Location, location, location: It's not just for real estate.

When Mark and I were dating, he got me a card for some holiday (Valentine’s Day? Birthday? I can’t remember.) that compared real estate to kisses. As in, the key is location, location, location.

Looking back, I’m not sure that was actually appropriate, considering I was in high school and all.

But it’s true (both about kisses and real estate). It’s also true about workplaces, although I don’t think you’ll find a greeting card with that sentiment.

Can you imagine? Congratulations on your new job! I hear it’s a lateral move, but at least you’re within walking distance of that grocery store with the good salad bar!

No, I don’t think Hallmark will be breaking into this category anytime soon. But it doesn’t change the fact that where you work is sometimes just as important as, well, where you work.

I didn’t realize this at first. My first “real” job after college was in a suburb, and I took it for granted that my office building was just a few blocks from two grocery stores, a gas station, a library, a post office and several fast food restaurants.

When I moved to an office downtown, I realized how spoiled I’d been. It wasn’t that those things couldn’t be found in the downtown area, but driving to and parking at any of those places was a pain in the neck! And at that time (our downtown area has been developed and revitalized since then), the pickings for food, gas and stamps were actually pretty slim.

I worked downtown for a few years and then found myself working in an office building within a mile of that first suburban workspace. This time, my window faced the brand-new Target parking lot.

Score!

That’s right. Since I’d been gone, the area had welcomed a Target and a Panera. (Even better? That Panera has a drive-thru!)

More than once, my co-worker John in the next office (also facing Target) would holler, “Hey, Mary, did you see that dog in the parking lot?” or “What is that guy doing over there?”

Yes, we did know how to have a good time.

Unfortunately, that perfectly located job was the same job I lost when I was seven months pregnant. After a four-month maternity leave/job hunt, I found myself in a completely new (to me) job location.

This time I was close to home and within minutes of a (dying) mall, Super Walmart, post office, Target, two libraries, two grocery stores and tons of restaurants. And did I mention the 12-minute commute?

But, I realized quickly, I was so far from all my working friends. Meeting for lunch wasn’t nearly as easy as it was when I worked in the city or even south of it. There’s just something intimidating or time-consuming or something about crossing the river. And so lunch dates became increasingly rare.

Buying my non-cold groceries or mailing the bills, though? Piece of cake to get that done in an hour!

I think my favorite job location would be the ones “down south.” They were further away, but at the time, I didn’t mind the 20-30 minute drive at all. Thanks to an alternate route, I rarely faced heavy traffic, and it gave me time to think. Or, let’s be honest, wind-dry my hair when I was running late. And other than a Walmart, pretty much any type of store or restaurant I could want was close by.

Downtown offices come in a close second, though, just because I think it’s fun (or cool) to work downtown. Except in a blizzard. In that case, it’s terrible.

[For the record: If you find yourself working downtown when a blizzard hits, don’t drink a bottle of water on your way home. Because even though it normally takes just 20 minutes to get home, it quite possibly could take more than two hours. And that’s a long time to hold it. Hypothetically speaking, of course.]

The best part of my current job’s location (and, okay, I’ll admit it: sometimes the best part of my current job, period) is that it’s close to home. When Mark was working evenings, that meant I could go home for lunch and spend 35 minutes with him and Annalyn. Now that he’s working nights, it means I can pick up Annalyn from daycare and be home to spend the evening with my family by 5:00.

Do you think the location of a job is important? What’s the best place – location-wise – you’ve worked? Or the worst?

These are not my cubicles. Photos by DDFic, The Lost Dutchman, GraceFamily and Sailor Coruscant.

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You didn't have to.

Last night I went to a goodbye dinner for my friend Kevin. Next week he’s moving to California for a new job. Between cell phones and e-mail (and Facebook, of course), it’s not like we won’t talk after he moves. But still. Halfway across the country is halfway across the country.

I bought a card on the way there and signed it in the restaurant parking lot. After speeding – and then, remembering my recent driving record, not speeding – down the highway and navigating downtown during rush hour, I wasn’t able to come up with anything sweet and touching for the card.

Apparently it’s harder than it sounds to transition from frantic to reflective.

Four of us enjoyed a delicious dinner at a Japanese steakhouse (Why haven't I eaten there before??) and then moved outside to the sidewalk. We spent a few minutes chatting and laughing, and then we hugged goodbye and left.

Just like that.

It was pretty much the most anticlimactic goodbye I’ve ever had.

It’s not like I needed tears and don’t forget to writes, but ending a farewell dinner like every other happy hour and lunch we’ve ever had felt wrong.

So today I’m writing my friend a letter. Because sappy, in-person goodbyes are highly overrated.

You didn’t have to return my e-mail six years ago.

And you certainly didn’t have to meet me for lunch and offer your advice on how to “break into” the public relations industry.

You didn’t have to interview – and then hire – me for the open position in your department.

And you didn’t have to teach me about clients and press releases and time management and reports and billing. You really didn’t have to teach me about billing. As in, you shouldn’t have.

You didn’t have to share your industry magazines with me, and you didn’t have to tell me about your days in “real” PR at your old agency.

You didn’t have to stand next to me when I got nervous at happy hours, and you didn’t have to hand me an empty to hold, so I didn’t stick out.

And then later, you didn’t have to forgive me for transferring out of your department.

You didn’t have to write reference letters and answer reference checks. You didn’t have to pass on job leads and listen to interview debriefs.

You didn’t have to get along with my husband, and you didn’t have to call my daughter adorable.

You didn’t have to keep in touch and go to lunch and read my blog and add me to your short list after surgery and tell me about your top-secret California interview.

You didn’t have to be my friend.

But you did, and I’m so glad. You have taught me so much about public relations, about business, about working – and for that, I’ll be forever grateful. Now, if you could only teach me how to land a swank dream job like the one you’re starting in a few days . . . !

You’ve made me laugh, you’ve listened to me whine, you’ve encouraged me and you’ve challenged me. You’re a true friend, and don’t think you’re getting out of that job description by heading west.

I can’t wait to hear all about the new job, the new home, the new life. Drive carefully. Talk to you soon.

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Are you building a cathedral?

Image by ~MVI~

Last month I attended a professional development and networking luncheon. It was more interesting than it sounds.

Something from that lunch has stuck with me – and I don’t mean the dozens of announcements or painfully basic tips on getting involved in social media.

To read the rest of this article, please visit (in)courage today!

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I'm here to make friends.

In my first “real” job, I had a difficult manager. She micromanaged my coworkers and me, she took credit for our work and she loved reminding us often that her husband was an attorney.

She said it so often that a few times, we played our own version of buzzword bingo during staff meetings.

Because I was young and still had a healthy dose of know-it-all in my system, her intensity and management style didn’t sit well with me. Once, during a meeting with our boss, we practically shouted at each other over whether or not “agreeance” is actually a word.

