Leaving work Post Partum

Originally published on 7-24-13

Before graduating high school I was an honors student, played varsity golf and was a drum major of a 300 person marching band. When I graduated at 17 years old, I ranked 5th out of 600. After high school I attended UT Business School and clipped through that in 3 years, only to graduate at 20 years old.  Immediately after UT I enrolled in graduate school at the University of Houston where I worked full time and took a full course load. After two years in graduate school I graduated with a 4.0 and got hired onto my then dream job, a manager at Eddie V’s Edgewater Grille in downtown Austin. In 2006 Eddie V’s was the sexiest place in town.  The restaurant was filled with money, power, fame and beauty to boot. I was having my cake and eating it too. At 25 my family hired me full time to help run their million dollar business, Holiday Wine and Liquor. I attended community events, filmed commercials, conducted wine tastings, created team culture and built our brand. After four years with Holiday, I was hired in 2011 to be General Manager of Bar Operations at ACL-Live in downtown Austin. I was back in Austin and working at the hippest place in town. Mariah Carey told me to make it happen, and I did.

Well, a month ago I let ACL and all the cache that went with it, go. I left for two reasons. The first was to create a better environment for my relationship and future family. The second was to focus on Anna and see my dreams of writing and coaching come true.

But, seven days after I left ACL, it hit like an anvil, I was making less money and I had turned in all my street cred. Money equals power, right? Or does money equal freedom? Or does working at a cool place equal power and freedom? Whatever money and job status equals, I started to feel a little less than. I felt like a financial burden to my partner and it seemed the only way to rectify this was to work really hard at making our house perfect. 

On the 8th day, I woke up at 7:45 and made the bed by 8am. I had never made the bed so early. By noon, I had washed dishes, rearranged the living room furniture, took out the trash and recycling, made iced tea, and thanked my boyfriend 78 times for reasons known and unknown. I kept thinking, “Oh, what a nice man to take me in with all my student loan debt, I’d better be extra appreciative today, he is the breadwinner after all!” I was thanking him at the rate that Pippen thanked Jordan. I was thanking him like Katie Holmes and Nicole Kidman thanked Tom Cruise.  I couldn’t stop thinking how disrespectful it would be to say, “You bring home the bacon and don’t forget to cook in for breakfast too!”

Maybe it was the Mexican servitude in me and maybe it was all those years of Catholic guilt indoctrination, but it was there and it was loud.

The fact that I was not contributing as much money to the family bank account grabbed a hold of me in a way I didn’t think it would. But, like the sun rises every morning, so too did God send me a teacher.

In the few weeks after my mind had been spinning, Guapo and I sat down with friends for dinner. There were three couples, and we sat divided at the table, three men and three women. Conversation got rolling and I had the patience to wait until our entrees to do what I do best, spill my beans.

I detailed my latest life developments which included: leaving ACL, making less money, feeling overloaded with domestic duties and feeling a little less than. I described to these ladies who are wonderful mothers and strong women, how I had been unsettled and how I was trying to get my sea legs for being what I have coined a ‘house person’ (since I’m not a Mom yet), someone who largely works from home and tends to house hold duties.

Elizabeth, a mom of three, looked at me and said, “Girl, when I left my job, it took me a year and a half to adjust!”  She said, “Even though I knew it was the right decision for my family, I felt less than because I no longer had a job that people were in awe of.”  Elizabeth continued with, “It took some real effort not to say, I’m just a stay at home mom. When the babies cried, I felt the need to jump out of bed and not inconvenience my husband who works long days.”

Vanessa, a mom of two, said, “Oh yes, I totally understand. At first you’ll feel the need to always have the dishwasher empty and have elaborate dinners cooked.”  She too had a really cool job where she had more street cred than she could ask for. Vanessa also opened up and told me about the first time she went shopping after she became a stay at home mom. She said she paused out of guilt before buying a $50 bra, because maybe it wasn’t really communal money. Thankfully, Vanessa didn’t let the conversation end before telling me that there was a time she apologized to her husband for not having the dishes cleaned and he replied with, “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your job.” Surprised, Vanessa asked, “It’s not?” And she grabbed my hand and looked at me and said, “It’s not.” I felt relief sinking in.

There’s a lot to be said for women who support women. They could have easily brushed aside my comments, but they didn’t. They listened and empathized and responded. They held my hand, told me they knew exactly how I felt and sent me on my way. I am very grateful for them.

