I would be perfectly happy to cook for people all day. I’d also love to train dogs as therapy helpers. I miss having time to paint too, so that’d have to be in there somewhere. I’m not terribly ambitious myself, but I’m pretty good at facilitating and cutting through red tape, so if there was a job that let me make someone really cool (saving-the-world cool) have an easier time of it, I’d be all over that.

Oooh, I’ll take Maureen’s dream and make it my own. Sounds lovely. Except I don’t actually want to talk to people, so I’ll be in the back room reading and drinking tea.

My son is 2.5 and doesn’t quite get the potty-training thing, bless his little heart. Some of his peers at his Montessori school are well on their way to being diaper-free, but my sweetie just doesn’t make the connection yet. He does like to sit on the potty though. I think it’s purely coincidental when he happens to pee at the same time he’s sitting on the potty, but he gets a hand stamp as a “reward” just the same. His “I’m about to poop” cues are as loud and bright as neon so he has had a few successful potty poopings thanks to our interventions. I guess what I’m trying to say is, each baby in his or her own time will get it. Don’t sweat it or he’ll see that it’s a big deal to you and then all bets are off!

Even worse – when you are in that wonderful fuzzy state of almost-dead sleep and your bed mate rips a giant fart that scares the shit out of you. Yeah – I definitely did NOT read that in a book – that’s my life, man.

Since we are on the topic of what would I do with my life, now that I’ve taken that damned bar exam (sorry I had to miss out on your blog for a few weeks – not that anyone noticed but still – I will go back and review what I missed, of course), I have to say that if money were no object, I would open a fabulous, amazing spa. I would have incredible body treatments and hot tubs and showers and all kinds of pampering things. I would not perform any of these things, I would just be the boss, making sure that every customer was treated like a queen – or a king, I suppose. I am a customer service junkie. And of course – these customers would be paying through the nose for my spa treatments but they would be in such a blissful state that they would hardly notice. That’s my dream business.

Have a good weekend. Don’t worry about the potty thing. There are some really funny articles about the whole potty dilemma on Baby Zone!

Those pants seem like they’d make such a good present for JB.

Also, an even larger crime against nature is fat-free butter. What on earth.

My dream job would be to run or work at a doggie daycare. Playing with dogs all day would be the best thing ever!

First off – the fart thing? I did that once. While I had my head down, napping AT THE LUNCH DESK AT WORK!!! Nice.

As for potty training, it’s WAY to soon to worry about that. Boys tend to be later than girls and anyone who says their child was trained at 1 year, etc, is crazy – THEY were trained, not the kid. I stressed out over my son and he fought it like crazy. My daughter, I just went with the flow and she did it much earlier. It’s not too early to buy a potty chair (or a seat for the “big” potty, but just let him play and get used to it. If you get stressed, he will, too.

My dream job? Comedy. You know, if I were actually funny.

As my husband would attest, my ass betrays me (and him) far too often.

Ass betrayal is one thing. How about odor betrayal? One night I woke my husband up with the foulest smelling honk. He got tears in his eyes. Of course, I denied ever doing something so rotten -because, me? Let off a fart? Never! — Well, actually…my husband has threatened to get me a crash helmet because he fears one day I’ll get launched into the ceiling when one blows. Either that or we’ll have to re-upolster the couch.

Potty training is entirely up to the child. Period. This causes so much mother induced guilt because ‘everyone’ else is doing it at 12 months. When people tell me how early their child was potty trained, I just smile and think, “Gee, I think your kid Potty Trained YOU.” I’d totally wait until at least a summer time training anyway. That way, he can run around the back yard going where ever he pleases. Maybe it will scare away the rats!

about potty training…….my wise old pediatrician that I had with my oldest, said that he didn’t even want the word “potty training” said around my son until he was at least two and a half (this was in response to my MIL nagging me about potty training him at 18 months). Dear old Doc (the father of three) said that most kids, especially boys, really get freaked if you try training them before that point. Apparently, boys have a thing about seeing part of themselves go down the toilet. Now, Doc did say that if our son indicated an interest before two an a half to potty train, we were free to do it, but only if the interest was generated by our son (not his whiney grandma!) Potty training is started around two and a half at our house and three boys later, no problems!

