When I was in high school I started working at a local bank as a customer service representative. I was a part-timer and since I worked Thursday and Friday evenings and Saturdays, I shared a desk with a full-timer who worked Monday-Friday until 4. Her name was Florence.
Florence was a bit over-the-top. She had very big, blonde hair. Not 80's big, but kinda-like if you had a bee-hive hairdo and just flattened the top a bit so it stretched out horizontally. She wore bright make up. She was a rather large women who was always in a skirt or dress, with matching jewelry.
When you are 16 everyone seems "old" to you so I actually don't know how old Florence was at that time, and couldn't even venture a guess now. What I did know was that she was unmarried with no children; that she lived alone and seemed to prefer that over any alternative.
Florence was a bit, well, difficult to work with. She could be classified as a "curmudgeon." She wanted things the way she wanted things. Since we shared a desk, I often took great pleasure in messing with her by moving her things around. She would also get upset if people did not follow procedures. God help the person who did not put the Traveler's Cheques box in exactly the place it should be. This was a women who did not hold back a thought. She would not hesitate to complain to one of the managers about something. Consequently, many people found it, well, challenging to be around her. But, for some reason, Florence and I got along. Maybe because I let her complain, or maybe because she always seemed genuinely friendly to me.
After 3 1/2 years I left the bank to pursue the greener pastures of telemarketing, a job which would not cramp my teen-age style by requiring me to work Friday nights and wake up early to work on Saturdays (that job, by the way, was short-lived, I just couldn't deal with the constant rejection of people yelling at me or hanging up on me.) But my communication with Florence did not end along with my tenure at the bank. She was great at sending cards, up until just a few years ago she always sent me a card for my birthday, even though I forgot hers long ago, and we always sent each other Christmas cards, every single year. Once I had children she would write to me how much she enjoyed seeing the pictures of my girls. Every card she sent had a hand-written note. Florence had great handwriting and always wrote her notes in the Christmas cards in red marker (she did love color.) Unfortunately, her notes were filled with updates on what members of her family had died since the last card, and the health issues that she was experiencing herself. However, she always ended with her hopes for a healthier and happier new year.
Every year I worried when I did not receive a card from Florence. Usually her card was a bit late so I would say to my husband "haven't received a card from Florence yet" and he knew that meant that I was worried that I wouldn't. It was always a relief to see that envelope made out with red marker.
Today I received the card that I sent to her back in my mailbox. There were three letters on the envelope that were not there when I mailed it out, those letters were "DEC." My heart sank. My husband saw my face and said "maybe it means December", neither of us really thought that made much sense but it was a good try.
I immediately took to the internet and try to find any mention of her passing, but there was nothing. The thing is, Florence had no spouse, no children, and she had outlived her siblings. There was not even anyone to write me a note to explain her passing, all there was was someone to write "DEC" and place the envelope back in the mailbox.
Of course, now I wish I had done more for Florence over the years. Maybe I could have gone to visit her. Or maybe I could have written her birthday down once and for all. I think of the fact that the image I have of her in my mind is one from over 25 years ago. Did she still have the big hair? Still wear the make-up? I think of how unique our "friendship" was. I think of what I have learned by it, and how I will use Florence as an example for my girls of "don't judge a book by it's cover". Maybe receiving my annual card with my girls' smiling faces brought a smile to her face; or maybe she just appreciated the fact that after all of these years she was still on my Christmas list. Maybe the little things in life aren't so little after all.
Rest in peace, Florence.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Monday, December 17, 2012
Law and Order and Frozen Yogurt (AKA I Fought the Law and the Law Won)
It happened. I finally lost my mind. After 43 years and more than a few near misses, I finally crossed the line between sane and insane. Rational and irrational. And all because of frozen yogurt. Here's my story...
You know those emails that we all get that offer a discounted deal to a restaurant or service? The ones that you pay half of the face value ahead of time for? I love those and I order them regularly. I was thrilled to see that my favorite frozen yogurt shop was offering a deal and I immediately ordered two of them. I have bought so much froyo from this place for me and my family that they should have a flavor dedicated to me.
They arrived in the mail and I promptly used the first one. No incident. The other day I returned to use the second one, my 5 year old with me. By the time I ordered I was already not in the best of moods. After waiting on line because the cashier was nowhere to be found, I placed my order for a coffee smoothie only to be told that they don't offer that anymore. Strange since there is a huge poster advertising said smoothie in the window. So, I get off the line and fix myself a yogurt cup and get back on the line.
As I place my yogurts on the scale and order a gift certificate, the cashier makes a phone call and I hear "We don't take those (insert name) coupons, right?" The conversation with the cashier whom I will refer to as TC (for "tattooed cashier") went like this:
TC: (to manager on the phone) We don't take those (insert name) coupons, right?
me: But you have to.
TC: (to me but still on the phone) We never authorized that deal.
me: But that is not my fault, I paid for this already.
TC: We don't accept it.
me: Let me speak with the manager.
TC: No, she is driving.
me: Let me speak with her.
TC: No.
me: Then give me her name and number and I will call her back.
TC: I can't do that (and she hangs up with her.)
me: Get the manager back on the phone.
