Playdates

Playdate: date for children to play. An arranged time when children are brought together to play under supervision, often at one another's homes. The intention of a playdate is to provide children the opportunity to interact freely in a less structured environment than other planned activities.


As a parent, I am a big fan of playdates; especially because Collin is an only child. In his toddler years, playdates also served as my time to socialize with other parents. Unfortunately this can also be extremely awkward, especially if the other parent is a social misfit or constantly talking on their damn cell phone!



Collin was only 4 ½ years old when he had his very first sleepover. You would think that I would have hurriedly putt on a sexy-looking top that's been sitting in the bottom of my drawer since God-knows-when and cherished my night of freedom, calling friends who probably thought I had moved to Venus years ago, or searching for the best club in town.



Instead, I taped the cell phone next to my ear and went to bed fully dressed (the sexy looking top was too wrinkled so a t-shirt had to suffice). I was clearly on call that night and ready for any emergency. I must have slept with my eyes open that night because I still remember the digital clock changing number by the minute, then the hour…



By 7 in the morning I still had not yet received one single phone call. "Maybe the house burnt down," I thought to myself. Having worked myself into a frantic state of mind, I jumped into the car and drove to the house…well, about a block away. Finally, by 8:30am, still sitting just a block away, I got a call from the mom stating Collin was having a great time. I started the engine, drove around the block about three times and then headed to their home. Can't be too obvious, you know!


 

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As Collin got older, playdates became more and more interesting. By now I have learned to appreciate the free moment and the fact he was messing up someone else's home instead of mine. Still, I think it is more entertaining to have his friends over to our house because I get to see the other side of my "innocent" child!



It turns out that playdates are the perfect opportunity to finally discover that my child is not half as naïve as I would like to think. He knows a lot more than I ever imagined and ever cared to imagine. I would hear words coming from his mouth that shocked the living daylight out of me.


Hosting a playdate comes with other privileges as well- the best being you get to secretly compare your child to the others, so that when you are passing judgment you can be sure you have the upper hand. Hey, moms are human too.

 

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Before I get into some examples of Collin's most memorable playdates, I feel compelled to share some notes. When it comes to scheduling playdates you must first navigate through the various personality types of the kids' moms. I've outlined a few of the most common:


The Cautious Mom


"You should come by and look around our house before Collin comes over."

I gave some thought to her suggestion.


First of all, bless her thoughtful heart. Secondly, her house must be somewhat safe because I've never seen her son with a cast or any visible bruises… Either that or he lives in a bubble. Wait a minute, if she made that offer, she will clearly ask for the same treatment before coming to our house. Terrific, I can't wait to give her a grand tour of our messy.…


I politely replied, "Oh, thank you for offering but I trust that your place is just fine."

 
Within a second of my reply, she validated my fear as she said, "Can I check around yours then?"

 
I wanted to say, "Sure, of course, let me schedule a carpet cleaning, fill in our Olympic size pool, lock the gun cabinet, and fill the refrigerator with endless organic produce." Instead I took the high ground and said, "Yes, how about next week. We have some relatives in town until Friday."

 
No need to explain that it would take me until Friday to get the house in order. A little white lie never hurt a playdate.

 
The EI Mom (Extremely Irrational)


EI: "Can Billy play with Collin at your house for a few hours this Saturday?"

 
Me: "Sure, what time?"

 
EI: "How about 11AM and it is okay with me if he wants to stay for lunch." Okay, self invitation. Nice.

 
Me: "Sounds great! We'll see you at 11AM then. "

EI: "Hmm… that sounds kind of late and it's so close to lunch time. How about 10AM? Can we do 10AM instead?"

 
Me: "Um, 10AM? Sure, that would work."

 
EI: "Then Collin can stay here and play."

 
Me: "Err…wait, I thought Billy was coming to our house, no?"

 
EI: "Sure, whatever works for you. But Collin can also come here to play. Billy has lots of toys." (Like we don't?)

 
Me: "Is that what you prefer?"

 
EI: "Oh, no, it's whatever works for you. Collin comes here. Billy goes there. Either way."

 
Me: "In that case, let's stick to the original plan. Drop Billy off at 10AM and I'll bring him back after lunch."

 
EI: "Sure, but would you guys rather have lunch at our place instead?"

