Everyone has to compromise SOMETIMES

One of the many benefits of working for a start-up dental practice is that Sofie comes with me 2-3 days per week and nobody minds if I spend most of my time taking care of her.

Currently our patient database has more Test patients in it than real ones and I am often on the phone with our software support learning how to navigate this program. We are operating on a shoestring budget and are working hard to book our days and generate income.

Part of being a small office means we all have to handle various activities to help the business grow. For instance, I am member of our local Chamber of Commerce, which is awesome and super fun. Sadly, not all tasks are so pleasant.

Today I was asked to clean the windows. Mud-spattered windows on the outside of our building. I squinted in the sunlight as I scrubbed, trying not to get dirt or cobwebs on my clothing and pointy shoes, and grumbled, "Way to apply your MBA, sistah. Good thing I graduated with distinction."

And yet, I'm still mostly happy here.

Mostly.

Do the slices get smaller, or does the pie get bigger?

Women are constantly discussing whether or not it is possible to have it all: a great marriage, wonderful kids, and a thriving, challenging career with ample time to enjoy it all.

Despite what magazines say, there is no simple solution. Every woman I know grapples with striking a balance between her needs and those of her family. And every woman cuts something out of her daily routine or long-term goals to meet those demands. From exercise and daily primping to our career choices and marriages, we all let something fall by the wayside.

Every morning I am awakened to an important monologue consisting of "ma-ma-ma, ba-ba, da-daaaaaaaa!" When not immediately responsive, which is most days, I am crawled on and slapped as my daughter is very eager to play. On good days Nick and I function on 7 hours of sleep in two hour segments. Sofia's vibrant personality and rejection of sleep keep us focused on helping each other get by each day rather than on nurturing our relationship, an imbalance we hope to correct.

Yet somehow, our family is thriving.

Aside from sleep, nothing of substance feels removed from our life; we don't go on dates much, that's true, but when we do it is very special and rare. Plus, there's something to be said for dressing up for no occasion and having a date at home. Life involves toting around a lot more baby crap and chronic sleep deprivation, but other than that we are doing remarkably well.

I find that I am a better, happier, person doing MORE with my life rather than less. To this end, I am going back to school (again) to fulfill the educational requirement for the California State CPA Exam. This decision will mean a bit more time away from my daughter, but I believe it is something that will reward my family and myself in years to come.

I will no doubt continue to struggle with my choices as countless women have before me. Right now I strike the balance by pushing sleep lower and lower on my list which I'm pretty sure means I'd make a good CEO of some large company.

I don't think anyone can really, truly, have it all because if you do, then what's left to achieve?

As if staying in bed was an option

It happened again.

Last night, after drinks and appetizers, Nick and I came home to a quiet house. He had some work to do so I decided to get out the rest of my squirrely energy with a few rounds of Dance Dance Revolution.

Then I came upstairs to get ready for bed, and just as I was getting comfortable, I saw motion in my peripheral vision. I thought it was the comforter, but as I turned my head I saw a Pincher Bug (also known as an Earwig) strutting its stuff across my light blue Egyptian cotton 500 thread-count sheets.

At this point, I have to wonder if there is something in our Tempurpedic mattress that attracts insects?

I'm disgusted all over again, and I was finally sort of getting over the trauma of the tick on my arm.

That, and I haven't had a full night's rest in well over a year. And by "full night" I mean 5-6 hours. You people without the babies, stay in bed for me all weekend and rest, sans earwig.

The Secret: The Power of Attraction Revealed

For those who don't know, The Secret claims that you attract what you put out to the Universe, meaning that if you put out positive, productive thoughts, you will be a positive, productive person.

I ask you then, what does the following suggest of me?

I definitely do not believe that I sit around thinking about bugs and how I really wish another one would find its way into the warm gooey goodness that is my eyeball, yet I keep having that experience. Usually while jogging.

Swallowing gnats is an innocuous inconvenience, they go down quickly and generally don't bother me much.

Gnats in the nose are also nothing to get upset about. So small they are hardly noticed, and when timed right pop back out with an athletic exhale.

Now, a gnat in the eye is irritating, but not so much that I stop jogging. Some would call this dedication, but since I have only run three times in the last um, eight months or so, I know that is untrue. A bug in the eye feels a lot like a large piece of debris. It stings, burns, itches, and your eyes water profusely trying to remove said object. I've yet to successfully rid my eye of a gnat on the spot. They generally stay put for at least a few hours, once overnight.

What I find absurd is the regularity with which these bugs fly into my orifices. That kind of gees me out. And this says nothing of the flies that are swarming our house lately thanks to the most recent addition of a dog.

Finally, because I am manifesting all these bugs by thinking about them all the time, I need to draw a line. Last night, while I was waiting for Nick to come to bed so we could *cuddle*, I felt a tickle-tickle on my arm. Thinking it was a mosquito I slapped it, only to watch little brown legs scurry over my light blue 500 count Egyptian cotton sheets.

"Oh, one of the millions of baby brown spiders that hatched in the garden," I thought. "But wait, don't those baby spiders die easily? Why is this one still scuttling? And why does it only have SIX LEGS?!"

I recoiled in horror as realization set in. A TICK! A tick in my bed where I snuggle with my husband! How revolting! Immediately I had a vision of Jennifer trying to rid her head of tick and wanted to call her and vomit simultaneously.

Instead, I reacted swiftly and grabbed that little monstrosity and flushed him down the toilet wrapped in a cozy bed of toilet paper.

Now I'm left to wonder why it is that my thoughts of bugs are superseding my thoughts for wealth, glamor, and many vacations in Italy? Clearly something needs to change here.

Hey there, Delilah ...

I love this song. And, I hate it.

I love the lyrics, the melody, the naïve idealism, and the sappy sentiment, but this song is strangling me. Every DJ in the Sacramento region is compelled to play this hit, which makes it impossible to drive ten miles without hearing it at least once. Last week I heard it once per hour all day long. It slowly crept into my brain, cutting off my oxygen and making it impossible to rid myself of Delilah the sorry bastard who loved her.

Wicked woman that I am, I secretly hoped that the songwriter got dumped before he made it big and abhors listening to “Delilah” as much as I do, if not more. I figured that would make us square, especially since he gets money to hear his pain. Just today I discovered songwriter Tom Higgenson never dated Delilah! She rebuffed him pretty much immediately, which makes it only fair that we are all tortured while Tom lines his pockets with grief and money.

I’m not sure which is worse, being the girl the song was written about, or being the rich songwriter who is constantly reminded of the girl who spurned him. I’d like to say that Delilah made a huge mistake, because anyone who can write a song like deserves at least one date, but I’ve never been the girl songs are written for, so what do I know?

The Power of Blogging Compels You,

The return of work has given me ample time to relax and decide that while I find my blog facade here completely repulsive, (Read: TOO MUCH PINK!) I still want to write a bit, and somehow saving things in Word just isn't the same.

I still think I want a new site, but am unsure as to how much time I really have to devote to a blog. When you have to get a job to get some rest, it's tough to add more things to the mix.