(It’s not. Like I said. She insisted on looking it up in the dictionary, and just proved that I was right.)

Looking back, I realize that I was part of the problem. Ugh. That’s so hard to admit. But it’s true. And while I still don’t think I’d enjoy working under her, I will tell you that she taught me a lot in the two and a half years we worked together.

One thing I learned is that for me, work is a lot more enjoyable when I can be friends with my colleagues.

After being hurt by a co-worker/friend several years ago, I went into my next job carefully. I smiled, I was polite, a good team player, but I didn’t reach out to anyone. Not for several months. But eventually my outgoing tendencies (also known as “I like to talk. A lot.”) got the best of me, and I found myself becoming close to several co-workers, some of whom I’m still close to despite us all having moved on to different companies.

The same thing happened at my current job. For the first year and a half, I was stuck at a corner desk – not to be confused with a corner office, which it was not – where I was basically told to sit down and shut up. But about seven months ago, I moved into a space with my manager and two other women.

It has made the biggest difference in my work life! I feel like a PERSON again. We brainstorm ideas, we vent about difficult situations, and we debate the best contestant on American Idol. Though my workload and job description didn’t change, a different physical location allowed me to connect with my coworkers and enjoy my days so much more.

So when I saw a video a couple weeks ago on Rachelle Gardner’s blog, I had to laugh. The video is a compilation of reality show contestants claiming that they’re not on the show to make friends.

Guess what phrase my old manager said even more often than, “Well, you know my husband is an attorney”? Yep, that’s right. She told us soooo many times, “I’m not here to make friends.”

And she didn’t.

But I’m glad I did. Besides, as Rachelle put it, “'I'm not here to make friends’ is a common attempt to justify being a total jerk.”

So true. And now that I think about it, it’s true for so many situations: work, church, blogging.

I've made so many good friends - most of my best friends, really - in places I never expected. In a Sunday school class with people who seemed so different than us. By blogging about the random things that run through my head on any given day. At a job that I never really wanted.

Unexpected friendships are kind of a double blessing, and I'm so thankful for mine.

Here’s the video if you haven’t seen it. (Warning: I don’t think this is necessarily rated PG. It is a montage of reality show clips, after all.)



Have you ever made a friend in an unexpected place?

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Happy Christmas: I wrapped it up and sent it.

I used to work at an ad agency. It was very glamorous. We promoted dog food.

Okay, so it wasn’t that glamorous. But we did have a ping pong table. And shiny concrete floors. And a movie theater downstairs with a lobby full of couches and the lingering aroma of buttery popcorn.

I also learned a whole heck of a lot while I worked there. And had the privilege of working with some amazingly talented folks. But you know what I remember most?

The parties.

While you shouldn’t believe everything you hear/read/see about advertising being a glamorous career, the stories about the cavorting and carousing aren’t quite as exaggerated. At least in my experience.

I’m not saying I remember fondly the time my co-worker puked in a champagne bucket as we celebrated finishing a long campaign. Or that I cherish the memory of standing beside a co-worker’s desk to ensure he stayed on task and met our deadline instead of falling back into his drunken rant about holiday movies. And I certainly don’t long for happy hours that go well into the night, leaving a sober me to face down a drunk VP who did not care for the fact that I did not care for his sacrilegious jokes.

But the part that came before that mess? The hanging out with the people on my team, the getting to know them on a personal level, the having fun with those I spent most of my time with? That was a good time.

I don’t really hang out with my current co-workers. Really, I haven’t spent much out-of-the-office time with any co-workers since the ad agency. I meet my agency friends for lunch now and then, and I catch up with my friends and former co-workers at the non-profit whenever I can. But these days, work stays at work.

And that’s okay. But this time of year, when Bing Crosby and Harry Connick, Jr. are blaring from every speaker in the world, I can’t help but reminisce a bit . . .

[Insert blurry vision and twinkling music here, as we flash back to 2005.]

My favorite ad agency party memory – and seriously, there are more than a few – is my friend Brent’s rendition of Wham’s Last Christmas, courtesy of a karaoke machine and more than a few bottles of something. Brent sang his heart out to that silly song, and every time I hear it, I can’t help cracking up.

Even now, four years later. Even if I’m at Target. Doesn't matter. I still laugh. Every single time.

It turns out my friend Brent isn’t the only big fan of Wham’s biggest hit. (Really? You thought it would be Careless Whisper or Wake Me Up Before You Go Go?)

According to Pop Candy, USA Today’s pop culture blog, 2009 marks the 25th anniversary of the song. I don’t know that this calls for any real celebration, but there is a site dedicated to the almost 400 covers of Last Christmas. You really should go there and, at the least, check out the header image. In the words of Napoleon, it’s pretty sweet.

I usually prefer the original myself (No offense, Taylor.), but the GLEE version might just be my new favorite. Even better? If you buy it on iTunes, a portion of the proceeds will benefit the Grammy Foundation’s music education programs.

As for me, I just don’t know that I’ll ever hear, “Once bitten and twice shy, I keep my distance but you still catch my eye. Tell me, baby, do you recognize me? Well, it's been a year; it doesn't surprise me.” without snickering and thinking back to those crazy days of ad agency life yore.

Have you ever mixed karaoke and Christmas carols? Do you hang out with co-workers outside the office? What would happen if you added Christmas karaoke to your office holiday party?

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Sadly, my new modem is not on this list.

Image from The Legacy Builder

I live in the middle of the country, but my roots are Southern. Want proof? Listen to my daughter talk for any amount of time. I guarantee you'll hear her say, "Thank you" at least three times. If not a hundred.

Because that child of mine? Is thankful.

She says thank you for her milk, thank you for her waffle, thank you for her Elmo, thank you for turning on her movie, thank you for changing her diaper, thank you for helping her up the stairs - you get the picture.

And while it is possible that she's just hooked on this phrase (similar to how she has, on occasion, been hooked on the word, "poop"), I also think it does reflect our family's attitude. Mark and I aren't perfect by any means, but we do work really hard to appreciate each other. Even in the little things.

I chalk it up to those Southern roots.

Last year I posted daily in November, writing about something I'm thankful for. I'm so glad I did that, but woo-eee, it was hard. Never has November been so long! This year I'm going to stick to weekly thanksgiving posts. I'll add a MckLinky, so you can link up your Thankful Thursday posts, too.

I've got to tell you: I'm cranky. I've been on the phone with Time Warner customer service for the last 90 minutes. And despite that hour and a half I cannot get back, a new modem and an exercise in extreme patience when the fifth (FIFTH!) customer service person I was transferred to asked for my phone number AGAIN and then had me reboot the router FOR THE THIRD TIME, my internet connection is still out of whack. I kind of want to yell at someone. So being appreciative of the little things is probably a good idea. Here goes . . .