 
Holy cow! Setting up a simple playdate is worse than communicating with Dell's helpline! Well, shamefully to say we only had two playdates with Billy that year and frankly speaking, that was about all I could take of Billy's mom.



The Laid Back Mom

 
This is by far my favorite type of mom! I take pride in being a card carrying member of this category.

 
"Playdate after school?"

 
"Sure. I'll pick him up at six?"

 
"Awesome."

 
Viola! Done! A playdate can be arranged within three text messages and it's no coincidence the kids will always have a blast. On top of it, this kind of mom never minds the last minute change of plans.

 

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One Saturday I ended up having three of Collin's friends over, so a total of four boys in the house. Don't ask me what I was thinking because clearly I wasn't at the time of the invite.

 
My sole strategy, once I grew fully aware of what I had on my hands, was to stuff their little bellies so they might get sleepy after lunch. It works for me when I'm at the office; it was worth a try.

 
Let's discuss each boy's table manners and eating habits:

 
Freddy gobbled down food as if he lived in prison and his foremost fear was that he might not get another meal that day.

 
Eddie picked up one nugget and asked, "Collin's mom, did you get this from Costco or Whole Foods?" Try Dollar Store, sweetheart!

 
Johnny ate like a gentleman, chewed with his mouth closed, and actually wiped his hands on the napkin instead of his pants. Wow, very impressive. They must have him enrolled in charm school!

 
Then there was my son. He sat on a 1/3 of the chair, leaned to the right and gobbled down three chicken nuggets before asking for more. I picked up my notebook and wrote, "Collin SERIOULY needs table manners. Sign him up for Etiquette class soon!" (Maybe we can get a two for one deal in Johnny's class.)

 
Once they were done, two of the boys ran off to play while the other two naturally brought their plates to the sink before heading to the backyard. I am proud to say that mine was one of the latter two.

 
During their light saber fight, they started talking about girls. Apparently, they found out that once they start 6^th grade, they get to invite girls to the school dance. One boy said, "Yuck! Who would want to do that?"

 
My little Romeo, however, said, "I think I would ask Mary."

 
Freddy quickly added, "Oh yeah, Mary is hot!"

 
Excuse me? Hot? Okay, red alert; time to jump in. I walked up to them and acted as casual as possible, "Mary is hot?"

 
Freddy and Collin both replied, each with a mischievous smile, "Oh yes," and giggled.

 
I took a deep breath. Okay, here we go with the moment of truth, "Define hot!"

 
Collin quickly replied, "Hot means she always has her hair up in piggy tails and her hair is clean, not dirty."

 
"That's it?"

 
They both nodded, "That's it."

 
Phew! Crisis averted.

 

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One of the funniest playdates was when Collin invited his best friend Connor for a sleepover. From the second Connor walked in, those two never stopped talking. There was no punctuation in their conversation; it just went on and on and on. All of a sudden it was clear to me why these two get into trouble so often for talking in class. If you think only girls can earn the Chatty Cathy award, you need to hang out with my son and his best friend.

 
About two weeks prior to this playdate, Collin got benched two days in a row for talking in class. His punishment was no Nintendo DS for a year. I know; a year without a video game is like a life sentence to a child. But, hey, I was never a big fan of children playing too many video games so it was a great opportunity to get rid of them, "temporarily."

 
So when Connor was over I heard Collin telling him, "Dude, so in the future, please don't talk to me in class. I can't play with my DS for a year because we were talking."

 
Oh, poor Connor. I hope he didn't think it was his fault.

 
Then Collin added, "If I get benched again, my mom is going to break my legs."

 
Holy crap! I sure hope Connor's parents weren't working for Social Services.

 
And what's with calling each other "dude"?

 

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Every now and then I would mistakenly invite kids whom I was certain would never be invited again… EVER! These manner-less kids would help themselves to the refrigerator and stand there with the door wide open as if they were shopping for shoes. Others would walk around like home inspectors asking every possible question. I wanted to reply with, "None of your damn business," but I had a reputation to keep, so I tried to redirect their little curious minds elsewhere.

 
Some of them would run to me every other minute like some kind of annoying reporter with statements such as:

 
"Collin is not sharing that piece of Lego with me." (Bring your own next time.)

