Well today was my first ever participation in Black Friday.  I’ve always heard the news stories, and talk to people that have gone shopping at that insane hour in the morning.  But I’d always just shrugged it off as a sort of niche thing that “normal” people didn’t really have much to do with.  But apparently (once again) I’M the one who’s far from normal.

I had a live broadcast today from Orschlen’s.  It’s a new personal record for earliest remote I’ve ever done (6AM – 9AM).  And as I was driving across town, I first noticed the cars lined up and parked around the block from Sears.  “Wow,” I thought.  Must be some deals there or something.  THEN I drive past Wal-Mart.  HO-LEE-CRAP.  There wasn’t an empty space in the entire parking lot.  Infact people were parking at the stores and fast food joints next to Wal-Mart just to get in that place.  I can’t even imagine what it was like on the inside.  And this is just Great Bend, Kansas!  I mean good greif!

So I pull up to Orschlen’s about 30 minutes before they opened to start setting up equipment.  Sure enough, there were already people lined up outside the store.  I’ll be honest.  I assumed that Orschlen’s would be 2nd or 3rd on people’s priority list.  But that place was jam packed for a good 2 hours and then pretty steady after that.

I mean they had some good deals.  Pretty much everything I didn’t really need.  But they had a really nice mounted work light set that I snatched up for $20.  I figure for $20 that will help working on stuff after dark.  With the shorter days, it’s a shame to let all that time go to waste.

So that’s my Black Friday introduction.  After seeing that Wal-Mart parking lot though I can’t imagine I’ll ever be bold enough to run in THAT crowd.

As I’ve been posting about, Gator and Tech are having relationship issues with Kitten.

I had a date with Tech Wednesday night but would have stayed home if I had realized how big the emotional turmoil Gator was dealing with actually was. (Even though he was at work almost the whole time I was gone.) He rarely texts me or calls me while I’m on a date any more. He did both and more than one time of each. He was really in pain. And he said he was jealous…what he actually felt was envy. He wants to have with Kitten something that more closely resembles what I have with Tech.

He was also trying to communicate with Kitten during this time…and this caused Kitten to call Tech for a long talk. The sad truth is, there are times that Kitten has to be shocked into seeing where a situation is heading. She refuses to listen to normal conversations. She doesn’t really have conversations with any of us. She talks “at” us.

So, once I was home from my date and Gator was home from work (he got off at midnight), he and I spent several hours talking. About how he was feeling, what he would like to have with Kitten, all manner of things. It came up in conversation the depth of our feelings for them. Gator knows, and I’ve stated on more than one occasion in this blog, that I love Tech. As much as I love Gator I’ve always said…just that Gator and I have a deeper bond. I’ve never truly felt I explained that well. And I know that Gator has never really understood the whole concept totally.

But, my dear husband, the very one that most always has difficulties expressing himself well, sent some possible enlightenment my way. And I’ll state it as well as I can here. Although he and I have talked about it a couple of more times since he first brought this up, I can not be sure I have the “whole” of his thought processes behind this concrete in my head.

He explained again that he can’t understand how I could love Tech as much as I do him. I tried once more to get my thoughts about the bond we have being greater due to our years and experiences together across to him again. He explained that’s the very reason he can’t love Kitten as much as me. However, he has opened himself and his heart to her just as much as he has me. And therefore, opened himself up to the possibility of as much love and pain from her. Due to our experience in our relationship together, it is most likely that he can avoid some of the pitfalls we faced in his relationship with Kitten. And yes, because of our maturity and relationship experiences as a whole, it is possible for him to love her more after 5 years than he did me after 5 years.

I am so not explaining this well. I wish I could get him to post on this. Because as he was telling me all this, I was seeing it. How his concept was even more accurate than mine in regards to how much I love Tech. Because, it still boils down to the fact that I would be heartbroken to lose Tech but losing Gator would devastate me. Is that because I love Gator more or because he and I have survived more? I’ve always assumed it was because he and I have been through more together. But it does seem possible that because of all we’ve been through I would love him more. See?

But, I guess it doesn’t really matter how you look at it. I love them both so much. I don’t like to be in a position that I can’t meet the needs they both have for me. I try very hard not to get in such a position. I still consider it as having two husbands. Just I have a young relationship with one and a mature one with the other.

What is important for me in this? That I have finally gotten a grasp on how Gator views things. That I know he does not stay with Kitten just for my sake. That he seeks more with her. I hate that he hurts and I always will. But, I know now how open he is to her and that means some pain is inevitable.

I know this man is still my best friend. He is still the person I turn to first. I know I am more comfortable turning to Tech for things now as well. I know that Gator and I are closer than we have ever been. Sure, we’ve changed a lot. But, once again, we’ve made a journey together. I know that he and I trust each other to not let ourselves be mistreated. That just because I, or he, wouldn’t be willing to deal with something our gf/bf dishes out doesn’t mean it is wrong for us to believe those cons are outweighed by the pros for us. I know I trust he is always going to be there for me.

I’m so very happy to realize that, although we view it a bit differently, that we basically have the same outlook on how we feel about our loves. I’m happy that we can live with how we each do view things and be ok with them. I’m more than happy that Gator and I can talk so freely about these things.