On the drive home after dinner, because I just had to have it all figured out before we were in the driveway I asked Guapo “What is my job now that I have so much free time?”  He took a second and said, “Your job is to be kind and thoughtful and fulfilled, without those things our world doesn’t work.” He said, “You took a leap of faith on us, and I honor that. You giving up a job where you work nights and odd hours enhances our lives, and for that I’m grateful.” It finally started sinking in that I in fact was not a financial burden and that my increased presence in our lives was valued on time alone.

We parked the car, walked inside our home and I sat at the kitchen table while I watched Guapo buzz around the house. He fed the dogs and changed the slip covers on the sofa cushions and I told my Catholic guilt to hit the road.

The next day I reconciled that all my go getter accomplishments were still there and that “I” the person who did all those things didn’t vanish, I just decided to take another route. I made a deliberate choice to channel my energy into my home and my family and my dream of writing, and that doesn’t make me less than who I was six months ago. It in fact, gets me closer to being who I want to be.  

Ladies, thank society for their idea of who you should be and if it doesn’t work for you, set it aside. Our greatest responsibility is not to make sure we fit into perfect boxes. Our greatest responsibilities as beings are to remain fulfilled and healthy and happy, so that we may make each of our corners a better place.

Some days I’ll have the bed made by 8am and some days I won’t, and it’s all okay. 

Last Day

Originally published on 6-26-13

About 5 years ago I was living in McAllen and would visit Austin my home away from home and mosey downtown, particularly 2nd street and look at all the twinkly lights and busy eateries and wine bars and think, “Someday, I’m going to walk here, live here, be here, I’m not sure when or how, but I will.” 

Then one day in early 2011, I got a phone call and on one end of the phone I heard, “You ready to move back?” I replied, “I’m in.”  Tom my great friend and past and future boss man replied, “I can’t promise you anything, I’m not even sure I need a manager.”  “I’ll make it work,” I said.  “We’ll make it work,” he said, and we did.

By the first week of June 2011 I had an ACL Live all access badge, a parking pass and a spot on my favorite street in Austin. And as luck would have it, the twinkly lights were still up.

After two glorious years, June 16th was my last day at ACL Live.

For 2 years I have worked 2 full time jobs. I have been in overdrive and I have loved it. I worked as a General Manager of Bar Operations at ACL Live, fulfilled the Business Development role at Holiday Wine and Liquor, ran a marathon, did 2 Tough Mudders, jumped out of a plane, rappelled down a 32 story building, found a church home, fell in love, remembered to brush my teeth twice a day (ok, maybe not every day) and I tried my best to keep the laundry done and folded. Can I get a high five?  Before you give me that high five, I can never promise anything is ironed; can I still get a high five?

I wanted to see just how much I could fit on my personal plate and the answer was, a lot. One day my friend and co-worker turned to me and said, “You’re intense.” I thought, “What, me?” I had never thought of it in that way, I always thought about it in terms of, why not?

My life was movin’ and groovin’ and then this rhyme started to creep into my head, First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Catia with a baby carriage, and I had to stop and reassess. Creating the best environment I could for my relationship and future family became my top priority and something had to give. Knowing it was the right thing for me, for our relationship and for the dream of writing Anna and reaching more people; I put in my notice at ACL Live.

During May and June I hugged the staff more, promised to keep in touch and made sure each team member knew how instrumental they had been in my life, and on my last I cried like a line cook cutting onions. To say that that last two years of my life have been the greatest life has offered me would not be an overstatement.

While eating a Schlotzky’s sandwich, drinking a cold diet coke and laughing so hard I snorted with friends I got to watch Louis CK perform 4 comedy shows standing 10 yards away, AND I got paid for it. I heard Miranda Lambert sing the song, the house that built me.  I got to watch Diana Ross strut across stage and have her huge hair follow. I got to hear the Dixie Chicks belt out Wide Open Spaces while I sat on riser steps and cried my little eyes out because I thought they MUST have written that song about me. I got to hear Randy Travis sing Forever and Ever Amen while my boyfriend wrapped his arms around me. I was able to host my parents in a fancy suite when Chris Isaak was in town. Wicked games! Backstage, I spoke with Gary Clark Jr. and expressed to he and his parents that they should be proud they raised such a genuine and humble soul.  And, I was blessed to work with my brother David and the experience was marvelous for reasons told and untold. Two full years at ACL Live were a gift from the universe and from the pied piper, Tom Farace.

Well Sunday the 16th was unforgettable. There were sweet gifts and hugs and well wishes and a going away bash that included cold champagne, grainy Polaroid’s now mounted on my refrigerator and safe cab rides home.

