Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in MTM hits the road!, Uncategorized | Posted on 21-09-2014

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Okay, I’ll start.

Recently I decided to come out of retirement and seek full time employment. (Please feel free to besiege me with offers–I’m hard working, make awesome coffee, and can totally talk Modern Family and the Sox at the water cooler. I like to be paid well and frequently. I’ll wait patiently for your call–thanks!) Before you can procure an exciting new opportunity, we all know, you have to work the interview circuit.

Dun, dun, dun, dun.

As I prepared for some interviews the other day, I was laughing remembering the most bizarre interview I ever, ever had. I was interviewing for a position with a company that was based in Kansas City. They flew me out to the barbeque capital (yum) for a series of interviews. I left New Hampshire at the crack, on Valentine’s Day, and bonus, had a massive head cold. What do you do if you have a massive head cold and a company has already paid to fly you half way across the country? You get yo A&* on that plane and pound cold meds!

I get there, everyone is lovely, I have an interview with a few people, and then they tell me the CFO is going to take me to lunch. At this point, my ears are pretty well blocked but I’m rolling along on nervous energy and Hall’s. (Was the nervous energy from the interviews or the 375 Halls? We’ll never know.) So the CFO seems like a nice fellow, but I, the extrovert, who is interviewing for a sales and management type job, is making note that he is clearly a buttoned up, quiet, numbers guy, and I remind myself not to be too OUTGOINGHIIMOUTGOINGLETMESCAREYOUWITHMYPERSONALITYQUIETGENTLEMAN.

We get to the lunch place, sit down, and ohmahgawd there is a barbershop quartet of four adorable older men who are clearly loving life…..and yet? Despite their combined ages and presumed life experiences are incapable of realizing the buttoned up CFO fifteen years my senior and I are not a couple…and they proceed to stop at our table and PLAY US A SONG. Like a goopy, sappy, lovey song.

Because that isn’t awkward!

In fact, they proceed to blast the tunes all over the lunch place, so between my blocked ears and them spreading the love, I had to keep clasping my ear and saying, “Excuse me, could you please repeat that?” to my new CFO boyfriend. Because not seeming like you are listening intently is always awesome on an interview!


As luck would have it, all ended well and I got the job! Cupid must have been smiling down on me. So much so, that the man who was driving me to the airport later that night? Made a quick phone call and then stopped on the side of the highway, got out with flowers, and gave them to his wife who had also stopped in the breakdown lane. Part of me was all, “Awwww” and part of me was like this is cute but I hope an 18 wheeler doesn’t hit us–does this rig have airbags? But really, I guess you haven’t lived til your guy woos you by the side of the road while a strange, mentholyptis smelling passenger looks on!

Weirdest interview day/Valentine’s Day ever!!!!! But I have to say thinking about it is making me much less nervous about any future interviews I might have, because really? What could be weirder?!!!!

What have you got???? Come on, tell us!




Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Boys, boys, boys! And did I mention, boys?, got what I ne-ed, OH &^%$!!, Some things just don't fit into a neat little box. The uncategory!, Uncategorized | Posted on 25-10-2012

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After weeks of a revolving door of sickness around here coupled with our uninvited furry house guests, I was rocking a funk pretty hard. I’d had grand plans to start back up exercising after a foot injury and drinks on the deck derailed me over summer, only to have a hacking Marlboro red cough hang on for well over a month. Co-pays upon co-pays and costly critter craziness (triple c–beware!) helped suck the fun out of fall. And ohGoddearGod the incessant political ads and phone calls are enough to drive me to drink.

More. And earlier.

I usually try not to be rude to the callers because honestly, it’s a person just trying to do their job in a rough economy, which must not be easy, especially now that we’re all battle torn. But calling me at 9:45 and asking me to complete a survey? When hubs and I had finally planted ourselves to watch our DVR’d Modern Family, commercial free and in peace?

No, homie, no.

SERIOUSLY? NO. Photo credit: Photobucket

I scowl at hubs and snatch the phone in disgust.

Me to hubs: Are you kidding me? It’s 9-naughty word-45.

Him: BLANK LOOK. What ring? Ooh, look at Sophia Vergara.

Me: I KNOW! THIS IS A BIT MUCH! I’m answering it before they wake the kids!

Hubs: BLANK LOOK. I just want to see more of Sophia Vergara.

