Twas My Night Before Christmas Eve

After three hours of sleep and countless hours of tossing and turning all week, I woke up surprisingly chipper.  I stopped to grab a coffee, paying special attention to wish the gas station attendant a very Merry Christmas.  Alanis Morrisette's "All I Really Want" was playing on the radio, and I began to reminisce of my days of youth.  I must have listened to her jagged little pill through my entire sophomore year of high school.  I thought to myself, "what the hell does she have to be so bitter about anyway?"  This shocked me...as I tend to lean more towards the bitter side of reality most days.  It had occurred to me, that I have absolutely no reason to feel bitter these days.  That we as humans are born unto a selfish race; most days a challenge to not find something attractive or desireable knowing it is completely out of reach.

Are there things that I want?  Indeed there are a plenty.  I look around and see all that I have and find no excuse to not be satisfied with it.  There is nothing that I need today.  I am thirty.  I have a house, a car, a great job, a loving and supportive family, a beautiful healthy child, and friends that would walk over coals to come to my rescue if need be.  All things I have acquired through my life, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, through better or for poor.  At any given time, I could lose any one of these things; I am thankful for today.
 
Tomorrow, I will watch my son eagerly tear open every present under the tree.  This evening, he said to me, "Mama, aren't you so excited that Santa is coming and he is going to bring us all both presents?"  I said, "Well, Santa brings presents to boys and girls, he doesn't bring them to old people.  My present is to see how happy you are when you open them."  I could see his mind racing, contemplating what I had said, and wondering how that could compare.  He said, "Well, you can help me open mine." 

All day, I haven't quite been able to pinpoint where this sudden jolt of happiness had come from.  At this moment, it finally dawned on me.  I briefly recalled Christmas mornings as a child, running into my parents' bedroom to wake them.  I never once thought of going to the tree and looking at the gifts first.  Instinctly, I ran straight to where my Mom was, and woke her...so that she could be there with me.  All the commotion, all the holly-balooz and bustling of that season; and like auto-pilot, there I was...with my parents...and my sister...every Christmas morning. 

I am more excited on this day than I ever was as a child.  I am so happy and fortunate to be in a position to be able to provide for my son, all year round...and especially...provide him all of these extra things on Christmas.  People always say, "Christmas is for the kids" and today I beg to differ.  I feel like it is Christmas morning all over again, only this time, it is magnifide by all of the people, things, and accomplishments that I've made in my life over the last twenty something years.  My biggest accomplishment being my son.

Jack, Christmas morning, 2008

You People are all So Selfless:

My friend Melanie set aside a special gift for me and asked me to open it tomorrow morning with Jack, so that I would have something to open.

My Mom had me over earlier this evening, and let Jack and I taste test the brissoulini and lasagna for tomorrow's feast - ahead of everyone else - so I wouldn't have to cook dinner tonight.

My Sister ran around like a chicken with her head cut off to find the last gift on my list for Jack - without the time to do it myself, and helped me with a few other things like wrapping, because that's "F-ing Teamwork!"

My friend Greg ignored my "I only need to get a few things" and accompanied me on a two hour grocery shopping trip, in a blizzard - dropping me off at the door, carrying the bags in, and scraping the car several times in the process.

My friend Brian had a package waiting for me on my porch with the most beautiful pictures I have ever seen, and some media of which I cannot wait to find the time to give my undivided attention.

S G...thanks for eluding that you care, because I know how hard that is sometimes :)

To all of you people in my life:  Thank you for thinking of me and helping me through some of the best and worst times of my life.  It ain't easy doing it alone...and today, I've realized that I'm not...and I haven't been.  I am so lucky - no gift could compare.  My son is fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends who will help teach him the same...that no gift compares to a simple happiness.

Merry Christmas to All and to All a Good Night!

Who Am I and What am I Doing Here?

This post would best be digested while listening to "Henry Nearly Killed Me, it's a Shame" - Ray Lamontagne


Henry Nearly Killed Me






My name is Antonina, but everyone calls me Nina.  I was named after my Nana...

I have a 4 year old son named Jack, named after my grandfather...

I'm thirty years old.  I was born and raised in the suburbs of Detroit.  I work in the defense industry.  I've got a BBA, specializing in Human Resource Management.  My son and I are raising a tadpole, named Tad.  My family has bound me with multiple creative abilities and interests; therefore I like a lot of things, and cannot devote myself to pursue any one interest.  I do have a passion for writing.  These days I find myself wanting everything life has to offer, but I'm limited to spending most of my time at work.  I enjoy what I do, but is it really for me, or is it just something I pushed myself through for an earnest paycheck?  As my ex-husband once said, "...you are like a hippee, and I'm like a college prep..."  This was his justification as to just how incompatible we were - but really? (he is realizing now just how lame that sounded.  Bet). 

So, yes...I do hold unconventional views.  I think outside the box.  I sing.  I play guitar.  I have a rawnchy and twisted sense of humor at times.  I enjoy my personal time just a little too much.  All of these things fall outside the picturesque virtue of a corporate America.  But!  I am passionate about what I do.  I'm passionate because I'm good at it.  If I could poop regularly, I'd be passionate about that too.  I would bet there are a lot of people standing in these three inch heels (deduct the ladies that give me the death look for wearing them to work).  Its a sad state of affairs when one realizes they devote more time to work, more time responding to others ineptitude, than they devote to their children, family, hobbies, or livelihood.

I loathe mornings...especially those that force my waking.

I loathe people absent of ambition.

I loathe inequality in the workforce.

I love my family.

I love my friends.

I love the prospect of change and new beginnings. 

Why am I here?

I started this blog over two years ago, but my lack of devotion and direction landed me two followers and months upon months of silence.  If you are one of my two previous followers, you will see I've made some changes.  Personally, I've made some changes too.  I intend to use this blog to share some tragic, yet humorous experiences.  I'd like to share my humble opinion on workplace topics of interest.  I would also like to use it as my personal therapist, so if you happen to leave a comment, be sure it isn't one that will send me reeling off the nearest overpass.  Like many of you, I find solace in humoring myself at another's expense.  I will share these with you as well, on special occassions like holidays and fiestas.


Through writing, I hope to get to the bottom of that purpose, or at least narrow it down to one broad topic.


For those of you that have played active roles in my misery, I will spare you your indecencies being made public and provide you a fictitious name of my choosing.  I can assure you, it will be one that suits you perfectly*.


I invite you to comment on my blog with any experiences you would like to share, relevant to the subject topic of each post.  I would accept unrelated comments as well, if thats what moves you.




*Disclaimer:  The fictitious name you are provided will likely be offensive, and cannot be exchanged or returned on or after the date a post is published.