• Absolute best part of my day on Wednesday was getting my 2010 planner. I'm not just excited to see the blank pages full of possibility - although, I am. But this year's planner came in a Trapper Keeper! Okay, not a Trapper. It does not have a velcro tab or neon colors, but it is a nice, leather portfolio with lots of pockets. It's so soft and pretty, and I want to pet it, George. And, yes, I'm an office supply nerd. That's been established, thank you very much.
• We took Annalyn to get her pictures taken on Sunday. We hadn't gone for professional photos in almost a year, because a) it's so darned expensive and b) our last two experiences were terrible. So I was kind of dreading this, but it needed to be done. Grandparents were getting antsy. And though our photo session went straight into naptime - also known as dangerous territory! - I'm happy to report that thanks to an extremely patient photographer and a highly entertaining photographer's assistant, we bought way too many super cute pictures! Seriously - who needs 64 wallets? It's not like these were her senior pictures! Although . . .
  

Nice pose.

I realize those are two minor things to be thankful for today. But it's what I've got for now. I'm sure I'll think of 27 other things I'm way more thankful for as soon as I hit "publish." Maybe I'll write them down for next week.

What are you thankful for today?

On the up side, it's Friday.

The good news: I don't have the flu.

The bad news: That's the only thing my neighborhood drugstore clinic is treating for.

More bad news: I waited an hour and a half to find that out.

The good news: It's Friday.

Last night, my choir director mentioned an incident that occurred when he was a waiter at Chili's. It involved veggies, a lap and a very angry lady.

That reminded me of my time as a waitress - three of the longest months of my life! I was not a good waitress, and I didn't enjoy it one bit. Honestly, I don't remember a whole lot about that job, but I do remember one night in particular.

The night I dumped a whole tray of drinks, splashing a huge (HUGE!) glass of tea onto a man's lap. He was kind and gracious and forgiving, but still. Embarrassing!!!

Cheer me up today. Tell me a horror story from one of your early jobs. (Or recent jobs, if that provides better material!)

I guess the time was right for us to say…

Extra credit to anyone who can name that song (in the title).

Do you make plans? I do. I’m a big planner. I like making plans. But sometimes – as in, right now in this very moment – I’m really not sure why I bother.

Let me start with the good parts of my weekend. Because despite that Debbie Downer statement, there were some.

Annalyn spent Friday night with my parents, because I had an awards dinner to go to for my job. On my way home from work, I found my car driving itself to the mall and parking in front of Macy’s. An interesting choice on the car’s part, really, because I didn’t have time to shop.

I also didn’t have anything to wear, really. I mean, what is cocktail attire, anyway? No, that’s not a good question. I know what cocktail attire is, and it’s lovely. I just don’t really have anything that fits the criteria. Anything that fits, at least. (Boo.)

So, my car took me to Macy’s, and I decided that I could just run in for a minute. Twenty minutes, to be exact. That’s how much time I gave myself to make a quick pass through the dress department.

First I had to find it. Why do all the dresses – regardless of size – need to be grouped together? In the opposite end of the mall than the rest of the clothes in my size? I don’t understand.

I mean, I get it when Target puts the diapers in the back of the store, with hopes that I’ll be tempted by 90s love song CDs, Halloween candy and drugstore makeup. But Macy’s? What am I going to be tempted by? Teeny bopper clothes in the juniors section that wouldn’t have even fit me when I was a junior?

Uh, no.

Well, despite this irritation and the ticking clock, I actually found a dress. It was beautiful, it fit well enough, and it was on clearance. The magic word! I’m happy to tell you that my lovely $110 dress cost me less than $30.

So, that was good. And the event was fun. My company went home with four awards from our local public relations organization, and I got a free dinner. The kind with the fancy green beans – you know, the ones Mark won’t touch. Mmmmm.

And, most importantly to me, I got to hang out with friends from my agency days afterwards. That was fun. I miss those guys!

On Saturday morning, my alarm failed me. And so I failed my friend and college roommate, Lisa, who was in town. We’d tentatively planned on meeting for breakfast that morning – after she ran a marathon and I got out of bed. Unfortunately, though she did, in fact, run a marathon, I did not get out of bed. In time, that is.

Sleeping in was nice, though. When Annalyn normally wakes me up at 7 a.m. or earlier on the weekends, opening my eyes to read 10:03 felt like a miracle.

Running over a piece of metal on the highway, which punctured our gas tank, did not feel like a miracle, however.

Yep, that’s right. On our way to pick Annalyn up from my parents’ house, we went and broke our car. Our paid off car. Our not-great-but-gets-me-to-work-and-back car. Our car that we can’t afford to replace for another year car. That one.

Needless to say (although I’m saying it anyway), our Saturday plans of getting Annalyn’s pictures taken and cleaning out the garage went by the wayside.

We’re still in the process of figuring out what we can do – and what we should do. If our insurance covers the problem, then everything will be fine. If it doesn’t, though, we’ll have to trade our broken, leaking car for a new one.

That was not in the budget.

The good news is we think we’ve figured out how to avoid renting a car for at least a couple days. We can definitely make do – even with our crazy schedules – with one vehicle. And based on what I’ve read about comprehensive insurance, I think (?) it will cover the damage. We’ll see.

Sunday was better than Saturday in so many ways. Our church is holding our annual missions conference this week, so choir sang a fun song about hearing the call of the kingdom. And then Annalyn attended her first birthday party that wasn’t for a relative. It was fun – although Evel Knievel was determined to join the big kids on the giant bounce house instead of staying in the toddler area.

And now I’m getting ready to watch this season’s episodes of NCIS with Mark. And eat some chicken. And mashed potatoes. Because I love them. (potatoes and NCIS and Mark)

Oh, and the title? The first line of “Love of a Lifetime” by Firehouse. Cheering me up immensely this weekend, despite the pesky car troubles, was the fact that I heard not one, but two, songs by Firehouse on the radio. (You are quite welcome for that link. How about that hair, huh?)

Because, we know our dreams can all come true with love that we can share. Yep.

You should cut me.

I was real ambitious with my TV-watching schedule. But in reality, life often gets in the way of the best couch potato intentions.

Which is why a small part of me is happy when a show doesn't live up to my expectations and can move from the must-see column to the watch-it-online-when-I-get-around-to-it column.

NCIS: Los Angeles is definitely on its way to that column. And much as I am loving Community and Modern Family, I can watch their 22 minutes anytime. No need to stick to a spreadsheet or schedule.

I thought I was going to add Grey's Anatomy to this list. I really thought I could quit Grey's this time. I watched half of the deliciously ridiculously emotional season premier and then skipped the next week's ep. But I found myself home during the show last week, and I got sucked back in.

