of that relationship and its aftermath guided many of my decisions for the next five years. Only several years of therapy have made me believe things aren’t okay if you just pretend they are.

10. My decision to marry my husband was one of the best I’ve ever made.

11. Despite #9, I am trying desperately to recreate the joys of my childhood for my daughter. Because it really was a happy childhood. Really. I swear.

12. I love terrible pop music, rap music and (shhh, don’t tell my husband), even some country. I started listening to NPR because I thought it made me sound smart, and it turns out that I really like some of it. I know, GEEK.

13. I have 12 blogs currently bookmarked on my work computer. I’m SURE that’s against policy. I don’t even have to look.

14. I used to love to cook (filet mignon with port wine mushroom sauce! homemade ragu!), but now I just try to get something that a 15-month old will eat on the table in as short a time as possible.

 15. Since my daughter was born, I fear I’ve completely lost my sense of self (see, you get rewarded with a biggie for reading all the way to 15). I work 45+ hours a week (plus several business trips per year), and spend every free moment with her. When I do manage to leave her for a few hours for fun, I am ravaged with guilt. I am a terrible mother! I choose to work and leave my baby with strangers! I should never be allowed any fun! I didn’t have kids to leave them all the time! I think my husband thinks I’m crazy, or will make myself crazy, because of the lack of fun.

16. Because of #15, I have very few friends. Actually, I have no friends that live close enough for me to call up and say, hey, want to get a drink after work on Friday?, which would be out of the question anyway because I have to GET TO DAYCARE AND GET MY PRECIOUS BABY.

17. My husband wants me to join one of these moms groups but when I was in the chat rooms a few months ago they were populated almost singularly by 20-year-olds with multiple children who don’t work. Not exactly my demographic.

18. On my first day of high school, I saw a guy get knocked out cold with a metal folding chair in a spat between rival gangs. Yes, it was a public school. But it was in the suburbs.

19. I can be judgemental and snobby, but I try not to be in most situations, unless I can think of a good joke.

20. If my house were burning down, I would, after rescuing my family (including the two beagles who are woefully neglected since the child took over the household), hurl our computer out the window because it has all our pictures saved on it because we are both too lazy to back them up.

21. We conceived our daughter in Italy, which was my dream for years. I know, I’m one of those lousy bitches who can just say, hmmm, I want to get pregnant the week of April 19, 2005, and then magically does. Sorry.

P.S. All the Italian wine and unpasteurized cheese did not hurt Precious Girl at all. She’s perfect.

22. I can’t imagine how John and Elizabeth Edwards are enduring something like a cancer recurrence in such a public way. They have my admiration.

23. I miss my dad. He’s not dead, he just lives in Florida. But that’s far away.

24. On my first post-baby business trip, my sister flew across the country so she could surprise me at the hotel. I can’t even type that without the tears coming. What a sweet sweet sweet sister!

25. I want to be sophisticated, cosmopolitan and fashionable, but most days I’m just too tired. Plus #3.

26. I love Valpolicella, pomegranate martinis and cheesecake.

 That’s enough narcissism for now. I’m ending on an unusual number to prove that I have no need for symmetry or perfection in my life. HA! 

Hello world!

Hello, world, is right. I’m here because I was inspired by Amalah and All and Sundry and Zoot. Also, Zoot told me to.

 I’m not sure yet about this whole public-private thing (or the policy at my job), so I’m going to stay pretty anonymous for now. But I will say this – Mimi was the nickname my little sister gave me when she couldn’t say my full name, I have an almost-15-month-old  little girl who rules my world and have been married to an all-around great guy for nearly five years.

 I’ve spent the last few days cleaning up vomit and diarrhea and all sorts of nonsense coming out of my sweet girl, including this morning at 2:45. It’s funny how I fished her out of diarrhea bath water last night, dried her off, drained and scrubbed the tub and didn’t even gag.

 I guess I love that kid.

 How’s that for a disgusting inaugural entry? I’m going to stop now because #1 no one is probably going to read this and #2 I want to see how pretty it looks!