90/10 Rule

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Holy Moly it’s 2012!  Happy New Year, friends!

We’re all ready to put our best foot forward into this new year.  We are full of hope,  energy, and goals. Right? RIGHT!?!?!

Me neither.

But before I drag myself kicking and screaming into creating resolutions (and I will), I need to first explain my 90/10 rule.

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The 90/10 Rule:

I’ve got 90% of my life well-handled.

The other 10% is atrociously mis-managed.

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When creating my resolutions, I won’t have to address the 90% of my life that’s going well. Instead, I’ll just have to attach the 10% of my life that is so bad, I’m embarrassed to share it with you.

To illustrate this point, I ask you to bear with me as I summarize the 90% with as little smugness as possible.  Never fear, however, the 10% will more than make up for any of my strengths.

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Things I Don’t Suck At


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My Marriage

We are great partners.  Where I falter, he picks up the slack.  He doesn’t falter much but when he does I try to do the same.

We are nice to each other.  But when we aren’t, we apologize.

We are each other’s biggest fans.

We understand each other’s obsession with our respective iPhones.

It’s true love.

xxx

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My Career

I love what I do because I’m naturally pretty good at it.  I’m not saving the world or curing a disease; I’m a project manager for a large financial institution. (More on being a project manager later this week.  I’m going to dork out on you in new and special ways.  Stay tuned.)

Being a PM lends itself to my, ahem, controlling nature.  I’m actually REWARDED for micro-managing details.  It’s a beautiful thing.

The last few months have presented new, exciting, challenging opportunities at work and I’m proud of the way I’ve risen to the occasion.

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My work-life balance

In 2011 I made a decision that I was sure would negatively impact my career trajectory- I scaled back my hours and committed to being home for Peanut when she got off the bus from Kindergarten.

Instead of being mommy tracked, however, I was afforded with even more opportunity at work (see above) AND I was able to be at home in the afternoons, without having a laptop humming next to me.  I feel like I’m living in a dream.

 

 

I could go on but who really wants to read about how great things are going for someone else?  

(Unless you are my dad.  Hi Dad!)

No, the atrocious 10% is far more interesting, I promise.  So what, pray tell, does a successful working mother mis-manage to the point of public humiliation?

 

Things That Could Land Me On Reality TV

The Bedroom

Why yes, that IS a tv-dinner-tray-table being used as a nightstand, covered by a pillow case.  Because in the 11+ years we’ve been together, B and I have never purchased furniture for our master bedroom.  Not a bed, not dressers, not a night stand.

Every piece of furniture we own in our bedroom has come from Salvation Army (dressers), or was a gift (tv cabinet), or I made myself (curtains, headboard), or has been repurposed (tray-table-as-nightstand).

Oprah says that your home should rise up to meet you.  I’m not sure our bedroom quite fits that bill.

 

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Meal Time

Our family currently has widely varying nutritional needs.  My food plan includes zero flour or sugar (read here to find out why).  B recently went vegan.  And while Pumpkin will literally eat anything (including dog food), Peanut would prefer to survive on corn dogs alone.

It has become normal over the last year to prepare at least 3 different meals for each dinner time.  One for me (which I often share with Pumpkin), one for B, and one for Peanut.  Somehow in the process of getting the parents healthy, we’ve managed to downgrade the kids’ food to shameful, over-processed, flash-frozen-then-reheated foods.

And in case you are wondering, organic corn dogs are no less gross and no more nutritious than regular ones.  Trust us, we know.

 

Peanut’s room

I shared about how we decorated Peanut’s room back in the Spring over at my girl Tina’s blog, Life Without Pink.

What I didn’t mention is that Peanut is nearly six.  And still sleeping in her toddler bed.

We moved a double bed into her room months ago, which she refuses to sleep in because it’s too big.  So her room is now crowded with two beds.  One which is way too big, and one that is barely long enough to contain her.

What we’ve got here is a classic Goldilocks situation.

Peanut sees nothing wrong with this scenario but I know that we are just one play-date-gone-wrong away from a social disaster.

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 The dog

Marigold is the sweetest dog ever.  She greets you with a full body wag and her version of a smile every time you walk in the door.  Even if you just went to check the mail.

But 10% of the time this dog is a total lunatic.

Remember the $2000 box of raisins?  (I could stop right here, but allow me to go on…)

Marigold barks NON STOP when anyone walks by.  I can’t tell you how many nap times have been spoiled by a single bark.

Even worse, she will knock over anyone and anything in her way to get to a house guest first.  She only wants to be pet, of course, but I doubt the UPS man believes that when he sees a 75 pound dog running full speed for him.

It takes her about 15 minutes to calm down after a guest arrives, during which time she will cover the guest in dog hair, slobber, and co-dependent begging to be pet.

Some people find this adorable.  But I’m pretty sure they are lying.

 

The Craft Room

I swore  that I would never, ever share a picture of this room on the blog.  But if I don’t publicly shame myself, I may never clean it up.

We use this room as a home office for my husband and as the place that crafts go to die craft room.

Clearly, I’m doing my part to keep my side clean.

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The van

I’m sparing you a picture on this one.  You’re welcome.

In this post, I shared with you how cluttered I’ll let my minivan get before cleaning it.  (I’m not proud.)  That post was written back in April.  You’d think I would have learned my lesson by now, right?

Wrong.

I ran to my nearest car wash in a panic mere hours before my family showed up for Christmas.  I paid a pretty penny to have a team of folks vacuum, dust, and scrub the inside of my car.  (I could care less about the exterior.)

About half way through, I looked out the window and saw a man pull an unidentifiable (but very old) piece of food out from under the 2-year-old’s car seat.

And he gagged.

HE GAGGED.

Need I say more?

 

Later this week, when I attempt to create a list of resolutions for 2012, I’ll be attacking by 10%.

Hopefully without gagging.

lovelinkin.com

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 Buffet credit: Image: healingdream / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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