sarahviola.org » Working

Lost

sarahviola — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 15:55:27 +0000

Things missing in recent weeks:

.: Ralph Lauren sunglasses

.: My mind

.: One hundred dollar bill

.: Single white gold earring

.: My son’s sleep rhythm

.: Car keys

.: Motivation for physical activity

All items are still at large. I have looked everywhere for everything, house-cleaning and laundry-sorting included. I would gladly sacrifice my earring to the shower-drain gods in exchange for the cash and car keys.

Is this the universe’s way of telling me that I have too much on my plate? I’m not a lose-things kind of person. God help me.

Slowly

sarahviola — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 04:41:36 +0000

Lately I’ve felt so behind the ball and under the gun, trying to balance motherhood with work-at-home motherhood. It’s hard not to feel like every moment not spent kissing or snuggling or nurturing or working or promoting is a moment wasted. I’m missing things. I have mourned, more than once, all of the beauty that I’m missing in the all of the small, everyday things. I’m spinning plates.

It’s getting easier. I’ll get there, and I will be so full of joy and gratitude when I do, for being able to have this life and this time and all of these moments with my boy.

When it Rains, it Pours

sarahviola — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 04:58:49 +0000

Oh, this week. It’s been exhausting, all kinds of exhausting, and I thought it would never end. I keep trying to write this post, but can’t seem to finish it.

Last Tuesday I quit my job. I don’t know what to say about that. It’s been a long time coming, I guess. I had been with the company for almost eight years. Eight years of terrifying lows, dizzying highs, and creamy middles. This break-up feels something like a divorce, punctuated with the hurried cleaning off of a desk and filling of a box. I hate, hate the way it ended, but a good part of me feels like this is the beginning of the rest of my life. It stings now, and feels terribly irresponsible, but I know that this will be a good thing. The right decision. Maybe because, for now at least, I’m home with my sweet baby?

I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’ll have to do something. Freelance, contract, full-time, oh my. I am loving working with my ladies at ruby & roja design and One2One Network, and I’m excited about the potential of those opportunities. For now, I’m just going to hold Asher tight and sniff his head every couple minutes.

Thursday I left on a jet plane for Nashville, to join my wimmins at BlissDom for a long weekend of blogging, bonding and blisstinis.

Friday night I was sitting in The Pink Slip lounge when I looked down to see that I had missed a call from my dad. He knew where I was and what I was doing, so I excused myself to call him back. He was calling with bad news, news that could have waited until I returned home on Sunday if my family wasn’t so damn wired. There was a death, a sad, unexpected tragedy that he was afraid I’d learn about online if he wasn’t able to tell me first. Mike, thirty three year old Mike, husband to my cousin Kendra and father to amazing seven year old Hannah, died from complications of a back surgery. I don’t even have the right words to express how heartbreaking this loss is. Mike was an amazing father, giant like a teddy bear, quiet and strong, deliberate with his words with a gentle, easy sense of humor. Almost four years ago we were vacationing in Florida together, lounging in the pool, when Kendra, in Mike’s lap, said, “Hey Sarah! Look at Mike! It looks like he’s wearing a sweater!” He just smiled that big silent smile, shrugged and rolled his eyes, never relaxing his arms around her.

The funeral was Wednesday. After a weekend of unnaturally warm Chicago sunshine in February, the sky opened up today and it poured for hours. Like Toni said, “even the sky was crying.” I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that he’s gone.

Blissdom was fantastic. I wish I could have enjoyed it more, but with my mind in another place and Asher’s onset of the BlissFlu, it was just a struggle. I missed most of the sessions, hanging out in our room with an unhappy baby, and I can’t deny that it was hard to put on a smile and network. So if we met and I was a flake, this is probably why. Let’s do it again in July at BlogHer, hm? It’ll be better, and I’ll be cooler, I promise.

The Unveiling

sarahviola — Thu, 22 Jan 2009 16:44:30 +0000

I’ve been back in my office for almost two weeks now after a four-month leave of absence. I’m a Designer. A typeface addicted, color theory curious, design history loving, visual communications problem-solving designer. In the super-competitive creative industry, my biggest fear is losing relevance, losing inspiration, losing trust in myself. I thought it was already gone. I never knew that taking four months off to spend with my son would be so good for me

For the past three-ish years, I’ve been more active in a leadership role than in a creative role—which is so rewarding, don’t get me wrong, but not in the same way. Before that, I’d always put my whole heart into my work; building my portfolio, staying inspired, reading, participating, sharing… But lately, it’s been more important for me to put my heart into the people than into my creative work. But I know that at my core, I’m a designer first, a leader second. This is where my passion is.

I should have kept working, kept challenging myself, in my free time for my own sanity. But free time? Wha? Even before I had a baby, by the time I got home from my ten-hour day, the last thing I wanted to do was go back to work after dinner. I was getting married, then I was a newlywed with a new home, then I was pregnant, then I was trying to sell our home… I was so burned out and just exhausted.

And so full of excuses.

Motherhood has given me a real ass-kicking, just in reminding me that I have to let some things go. I can’t be a good mother, a good wife, a good daughter and friend and designer andwriterandhousekeeperandcookandOHMYGOD. I needed to be willing to just let it go. And it’s made me a better person, I think. A better person who sometimes lets people down and has a really messy house and two metric tons of dirty laundry, but still. Better. And more free to do the things that my Type-A personality wouldn’t allow me to do before. I didn’t know how much I needed to be creating, needed to be pushing myself, but I do because it’s good for my soul. I’m trying to take care of myself, make me the best, most emotionally and physically healthy person I can be. This is my resolution.

