The following is an email exchange that occurred this afternoon.

Tom Wopat*: Can you change kids to children? Sounds more professional!
Me: You mean to tell me, we're not auctioning off kids??
Tom Wopat: I cannot send to corporate email what I am thinking!
Me: It's good to go.
Tom Wopat: Thank you! I found that rather demeaning.

Now here is where I'm at a loss. I have NO idea what was demeaning. The use of the word "kids" to refer to children? If that were the case, wouldn't that be something demeaning to kids and not an adult? Or was it my crack about auctioning off kids? Maybe it's a poor joke, but I fail to see how that could be contrived as demeaning to anyone. It's a valid question. Maybe I was hoping to get some kids at a discount price and my dreams were just crushed**. Now, I have had some serious filter issues today. I was told by a pharmacist that I was signing a statement to not use my son's allergy medicine to make crystal meth, which I answered with "Oh, MAN!!" But see, the pharmacist chuckled. He didn't claim to be demeaned.

I just refuse to apologize in this situation. I don't see how I could possibly be in the wrong here. Well...maybe..but no!

*Names have been changed to protect the identity of those involved.
** Another inappropriate joke, of course.

For a long time, writing posts was a therapeutic process. I could get out all those feelings of the asshats I encountered during my daily life. I'm not sure if I ran into less asshats or if I dealt with them better, but I had less of an urge to get those feelings out.
This past week, I found myself longing for an outlet, but just not having the energy to do so-- no asshats involved, but still the need to "talk about my feelings". It's like a scream was building up inside me, but it wouldn't (or couldn't) come out. Internally, I was a basket-case. Externally, I was abnormally exhausted. I think stress was just slowly wearing me down.
I often joke about my kids being "out to get me", but this past week it seemed like more than a joke. Normally, one kid is misbehaving and the other is a victim of it. This time, it was both misbehaving and in ways my brain didn't want to process. I always said I'd be a cool and collected parent, able to handle all the various missteps without blinking. Instead, I found my normal reaction is to shriek and run around the house when I come across something I'm not ready for. Like the time my oldest son's friend decided to use our computer for things that were most like blocked at his house. We didn't figure out that part yet, but I responded by...running around my house and shrieking. Sure, I calm down and process in due time, but initially, it's like the blue screen of death in my brain.
When I'm done processing, I can move ahead and deal with things just fine. But two major areas to deal with on each kid seemed like a lot. Maybe a major and a minor, or two minors...oof. I was chatting with a fellow mom during the week and warned her that it doesn't get easier. It seems like after they can use the toilet and feed themselves, there would be some minor bumps along the way. Delusional, perhaps. I think there were a few weeks after they were potty-trained and talking and able to communicate what they needed for the first time where I though "Hey, this parenting thing is pretty easy." HA! Fooled me! It looks like the current crisis is ironing out and they are back to walking around with blanket capes on and...well...the blanket capes kinda through me for a loop. They were very nonchalant about it.

My other issues was work, which was not so much an issue in the classic sense. I've been a big proponent of not getting emotions involved at work. Perhaps that's a generational thing. After going through a dotcom layoff and two buy-out related layoffs, I've gotten good at taking everything in stride. My outlook is to do what I need to do and carry on as normal. I don't take things personally and I don't look for hidden agendas in every email that goes out. But that isn't the case for everyone. People seem to have emotional ties, and I suppose I can understand that. In the grand timeline, I'm still very much a noob. I don't know. Dealing with other people's emotions in that sort of context is somewhat uncomfortable for me. Too many years being a nerd I guess. But I ended the week with more goals and tasks to handle, and I'm feeling pretty good about that.

So the week started off with suck and ended pretty good. Not too shabby after all I guess. And I'm feeling significantly calmer and relaxed. Stress is just monster.

Tomorrow I hit the big 3-2. 32. It sounds so grown-up when I have to admit that's my age, but in reality, eh...no big deal.
When I turned 29, I was an emotional wreck. I was pretty certain that was going to be the last year of my life, socially speaking. No more would I have any fun. I would have to become an adult, as my thirties were looming around the corner, waiting to spoil everything. I was depressed and sullen leading up to that birthday and for a few months later. When I turned 30 the following year, it was no big deal. I had already spent all the energy the previous year on being depressed that I had nothing left, so I just rolled with it. The universe didn't imploded, I didn't suddenly wake up to mom hair; everything was as it was the day before. And although that year started out EXTREMELY rough on the personal end, it looked up quickly. (Funny, add a bunch of mini-crisis to the mix and turning 30 is a walk in the park.)
So now I'm faced with 32. On one hand, it doesn't bother me at all. I'll still be the same immature jackass as I always am. On the other, I'm beginning to hear my biological clock, which is amusing considering I already have two kids. I'm going to let that one just roll and clock it up to hormones.
My point is...30s are not as bad as we tend to make them out to be. I haven't felt any pressure to measure up to some standard since turning 30, and even if I did I'm the sort of person that tends to shrug those off. I know I'm always going to love video games and despise scrap-booking, and love horror movies and shudder at romantic-comedies and chick-flicks. None of that will change because of a mere number that's supposed to mean something more than how many rotations around the sun I've been here.
Let's do this, 32!

I was reading this article on NPR entitled "Can You Tell Your Life Story In Exactly Six Words?", in which they discussed a book called It All Changed in an Instant . It All Changed in an Instant is a collection of 6-word memoirs from the famous and well-known. At the end of the article, the question is asked to the audience to share their 6-word memoir.

I looked at this challenge as I tend to look at all generic/non-personal challenges: completely unnecessary, and yet I am compelled to indulge, thanks to that whole crazy part in my head that keeps me from letting go.
But this is a memoir we're talking about here. Not something to be casually balked at and haphazardly tossed around. If that was the case, I could merely toss out something like "I ate too much cheese today" and be done with it. (That is actually a true story. I ate too much cheese today. And I'm lactose-intolerant. Hilarity ensues. Curse you, dairy gods.)
No. This is a MEMOIR. I needed to do some seriously soul reflection as I thought about all my life's experiences; all the heartaches, the joys, the obstacles, the epic wins.
And then it came to me.
A phrase to sum it all up. To sum ME up.

Where did I put my pants?

Chalking this one up as a big success.