only the cheapest for my baby

I am the self-proclaimed Queen of Generics. As a favor to the world I buy brand name deodorant (I am a Mitchum Man), Johnson&Johnson's soap for the tyke, and Heinz ketchup. I find that store brand laundry and dish soaps just don't cut it, so we splurge there too. Beyond that, you won't find so much as a trademark stamp in my house. The cabinets are stocked with CVS pill bottles, and little Jake wears Target diapers, his bubbly tummy is soothed by RiteAid gas drops, and we wipe him down with the cheapy-yet-hypoallergenic wipes. Today we took it a step further and went with the Target brand baby milk. One out of one babies in our house gives it two thumbs up, and I like it because it doesn't stink like Enfamil and it is half the price. I explained to Jake that he needs to make sacrifices so Mommy can have things like expensive jeans and designer handbags. And of course Daddy has a penchant for season tickets and poker games. That Jake is so selfless. It is darling, really.

I know I have been a horrible blogger this week, my only excuse is that they are working me like a dog at the job. Only one more day left of supervising social workers, then I am off and running to do program evaluations of children's social service agencies in Philadelphia. I have spent the days for the last two weeks reading and editing and re-reading and re-editing case files. By the time I get a free minute, the last thing I want to do is writing and editing, re-writing and re-editing blog posts.

I have been searching my home and office for the job description of the new position, but I have yet to find it anywhere. In a nutshell, I am working for a company within the company- excuse me, non-profit corporation- where I have been working for almost five years. I know my new boss and I was more than pleased when she offered me the position without the hassle of an interview. Remember what I say about being a schmoozer- it works. Do it. It sounds like I will be traveling to the different agencies and building relationships with program directors and staff, looking into their objectives and practices, and writing reports regarding how well they are meeting their goals. It is a field job, so I will be out of the office a good amount of the time, but not traipsing through the ghetto as in field jobs past. I am looking forward to beginning an administrative position. I feel almost, dare I say, corporate. Almost. I'll still be sure to wear capri pants and flip flops 82% of the time. Oh, and don't think that having a baby has made me gone soft and want to work with kids. Au contrair, mon frere. Sister needed a job and she took it because she would be working with employed adults, not brats and their troubled mothers.

When I began working at my company five years ago, I swore that I would be out of there by the time I was 30. In the off chance I was still there, I promised that I would open a 403b and start considering my future. I only said this because 30 was eons away and I had plenty of time to forget the vows. So here I am, twenty days shy of my thirtieth birthday and planning to take the mini-raise I am getting with the new job and (gasp) investing it. Ouch. That hurt to type. Let's move on to something fun to talk about.

If you follow the picture blog, you see that Dave and I took Jake to the beach for the first time on Sunday. We packed up the car and got there at five-ish, so we wouldn't have to work on finding the delicate balance of sunshine for us and shade for Jake. We paraded Jake up and down the Atlantic City Boardwalk and stuck his feet in the water. He hated it and shrieked the first time, cringed and let out an "ack" the second time, and gave into the torture and humored me the third time. We got some great pictures and I had them cropped and enlarged so we can prove to the world that Team M is full of fun and adventure.
It was Dave's first time pushing the stroller in a very public place, and he was subjected to all the strangers gawking and commenting and trying to grab the baby. Flattering at first, then frustrating when you are trying to get to a buffet to stuff yourself silly. Of course we got the requisite half-dozen "she is so cute! What is her name?"'s and seventeen or so "look at all that hair!"'s.

Jake got a special treat when he was allowed to lick my pear, but he could not have cared less. He had people watching to do and who wants food when you have New Jerseyites to marvel at?