 
"This helicopter is kind of old. Are you getting a new one for Collin?"

 
"Can you take us to the arcade? Your place is boring."

 
"Am I staying for dinner?" (Um…No!)

 
The worst part of these manner-less kids is their bathroom hygiene. I like to think we have a decent toilet bowl - standard size, wide rim, nothing out of the norm. I just can't figure out how these kids miss the bowl altogether. Not only did they drive me nutty, but I was then left with a stinky mess to clean in the bathroom.

 
Let us not forget about the kid who comfortably used the 'S' word as an adjective in every other sentence, and I don't mean "stupid".

 
Those playdates somehow always seemed to be the longest. I would sit and watch the second hand on the clock tick away until it was time for their parent to pick them up. I would make certain the kid was ready for his mom 30 minutes prior to pick-up and run him to the car before the mother even had a chance to stop the engine. I would then smile politely and say, "It's been a pleasure."

 
And don't ever come back again! EVER!

 

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Other than being the annoying spy mom, hosting playdates at home also provides me a break from being Collin's "buddy". Collin once said to me, "Mommy, you know how you always do everything with me and you are always there for me?"



"Yes?"

 
"In a way you are like a big sister I never had," he sweetly added.

 
And if you've ever been a big sister, you know that every sibling needs a break now and then; this is why I am thankful for playdates.

 
So in my own terms, this is my official playdate definition:


A time to give mom a well-deserved break, to spy on her child, witness his true colors, make sure he is fitting in with his peers, and put on an evil grin when I come to the wonderful realization that my son is not the worst of all!

School Fundraiser

School fundraising can get real annoying. There! I said it.

We have been through fundraising in a public school setting as well as a private school setting. Based on our experience, private school was a real bad ordeal. Bluntly put, it was a nightmare.

Public school started the year with Script. Then same as the year before, we purchase wrapping paper and magazines. The good thing is that most public schools do not force you. They would 'like' parents to participate but they don't threat you with "if you don't.." .

 

Catholic private school we attended, however, practiced mandatory donation each school year. The last time I checked in a dictionary I was certain that donations are considered gifts; gifts people give out of their own willingness. This oxymoronic forced donation method likely only exists in this particular school's Wikipedia.

 

First fundraiser happens before school starts and it's called Scrip. If you don't want to purchase Scrip each month, you have the buy-out option. It's either or. Penalty for not purchasing Scrip is to give school the right to raise your tuition to the next level. Did I mention this buy-out fee is close to $300.00 and the school needs your check by the second week of school?

 

I used to go with the buy-out option simply as I preferred NOT to be reminded and ticked off each month on purchasing things I really do not need.

 

Then comes the Fall Festival, also known as the most important fundraiser of the year for supporting the athletic program which parents still need to pay over $100 bucks PER SPORT per year for all 4^th – 8^th graders. Each family is required to contribute 12 hours helping out at the festival (6 hours for single parent family). Take a wild guess what would happen if you don't put in those hours? That's right, your tuition goes up! The booth that makes the most money is always the Cabana where you get to see what parents look like when they are hammered. Some years if you're lucky enough you might bump into an administrative staff who slurs in speech and can barely walk straight.

 

Once the festival is over, Turkey Trot gobbles loudly by your check book. For $25 dollars you sponsor your child to walk around the school parking lot 4 or 5 times. Although it seems to be an optional donation but here is the catch: your child gets to have free dress the very next day if school gets that $25 bucks. In other words, if your child shows up at school wearing uniform the entire school knows you are a cheapskate. This is about as cruel as having children wearing a cone hat and sit at the corner. I do not want my child to go through that humiliation so I wrote the check.

 

I absolutely despite this indirect extortion! All children at a uniformed school would love to have a free dress day but by rewarding in such way you might as well sell 'free dress' passes for 20 dollars each.

Better yet, why don't we sell detention passes for $100 bucks each.

 

My favorite one has to be the international food festival which happens towards the end of the school year. Each family is required to purchase $100 worth of tickets, whether you attend the event or not. For a small family like mine, I am basically paying $50.00 per person, per meal. That's a luxury I don't foresee myself partake in the real life. Want to take another wild guess on what would happen to your tuition if you don't pay the $100 dollars? I took my chance on not sending the $100 dollars during our first year and sure enough a week after the festival I got a call from the school asking for the check.