TC: I can't do that, she is driving to another location.
me: I paid for this already, your name is on it, your logo and your location, you have to accept it.
TC: No we don't.
me: But I already used one at this location and you accepted it.
TC: I have to ask you to leave the store
So I did. With the yogurts. Not paid for. (Disclaimer: I should not have done that and I do not advocate theft in any capacity. Parents, please do not send me your bail bond receipts.)
The TC is calling after me but I don't even hear. I am too hyped up on principle and adrenaline. I am Norma Rae and Erin Brokovich all rolled into one, with a bit of Michael Douglas in Falling Down.
The TC comes out and is on the phone with the manager (funny how she was able to call the manager back after all) and she is giving her my license plate number. I say "fine, you want to call the police and tell them I stole two frozen yogurts, go ahead". This was to the surprise of the the woman walking by.
We get into the car and my 5 year old just wants her frozen yogurt. We drive a short ways to a local store which was our scheduled next stop and eat it in the car. I've suddenly realized what I have just done and feel a mix of regret and pride. We go about our business and when we get home I see the light of my answering machine blinking. Sure enough, I hear "yeah, this is Officer **** at the *** Precinct. I understand we had an incident at the *****. It's very important that you call me." I call the officer, who right away says to me "listen, I know those emails, you pay half price. They were listed and it's a legitimate deal. They should have taken it and it's BS. And there is no sign saying that they don't accept it. But you shouldn't have left with the yogurt and I need you to go back now and pay for it."
I tell him that I realize what I did was wrong but is there any way that I can first contact the corporate office and he tells me that while he suggests that I do call the corporate office, I need to go back right away because the store manager wants me arrested. Seriously. Really wants me arrested. (insert "Law and Order" theme music.) He tells me that he spoke to his supervisor and that they are not going to arrest me, but that the manager is expecting a call back and he needs to tell her that I am coming back to pay. He tells me that he will meet me there to make sure that there is no trouble.
So, off my daughter and I go. I walk in, introduce myself to the officer with a smile and shake his hand, and pay my bill. The officer tells the cashier to give me a receipt so I can later prove that I did pay (thank you, officer). I ask the cashier to write down the manager's name and she writes down the first name. I ask for the last name and she says "We are not allowed to know their last name". I give the police officer a puzzled look, take my receipt, thank the officer and move on, once again a law-abiding citizen.
What did I learn from this experience? A few things. First of all, I learned that my reactions were a direct result of the cashier and manager's reactions. They exhibited absolutely no customer service. One of my former supervisors used to say that we should always remember to tell someone what we "CAN" do for them in any given situation. If one of them would have said "I understand your frustration, it does say our location right on there. I am not authorized to accept this but let me take your name and number and we can discuss this later." Or, if they had accepted it and then fought their battle with the company that published it. But there was none of that, which escalated the situation. So, I will remember to always see what I CAN do for someone rather than slamming the door in their face. I will also try to remember to point that out to others that are not subscribing to the same mantra.
I also realized that I am overwhelmed. This is the first Christmas that I am working full-time while having kids. And it got to me. I cracked like one of the fragile ornaments my kids inevitably drop every year. Yes, I am working full-time, but the Christmas cards still have to made, ordered and sent, presents have to be bought and wrapped for the kids, friends, family, teachers, service providers, etc. My daughter's kindergarten holiday party has to be planned. And the daily responsibilities that are present year-round don't take a holiday during the holidays. I love this time of year and I love doing all of the things I mentioned, but it's a lot. The day of the incident I had a long list of things to do and just had no patience or time in my schedule to deal with any crap.
So, my dear friends and readers, what is my wish for you this holiday season? I wish you patience. I wish you insight. I wish you compassionate salespeople. And I wish you an arrest free Christmas.
You know those emails that we all get that offer a discounted deal to a restaurant or service? The ones that you pay half of the face value ahead of time for? I love those and I order them regularly. I was thrilled to see that my favorite frozen yogurt shop was offering a deal and I immediately ordered two of them. I have bought so much froyo from this place for me and my family that they should have a flavor dedicated to me.
They arrived in the mail and I promptly used the first one. No incident. The other day I returned to use the second one, my 5 year old with me. By the time I ordered I was already not in the best of moods. After waiting on line because the cashier was nowhere to be found, I placed my order for a coffee smoothie only to be told that they don't offer that anymore. Strange since there is a huge poster advertising said smoothie in the window. So, I get off the line and fix myself a yogurt cup and get back on the line.
As I place my yogurts on the scale and order a gift certificate, the cashier makes a phone call and I hear "We don't take those (insert name) coupons, right?" The conversation with the cashier whom I will refer to as TC (for "tattooed cashier") went like this:
TC: (to manager on the phone) We don't take those (insert name) coupons, right?
me: But you have to.
TC: (to me but still on the phone) We never authorized that deal.
me: But that is not my fault, I paid for this already.
TC: We don't accept it.
me: Let me speak with the manager.
TC: No, she is driving.
me: Let me speak with her.
TC: No.
me: Then give me her name and number and I will call her back.
TC: I can't do that (and she hangs up with her.)
me: Get the manager back on the phone.
TC: I can't do that, she is driving to another location.
me: I paid for this already, your name is on it, your logo and your location, you have to accept it.