I blame Cristina Yang.

Callie's speech to the Chief in the season opener was a little over the top, but enjoyable. "When people want the best, they page me. I've basically been running Dr. Chang's department all year. This is cr--. You're gonna regret this. No! I am excellent. And any other hospital would be thrilled to have me. I'm a superstar!"

I liked that. Yes, the superstar may have been a little bit much. But still - haven't you wanted to make that speech to someone, sometime?

Still. I could have resisted even after that scene. But then I went and watched episode four. You might think that the touching scenes between Meredith and Lexie/Lexie and Thatcher/Thatcher and Meredith are what drew me in.

But, no. It was Cristina's speech to the Chief. (The Chief's having a rough fall, huh?) After being shoved aside, ignored and assigned to grunt work all day (week? month? episode?), she'd had enough. And she let the Chief know.

I have good hands. They're fast, they're dexterous, they were made to throw ties and do complex procedures. These hands were made for surgery. Today they should've been deep inside a heart saving a life. Instead they removed a tick and pumped a p*n*s.

My point? You know what? You should cut me. From the program. You have to make more cuts, and I should go. 'Cause if you can't give me a brilliant cardiothoracic attending who's willing to teach me, then I can't get what I need from this hospital.

Everyone is scared of losing their job, and so am I. But if I can't learn, if I can't use my gift, then I guess that scares me more.

That's my point, sir.

I'm no surgeon. Actually, I have to watch Grey's (and Bones and NCIS and the spy movies I love so much) through my hands, covering up the icky parts of the screen. But I can certainly identify with Cristina. If I can't learn, if I can't use my gift, then I guess that scares me more. Yes, ma'am.

And that is why I can't quit Grey's Anatomy.

Have you been disappointed or pleasantly surprised by any TV shows this fall?

This post will be linked to Things I Love Thursday. Sadly, this isn't even the first time I've linked a TV post to that carnival. *sigh*

Apologies. Or not.

When I was in high school, my mom read an article. It was about women and communication and I don’t know what else. What I know is that she was compelled to share something from that article with Smitty and me.

Or maybe it was just me, and then I told Smitty. I’m not sure. It’s been a while, so I don’t really remember. I just know that Smitty and I have never forgotten this little lesson.

The article – and my mom – said that when expressing sympathy, we should not say, “I’m sorry,” because that implies that we are somehow at fault. And when you’re talking to someone whose grandma died or who lost her job or who just had a bad day, do you really want to take responsibility for that situation?

No, of course not. So the article – and my mom – encourages women (who are the worst offenders of over-using the sorry phrase) to say instead: “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Warning: You must practice this before using it in real life. Because if you just say it offhand, you’re going to sound rude. Uncaring. Flippant. It takes work to use that statement and actually sound sincere.

On the other hand, sometimes apologizing is the right thing to do.

Last week, Annalyn was whining on our ride home from the babysitter. I’m pretty sure nothing was actually wrong. And I say that because I had offered everything from toys to music to silence to kisses to cheerful voices to a threat to pull the car over Right. Now.

Surprisingly, that last one was not what she was looking for.

No matter what was wrong, I couldn’t handle the whining. Not again. Not that night. And so I snapped. I hollered at my baby girl, “Stop! Whining! Now!”

Well, it worked. She did quiet down. And for a split second, I was satisfied, thinking I’d done the right thing by being consistent and all discipline-y. But in the very next second, I felt terrible. I had completely overreacted, and a few moments of silence isn’t worth treating my little girl poorly.

And so I apologized. I said, “Annalyn, I’m sorry. Mommy is sorry for yelling at you. I love you.”

Sometimes apologizing is the right thing to do.

The time I learned, five years later, that I had inadvertently hurt a dear friend? I apologized.

The time I misspelled the name of a prestigious award my company won – in dozens of news releases? I apologized.

Every time I realize that I was impatient with Mark or steered him wrong with (probably unsolicited) advice? I apologize.

Despite the reminder to not apologize for things that are not my fault, I’m not one of those people who refuses to apologize for anything. No. If When I hurt you, when I let you down, when I accidentally hit your car door with mine in the parking lot – I will say that I’m sorry. And I will mean it.

But some things I will not apologize for. I will take responsibility for them, but I will not apologize for them and therefore imply that they are wrong.

Values. Morals. Beliefs. Dreams.

Hmmm . . . one of these things is not like the other, right?

I think most of us have some values, morals and beliefs strong enough that we would not apologize for them, would not back down when challenged. Faith. Patriotism. Work hard. Tell the truth at all cost. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. They might take different shapes and colors, but we all have something.

For me, though, having a dream, a desire for more, a drive to be better, do more, get there faster is one of those things. I will not apologize for dreaming.

What are you talking about, Mary?

Well, thanks for asking. Now I don’t feel quite so bad unleashing a little rant on you. (Why did it take me so long to get here? I don’t know. That may be a deeper question. Or not. Maybe I just like to talk a lot.)

I have had seven jobs since I graduated from college. Eight years ago. Yeah, I can do the math, and yeah, that sure is a lot of jobs.

Has my career path been frustrating? Absolutely. Have I cried gallons of tears over my desperation to leave a certain job, to get a certain job, to just learn to love a job, any job? Oh yeah. Do I have to fight a tendency toward bitterness and despair (and possibly a little bit of melodrama) when I look at my resume or consider my uncertain future? Yep.

But you know what? I won’t let it win. I won’t give up. I won’t stop trying. I won’t stop looking for the right fit, the right job, the place for me, the thing I’m called to do. I won’t stop dreaming.

So if you are feeling the urge to tell me, “Just be happy you have a job,” or “There are a lot worse companies out there,” or my personal favorite, “You don’t like this job either? Have you ever thought that maybe the problem is you?” – don’t bother.

I won’t listen anyway.

What do you dream about?

Too Many Choices, Not Enough Life?

In 2004, I read an article in Newsweek that rang so true and moved me so much that I tore it out and kept that piece of slick paper in a file folder for five years. Written by a young woman my age, I Can Do Anything, So How Do I Choose? hit home. When the author said, "[W]e are now discovering the difficulty of deciding just what makes us happy in a world of innumerable options," I knew exactly what she meant.

After all, I'm the girl who changed her major four times in four years. And in the less than 10 years since I graduated, I haven't just had several different jobs, I've had several different this-is-it-I've-found-my-true-calling-and-I-will-do-this-forever career paths.

So when Thomas Nelson Publishing offered the chance to read Marcus Buckingham's latest book, called Find Your Strongest Life: What the Happiest and Most Successful Women Do Differently, I jumped on it.

Especially when I found out the book - and Buckingham's philosophy - involved a personality test. I do love answering multiple choice quizzes to find out how weird awesome I am.