The concerts were cool, but the good stuff, the good stuff you can’t buy. For me, the magic is in bartending team I worked with. The value is in the tens of thousands of high fives exchanged, all the goofy dancing we did together, learning about each other, and all the laughter and joy exchanged (even when the jokes were so gross I’d go into convulsions).  Here’s to all of my favorites there at 310 Willie Nelson Blvd.  I will miss hugging you, giving you high fives, telling dirty jokes with you and asking you if you have any candy.

Folks, the universe will give you what you need when you need it; you just have to ask for it.

Sisses do Vegas

Sometime in December the Sisses and I…wait…have I explained the Sisses yet?

I may have skirted around who the Sisses are but they deserve a detailed explanation, so let’s take a detour.

The Sisses are a motley crew of 4, smart, funny and kind women trying to find their way, propping each other up and pushing each other along to something bigger, better and more fulfilling.

How the Sisses came to be: A few years ago Sis 1 (NP) met Sis 2 (Vanny). Sis 1 and Sis 2 started frequenting the same gym where they met Sis 3 (Poni). Shortly after, I strolled along into the same gym. I’m Sis 4.  In my humble opinion, we were all at a time in our lives where we needed female friendship. We needed smart women to bounce things off of who had aspirations, who were fun and kind. In the last few years we have: gone through ups and downs, had t-shirts made, run races together, had countless activity days. We have also survived: relationships, moves, cat fights, tantrums, and being broke. I think we are the luckiest friends around. Hopefully each one of you reading this has the same bond with a few people in your world. We love each other (some days more than others) and we expect the best from each other. Sisses aren’t slackers.

Back on the ranch, last December we decided to go to Vegas for Sis 3’s birthday. Yay! Visions of: spas, decadent food, scantily clad folks walking on the strip, and champagne flowed through my head.

A few weeks before our big trip, Sis 1 called and said, “We’re all set girls! I booked us to go scrambling. Neil (our guide) will pick us up at 8:30am on Sunday.” Huh? 8:30 on a Sunday? Shouldn’t we be going to sleep at 8:30am? And by scrambling do you mean Neil will be scrambling us up some delicious eggs? Negative ghostrider. Sis 1 informed us that scrambling is a method of climbing up rocky faces and ridges without ropes. The bottom line is if one stumbles their face could permanently be plastered all over some rock in Nevada, where eventually a hawk would eat the remnants.

After processing this for about 30 seconds, I said, “great!” I was pumped.

8:30am on Sunday rolled around, which was no problem, because like the awesome women we are, we were in bed, faces washed and teeth brushed by 12:30am the night before. Winners.

Neil picked us up from the hotel and drove us 30 minutes out from the Vegas strip – as we were riding in the car I thought,  “either we’re climbing that mountain just up ahead or we’re about to be murdered.” Maybe Neil had watched Pesci in Goodfellas the night before, you never know.

We arrived at our destination, strapped on our backpacks and off we went.

First we were walking over gravel, then over rocks, then we were forced to look down and watch where we were stepping because the rocks became the size of watermelons, then…wait…photo opp!

Then we were really in business. Neil was coaching along, “Use one leg to step up, put your weight on your right hand, now shift all your weight to your left foot, now jump!” Or, “See that shelf (a small rock jutting out no bigger than a small plantain) that is where you are going to put your foot and see that hold (an opening in the rock so small a hamster would take issue living in it) that is where you’re going to put your hand to hold on and get yourself over the rock.” I thought, “WHAT? Am I on candid camera?”  So there the four of us went, rock by rock, turn by turn, obstacle by obstacle. We climbed up, we climbed down, and we even opted for the more difficult route (competitive? Maybe.)  We climbed an 850ft mountain named Red Cap without ropes or tools, just Neil’s coaching and each other’s encouragement. When we got to the top of Red Cap we signed our name on a small worn tablet with a golf pencil and made our way down, ducking and weaving and squeezing our way through impossible looking holes. See below.

During our descent I said, “I feel incredible, this is so amazing, I am a mountain woman!” Then Sis 2 turned to me and said, “That’s why we’re single…because we keep doing things like this! We realize we don’t need anyone and can keep pushing ourselves!” I thought her statement was brilliant…but that’s for another blog.

From time to time get out of your comfort zone, take a dance class, go to a party alone, climb a mountain or jump out of a plane!  You deserve to shake it up a little and feel excitement and growth.

That surge of happiness and empowerment will remind you that you can handle day to day challenges and opportunities with strength and grace.

You are more than capable. I know it.