If I could do any vocation and money wasn’t an issue for me, I’d work as a keeper in one of two elephant sanctuaries. There’s one Tennessee (www.elephants.com) and one in San Andreas California (www.pawsark.org). They’re both remarkable places and the idea of helping an elephant into a jacuzzi or stacking their hay to make a perfect sleeping place or driving out to where the girls are in a beautiful large habitat to deliver AM and PM groceries and foot soaks and other comforts makes my heart tingle.

Elephants are amazing creatures and I can’t bear to see them in inadequate (for them) zoos anymore. Never could stand circuses.

So yeah, I’d be a servant to captive wildlife in healthy (for them) environments.

This might make me seem totally shallow but I don’t care — I would be a professional stylist. Not only do you get access to tons of great clothes and get to take credit for making celebrities look FABulous, but it gives you a chance to make the world a little bit more beautiful. I like the idea of helping other women feel confident and sexy in their own skin.

I’d love to own my own business – either a cute little coffee shop-type place or else a kitschy gift store-type-place. I seriously do plan to open a shop someday. When I can afford it. Also probably when pigs fly. I’d love to be an author and freelance writer, too. The idea of working at home in my jammies? Awesome.

Wedding coordinator on Maui. Oh hell, how about professional beach bum?

You could write for individual… children! Spend a few weeks with a kid learning about their likes and dislikes and hopes and fears, and then you go off and write the most awesomest children’s book ever, but just for that one kid, and then read it to them and watch their eyes light up. You know, if money and time (and illustrating skills) were no object.

Honestly, I think “dream job” is a myth (and an oxymoron). Even if your job title were Professional Vacationer, Spa Attendee, and Fine Chocolate Taster, eventually you’d tire of it. Dreaming is what you do when you’re on the job and thinking of being somewhere else — no matter how idyllic your current job already is. I.e., even when you land the “dream job,” you’re still gonna dream of something else.

Maybe even if your dream job were: Dreamer.

Dream job – Brad Pitt and David Beckham’s personal masseuse, specialising in the glutius maximus muscle area.

I would be a pastry chef, bread baker, taxidermist or maybe…. I don’t know. Does “drawing cute pictures and getting paid big bucks” count as a career? Because I just drew a totally smashing cat wearing a monocle, and I think this could be my big break. But secretly I just want to be a momma and roll all of those careers into one. I idealize parenthood, I think. Also, how would taxidermy fit in? Poor Fido, never saw it coming…

lesley and yams – i think we were all separated at birth. yams – i am dating (hopefully almost engaged) to an indian and we are headed to india later this year. family friends own an orphanage and i hope to volunteer some time there when we visit. lesley – i haven’t put down my deposit yet, but a work friend mentioned that she was planning to spend a weekend at the elephant sanctuary in TN in may and i think i’m going to join her.

linda – your blog just rocks my socks off. your writing is so honest and so extraordinary, even when your covering very ordinary topics. i know everyone wants you to write a book (myself included), and while i think it would be amazing and i would buy 2 copies for myself and a copy for every single person i know, i would almost hate for you to write a book. because then you wouldn’t write here so often. i love a good sundry-fix. it’s quite a spirit lifter.

sorry, but i can’t help it. i know the difference between your and you’re. “even when _you’re_ covering very ordinary topics.

thank you. i feel better now.

Haha …. oh yes the girl farting in bed happens in a lot of eh… books. But hey, it keeps the boys amuzed :þ
Dream carreer: Fantasy/satire/fiction writer (a successful one so I could write novels in nice warm places with roomservice and a pool), if that doesn’t work I guess movie critic or even english paperback critic (I live in Iceland and Icelandic litterature has a tendancy towards pretension… which I hate and if I had to be a critic for those people would get really tired of my criticism: “This book is overly pretencious with overtures of arty farty ness… I hate it”). Or hey how about 5 star hotel critic…. one can dream :)

Having tried out a lot of jobs, I would have to say that my job now is pretty much my dream job. The only thing that would make it better is doing it in Europe (preferably France).