Before I tell you what I learned in this book, go take the quiz. Go on. I'll wait. Take the Strong Life Test.

So, what are your roles? I'm an Influencer and a Motivator. I'm still waiting for the definitive answer of what exactly that means, what I should be when I grow up, what will finally make me feel strong, successful, fulfilled.

But even though it didn't give me the exact answer I'm looking for, reading Find Your Strongest Life has given me a few more tools for getting to that answer.

Buckingham worked for Gallup Organization and has years of experience figuring out what makes people tick. And one trend he noticed in that time is that women, as a whole, are not happy and successful. He says that we're paralyzed by too many choices.

Not that he's implying women should have fewer options. Instead, he believes women need to learn how to better go about making our choices, how to deal with all the options we have. He suggests thinking back - over the last week, into your childhood, whatever it takes - to find the moments when you feel your strongest. And those are the moments we should, he says, catch and cradle. And then use in our primary and secondary roles (from the Strong Life Test) to create a full an fulfilling life.

No juggling. No talk of balance. Can you believe that?

It sounds a little crazy, not what we're used to hearing. But you know what? I think he might be on to something. (And, for the record, dozens of women who participated in an Oprah workshop with Buckingham seem to agree.)

I haven't quite sorted through all the things that I read in this book. But it's making me think. A lot.

As for the book itself, I loved that Buckingham used lots of real-life examples of women who have made choices and found their strong lives. I could have done without all the background and build-up in the first half of the book, but I've written enough research papers to understand why he structured it that way.

If you want to live a strong life and aren't quite there yet, check out Find Your Strongest Life: What the Happiest and Most Successful Women Do Differently.

Are you living a strong life? Yes or no, I'd love to hear about it!

Can you imagine a life without fear?

Five years ago, I coordinated an eight-week fundraising campaign, including the semi-formal, catered dinner and auction that capped it off. A project that had previously raised around $100,000 to help fight cancer had grown to raise nearly $275,000. I name that campaign as one of the top two accomplishments of my entire life.

At the close of that final event, the script I’d written called for someone to walk up on stage, take the microphone and announce the final total we had raised. After working my tail off for months and pouring my heart and soul into the whole thing, I was – what I call understandably – pretty darned proud of our success.

So you can imagine how excited I was to hop up on stage and announce what we’d done.

But before I could do just that, my manager speed-walked through the room and stomped up the stairs to make the announcement – and, presumably, take credit for what had been accomplished.

Immediately, my eyes welled with tears. I think I even turned away, not able to watch what I perceived to be an incredible injustice. In less than one minute, I went from a completely confident professional practically vibrating with excitement to a shaking, angry, devastated girl who just wanted to hide in the bathroom.

What on earth? What happened in that moment?

As I stood there with my curled hair and made-up eyes, in the beautiful ballroom packed with generous guests, I was overcome by fear. I was afraid that all my work would go unnoticed. I was afraid that nobody would realize who was truly responsible for the campaign’s success. I was afraid that nothing I did really mattered.

I was afraid of being insignificant.

It turns out I’m not the only one afraid of insignificance. At least, I think I must not be, because Max Lucado addresses that very topic first in his latest book, Fearless: Imagine Your Life Without Fear.

We’re all afraid of something. For me, the list includes trains, bugs that sting, losing someone else I love in a car accident, something bad happening to my daughter, my husband dying and not living up to my potential. And that’s just the Cliff Notes version.

With Fearless, Lucado asks us to imagine a life without fear. Addressing 12 types of fears, including insignificance, violence, change, poverty, death and being unforgivable, Lucado uses Scripture to illustrate just how God can eliminate each of those fears and ends with a chapter about the one legitimate fear: the fear of the Lord.

Written with light self-deprecating humor and a casual, friendly tone, Fearless is an easy, encouraging and sometimes even entertaining read. On the other hand, Lucado’s quiet confidence backed by solid Scripture references allows the book to carry more weight, more substance than any oversimplified reminder that God is in control and everything will be all right.

I kept waiting to be disappointed by this book. You might find this shocking, but before “Fearless,” I hadn’t read any books by Max Lucado. I own books by Max Lucado, but I hadn’t read any. [Sorry, Mr. Lucado.]

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Some Christian books glaze over the hard questions, skimming the surface of real life and offering pleasant platitudes to ease our pain and dispel our fears.

Lucado didn’t get off that easily. Sure, I finished a couple chapters and wished I’d gotten more answers. But not because Lucado ignored the fact that sometimes bad things do happen – even to those with enormous faith. No, he fully acknowledges that fact of life.

I guess part of me was just hoping this book would provide a step-by-step, money-back guaranteed list of instructions on how to get rid of every fear. In 30 days or less, of course.

With or without an infomercial-style solution, Fearless is a good book. It was a quick and easy read, but it also offers the possibility for more with a 37-page discussion guide that can be used by individuals or groups. I read some of the book’s chapters in-depth, but I skimmed others. And I think using a guide like this one would be helpful.

Are you wondering how my big fancy event ended? Well, I was blessed to have amazing friends at that job, and one of those women saw what was happening. And before I could allow those tears to spill down my cheeks and completely shrink into myself, she grabbed my arm and pulled me up to the stage.

I took the microphone. I made the announcement. The crowd clapped. And then I cried.

Since then I’ve realized that applause and microphones and spotlights don’t make me significant. Only God does that. But it’s still something I struggle with every single day. And I’m thankful for Lucado’s reminder in Fearless: “Courage is always a possibility.”

What are you afraid of?

Five for Friday

1. A family of mosquitoes or some other biting type of bug has moved into my house. I blame last weekend’s unseasonably warm temperatures that caused us to turn off the A/C and open the windows. And the lotsa rain we’ve had this month. Although it doesn’t really matter. The fact is these bugs are apparently here for a long-term visit, and a bug’s gotta eat, ya know?

2. Annalyn went cuh-razy with the walking last night! My parents were here (for what they call “Baby Night”), and that kiddo just walked herself all over the house. I was relieved, because we’ve been practicing her walking – even with the ears – mainly in her bedroom. And I was starting to worry that she would only be able to walk in there (on carpet, as opposed to the hardwoods in the rest of the house). Turns out I didn’t need to worry about that. Nope, but I might need to start worrying about her reaching sharp objects, running away from me and locking herself in the bathroom. This is what we’ve been waiting for, right?

3. As part of a whole social media plan (very exciting!) at work, I am helping create a new blog for my company. And by “create,” I am talking choosing graphics, picking out colors and writing [shudder] code. My manager and I both have a rudimentary understanding of blog design. But since our IT guy does not know how to or want to (we’re not quite sure which one it is) design a company blog, we’re pretty much on our own. Sure, Google is there for me, always willing to listen and offer some advice. But my goodness, it takes me forever and a day, plus fourteen rounds of trial and error, to make one little change. And it is Giving. Me. A Headache.

