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Monthly Archives: August 2014

some eI’ve been in marketing for the last seven years. Last month, I started a new job as a marketing director for a beauty company.

A good portion of our revenue comes from business to business. Because of that, we have plenty of affiliate training material that we work with.

I have been working on a storyboard for a whiteboard animation that would be used in both our affiliate training and our social media marketing (lots of buzz words. Stay with me.)

Today, I finalized a deal with a vendor to create the whiteboard animation. We have been discussing the details via email for the last week or so. Today, I sent him our final proposal and submitted payment through his site. I then sent an email confirming payment and that he understood what I was expecting from him.

This was the response I got. From a professional. That I do not know. That I’ve never worked with before:

“Gotcha covered girlie! I’ll be in touch””

Um, excuse me?

To say that I’m irritated doesn’t reflect my anger. I apologize to The Husband, because I know I’ll fixate on this for days. If I wasn’t on a deadline, and out of the office tomorrow, I would have stopped payment then and there.

You can scream “gender equality in the workplace” all you want, but this is what it’s like for professional women in 2014. A Bachelor’s degree and seven years of experience and I’m still referred to as “girlie.”

If this first project turns out well, I have a substantial budget to go ahead and create more. Needless to say, I will not be working with this “boi” in the future.

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The Husband and I were lucky. Before the little lady was born, we pretty much had the whole parenting thing figured out. We knew just where we stood on certain platforms, and, luckily, we had near identical parenting philosophies.

For instance, we knew that we didn’t want to give Amelia a pacifier/binky. While it’s fine for an infant, we both cringe when we see toddlers running around with one in their mouth.

We knew that we would not be co-sleepers. For starters, I’m super paranoid about everything. I was positive I’d smoosh her in my sleep and she’d be dead before we had a toddler running around who didn’t need a binky in her mouth.

We knew that parenting responsibilities would be split 50/50. Being the mom doesn’t mean that every problem should be automatically defaulted to me.

We were only going to give her medication when it was *absolutely* necessary.

Limited screen time. What business does an infant have watching tv?

Then Amelia was born.

And we were going on three days of no sleep. And she was crying. And we had a bunch of binkies from the baby shower. So we’d try it, just that once. Six months later:

"Gurl, I knooooow you're not trying to take away my binkbink and turn off my programs."

“Gurl, I knooooow you’re not trying to take away my binkbink and turn off my programs.”

Amelia goes to sleep every night in her crib. But guess what. Sometimes, she wakes up at 4 am. A sure-fire way to keep her awake? Take her downstairs or let her fool around in her crib. A sure-fire way to ensure she falls back to sleep in minutes, thus allowing us to get a couple extra hours of shut eye? Bring her in our bed and let her cozy up on my chest.

WE want to split parenting responsibilities 50/50. But, it turns out that Amelia didn’t get the memo, because, guess what. While she loooooooves her da, I’m Mom. She’s having trouble falling asleep? Only Mom can rock her. She’s grouchy she’s stuck in the car seat? Mom better reach back and hold her hand for a minute. She wakes up in the middle of the night? Well, if we want to have a midnight crinkle toy party (sounds filthy; is actually very innocent), dad is her man. But if we DON’T want her to get hyped up and we DO need her to go back to sleep? Better bring in mama. She’s not feeling well or she’s teething? Hope Mom doesn’t have plans for the next bajillion hours, because Amelia needs to be cuddled, played with and attended to and only the person who owns her previous place of residence will do.

Oh and speaking of medicine? Turns out that babies are hurting all the time. I suppose that’s what happens when teeth are slowly, slooooowlllyyy trying to rip apart your gums and make an appearance. So am I going to let my kid be in pain so I can stand on my high horse and not medicate her? Nope. Grab the Tylenol.

And in regards to screen time – Our daughter is IN LOVE with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. If MMCH was a person, she’d marry it. (Boy or girl – in the state of NY, that’s legal. And we tell her we’ll be fine either way.) Also, this picture is a pretty solid indicator of what she does whenever she sees a phone near her.

amelia phone

So, turns out you can read all the books do all the planning and committing to philosophies that you’d like, but when it’s 4 in the morning and you’ve already been up twice AND you have a meeting at 9 am, you’re popping in that binky and bringing the kid into your room.