And after I get tired of that, I would like to retire to a farm and raise sheep and horses in a place that doesn’t have a mud season. But I really like Maureen’s dream too…

p.s. farting in the bed is RAD and HILARIOUS. The end.

Because I’m super nosy and my life is pretty dull, I’d have to say a detective. It would have to involve car chases and snooping in peoples medicine cabinets.

Thanks for the birdseed tip! While I didn’t have rat issues, the freaking squirrels started camping out on my patio, which drive my alread insane cats more bat shit crazy. (She is a rescuced feral, so she’s all like “I used to EAT those! Let me out!)

Any job? I love my current job, but HATE the folks I work with, so I guess I have to choose something else. I’d like to be a professional movie watcher. I don’t want to review them, just watch them. Test out movie theaters. Check the cushions. Sample the food. Yeah, that’s be awesome. And I’d live with little pay, just enough to pay bills. And by bird food. Oh, and too expensive shampoo. (sort of an obsession of mine)

I’ve never admitted this to anyone; the first night I was with my boyfriend, my ass betrayed me. In the nether-regions of a serious sleep, I woke myself up with a horrible louder-than-hell-rattle fart. I was mortified when I realized it was me and even moreso when my boyfriend, half awake, asked me if it was my pager. He thought I had a pager on the dresser set to vibrate. Uh, I don’t have a pager…

My dream job? Having my own rescue organization. What would I rescue? Dogs are definitely up there but so are wild mustangs headed to a horrible fate after their herds have been “thinned out”. Or, maybe baby harbor seals. I watched “Growing Up Seal” on Animal Planet recently. Yeah, I want to be the people involved with that!

Another dream that I have is that I am wildly creative and work at Pixar. Pixar totally rocks!!!!

No restrictions? Absolutely guaranteed I’d open a stained glass studio with my mom and make a career (heh) out of building custom stained glass windows for peoples homes, for churches, for public buildings, for medical offices. ’cause yeah, that’d be a TOTAL money maker (um, not).
But no restrictions, that’s what I’d really really love to do.

okay, I also have to confess the following:
1) gas and toilet humor kills me every time and I am a child and I don’t care. Funny funny funny.
2) Sleep toots can’t be controlled, and I swear I once rocked my own self out of stone-cold sleep and it took me a good minute or two to realize what had happened and then another minute or two to realize that the bed was still shaking because the ol’ bedmate was DYING from trying to not laugh out loud. We both busted out laughing and I’m still horribly embarrassed about the whole thing but it’s also a “just between us” kind of story that I’ll always weirdly treasure.

I’m the one on the “receiving side of the bed” when the sleep toots issue forth from the opposite side. The toots themselves would be slightly amusing if not for the pungent fragrance emitting as well.

Okay, weird! I asked this same question to my friends just recently. The original IM conversation was just about this:

me: hey! In an alternate universe, what is your job?
startled friend: What?
me: For instance, in an alternate universe I would be a doctor, I think. Or a foley artist. A doctor who moonlights as a foley artist.
me: Or a kid photographer.
me: I mean a photographer of kids, not like, the Doogie Howser of photography.
me: Although then I could be a doctor too!

Animal trainer!

Also, freelance writer, which I am doing to some extent right now, but unfortunately not to the extent that my unemployment becomes a non-issue. Working on it!

Dream job: Work in a library. Maybe sound boring, but all the BOOKS! I would either like that or I would love to review books for publishing companies. Get paid to read??!! Awesome :)

I also think it would be fun to be a personal trainer…but I would have to get myself inshape first :)

I read somewhere that it is the less powerful sex in a culture that is embarrassed by and hides its feces and related gases. Much as I hate that thought and don’t want to believe I feel inferior as part of the female gender, I have to admit that no man I have ever known has felt he needed to hide this natural function. As a matter of fact, they seem prone to point out their dastardly deeds and think a silent killer is funny! While we women are horrified if a little something slips out, of if a man smells our shit.

Oy.

Try the fat-free half-and-half, located conveniently next to the regular half-and-half, in the refrigerator section. It’s the best thing ever invented, makes your coffee creamy, and tastes like a milk product (meaning it doesn’t make your coffee taste funky like the Coffeemate-type crap).

I think I read that in a book once, too, about the fart thing. I remember being horrified.