One month into my marathon maternity leave, I started designing again. Nothing too groundbreaking; a couple logos for friends, a few sarahviola.org headers for myself, an invitation. But DAMN did it feel good to be working again. I mean real, inspired design, not micromanaged putthishere and makethatthiscolor and rotatethisinthatdirection and usethisfont. Design for people who trust me.

Design like this.

It’s been so much fun and so satisfying. I didn’t know if I’d get that back. But I did.

* We’re still working through still a few bugs in Safari! Eeep!

One Down

sarahviola — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 05:22:21 +0000

Well, it’s over. I survived. He, of course, was amazingly great all day.

All of your comments really, truly helped me get through it. There were so many different stories, and SO MUCH SUPPORT. I read every single one when I took breaks to pump. (This is my next, most immediate hurdle: my milk supply can’t keep up like this! GO GO GADGET FENUGREEK)

The support made the difference, I felt so much love today. I started getting text messages and emails before the sun came up, and they were still coming as I was on my way to pick up my sweet boy. Thank you so, so much.

My twelve-week maternity leave should have officially ended the first week in December. I found out the Monday before Thanksgiving that I was going to have an extra four weeks (economic crisis, what?) tacked on to my FMLA. I made an arrangement with my boss to return to work slowly, by working from home for a week. I found out Friday (!) that due to a change in circumstances, today was going to be my first day back to work, in the office. Without the working from home part.

A girly friend was going to watch Asher every day when I did go back (WHENEVER THAT ENDED UP BEING), but she had her own change in circumstances last week and isn’t available because she’s moving to the city. Soon. I have babysitting taken care of for the next week, but come next Tuesday I need to have something in place.

So here I am. I wasn’t prepared for today at all. Not emotionally, not logistically. You’d think I would have been, since I had so much time to prepare. But no.

And still, it’s ok. We’ll be ok.

Growing Pains

sarahviola — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 03:44:14 +0000

Our clothes are laid out for the morning. His bags are packed, one with diapers and an extra outfit, the other with pumped breastmilk, bottles and a favorite toy. My heart already hurts, because tomorrow, I’m going back to work.

I always planned on returning to work after a respectable maternity leave. Even when I found out that I was pregnant, it was just part of our plan: after our son was born, I’d stay home with him for twelve weeks, and then I’d go back to my job while he went to daycare. I know what you’re saying: I knew she wouldn’t want to go back to work, I knew she wouldn’t want to leave her baby. And I would answer: But I’m not like you.

I love what I do, and I’ve spent many years learning how to do it well. I eat, sleep and breathe design. I knew that I would be bored at home all day, every day. That I would want to go back to work, that I’d reach a point a couple months after he was born where I would really miss art direction, miss the urgency of deadlines, miss interacting with other adults.

And I do.

But nowhere near as much as I already miss my baby knowing that tomorrow, someone else is going to be feeding him, picking him up when he cries, rocking him to sleep, and receiving his smiles.

We’ve never been apart for more than a few hours; tomorrow it will be ten hours before I can hold him in my arms and kiss his soft skin. I can’t imagine driving away from him. I know that I’ll be coming back to him at the end of the day; but will he know that? Will he miss me as much as I miss him?

I don’t know how to do this and be ok. Yet, here I am. It just doesn’t feel right.

Protected: Then again, this could all just be PMS

sarahviola — Wed, 06 Jun 2007 02:00:51 +0000

Sourpuss

sarahviola — Thu, 24 May 2007 04:26:08 +0000

.: This is my favorite Dilbert ever; it always makes me feel better.

This morning, as I was trying to get out the door, just about everything that could have gone wrong went wrong.

I bribed my department into starting an hour early by promising them McD’s breakfast this morning . We were all going to come in at 8, eat, and hit it. I was ready to walk out the door on time at 7:30, but couldn’t find my belt. Because I didn’t want to fight the plumber-look all day and I only have one belt, I had to tear shit up looking for it. (Found it.) Then the cat yakked on the carpet, and I had the privilege of cleaning that up. Then when I did get out the door, I realized I didn’t have any cash and would have to stop for that too. Except… (wait for it) …I left my debit card on the coffee table. Then I had to grab stuff for our lunches (which ended up being Hot Pockets, jello, pistachios, applesauce, dried fruit and a turkey-and-stuffing-freezer-dinner) before running out the door a third time. I was 30 minutes late. I hate being late.

I knew that it couldn’t possibly get any worse, so I was going to have a great day. Right? How could it get any worse?

Then, my BFF called to tell me that her gramps, just diagnosed with lung cancer this week, had a seizure and ‘coded’ earlier in the morning. Wow. So, I’m an asshole. He’s stable now, thank God.

My husband’s response to my email, wherein I declare myself a horrible person for saying the day couldn’t get any worse:

When you said that the day couldn’t get any worse, you were referring only to the specific context of being unprepared to meet the day in the way that you would have liked.

In the existential sense, it can always be worse. That goes without saying and is generally omitted when we refer colloquially to the course of our lives.

So, you’re off the hook, basically.

This is only one of the reasons why my husband is perfect. Tonight when I got home (at the end of a day that got increasingly worse), he hugged me, parked me in front of my computer, put a popsicle in my hand, and hooked my iPod into the Bose stereo where now I’m listening to Jose Gonzales. I’m so lucky.

And, tomorrow will be better.

Now Craving

sarahviola — Fri, 18 May 2007 17:54:59 +0000

.: Nachos

.: Spa Pedicure

.: Sunshine

This weekend can’t come soon enough.

Blurg

sarahviola — Thu, 10 May 2007 15:29:57 +0000

On the way to work this morning, I realized that I only put eyeliner on my left eye. Black eyeliner. Awesome. I look like Courtney Love.