Oh and, considering the texts and phone calls Tech and I received while on our date, we still managed to have a really nice time. We were just thankful to get some time together. And that’s exactly what Gator would like with Kitten. Time and an effort put forth on her behalf.

Thanksgiving was so much fun!  We had a great time at Auntie Carol and Uncle Glen’s (Noodle, if you will) house.  UD (Uncle Dennis) flew in from LA to spend it with us too.  Baby came along and was doing a great job of eating scraps off the ground.  There was a little grandparent battle over Benji, of course.  And Benji ate solids for the second time in his life, which was no less entertaining than the first time only two nights ago.  Applesauce was the first food, which I hadn’t really thought out.  It was an impromptu first feeding because we were eating applesauce with our pork chop and Benji was sitting there watching us in his high chair and seemed like he was waiting to join in.  Anyways, thanks to the hostess’ with the mostess for the great day and great food!

xoxo

Wynne and Benji

Daddy Corn and Benji

grandparents battle for Benji

Alex and Grandma

Wynne and turkey

Baby waiting for a scrap of turkey

Carving the turkey

sister brother

not too stoked on the applesauce huh?

Papa feeding Benji

Goji, Alex and Benji

No…

I realised when I was gifting those books just now that these books will reach disabled kids. But the more I thought about it, the more i realised that they too should be given the chance to read as much as they want, to “travel” to different lands and situations through the books.

When I was young, books where the one thing that I used to go to “places” and I think they need it. They may be trapped in not very useful bodies but if their minds are sharp, why not read and get transported to different worlds?

Anyway, this is the season to be giving…. so give and make someone’s Christmas a little more special. If you want to stretch your dollar, you can get those classic novels – very reasonably priced (go take a look).

Do go down to your neighbourhood MPH bookstore, pick a book for a kid (or two or more) and gift it to him/her.

I did it last year and convinced my Mom to participate and together I managed to get more books this year. I have gifted 7 books. Ages 8-18 yo i think… can’t recall, too many.

I’ve copied from a website details about this…. look below lah…. And gift something this season.

Share a gift with MPH

17 November 2009

Pick a dove-shaped card from the Christmas tree, buy a gift for the child whose name is on the card and MPH will send it to the child.

MPH’s Share-A-Gift is back for the 17th year running. Book lovers, this is your chance to buy a book for a child in one of the many homes on MPH’s list.

MPH is hoping to donate RM15,000 worth of books to the participating homes.

“A book can make a wonderful companion. For these children, it will mean they are not forgotten, that somebody still remembers, even if it’s a stranger miles away. Hence the theme for this year ‘You are not alone’,” says MPH chief operating officer Donald Kee.

This year, a total of 30 homes throughout Malaysia have been selected to benefit from this programme. They are:

Kuala Lumpur
Tara Bhavan Children Home
Ti Ratana Welfare Society
Yayasan Sunbeams Home
Rumah Charis
Kompleks Anak Yatim Darul Kifayah

Selangor
Shelter Home (1, 2 & 3)
Rumah Anak Gembira, Selangor
Rumah Kanak-kanak Impian
Pusat Jagaan Siddharthan
Persatuan Kanak-Kanak Istimewa Hulu Langat
Persatuan Kanak-Kanak Istimewa Kajang
Compassion Home
Rumah K.I.D.S
Persatuan Rumah Kebajikan Rita
Pusat Penjagaan Kanak-Kanak Cacat Taman Megah
Assunta Children Society of Selangor & Federal Territory
Good Samaritan Home
Rumah Keluarga Kami (Yayasan Ozanam)
Philea Home

Penang
St Joseph Home
Children’s Protection Society

Perak
Praise Boy’s Home / Praise Girl’s Home
Agape Family
Bethany Home
The Salvation Army (Children)
The Salvation Army (Boys)
Vision Home
Rumah Wawasan

Negri Sembilan
Persatuan Kebajikan Kanak-Kanak Rhema

Sarawak
Kuching Children’s Home and Hostel

Here’s how you can participate in just 3 easy steps:

1. Pick a dove-shaped card from the Christmas tree with the child’s name written on it at any of our MPH Bookstores outlets throughout Malaysia.
2. Purchase an appropriate book for the child
3. Share your message on the dove-shaped card

MPH Bookstores will wrap the book and send it with your personally-written card to the children by December. You will also receive a complimentary notepad with every purchase of RM60 and above or get a Book Voucher with every purchase of RM100 in the store – a little thank you present from MPH.

This week, not today. But I had you going for a minute there, didn’t I?

Today: 3.7 miles

In public.

With running trousers on.

In the middle of the day.

Today was groundbreaking stuff. I ran with Paula, who is sneakily fitter than she lets on, due to her strange habit of using the time when her smallest one is at preschool with my smallest one to go and do Body Combat classes at the gym. I on the other hand prefer to relax in the nearest coffee shop and eat a bacon sandwich on the pretext of doing the Christmas shopping.  I can write this safe in the knowledge that Mr Marathonmummy never reads my blog, probably because he has to live with my incessant witterings on a daily basis, and has done for nearly 15 years.