TC: No we don't.
me: But I already used one at this location and you accepted it.
TC: I have to ask you to leave the store
So I did. With the yogurts. Not paid for. (Disclaimer: I should not have done that and I do not advocate theft in any capacity. Parents, please do not send me your bail bond receipts.)
The TC is calling after me but I don't even hear. I am too hyped up on principle and adrenaline. I am Norma Rae and Erin Brokovich all rolled into one, with a bit of Michael Douglas in Falling Down.
The TC comes out and is on the phone with the manager (funny how she was able to call the manager back after all) and she is giving her my license plate number. I say "fine, you want to call the police and tell them I stole two frozen yogurts, go ahead". This was to the surprise of the the woman walking by.
We get into the car and my 5 year old just wants her frozen yogurt. We drive a short ways to a local store which was our scheduled next stop and eat it in the car. I've suddenly realized what I have just done and feel a mix of regret and pride. We go about our business and when we get home I see the light of my answering machine blinking. Sure enough, I hear "yeah, this is Officer **** at the *** Precinct. I understand we had an incident at the *****. It's very important that you call me." I call the officer, who right away says to me "listen, I know those emails, you pay half price. They were listed and it's a legitimate deal. They should have taken it and it's BS. And there is no sign saying that they don't accept it. But you shouldn't have left with the yogurt and I need you to go back now and pay for it."
I tell him that I realize what I did was wrong but is there any way that I can first contact the corporate office and he tells me that while he suggests that I do call the corporate office, I need to go back right away because the store manager wants me arrested. Seriously. Really wants me arrested. (insert "Law and Order" theme music.) He tells me that he spoke to his supervisor and that they are not going to arrest me, but that the manager is expecting a call back and he needs to tell her that I am coming back to pay. He tells me that he will meet me there to make sure that there is no trouble.
So, off my daughter and I go. I walk in, introduce myself to the officer with a smile and shake his hand, and pay my bill. The officer tells the cashier to give me a receipt so I can later prove that I did pay (thank you, officer). I ask the cashier to write down the manager's name and she writes down the first name. I ask for the last name and she says "We are not allowed to know their last name". I give the police officer a puzzled look, take my receipt, thank the officer and move on, once again a law-abiding citizen.
What did I learn from this experience? A few things. First of all, I learned that my reactions were a direct result of the cashier and manager's reactions. They exhibited absolutely no customer service. One of my former supervisors used to say that we should always remember to tell someone what we "CAN" do for them in any given situation. If one of them would have said "I understand your frustration, it does say our location right on there. I am not authorized to accept this but let me take your name and number and we can discuss this later." Or, if they had accepted it and then fought their battle with the company that published it. But there was none of that, which escalated the situation. So, I will remember to always see what I CAN do for someone rather than slamming the door in their face. I will also try to remember to point that out to others that are not subscribing to the same mantra.
I also realized that I am overwhelmed. This is the first Christmas that I am working full-time while having kids. And it got to me. I cracked like one of the fragile ornaments my kids inevitably drop every year. Yes, I am working full-time, but the Christmas cards still have to made, ordered and sent, presents have to be bought and wrapped for the kids, friends, family, teachers, service providers, etc. My daughter's kindergarten holiday party has to be planned. And the daily responsibilities that are present year-round don't take a holiday during the holidays. I love this time of year and I love doing all of the things I mentioned, but it's a lot. The day of the incident I had a long list of things to do and just had no patience or time in my schedule to deal with any crap.
So, my dear friends and readers, what is my wish for you this holiday season? I wish you patience. I wish you insight. I wish you compassionate salespeople. And I wish you an arrest free Christmas.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Comfort Food
As you all know, the New York Tri-State area has been hit hard by Hurricane Sandy. (Many are calling it "Superstorm Sandy" but to me that "superstorm" moniker just feels like something made up for a Jerry Bruckheimer movie and I refuse to use it.) Most conversations now center on the devastation of communities, the lack of heat and power for many of our friends and family, and the persistent gas shortages resulting in long lines and short tempers.
However, there is another topic of conversation prevalent in offices, schools and gas lines. It's food. We have all eaten a great deal more than we normally do thanks to Sandy.
Let's start first with the fact that many of us had to clean out our refrigerators and freezers and head to our backyard grill in order to keep food from going to waste. The result for everyone was a smorgasbord that probably included lots of red meat and hot dogs. For us, it also included a never-opened turtle cheesecake and a friend's Pepperidge Farms Milano cookie cake (yep, they make those.)
We were all stuck at home with no TV or Internet. Nothing to do but hibernate and eat (yes, I realize we could have read and had meaningful conversation, blah, blah, blah.) My-coworker is now on a cleanse diet to undo the damage done by eating an entire bag of Cheeze Doodles and washing it down with beer. But it was a natural disaster. Desperate times call for desperate measures. And wine. I had my own little wine tour as I traveled from powered house to powered house getting warm and sampling vintages.
To make matter worse, then along came Halloween. A candycorn-acopia of sweets to ease our stress. I turned two mini Almond Joy bars into breakfast one day. (almonds have protein, right?) Just writing this now is making me crave a Kit Kat. And I just got one. So there.