Me answering phone: DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS? (Suddenly, and without warning, I’ve morphed into my late father, who when pressed, would go ape on people—0 to 60 in a matter of seconds. Usually his ire was reserved for the door to door Jehovah Witnesses who would always seem to try to prosthelytize during nail biter Red Sox games. I’m pretty sure the soul of my dad is prayed for even today in J Dub circles.)

Friendly survey caller: Yes! I do, it’s 6:45!

PSYCHO JANET: NOOOOO, it’s 9:45 in my world!

Friendly survey caller: Oh, I’m sorry, would you have time for a quick surv….

PSYCHO JANET: Are? Are you kidding me right now?

Friendly survey caller: So, when would be a better time to ca….

PSYCHO JANET: When would be a better time to call? Um, never, how about never!

Friendly/dumb survey caller: So, could I call you….

PSYCHO JANET: Ne-never call me. Never! Please. Never! Seriously? Never!

They broke me. They did. I didn’t want to be rude. I didn’t mean to be rude. But a girl can only take so much. (All this for FOUR electoral votes! FOUR. 1,2,3,4!)

Photo credit: Photobucket.

And then…it came. The guilt.

See, the thing about bitching about your Marlboro red cough and your kid’s asthma flaring up and your medical bills and being stalked for your miniscule fraction of your four electoral votes, and, and, and, and …the other crappity crap that’s befallen you is…’s called life. You gotta do it in context. Because the minute you finish decorating your big fat whiny cake for the pity party you realize, “Schmuck, there are kids who are REALLY sick. And moms who are REALLY sick. Moms who wish their worst health problem was fitting into a smaller size or lowering their cholesterol.” You know I could go from here to the moon and back on sad scenarios.

And that’s when you take your STFU sammie and sit down and shut up. Or as my bf and I like to snark, “Oh, s down and s up!” It’s crabbier and edgier and honestly, it instantly puts things in perspective.

But sometimes, it takes a kid to tell you what you’ve been missing.


Gorgeous, right? 3 year old, 5 year old, and I were playing in the back yard yesterday afternoon. I was going through the motions, kicking a ball and pushing them on the swings, but my mind was a million miles away. The critter people were due in a half hour to see if they “caught” anything. Gag. What was I going to make for dinner? Gag again. Oh, crap, scanning the yard and realizing I (and by I, I mean, hubs!) has to fix the fence/finish painting the shed/put the patio furniture away before the Frankenstorm hits. GAGGAGGAG.

Woh, woh, woh. Debbie Downer? Check please!

Also, it was my sister’s birthday. The one who passed away over two decades ago—more than half my life ago. And yet, all these many years later, the date rightly dances through my thoughts. Though I think of her all the time, this date will always be THE.YEARLY.REMINDER. of a life cut short. And every fabulous, and horrible, and yes, even mundane moment, like bitching that your favorite show was interrupted by a political survey, that we know we all take for granted— is magnified.

It weighs on me.

And just like that, my 5 year old fights to interrupt my subconscious, as if he knows damn right well I am present. But not really present.



“Mom, look!”

“What, honey?” I ask and absentmindedly glance around.

“Up there. UP THERE!” He points, emphatically.

To that sky. That gorgeous, perfect scene that loomed above the whole time, but I hadn’t noticed. Not even for a second. I was too busy looking down. And around. At all the “stuff” that had to get done. Probably, if I’m being honest, feeling a little sorry for myself.

And why? Would I and should I? How could I feel sorry for myself? When gifts are all around me. I have a life—a great, fortunate, wonderful, if not perfect, life.

I was reminded of a quote I read on Pinterest recently, “Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.” The source is unknown. But the sentiment, is perfect.

I have a thoughtful husband and beautiful kids who love me unconditionally…..a house with A VIEW! Every day I get to live and breathe and have bad luck and good luck and no luck, really is a gift. Sometimes, I need a kick in the pants–which might be tight—but nevertheless! From a five year old.

I’m reminded that children live in the moment. Their world is black and white. They love unconditionally and without rules. And when we say or do the wrong thing or fall short of who they deserve us to be, they forgive and they pull us back. We adults, with our preoccupations and our propensity to kvetch and sulk and take things personally, we lug our baggage. It’s heavy. We get tired. I…got tired. Maybe he sensed it.

These kids are unbridled enthusiasm and glee, for the sun on their faces and the sky full of puffy clouds that may or may not look like a bear, or a firefighter, depending on who you ask. Or maybe a wink or a nod or a smile from heaven. Who knows?

Like everything in life, it’s all in the eye of the beholder.