 

I am not sure if I should also mention that all children who showed up at the international festival get to wear free dress the following Monday.

 

I have to admit that I do get confused every now the then. I thought this was indeed a Catholic private school but why am I keep seeing Chairman Mao's face on each mandatory fundraiser notification?

 

So after all the checks we involuntarily donate to the school each year I later on discovered from one of the teachers that our children's text books have not be updated in the last 11 years. Just want to make sure you read it correctly, I put two '1s' there, not just one. Eleven years!

 

Where did our checks go is still yet a mystery to be solved.

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Don't get me wrong. I am a big supporter for our children to get better education and I will write the check if I know it goes to them and not building a condom machine at the local county jail. Truth be told, I would much rather listen to a mom bitching about her husband not coming home for dinner than to see more fundraiser forms lying around the break room.

 

But the question I've always wanted to know is when did my child become the salesman for his school? If he does not hit the quota no free dress privilege for him. Can't the school just grow up and ask for the needed money and leave my child out of this?

Is it so hard to make a list of everything the school needs, like bridal or baby shower registry, where parents can donate however amount they can? Can't the school just write to Meg Whitman who easily spent over 140 million of dollars for her campaign?

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Maybe all the parents should assemble a fundraiser that pays for the school fundraiser programs. Inspired by this lady I met in the early 90s when making a stopover at the Philippines. She took all the toilet paper in the bathroom and stood by the sink. I had to 'purchase' toilet paper. This lady, however, was pretty flexible because she had no preference in which currency you pay.

We can first scout out on the numbers of restrooms in a particular government office. Let's say we start with City Hall. We can have six kids per restroom to intercept all toilet paper. What about a flea market set up by the State Capitol? I am sure those Politian's won't mind signing up for Scrip. I am sure their homes are big enough to store all the unwanted wrapping papers.

The bottom line is that our children are school students, not school sales people. They should not be responsible for the fact that grown-ups mess up on the budget.

Betty Blue

You might have heard the movie Betty Blue, the 1986 French film played by Beatrice Dalle. The original name was 37°2 le matin in referring to the body temperature of a pregnant woman in the morning.

Betty was a wild and unpredictable woman. Her feisty nature, however, somehow developed into disturbing obsession, belligerence and ferocity. Does that sound familiar? Unfortunately we have many Betty Blue strolling around today's society. Some of them might hold a prestigious career and some not. Some might present themselves in the latest fashion trend whilst some possess 10 plaid shirts in 5 different colors. They are around.

Despite their outlook, all the Betty Blue share one thing is common and one thing only – their mind and soul are controlled by anger.

This anger is chained to both of their feet preventing them from moving forward. This anger traps them within denial and hypnotizes into believing that's their comfort zone, and that's where they belong. You do not need a degree in psychology to know that after a while, this anger takes over one's entire thinking and consequently to senseless and irrational decision making.

I know a Betty, who likely USED to be an ordinary woman, married the man of her dream and had children together. This family is no different to most of the others. Except…

This man of her dream is a nymphomaniac.

Other than being a regular husband and a regular father, he had secretly built another world of his own. He had a group of new friends who known him as a bachelor. He had numerous women in his phone book and to all of them he introduced himself as a single man and to some, a single parent. He would host all these women at his parents' home. The story was his parents are retired and they have a home in Hawaii so they would visit there often. He would woo the women to the room that used to belong to his sister.

He had a blast! People from both worlds adored him, presumably.

Then one day Betty Blue woke up and discovered this other world that she did not belong to. Needless to say she was furious. She was shocked. She was angry. Especially this all happened when she was going through 37°2 le matin with their second child.

Devastating. Heck, I would not know what to do if I were her!

She went through this man of her dream's contact list and wrote to all the women he had intimacy with. She sent out a mass email, forgetting to utilize Bcc feature, calling all of them whores. Well, can you blame her? She was angry.

She then made this man of her dream called, conceivably, each one of them and confessing that he was indeed a married man. It turned out this was no parents' home. It was his own home all along. There was also no sister's bedroom but, get this, his DAUGHTER'S room.

He just made Tiger Wood looking like a bashful rabbit!