The problem is, once you remember how good all of that stuff tastes, it's hard to turn back. Falling off that food wagon is a lot easier, and more fun, than getting back on. Earlier today I was walking to the office refrigerator to get my low-carb yogurt just as my co-worker was coming in with leftover Munchkins from a meeting. Immediately, the angel and devil appeared over my shoulder The devil drop-kicked the angel as I peered into the box. And what did I see? Dunkin Donuts now has Red Velvet munchkins. RED VELVET MUNCHKINS, PEOPLE! I'm just not that strong.
Last night we got hit with a blizzard. Schools are closed. Pass the Cheeze Doodles.
However, there is another topic of conversation prevalent in offices, schools and gas lines. It's food. We have all eaten a great deal more than we normally do thanks to Sandy.
Let's start first with the fact that many of us had to clean out our refrigerators and freezers and head to our backyard grill in order to keep food from going to waste. The result for everyone was a smorgasbord that probably included lots of red meat and hot dogs. For us, it also included a never-opened turtle cheesecake and a friend's Pepperidge Farms Milano cookie cake (yep, they make those.)
We were all stuck at home with no TV or Internet. Nothing to do but hibernate and eat (yes, I realize we could have read and had meaningful conversation, blah, blah, blah.) My-coworker is now on a cleanse diet to undo the damage done by eating an entire bag of Cheeze Doodles and washing it down with beer. But it was a natural disaster. Desperate times call for desperate measures. And wine. I had my own little wine tour as I traveled from powered house to powered house getting warm and sampling vintages.
To make matter worse, then along came Halloween. A candycorn-acopia of sweets to ease our stress. I turned two mini Almond Joy bars into breakfast one day. (almonds have protein, right?) Just writing this now is making me crave a Kit Kat. And I just got one. So there.
The problem is, once you remember how good all of that stuff tastes, it's hard to turn back. Falling off that food wagon is a lot easier, and more fun, than getting back on. Earlier today I was walking to the office refrigerator to get my low-carb yogurt just as my co-worker was coming in with leftover Munchkins from a meeting. Immediately, the angel and devil appeared over my shoulder The devil drop-kicked the angel as I peered into the box. And what did I see? Dunkin Donuts now has Red Velvet munchkins. RED VELVET MUNCHKINS, PEOPLE! I'm just not that strong.
Last night we got hit with a blizzard. Schools are closed. Pass the Cheeze Doodles.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Workin' 9-5
September 19, 2003. The last day I worked as a full-time employee. Since then I have had two children and a stream of part-time jobs. I was lucky in that I was always able to find part-time work in my field, but these positions inevitably ended for one reason or another. In two of these cases my employer wanted me to switch to a full-time schedule and I was unwilling to.
September 10, 2012. The day I will return to the world of 9-5. Yes, as the song says, to every thing, there is a season. I planned to return to full-time work in September of 2013 when my littlest will be in school for a full school day. However, plans don't always come out the way you, well, plan them. After I was laid off in January, there were no part-time opportunities on the horizon, but I became aware of three full-time jobs in my field. After giving this a great deal of thought, I realized that you have to strike while the iron is hot, catch that bird in the hand, and all of that. I couldn't turn down a great job just because it was one year ahead of schedule.
And so began the saga of my maternal guilt. My oldest would reap the benefits of me working part-time from her very first day of nursery school up until the second week of 4th grade, while my youngest would have me only until the second week of kindergarten. How would I be able to be there for her as much as I had been there for my oldest? What would I have to miss because of work? I have been my oldest daughter's "class parent" for every single one of her years in school. I quickly decided that I HAD to be daughter number 2's class parent as well. I have put the wheels into motion to make this happen. My apologies to the other parents who may have wanted the job. I am on a mission and you are collateral damage.
My mind went into overdrive thinking of schedules; mine, theirs, my mother-in-law's, my husband's, the babysitter's; all of the people who will be involved in the daily juggling of making sure that both girls are dropped off, picked up, looked after, etc.
Then my mind started making lists. Lots of lists. Lists of things that HAD to be done before I went back to work. Hmmm...that shower curtain is faded from the sun, must replace that immediately! Hmmm...we never went forward with the bathroom remodeling project we talked about, so out I go to the tile store! I cleaned out my closet, cleaned out my daughter's closet, got to the filing that had been piling up (literally) and finally changed the bedroom curtains and threw out the shades that have not worked in a year. I took nesting to a whole new level.
And the shopping... As I would not have the luxury anymore of going food shopping on a Monday afternoon with only the stay-at-home moms and senior citizens, I decided I needed to stock up on everything. My neighbors should all know that if there is ever a pending natural disaster, come on over to my house. I've got enough food stashed in my basement to get us through from now until Thanksgiving. I also have enough lunch time snacks to keep the girls happy until the New Year, if not later. You should have seen me going through the snack aisles at Target like Auntie Em preparing for the twister.
I should now say a few things about my new job. I will be working about 7 minutes from home. There are lots of stores on my way home. My boss is great and is big on work/life balance. I have a very generous vacation day allotment. Given all of that, there is no reason for me to be panicking like this. It's total over-compensation; a compulsive need to try to control as many things as possible before life gets pretty uncontrollable. Wow, it's like preparing for parenthood all over again. Only this time I'll get a paycheck for it. And free coffee. Workin' 9-5. Not a bad way to make a living.
