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The Pumpkin Text Fail - TheDustyParachute.com

My Pumpkin Text Fail

By now, most of you are familiar with the crazy baby-care instructions that I left my poor (forgiving) in-laws the first time they came to care for our (then) 1 year old daughter.  That post outlined what I imagine was going through their heads as they read my insanely detailed (6 page) note.

This post once again involves my in-laws, but mostly involves me and some poor, confused shop owner in Weatherford, Texas. It outlines what I know was going through my head as I had a lengthy (about 2 hour) text conversation with someone I thought was my father-in-law.
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Care Instructions for a 1 Year Old (Interpreted by the Grandparents)

I was just digging through some old photo albums today and this folded up note fell out.  It’s a six page list of ‘guidelines and explanations’ (my own obnoxious words) that I wrote up for my mother and father-in-law when they offered to care for our daughter so that I could take a once-in-a-lifetime ten-day trip to Italy with my mom.

This was eight years ago.  My daughter had just turned one and we had just moved into a new house the week before.  There were boxes everywhere and the normal craziness of living with a one year old.  Even with all that, my in-laws were kind enough to volunteer to fly from Arizona to Seattle to watch her so that my mom and I could go on a food and wine tour across Italy.  I am still grateful that they gave us this gift of their time and now I am even more grateful that they didn’t either bolt for the door or laugh in my face when they saw what follows.
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LEGO Friends Want Short Sassy Hair - TheDustyParachute.com

LEGO Friends Want Short, Sassy Hair

Last spring I got a big surprise when I took my daughter to get her hair cut. She had been talking about wanting to go shorter and with the “it’s hair, it grows back” mentality, we chatted with the hair stylist about lightening things up for the hot Texas summer.

As I was sitting in the lobby trying to keep my 4 year old from hoarding all of the good trains at the train table, I kept hearing her little voice in the distance saying “Nope, shorter.” When she came walking around the corner to grab her post-haircut lollipop, I barely recognized her.

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I’m an Enigma Wrapped in a Mystery, Wrapped in Comfortable Mom Pants

The first time I took a Myers-Briggs test was at my first job, almost 20 years ago.  I was 23 years old, working 80+ hours a week as an Assistant Media Planner at a big ad agency.  Our Media Director had just returned from some management training session and was very enthusiastic about us all gaining a better of understanding of how to work with each other based on our personality types.

This was going to be interesting.

My direct manager was a professional/executive type by day, but at night he would transform full goth, put on vampire teeth and go to rave bars, often coming in the next morning with traces of eyeliner and drinking near-lethal amounts of coffee to survive the rest of the day.
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My parachute is dusty, and so is my ‘Parachute’ book.

IMG_5007You know that my job search procrastination has reached a special level when I’m willing to go out and start cleaning the garage.  And you know the world is trying to guide you back to your job search when among the piles, you find a dusty copy of “What Color Is Your Parachute?”

I immediately note two things about the book: 1) It has clearly never been opened and 2) It’s the 2004 edition.  I try to recall when and why I acquired this book.  By 2004 I was already pregnant and I quit my job in 2005 with no intentions of working again for at least 4 years.  I can only assume that I bought it around my 3rd month of being a stay-at-home mom, when I was still building Excel worksheets to analyze feeding times, duration and volume consumed, (oh yes I did). Without a doubt, not working was a much bigger shock to my system than that tiny baby was and I have a feeling that even then, somewhere in my sleep deprived haze, I was anxious to start figuring out what my post-kid phase would be.
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Last Day of Preschool = Last Day of Excuses - TheDustyParachute.com

Last Day of Preschool = Last Day of Excuses

Today is my 4 year old son’s last day at preschool. The 2 bottles of champagne are thank you gifts for his teachers…The bourbon is for me.

Last Day of Preschool - Last Day of Excuses - TheDustyParachute.com

I don’t need a drink because he’s done with school. I need a drink because in 10 days he will be starting ‘real’, as in 6 hours a day/5 days a week, school and after almost a decade out of the work force, it’s time for me to get serious about thinking about what I want to do next.
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