Phone call did not fulfill her vengeance. Unfortunately by this time, anger has taken over her mind and drove her to denial. She blamed all the women that this man of her dream had lied to. She refused to believe this man of her dream was the only liar in this revolting soap and she was certain that all women knew he was Mr. Wonderful Family Man but seduced him anyway. So she did what she thought to be the latest kewl trend – stalking these women on the internet and harass them with nasty messages.

Between sad and pathetic, it's a hard call to say which word truly fits Betty Blue. She had forgotten that she has two young children to care for. She had forgotten that one day these two girls will grow up to be young ladies. Well, why should she care? The man of her dream did not care to begin with. After all, how could she trust a man who treats women, including Betty Blue herself, without any deference, to raise their two daughters? But she did.

Betty Blue has also forgotten that she is not the only woman who is going through this type of crisis. She rewarded herself with a beautiful crown with the world 'victim' written across and thinking as long as she wears the crown, people will tolerate her irrational behavior. After all, it's more important to keep the man of her dream next to her. It is just too excruciating to let the others know that she accidentally married a freak, well, I mean a nymphomaniac.

Without a sensible realization, she now spends most of her life time living in the other world once built by the man of her dream. She did not notice that everyone, including the man of her dream, had left the world and she is the only person trapping alone in that non-existing space not knowing how to escape.

Let's hope Betty Blue will one day soon drop the name and start her life new again.




 

Bill

Collin bought two red ear sliders at one of the street fairs in Austin. He named them Bob and Bill after we identified both turtles were male. Collin had a Betta before but he was much younger at the time and I, the mother, ended up changing Betta's water every week. Fortunately we had the Betta for just a bit over 2 years. Collin was sad when we saw Betta swam upside down one morning. We gave Betta a mini ceremony before flushing him down the toilet.

Collin was literally jumping up and down when he saw the man who was selling all the red ear sliders and begged me to buy one for him. I told him it would be his responsibility to take a good care of the turtle. I had him talking to the man to get all the information and tips on ways to take care of the turtle. The man, of course, made it sound so simple. We decided to get a pair so they would keep each other company. Collin got so much attention that day holding two little turtles in his hand. People would just come up to him and compliment on the turtles.

When we got home, I asked Collin to Google further on caring for his turtles. He wrote down some important facts and also found some interesting facts. Collin kept his words and changed water for the turtle on a regular basis. He would take them out of the tank and massage their belly. He loved them dearly. Then came the day we had to leave the country for a month. Collin decided to ask his Godmother to take care of these turtles knowing she would take a great care of them and she did.

Then came the least favorite part of having a pet.

Two days ago we noticed that one of the turtles, Bill, wasn't moving much. Collin went online immediately and learned that red ear sliders do hibernate. The weather was cold so we thought likely Bill was hibernating. But when I picked him up, his shell was soft as a piece of paper and he would not struggle to move away. It does not take a Vet to realize something was wrong. Following direction found on Google, we separate the two turtle. Two days later, after Collin and I came home from the store, I noticed both of Bill's eyes caved in. I looked it up without saying anything to Collin and saw that "if turtle's eyes caved in, it means he is dead.." I went up to Collin, held his hands and told him that there was a possibility that Bill had died. He burst out in tears right away. I then located an Animal Hospital nearby our home and the lady was kind enough to allow us bringing the turtle right away.

2 minutes later doctor walked in with a serious face, apologized to Collin and confirmed his death. Collin buried his face in my arms. It was so heartbreaking. We decided to take Bob in for a check out the next day, just to make sure he did not catch what Bill had.

We used to joke that Bob was a little bully because he would always jump right onto the food. Bob was always way more active than Bill and Bill never really eat much. Little did we know Bill was already sick then.

Collin cried his way home, holding Bill in the little fish tank. He then suggested that we find a box and bury Bill in. He also drew a picture for Bill.

The rest of the evening was hard. Collin burst out in tears every 2 minutes. He could not even concentrate on doing his homework. All I could do was to cuddle him every time he cries. During dinner he looked at me and asked, "Mommy, do you feel sad to see Bill died?" I replied yes. He then added, "You know it's okay for adults to cry, too, Mommy."