WRITER'S UPDATE, 5/22/13: I was reminded today that I have just completed my first academic year of working full-time since having kids (I work at a college, so time is measured by semesters and academic years.) I can't believe how fast the months have flown by. I re-read this blog and thought you might want to know how it all worked out. Well, aside from a rough patch when my boss announced we would no longer have free coffee (thankfully short lived) it has gone pretty well.
I have been lucky in that I have not had to miss major events. However, my 9 year old was not pleased when an evening work commitment forced me to miss the elimination of her favorite American Idol contestant. It broke my heart when she called me crying to tell me the bad news. This, though, pales in comparison to the steady guilt that has been hurled my way with the finesse of a major league baseball pitcher because I will have to miss her upcoming violin concert. I will be out of state at a conference and have heard more than once "you chose work over your own daughter." (thank you for the empathetic wince that many of you just did, or the knowing nod of the head.) I told her I can have Dad facetime me during the show and I will step out of whatever meeting I am in (which I thought was a pretty fabulous idea) but it didn't cut it. Sigh...
Regarding keeping up on errands, I would like to publicly thank whoever came up with Amazon Prime. Two day free shipping on almost anything Amazon sells. Go sign up for it. Now. The neighborhood UPS trucks now come equipped with my address on their GPS system.
As for my little one, I am able to pick her up from school every Thursday. This has helped tremendously. It has made me feel more "in the loop" with her teacher, and her friends and their parents, as I was with child #1.
I do spend a lot of time arranging for child care. Grandma and the babysitter split the week, and if one needs to take off or switch days, I put my "VP of Logistics" hat on and orchestrate the pick ups as if I were plotting pieces on a chess board. I sometimes get it wrong. Oops, forgot to tell the babysitter that I didn't need her, forgot to tell the teachers someone else was picking her up. I'd rather not admit to how many times I have heard the loud "thud" as one of the balls that I was juggling dropped to the floor. But it's all part of the job, and somehow, some way, it all ends up working out.
Oh, and I did become my little one's Class Parent. But I'm sure you guessed that already.
September 10, 2012. The day I will return to the world of 9-5. Yes, as the song says, to every thing, there is a season. I planned to return to full-time work in September of 2013 when my littlest will be in school for a full school day. However, plans don't always come out the way you, well, plan them. After I was laid off in January, there were no part-time opportunities on the horizon, but I became aware of three full-time jobs in my field. After giving this a great deal of thought, I realized that you have to strike while the iron is hot, catch that bird in the hand, and all of that. I couldn't turn down a great job just because it was one year ahead of schedule.
And so began the saga of my maternal guilt. My oldest would reap the benefits of me working part-time from her very first day of nursery school up until the second week of 4th grade, while my youngest would have me only until the second week of kindergarten. How would I be able to be there for her as much as I had been there for my oldest? What would I have to miss because of work? I have been my oldest daughter's "class parent" for every single one of her years in school. I quickly decided that I HAD to be daughter number 2's class parent as well. I have put the wheels into motion to make this happen. My apologies to the other parents who may have wanted the job. I am on a mission and you are collateral damage.
My mind went into overdrive thinking of schedules; mine, theirs, my mother-in-law's, my husband's, the babysitter's; all of the people who will be involved in the daily juggling of making sure that both girls are dropped off, picked up, looked after, etc.
Then my mind started making lists. Lots of lists. Lists of things that HAD to be done before I went back to work. Hmmm...that shower curtain is faded from the sun, must replace that immediately! Hmmm...we never went forward with the bathroom remodeling project we talked about, so out I go to the tile store! I cleaned out my closet, cleaned out my daughter's closet, got to the filing that had been piling up (literally) and finally changed the bedroom curtains and threw out the shades that have not worked in a year. I took nesting to a whole new level.
And the shopping... As I would not have the luxury anymore of going food shopping on a Monday afternoon with only the stay-at-home moms and senior citizens, I decided I needed to stock up on everything. My neighbors should all know that if there is ever a pending natural disaster, come on over to my house. I've got enough food stashed in my basement to get us through from now until Thanksgiving. I also have enough lunch time snacks to keep the girls happy until the New Year, if not later. You should have seen me going through the snack aisles at Target like Auntie Em preparing for the twister.
I should now say a few things about my new job. I will be working about 7 minutes from home. There are lots of stores on my way home. My boss is great and is big on work/life balance. I have a very generous vacation day allotment. Given all of that, there is no reason for me to be panicking like this. It's total over-compensation; a compulsive need to try to control as many things as possible before life gets pretty uncontrollable. Wow, it's like preparing for parenthood all over again. Only this time I'll get a paycheck for it. And free coffee. Workin' 9-5. Not a bad way to make a living.
WRITER'S UPDATE, 5/22/13: I was reminded today that I have just completed my first academic year of working full-time since having kids (I work at a college, so time is measured by semesters and academic years.) I can't believe how fast the months have flown by. I re-read this blog and thought you might want to know how it all worked out. Well, aside from a rough patch when my boss announced we would no longer have free coffee (thankfully short lived) it has gone pretty well.