4. You all said that you like my movie reviews, and I have to admit: I am way behind! I’ve seen so many movies in the past couple of months and haven’t told you about any of them! So I started making a list earlier this week; I didn’t want you to miss out on any of my opinions, you know. I realized I have nine movies to talk about. And being, um, persnickety like I am, I just can’t handle an odd number like that. Just feels unfinished or something. So, yes, I will be renting a movie tomorrow night, for the express purpose of blogging about it. I’m not sure if that’s amazing dedication . . . or just a little bit sad.

5. And because my last comment would otherwise be, “Does anyone else want to buy Proactiv every time they see the commercials? Or is that just me?” I thought I’d use a Plinky.com prompt. Here’s my deep question for the day: What is your favorite cereal? Mine’s Golden Grahams. Always name brand; never store brand. Yummmm . . .

A case of the Mondays.

Most days when I leave for work, Annalyn waves her little hand and says in her sweet little voice, “Bye-bye!” Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I even get, “Bye-bye, Mommy!”

Yesterday was not so smooth. As I got ready, proud that for once, I wasn’t running several minutes late and my hair was perfectly styled slightly dry, my little girl was sitting on the couch by her daddy. She had a waffle in one hand and a sippy cup of milk in the other. I could see an empty bowl; she’d already inhaled her uh-nana.

I walked up the hallway toward the living room and garage, and Annalyn heard my footsteps on the hardwood floor. And apparently that was all it took.

“Bup? Bup? Mommy? Bup!”

In other words, she wanted me to pick her up and hug her. So, I walked over to the couch, kissed her head and told her I’d see her at lunchtime.

Well, you’d have thought I told her I’d never see her again. The waterworks, they started. No, not mine, although it was close.

It is so hard to leave the house when my baby is crying and wants me to stay. Not loving my job makes it even harder. Monday morning after staying up late to watch a movie with Mark makes it darned near impossible.

But I did it.

Over the weekend, I read a story in Parents magazine about helping your kids understand and accept why Mommy and Daddy have to work. So I followed the advice I’d shared with Mark a few hours before: I used my firm yet positive voice to say, “Mommy’s going to work now, Annalyn. I’ll see you after playtime, for lunch. I love you!”

And I left.

But I didn’t like it.

You know what else I didn’t like? When I came home for lunch a short time later, walked in to see my baby, and was greeted by a big grin and, “Mommy!”

Oh wait, that doesn’t sound so bad, does it? How about if that sweet greeting was quickly followed up with her crawling away from me, refusing to let me hold her and responding with repeated cries of “No!” when I offered to help her walk over to Daddy? Not so sweet then, is it?

Thankfully, the tears didn’t last long, and she was happy to eat lunch with Mommy. After all, I am the one who will give her ketchup (or “dot dot” as it’s mysteriously called at our house) for any food, including green beans, grapes and my mother’s homemade banana bread.

So today was a little rough for us. But I forgot about all of that when, for the second day in a row, Mark and I got to watch our not-so-little-anymore baby girl finally take several steps on her own.

That’s right, folks! Real-live walking going on here!

Wouldn’t this be a great time to introduce video to my blog? You’d like that, right? If I embedded a little home video of Annalyn taking her first steps – right here, for you to see?

Well, I’ve got some bad news. The battery on our video camera is dead. As a doornail. Or a dead camera battery.

Either way, I have nothing to offer you. I can give you this:

But, much to my and my mother’s chagrin, I have no video of this last weekend’s miracle milestone. Maybe tomorrow . . .

How was your Monday? Do you find it hard to start the week, or are Mondays no different than the other days of the week for you?

Pump Up the Jam with Pandora

Photo by grizzly_lightning

Two weeks ago, my job got a whole lot more palatable. No, I didn't get a promotion or an exciting new project.

I got headphones.

See, I sit in the IT department. Our company has grown a lot in the past few years and desperately needs to expand our building. But until the market and economy improve, we're all stuffed in corners and cubicles and cubbyholes.

Anyway. My friendly IT neighbors tend to frown on any noise I make, from blowing my nose 20 times a day (What can I say? It's always allergy season for me!) to discussing communication strategy and project details with my manager at my desk. So to keep the peace, I don't dare leave my cell phone volume on or listen to music during the day.

And sometimes? A little music could go a long way toward brightening my day and improving my attitude.

Enter the headphones. And even more brilliant, Pandora. If you haven't tried Pandora, check it out today. Based on loads of research and something called the music genome project, the site creates radio stations based on your preferences. You enter an artist or song you like, and bam! You've got your own personalized radio station.

Listening to Pandora, I find myself grinning at songs I haven't heard in years - or sometimes, ever - and wondering, "Wow, how did Pandora know I like that song?"

I love Pandora. I love my headphones. I love finding new songs and jamming to old favorites. I love being able to e-mail Chelley during the day and say, "I'm listening to rap right now. Does that make you laugh?" or "Is it weird that I'm listening to angry chick songs?"

The variety on Pandora blows me away - if only my iTunes selection was so diverse! I've got big band to hair bands, bluegrass to angry chicks, 90s soft rock to contemporary Christian, R&B to old country. Journey, Barenaked Ladies, Plain White Ts, Wilson Phillips, Firehouse, Francesca Battistelli, Sugarland. You want it, they got it.

Now I just have to make sure not to grin too widely or actually sing along to the tunes in my ear. Wouldn't want to get the IT folks all riled up.

What makes your weekday go by faster? What music makes you grin? (Please, tell me it's Wilson Phillips. No? Air Supply? Okay, maybe that's just me...)

For more Things I Love Thursday, visit Diaper Diaries.

Saturday Review: Mad Church Disease

At my belated birthday party, my aunt and cousin gave me a gift card to Border's. I decided to use it to buy two books: one I'd been hearing a lot about in the ol' blogosphere, and one my friend, Katie, had e-mailed me to say that I must read.

Katie's recommendation was a book by Mark Batterson called In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day. The other was Anne Jackson's Mad Church Disease. I pretty much started reading Anne's book the minute the package arrived at my house and didn't put it down until I finished. (Okay, to be honest, there may have been a couple breaks for things like sleeping and working. But you get my point.)

Anne Jackson works at Cross Point Church in Nashville. She's an advocate for Compassion International, and her blog is huge. (However, you may remember that I mentioned a couple weeks ago that she's doing an online fast during Lent.)

Mad Church Disease is a book about avoiding or overcoming burnout in ministry. Anne has personally seen a lot of hurt in ministries, and she has experienced a serious, physical and emotional burnout herself.