I set him on my lap and said, "That is correct, baby. Thank you for saying that. Mommy used to tell myself it's not okay to cry, to show tears, and now that when I am really sad I can't cry. The feeling is really awful and that's why Mommy tells you never hold back on your feelings. If you're mad, you talk about it. If you are sad, cry as much as you like." I wasn't sure if he grasp the meaning behind this seemed to be rather long reply, but he just rested his head on my shoulder and cried some more.

We decided to have a proper funeral for Bill this week.

 

My Day

Worked on a marketing plan last night until I could feel the steam coming out of my brain. I was so frustrated. Finally I decided to turn off the computer and go to sleep. It's pointless to work on something in that state of mind! 

Woke up at 5:15am this morning. Went to the balcony after taking a nice hot shower. At the crack of dawn, the sun is just about to peak out from the east, a very small part of the sky isolated itself from the darkness, was all in red. It was breathtaking and it was inspiring. I took a deep breath and decided no matter what, this was going to be a great day. 

Collin woke up 45 minutes later and told me he had a headache. I felt his forehead and it was not warm. I gave him a tiny little sip of Dr. Pepper as a treat, and somewhat a bribe, so at least he can start his day off right instead of a frowning face. We both had a bagel with cream cheese then headed out the door.

We started yesterday that instead of dropping him off at school, I would drop him off 1 ½ blocks away from school. In that way he knows what is like to walk to school. I think he also likes that independence! I made a U-turn after seeing Collin disappeared at the end of the block and headed home.

I thought I would reply all the emails then head to the treadmill for the mile run.

Nope! It did not go as planned.

The first 15 emails were work related so I just skipped all and went straight to Facebook notifications. Had a few good laughs and I was ready to face the annoying work emails. Little did I know the first one totally dragged my mood down to the bottom of the bottom in less than 5 seconds. This is not right, I thought. But I figure I was already feeling shitty, I might as well finish reading all of them and get it over with. So I read all 15 of them and all I wanted to do was to scream. I wanted to scream out all my frustrations. Right before I was about to click off the email, another Facebook notification came through with words of encouragement! She suggested the Teflon way and to keep my cool.

Teflon it is.

I took out the marketing plan, fully equipped with encouragement and positive thoughts, the phone rang. It was the school.

Collin was having a low grade fever so I put on my shoes and drove to school to pick him up. He looked tired. Nurse lectured me on keeping him home and I did not mind one bit. This is the first school Collin attended that actually has a nurse to nag the parents. As soon as we got home, I sent Collin to bed and I took out the chicken and made homemade chicken soup. That's one of Collin's many comfort foods. Mine, too, especially when the weather is cold.

I got back to the marketing plan and completed about 80% of it before noon. 

So why was I so annoyed?

We all know that Men are from Mars. Women are from Venus. What about stubborn surgeons? Which planet do they come from? Their intelligence level is higher than the sky itself but certain things they just do not get. One practical example of my head is information technology. Sometimes I think it's less painful to be in labor than trying to communicate with these surgeons. They have a completely different way, unique I shall say, digesting information. Someone should come up with Doula for Work. Really! 

Collin, on the other hand, did not sleep a wink. He ended up having 4 big bowls of chicken noodle soup. I took a break and had a bowl of soup, too. You see, I tend to think better when my belly is full. Half bowl down I realized what a brat I had been all morning for being so ungrateful. I am truly blessed to have this opportunity working with surgeons. I am truly blessed that I am working. Period! I am also truly blessed that the current work would never interfere with taking care of Collin. I know so many parents would love to walk in my shoes. 

Once the attitude changed, my day changed, too. Collin and I watched this hilarious video posted by a friend on Facebook of two little girls pretending to be the police women (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtrZd1kMsls&feature=share). 

Check it out if you haven't seen it. I think I am going to start her fan club!

Excuses! Excuses!

I hope excuse is your worst enemy. It is mine.

Over the years I often hear how people are displeased with their job, lives, partners, the way the look, and so forth. When I hear the complaint for the first time I treated as venting. People need to vent and I personally think it's just healthy and important to vent as to use the bathroom regularly.

When I hear the same complaint for the second time I would suggest that we come up with a plan to solve the issue. Hearing the same thing for the third time or more, I call that whining. I don't like to whine and I don't like to listen to people whine either. I have about zero tolerance in this area and as condescending as it may sound, when you whine you are wasting my time. And yours, too.