I have been lucky in that I have not had to miss major events. However, my 9 year old was not pleased when an evening work commitment forced me to miss the elimination of her favorite American Idol contestant. It broke my heart when she called me crying to tell me the bad news. This, though, pales in comparison to the steady guilt that has been hurled my way with the finesse of a major league baseball pitcher because I will have to miss her upcoming violin concert. I will be out of state at a conference and have heard more than once "you chose work over your own daughter." (thank you for the empathetic wince that many of you just did, or the knowing nod of the head.) I told her I can have Dad facetime me during the show and I will step out of whatever meeting I am in (which I thought was a pretty fabulous idea) but it didn't cut it. Sigh...
Regarding keeping up on errands, I would like to publicly thank whoever came up with Amazon Prime. Two day free shipping on almost anything Amazon sells. Go sign up for it. Now. The neighborhood UPS trucks now come equipped with my address on their GPS system.
As for my little one, I am able to pick her up from school every Thursday. This has helped tremendously. It has made me feel more "in the loop" with her teacher, and her friends and their parents, as I was with child #1.
I do spend a lot of time arranging for child care. Grandma and the babysitter split the week, and if one needs to take off or switch days, I put my "VP of Logistics" hat on and orchestrate the pick ups as if I were plotting pieces on a chess board. I sometimes get it wrong. Oops, forgot to tell the babysitter that I didn't need her, forgot to tell the teachers someone else was picking her up. I'd rather not admit to how many times I have heard the loud "thud" as one of the balls that I was juggling dropped to the floor. But it's all part of the job, and somehow, some way, it all ends up working out.
Oh, and I did become my little one's Class Parent. But I'm sure you guessed that already.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Techies
I've been thinking about technology and its role in my children's' lives. My eight year old is attached to her ipod, which is my old iphone after it was dropped in a vat of bubbles and didn't work as well. While she doesn't have a phone or text plan, she has figured out a way to have access to both through apps. She can be in the same room with her friend and they will text back and forth, which drives me crazy! But like it or not, this is the way they communicate these days. My daughter has many friends and is involved in several activities outside of school, so will texting really stunt her emotional and social growth? Or is it just that this is not what I am used to, not what I grew up with, and so I am suspicious and fearful of its effects?
I wonder how our own childhoods would have been different had we had access to these tools. I know that I would have been the last of my friends to have the latest gadget, since we were the last family to have a microwave or cable TV and it was big news when we got a Commodore 64. I have a jar somewhere in my basement filled with notes that my friends wrote to me in junior high and high school, long missives about the latest boy crush, or not being able to wait until that weekend's sleepover. Will my girls have these hand-written reminders of their youth? Or will the "delete" button erase all of that?
Technology has seeped into every part of their lives. Cartoons, popular songs, even school reading assignments mention it. Can you imagine the everyday things we grew up with and how they would have changed? Imagine watching TV one night and seeing "Up next on CBS, You've Been Defriended, Charlie Brown!" Let's catch up with our beloved Peanuts gang. Poor Charlie Brown has been defriended by his one and only Facebook friend, his sister, Sally. However, he has many members in the Facebook group he started, "Little Boys Who Like Little Red Haired Girls." Meanwhile, Lucy is doing very well with her "Psychiatric Help $.5" page, though she is considering raising the price since she has not increased her fee in 30 years. Snoopy has over 1,000 friends and uses Facebook to post his blog, "An Eager Beagle", though he still types it on his old typewriter and then scans it into his computer. Peppermint Patty uses Facebook primarily to post information about the latest gay-rights issue, though she has not formally come out of the closet yet herself. And Linus, well he works at Facebook as the youngest head programmer in history and was able to afford to gold-plate his blanket, which is displayed in his spacious office.
I dunno, just doesn't seem right to me.
I wonder how our own childhoods would have been different had we had access to these tools. I know that I would have been the last of my friends to have the latest gadget, since we were the last family to have a microwave or cable TV and it was big news when we got a Commodore 64. I have a jar somewhere in my basement filled with notes that my friends wrote to me in junior high and high school, long missives about the latest boy crush, or not being able to wait until that weekend's sleepover. Will my girls have these hand-written reminders of their youth? Or will the "delete" button erase all of that?
Technology has seeped into every part of their lives. Cartoons, popular songs, even school reading assignments mention it. Can you imagine the everyday things we grew up with and how they would have changed? Imagine watching TV one night and seeing "Up next on CBS, You've Been Defriended, Charlie Brown!" Let's catch up with our beloved Peanuts gang. Poor Charlie Brown has been defriended by his one and only Facebook friend, his sister, Sally. However, he has many members in the Facebook group he started, "Little Boys Who Like Little Red Haired Girls." Meanwhile, Lucy is doing very well with her "Psychiatric Help $.5" page, though she is considering raising the price since she has not increased her fee in 30 years. Snoopy has over 1,000 friends and uses Facebook to post his blog, "An Eager Beagle", though he still types it on his old typewriter and then scans it into his computer. Peppermint Patty uses Facebook primarily to post information about the latest gay-rights issue, though she has not formally come out of the closet yet herself. And Linus, well he works at Facebook as the youngest head programmer in history and was able to afford to gold-plate his blanket, which is displayed in his spacious office.