Rather than just preach at the reader and give platitudes about not getting stressed out and learning to relax, Anne structured her message as a workbook, with probing questions to assess where the reader is and where he or she needs help. In addition, she doesn't just rely on her own experience, though it is vast, especially for someone no older than me. Instead, she concludes each chapter with testimonies and insight from leading pastors and their family members.

In addition, the book itself - the physical ink and paper - is fantastic. The cover is a collage of notes from people all around the world who have shared their stories of burnout. The layout and typography of the book is edgy and appealing, making an already interesting book even more attention-catching and attention-keeping.

Overall, I found this book to be a great resource for anyone in ministry. And by "in ministry," I don't necessarily mean only the guy in the suit behind the pulpit. Anne grew up as a pastor's kid, and she experienced great hurt during those years. So she doesn't restrict her message just to the people receiving the paycheck or the recognition; she addresses the family members who support and love those serving as well.

And I would go so far as to say that volunteers can suffer the kind of burnout Anne discusses, as can professionals in other non-ministry industries. Personally, I've experienced serious burnout working in a non-profit (but not religious) organization, and I've been badly hurt working (on a volunteer basis) for a ministry. So, I believe there are a lot of people out there who could benefit from Anne's message.

Certainly, there were parts of the book that didn't apply to me. And honestly, as I neared the back half of the book, I started skimming a bit, thinking, "Not for me, not for me, not for - oh!"

It was Chapter 11 that got me - the chapter about processing through the pain. She shares the experience that hurt her the most, and then goes on to talk about handling those kinds of hurt with integrity, forgiving people who hurt you (whether they ask for it or not, whether they deserve it or not), and learning to trust again.

That chapter hit home. I can't say that I handled either of my situations with the highest level of integrity, though I tried. And while I've finally managed to forgive the people involved in my working situation, it would not be honest of me to say that I've completely forgiven those in my ministry situation. And learning to trust? Well, that's a whole other blog post in itself!

If you work in ministry, paid or unpaid, or if you hope to be highly involved in ministry in the future, I recommend this book. Perhaps for you it will be preventive medicine. Or maybe, if you've experienced some of the hurt that Anne and I have, it's just what the doctor ordered. Either way, I give this one two thumbs up.

Next time won’t you sing with me?

Photo by jamie3529gq

All right, folks. It has been a little heavy this week, what with my FAIL as a nursery worker and the abandoned puppies. So let’s lighten it up a little. What say we play a game? Angie did this great ABC meme on her blog the other day, and I thought it would be a perfect way to round out this week. So here goes…

A - Age: I’m 30. Mentally and emotionally, though, I often hover somewhere between 14 and 19. And then there’s the contradicting fact that I was possibly born a middle-aged mom. I guess that makes me…30.

B - Bed Size: Queen, finally! Mark and I slept in a full-size bed for 9 years. Add in two overweight cats, and it was close quarters, so we were so very excited to get a new bed last fall!

C - Chore You Hate: Sweeping floors. I know I say that I’m giving up on perfect, but holding a broom brings out my perfectionist tendencies with a vengeance. Why is it so difficult to get every cat hair, dust bunny and Cheerio off my floor?! (Just so you know, my solution to this issue is to NOT SWEEP. Because that makes sense.)

D - Dad's Name: Tom. But his real name is James, like his father before him, my brother, my father-in-law and my brother-in-law. Out of all those men, my brother is the only one who goes by James. The rest were and are Keith, Jim and Brian. Weird, huh?

E - Essential Start Your Day Item: Can I say a chocolate donut? No? Okay, then, a shower. If I don’t take a shower first thing, I will lounge through the whole day until I have accomplished exactly nothing and look like I’ve got something against personal hygiene.

F - Favorite TV Show: This is a hard one! Current favorite is Chuck. Don’t make me say it again – you should be watching this show. All-time favorite is Gilmore Girls. Don’t mock it until you’ve tried it.

G - Gold or Silver: Do you think this refers to jewelry? My wedding rings are gold, but I like silver, too. I don’t know – I’m not much of a jewelry person. (Although I have been trying to accessorize more lately. Sunday was quite an experiment – it involved earrings, a bracelet and a scarf – cuh-razy!)

H - Height: 5’7”, but I used to be 5’8”. I’m not sure what happened…

I - Instruments You Play(ed): I play the piano. Not much lately, but I used to be pretty good.

I also played the bass clarinet in middle school. I wanted to play the saxophone, because that’s cool. But my parents couldn’t afford to buy one, so I had to play a school instrument. And that’s what the school had. Turns out it wasn’t too bad. Because I was the only one (big surprise, right?), I had to sit with the trombone section (boys) and compete against them for chairs. And because the trombone is considerably harder to play than the bass clarinet, I always got to be first chair. Take that, saxophones.

J - Job Title: Public Relations Specialist. Yes, it’s very special.

K - Kid(s): Annalyn, our feisty, stubborn, charming and adorable 17-month-old daughter. (And yes, I’m officially just calling her by her name on this blog. I can’t handle anything more complicated than that!)

L - Living Arrangement: Small, old, falling apart ranch with one bathroom and no basement. I’m not kidding about the falling apart – you can’t find one room in the house that doesn’t have something broken. But these days, I’m just thankful to have a house.

M - Mom's Name: Alice. She’s Allie to Annalyn and all my cousin’s kids.

N - Nicknames: My high school friends called me Mare Bear for a while. Smitty calls me Blondie. And my parents had the nerve to call me Herb as a child (it’s a long story).
O - Overnight Hospital Stays Other Than Birth: No, but that was one heck of a hospital stay!

P - Pet Peeve: Whistling, unless it’s done by my dad, Smitty or Triple. And then I can endure it.

Q - Quotes You Like: I don't know! Help me out! What's your favorite quote?

R - Right or Left-Handed: Right.

S - Siblings: One younger brother and a younger cousin who grew up with us.

T - Time You Wake Up: I set the alarm for 6:30 a.m. I usually get up about 6:50 a.m. Snooze is a wonderful and dangerous thing.

U - Ultimate Dessert: One of those crazy, 3,000-calorie Death by Chocolate cakes you can get at most restaurants. You know, the kind most people say is “too rich” and they “couldn’t possibly eat it all.” Mmmm-hmm.

V - Vegetable You Dislike: Carrots. If I try to eat them raw, without dip, I literally start to gag a little. And I keep chewing and chewing and chewing…and just can’t choke them down. It’s ugly.

W - Ways You Run Late: So many ways! I’m always late! I hate it, but it’s true. Please, no lectures about how it’s disrespectful and rude. I know. Okay?

X - X-rays You've Had: Lots of lung x-rays for bronchitis/flu-type stuff. It’s pretty much a yearly occurrence. Oh, I also had my spine x-rayed when I visited the chiropractor last year.