The most common complaints I hear is about work. I used to vent in that neck of the woods often, too. How can you not, right? Working for someone else is always hard. Very often we feel we work our butt off for someone else's glory and in very few cases you see a decent boss who recognizes the hard work and place a crown on the top of your head. You'd get told off for not able to think fast enough because you can't solve the issues your boss can't solve himself. You'd get told off for thinking too fast because it makes your boss looks like a shit head. If you do lots of overtime you would be your boss' protégé but your coworkers' gossip topic under "ass kisser' category.

But is it always this bad? Not necessarily. I've had a couple jobs where people get along just fine and where my boss became my mentor. Although I am not a religious person but I do strongly follow Matthew 7:7 ""Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you." All you have to do is to seek, ask, and knock - three very simple steps!

So if you are one of the not-liking-my-current-job people, first seek the problem. What it is about your job that you dislike about. Is it your boss? Is it the job itself? Is it the people you are working with? You can stop reading this if your answer is, "I just don't like it." That is what I called an unidentified answer. You need to do some work and come back with a more specific answer. Otherwise, once you identify the issues we can move on to the next step.

Step two is to ask yourself 'why'. Why does this particular issue bother you so much? I urge you to be honest with yourself when identifying the reasons. Don't hold back by thinking "I should not feel this way." No, dear, you have the right to feel however way you feel.

Let me give you an example based on the very last job I held before starting my own business.

The job itself was great. It was fun and challenging but it allowed me to meet so many people. I like working with people. It did require some overtime every now and then but I did not mind especially when my son was on a play date and I was not in a hurry to go home. Most of the time the job was intense that I often forgot it was lunch time already. And of course, most of the time I would eat lunch at my desk while working. None of these bother me a bit.

What bothered me the most was my supervisor! When you have a supervisor who is waiting to be retired, don't expect much support and mentorship from him/her. If you don't know the answer, don't even bother to knock on his/her door. Not likely would you run into a supervisor like this at a start-up company because everyone wants to make sure the company makes money so we can all go home with big fat bonus checks. However, after watching two startups went down the drain, I decided to go with stability and accepted a position within the academia. When you're at a startup company, deadline means deadline. But once you move to a government-like job, deadline means a week from now, or sometimes, a month. My nickname at the academia position was 'fresh meat' because I would always complete the work ahead of the schedule. I did not realize how I was annoying a lot of my colleagues. People did not seem to care because there's always 'tomorrow'. It took me about a year to get used to the non-urgent mode but I am not sure if my colleagues ever got used to me.

So at this particular academia, apparently if you have contributed more than 8 years of your live, they can't fire you. You can literally mess up on most of your work, put your feet up in the office and nap while the others are working their butts off, take a 3-hour lunch break, and there is nothing, I mean, NOTHING, they can do about it. I think I just provided the full description of my former supervisor.

In January, 2010 I wrote in my blog, spitefully, the day I start my own business I shall thank this useless supervisor of mine. I wanted turn all the negatives into a positive motivation. In August 2010 I was at the county office registering my business. By the end of October, 2010 a company I've been assisting with offered me two positions: Co-Founder and Chief Operating Officer. All this moved forward in full speed, fiercely. All I did was ask, seek, then knock. I asked myself what I really want. I then seek the opportunities. Once the opportunity is in front of me, I knock and then grab.

I could, however, hide behind the excuses, too: I am a single parent. I just moved to a new city. I have a young boy to raise. I do not have any family living nearby. I do not have millions of dollars in my bank account. I do not have a babysitter. I have a beat-up laptop.

But I choose not to. My goal was to work with something I truly love and enjoy. My goal was to develop a career and take care of my child at the same time. The word "impossible" was removed from my dictionary.

Bottom line is it is entirely up to you how you want to run your life. You can turn the impossible to possible (Impossible = I'm Possible) or hide behind those excuses forever.

What's going be?

Tip of the Day

What do you do with leftovers?

I spread (and chop if it's needed) them in a pie tray. Mix 3 – 4 eggs with half cup of milk. Pour the mixture over. Bake for 15 minutes and there you have a delicious quiche (or frittata).