I dunno, just doesn't seem right to me.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Prom Night: A REAL Horror Story
The year was 1987. We danced to "Walk Like an Egyptian" and had nightmares about the rabbit scene in "Fatal Attraction." In May of that year girls put on their finest poofy dresses and stocked up on aerosol hair spray in preparation for the prom (side note: why do some schools say "THE prom" while some refer to it solely as "prom", as in "What about prom, Blaine, what about prom??")
Anyway, I was one of those girls. The dress I wore was borrowed. It was an electric blue dress that my boyfriend's cousin wore as a bridesmaid. I loved it, especially since it gave me the opportunity to buy electric blue eyeliner and eyeshadow to match. Of course, my boyfriend had a matching bow tie for his tuxedo.
The night started off normally enough. The rented limo took us to the Hilton hotel in Manhattan. Of course, the anticipation of the after-prom activities is always high. We wondered with excitement what Manhattan hot-spots would let in underage kids in formal wear. Unfortunately, the first place we tried was not such a spot, so the limo moved on. There were 6 of us. My best friend at the time was on a "blind prom date" with her co-worker's brother, Tony, a nice enough guy in a white tux.
Suddenly the limo jolted a bit, sputtered along and then stopped. We had broken down right there in front of The Limelight, a famous nightclub that was housed in an old Episcopal church. Broken down on prom night!! Well, this is one of those time where youth was truly wasted on the young. There we were in Manhattan, no chaperones, graduating high school and facing an uncertain future, and what did we do?? Did we leave the limo to hit the town? Nope, we stayed there. Guess in this day and age of cell phones it would have been easier to venture out but we were all a bit sheltered, and decicded the wisest thing to do was to stay put.
Hours passed and eventually the limo company sent a car for us. Not a limo, a car. Six of us promsters, our original driver and the new driver piled into a Towne Car like circus clowns.
We decided to call it a night and start fresh in the morning. The next day we headed for the beach, but as pretty much every high school senior in Queens and Long Island had their prom the night before and had the same idea as we did, the fields were full. OK, so much for plan B. Plan C was a picnic in the park. We went to the deli for sandwhiches and snacks and what happened next will forever be emblazoned in my memory.
Tony was driving. As he was making a left from one major intersection to another, he, well, came in contact with a pedestrian. Til the day I die I will never forget turning around from the back seat and seeing the packages she had been carrying fly into the air as Tony yelled "did she get up??" When we told him that she had, he kept driving, much to all of our surprise. Then we heard a booming voice from the van in back of us: "Pull over you son of a bitch!!" Gulp. Tony pulled over and a burly man came to the car and promptly punched Tony right in the face through the open window as he said "you're following me to the police station." HUH??? This is the prom, dammit!! These things are not supposed to happen!!! I should be on my second application of sunblock right now slightly hungover from my experimentation with Bahama Mamas!
After giving our statments to the police, none of us was really in a picnic kinda mood so that was it. No post-prom party the night before, no beach day, and no second date for my friend and Tony.
To this day, I get a bit envious of kids who get to experience their prom the way it was meant to be experienced. I do feel cheated out of what was supposed to be a great night. The plus side, I always win the "who had the worst prom" game at parties.
Anyway, I was one of those girls. The dress I wore was borrowed. It was an electric blue dress that my boyfriend's cousin wore as a bridesmaid. I loved it, especially since it gave me the opportunity to buy electric blue eyeliner and eyeshadow to match. Of course, my boyfriend had a matching bow tie for his tuxedo.
The night started off normally enough. The rented limo took us to the Hilton hotel in Manhattan. Of course, the anticipation of the after-prom activities is always high. We wondered with excitement what Manhattan hot-spots would let in underage kids in formal wear. Unfortunately, the first place we tried was not such a spot, so the limo moved on. There were 6 of us. My best friend at the time was on a "blind prom date" with her co-worker's brother, Tony, a nice enough guy in a white tux.
Suddenly the limo jolted a bit, sputtered along and then stopped. We had broken down right there in front of The Limelight, a famous nightclub that was housed in an old Episcopal church. Broken down on prom night!! Well, this is one of those time where youth was truly wasted on the young. There we were in Manhattan, no chaperones, graduating high school and facing an uncertain future, and what did we do?? Did we leave the limo to hit the town? Nope, we stayed there. Guess in this day and age of cell phones it would have been easier to venture out but we were all a bit sheltered, and decicded the wisest thing to do was to stay put.
Hours passed and eventually the limo company sent a car for us. Not a limo, a car. Six of us promsters, our original driver and the new driver piled into a Towne Car like circus clowns.
We decided to call it a night and start fresh in the morning. The next day we headed for the beach, but as pretty much every high school senior in Queens and Long Island had their prom the night before and had the same idea as we did, the fields were full. OK, so much for plan B. Plan C was a picnic in the park. We went to the deli for sandwhiches and snacks and what happened next will forever be emblazoned in my memory.