Y - Yummy Food You Make: I wish I could say some gourmet, homemade meal. But it seems like most people love my brownies. Made from a mix. A store-brand mix. What can I say? They ARE good!

Z - Zoo Animal: Monkeys and bears, I think. Although I loved seeing the giraffes up close last fall in Nashville.

How about you? Do you know your ABCs?

Random Readings

• The Facebook Fast – Rock star blogger and author, Anne Jackson, gives up social media for Lent and explains that she believes online communication offers connection, but not community.
• Blood:Water Mission – Drink only water for 40 days (between March 1 and April 9) to help provide clean water for people in Africa. I’m doing it – will you?
• Her story, His words – I’ve only recently discovered Angie’s blog, Bring the Rain. If you haven’t met her yet, you can read her story here. This post brought me to tears as I consider the blessings God has given her and the work He’s doing through her – and how it’s all being made possible with Christian publishing.
• Renewing the View of You – Is it possible to leave the rubric of perfection behind for a day? This Gifted for Leadership article addresses the way we women are constantly judging and comparing ourselves. Here’s a snippet:
  

  “I know that comparison is a black hole of inadequacy, that there is not a more
  beautiful identity than fearfully and wonderfully made, that being bought at a
  price is the greatest expression of worth the world has ever known. . . And yet
  it never ceases to amaze me how we—smart, capable women—screw this up.”

• Top Websites to Visit When You’re Laid Off – Thanks to Worthington Wire for this relevant find. (And if you haven’t checked out that site, you should!!
• Why Facebook is for Old Fogies - Thanks to Heather for this one!

If you liked this post, subscribe to Giving Up On Perfect.

Send in the clowns

Working in an ad agency was one of the most fun, frustrating, exciting, and I’ll be honest, scary work experiences I’ve had. And when I “got out” three years ago, I could not have been happier.

Now don’t misunderstand. I am so thankful for my time in that place. I learned a TON about marketing and business in general, and I got the privilege of working with some extremely talented folks. I also improved my ping pong game from embarrassing to passable and managed to memorize the benefits of every specialty dog food on the market.

That's important stuff.

But by far the most valuable thing I took away from that job was the friendships I made. I’ve already told you a bit about Kevin. Daphne is the other friend I've kept from that time in my life, and she’s one of my very favorite people in the whole world.

Daphne is a talented writer and has a tender heart. She loves Saturday Night Live and all animals, from her big hound dogs to a baby rabbit she found in her backyard. She has the best curly hair I’ve ever seen, but the girl cannot accept a compliment to save her life.

Me: Hey, Daph, your hair looks great today!
Her: Pshaw! What-EV! I haven’t washed it in two days!
Me: Umm…okay…whatever works for you…

You could look at us and assume that we get along just because of the things we have in common – we’re both from small towns north of Kansas City, we were both in The Wizard of Oz our senior year of high school, we’re both grammar geeks, we both have one-year-old kiddos. I mean, for crying out loud, we were born just a few weeks apart!

But the truth is – she’s just a great person, and I love her to pieces. Daphne is one of the sweetest, funniest, most loyal friends I’ve ever had. And seriously, people, she cracks me up.

Happy birthday, Daphne!

Very. Sweet. Bows.

A special thank you to Fagan at Very Sweet Bows. She’s not only answered my questions about how she got into the Bow Industry, but she’s also offering FREE SHIPPING to all my readers. Read on for more…

When I was younger, my mom would say that thanks to me, there were four bald-headed younguns (or “chillun,” depending on just how Southern she was feeling that day) in this world. As if there’s a limited quantity of hair God has to use.

Turns out, this may be the case, as my daughter was born completely bald, despite the massive heads of hair her father and I possess.

To top off the injustice of going through her early days with a perfectly round and totally bald head, Annalyn has also had to suffer through several a-DOR-able blue outfits.

And you know what that means…

“Oh, your little guy is so cute!”
“What’s your son’s name?”
“What a sweet boy!”

Though her hair finally started coming in (and with a vengeance – child has her father’s crazy curly hair that, by the end of the day, turns into a fuzzy, tangled nest), I decided to give in to the Bow Industry.

I’m sure you’ve seen their work. Little girls around the world (or at least in my corner of the Midwest U.S.) sport hideous, enormous bows, flowers and hats, all thanks to the Bow Industry.

I’ve resisted. I’ve bucked the bizarre trend. I’ve said things like, “I’ll never make my child wear something like that!” and “Who in their right mind thinks that looks cute?” and even “Seriously? Seriously.”

But after the 47th person commented on my sweet-natured little BOY (who was dressed in purple, thank you very much) one night at the grocery store…well, I caved.

I got online and searched. And searched and searched and searched. Turns out that Etsy site is one addictive place!

But I digress. What I’m here to tell you today is that I have found a solution. And that solution is Very Sweet Bows.

In my quest for a bow that was cute, reasonably priced (you would not believe what some people charge for these things) and not obscenely huge, I found one. And the angels sang.

Annalyn was thrilled to get a black headband and bow set (#1 on the headband page), as well as a pink one, in her Christmas stocking.

Okay, not so much as thrilled as bored. And not so much bored as wondering why on earth I ever thought she’d keep something like this on her head.

But she’s the baby; I’m the parent. (Can you tell we’re working on discipline at our house?) What matters is that for the 38 seconds at a time that she will humor me and wear the headband/bow, she is stinking adorable! And clearly, a girl.

The owner of Very Sweet Bows agreed to sit down with us and tell us more about her business. Meet Fagan:

Hello! I am a 38-year-old native Texan and mommy to my 6-year-old son and 10-year-old daughter. My weaknesses are obscenely thick mystery books, pots of hot tea and music from the 40s. Not that I'm an old-fashioned girl or anything!

My bows are classic and girly, but also hand-washable and durable. I’ve also expanded my line of products in the last couple of years with tutus, crayon rolls, wipe cases and other little goodies.

I started Very Sweet Bows 4 years ago when I owned a brick and mortar children's store. After selling the store, I started the website and built it into a full-time job. My business is about half retail and half wholesale; I have items in boutiques throughout the U.S. and in a couple of stores overseas. My background includes marketing and management, so that has certainly helped. Not to mention, I’m hopelessly addicted to fabric, ribbon, buttons, patterns, yarn. I would go on but I'm getting lightheaded just thinking about it!

The most rewarding thing about my job is the positive feedback that I get. I love hearing from my customers and receiving pictures of their little ones wearing my bows! And I have formed lovely friendships with so many moms, which I treasure.

And today, you can have your very own Very Sweet Bows – with FREE SHIPPING! Just mention this blog when you check out, and Fagan will refund your shipping costs.

Very Sweet Bows works for me. To read about what’s working for others today, visit Rocks in My Dryer.