Tony was driving. As he was making a left from one major intersection to another, he, well, came in contact with a pedestrian. Til the day I die I will never forget turning around from the back seat and seeing the packages she had been carrying fly into the air as Tony yelled "did she get up??" When we told him that she had, he kept driving, much to all of our surprise. Then we heard a booming voice from the van in back of us: "Pull over you son of a bitch!!" Gulp. Tony pulled over and a burly man came to the car and promptly punched Tony right in the face through the open window as he said "you're following me to the police station." HUH??? This is the prom, dammit!! These things are not supposed to happen!!! I should be on my second application of sunblock right now slightly hungover from my experimentation with Bahama Mamas!
After giving our statments to the police, none of us was really in a picnic kinda mood so that was it. No post-prom party the night before, no beach day, and no second date for my friend and Tony.
To this day, I get a bit envious of kids who get to experience their prom the way it was meant to be experienced. I do feel cheated out of what was supposed to be a great night. The plus side, I always win the "who had the worst prom" game at parties.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Pomp and Circumstance
The families eagerly await the arrival of the graduates, armed with cameras and bouquets of flowers. They have arrived early in order to get the best seats possible, waiting on line before the doors to the gymnasium open. Finally, the familiar tune of "Pomp and Circumstance" is heard and the graduates parade in, girls in white cap and gown, boys in green. Some have big smiles on their faces, some look a bit nervous. They take their places on the stage as the ceremony begins.
The graduates form groups and treat us to a few choral selections. We hear "Did you Ever See a Turkey?", "These are the People in Your Neighborhood" and "Brush Our Teeth". Oh, did I mention that the graduates are four and five years old?
This is my daughter's pre-school graduation. Thinking back, I can't remember any such, well, pomp and circumstance when I left pre-school. Yes, it's true we do make much more out of milestones now then back then. Now, everyone gets a trophy at the end of the soccer season, everyone gets a plaque for dance. Some have argued that this is not necessarily a good thing, that it waters down the "real" accomplishments. And before I had kids I might have agreed with them. But the fact is, my older daughter, who is 8, gets darn excited about her trophies. They are a testament to her hard work over the course of the season. Did they win every game? No. Not even close. But if you believe that "showing up is half the battle" then by golly, that trophy is well deserved. Yes, all of her trophies end up in a cardboard box on the top shelf of her closet, forgotten about the very next day, but I digress...
Milestones like my little one's graduation are not only for the children, but for the parents as well. Maybe even more so for us. They allow us those opportunities to reflect on our children; to have one of those "where does the time go?" experiences during our busy lives that make us appreciate the moment a bit more. I found myself being just a bit envious of the parents with children younger than our little graduates. They get to do this all over again (not me, I'm done. Finished. The ship has sailed. Don't get any ideas, friends and family, it ain't gonna happen.)
I realized that I started to feel a bit full of myself. You know how when a woman is pregnant and sometimes people will say that she acts like she is the only woman who has ever been pregnant? Damn right she feels that way! We all did, ladies, be honest, especially with our first. Yes, the room was filled with parents of graduates but I felt like jumping on that stage and shouting, "but you don't understand, that is MY daughter that is graduating!!! See her? She is obviously the smartest and cutest one!!"
So I say bring on both the pomp and circumstance! Let's celebrate at every opportunity! Come the fall my little one is off to kindergarten, where new experiences await her. Guess it's time to get her a cardboard box of her own.
The graduates form groups and treat us to a few choral selections. We hear "Did you Ever See a Turkey?", "These are the People in Your Neighborhood" and "Brush Our Teeth". Oh, did I mention that the graduates are four and five years old?
This is my daughter's pre-school graduation. Thinking back, I can't remember any such, well, pomp and circumstance when I left pre-school. Yes, it's true we do make much more out of milestones now then back then. Now, everyone gets a trophy at the end of the soccer season, everyone gets a plaque for dance. Some have argued that this is not necessarily a good thing, that it waters down the "real" accomplishments. And before I had kids I might have agreed with them. But the fact is, my older daughter, who is 8, gets darn excited about her trophies. They are a testament to her hard work over the course of the season. Did they win every game? No. Not even close. But if you believe that "showing up is half the battle" then by golly, that trophy is well deserved. Yes, all of her trophies end up in a cardboard box on the top shelf of her closet, forgotten about the very next day, but I digress...
Milestones like my little one's graduation are not only for the children, but for the parents as well. Maybe even more so for us. They allow us those opportunities to reflect on our children; to have one of those "where does the time go?" experiences during our busy lives that make us appreciate the moment a bit more. I found myself being just a bit envious of the parents with children younger than our little graduates. They get to do this all over again (not me, I'm done. Finished. The ship has sailed. Don't get any ideas, friends and family, it ain't gonna happen.)
I realized that I started to feel a bit full of myself. You know how when a woman is pregnant and sometimes people will say that she acts like she is the only woman who has ever been pregnant? Damn right she feels that way! We all did, ladies, be honest, especially with our first. Yes, the room was filled with parents of graduates but I felt like jumping on that stage and shouting, "but you don't understand, that is MY daughter that is graduating!!! See her? She is obviously the smartest and cutest one!!"
So I say bring on both the pomp and circumstance! Let's celebrate at every opportunity! Come the fall my little one is off to kindergarten, where new experiences await her. Guess it's time to get her a cardboard box of her own.
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