Anyway, back to running. So up the hill we went, walking because we were warming up and not because the hill is hideous at all. Run run run, walk walk walk, run run run, walk walk walk. Onto the main road which has a footpath but also has lorries and things driving past at 60mph. Note to self: slightly short, loose fitting t-shirt + backdraft from lorries = bit of an eyeful for the following cars. I ended up having to jog along holding the hem of my top to avoid scaring the drivers. Run run, walkwalkwalkwalkwalkwalkchatchat, oops this isn’t marathon trainingrunrunrun, up a hill (vomit), down a hill (clever trick from P: lengthen stride slightly to avoid hideous jarring feeling, and it works), run run run. Passed whilst running by someone we know, so we have proof it really happened, then home for water, stretching, cups of tea and oh the absolute bliss of a hot bath in the middle of the day. Thank goodness for preschoolers who still have an afternoon nap.

Paula: Right, shall we run when we get to that post?

Me: Yes, good idea.

(post passes>

Paula: We’re still not running, have you noticed?

Me: But we’re thinking about running. That counts, doesn’t it?

So this week’s mileage is 13.6. Hooray for me, and for lovely running chums, and for all the moral support from people telling me they think I must be mad but well done.

As has been our tradition for the past several years (following our discovery of a recipe that we picked up at a bbq joint), Penny prepared a marinade for the turkey on the night before, and then I got up the morning of Thanksgiving and set up the smoker for the bird. That was this morning. Or, I suppose, yesterday morning. I’m typing this in the wee hours of Friday morning, not having yet turned in after a long, long Thanksgiving day.

For the first time in a while, some realities have been at the forefront of my mind all day. Like, that if we don’t bring in some steady income soon, we are going to not just lose the house… but be foreclosed and evicted. (We’ve missed one payment so far. I think you get three before foreclosure.) “Lose the house” sounds like a bummer, but these things can happen. “Be foreclosed and evicted” is more… dire. And what was on my mind.

Also on my mind was that Penny and I both need to obtain a steady income if we are to have any chance at maintaining a good support structure for our kids while we begin building our new lives as separate, co-parenting people.

There’s a lot of history as to how we got into the financial pickle we are in right now, but it mostly has to do with our business — which has never done particularly well — falling on particularly hard times, while my “pay the mortgage” job as a free-lance database guy has hit a major dry spell. I have a very strong work ethic, but me working two jobs for the past four-plus years has been wearing me down considerably, and when I haven’t been working, I’ve been covering the kids while Penny spends time of her own on the business we share.

Now, add to that the fact that I still work just as hard now as I did a year ago, but that now the money is coming in at about a third of the pace it used to (and far below what we need to pay mortgage and consumer debt), and the whole prospect is daunting.

A week after our first Talk About Divorce, Penny greeted me in the morning with an announcement that she had been crunching some numbers regarding the cost of various options depending upon whether we lived here or there or elsewhere. Each of the scenarios she mentioned assumed one shared household. Given that we had already talked details about separate living arrangements, I found this odd, but the kids were up and so I suggested we talk about it in the evening, after the kids were in bed.

That night (remember, this is exactly one week after our first Talk), I asked her why she was calculating numbers based upon us continuing to live together. Her response was something to the effect of, “Well, yes, of course things would have to change if we’re going to stay together.”

Those may not have been her exact words, but I think they’re close. The meaning I got from her words and intonation was the notion that divorce was her idea — not mine — and that I was going to have to change if we were to avoid divorce.

I didn’t bother to correct her. Instead, I asked her to elaborate.

There are too many details to go into right now (and, despite my usual perky insomnia, I find myself dragging tonight/this morning), but the gist of it is this: she said it’s a “matter of respect.”

“That cuts both ways,” I said, thinking that what she meant was she was concerned about me not showing her respect (although I wasn’t sure how that could be). But, no. It was… that she didn’t respect me.

Oh? Oh. Oh! Wait a minute!

I mean, I felt she hadn’t been showing me respect, but it didn’t occur to me that it was because… she didn’t respect me. (Are you slapping your forehead at how dense I am? Or is that me slapping my forehead?)

She explained that she thought I was turning out to be just like her father, who (in Penny’s view) took care of himself rather than taking care of the family, etc., when the finances got tight.

She explained that she and I view money differently (which is true) and that she was willing to go with it (while I was bringing in all the money), but that now she’s completely stressed out and can’t live like this any longer.

And although she didn’t say it during this particular Talk, something she had said recently was certainly hanging in the air during this conversation: that we were working so hard, dammit, and we shouldn’t have to work this hard and still make no progress. “It shouldn’t be this hard!”

She also talked about how I never seemed to be happy in any given job, and this was also a problem for her. (There is quite a bit of truth to this, but I’m not sure how that weighs in on the bigger issues.)

It was interesting that she brought up her father, because I have been painfully aware of how much contempt her mother shows for her father. I have — for years — told Penny that I don’t want our marriage to become like her parents’ (a sentiment she always seemed to resent, as if I was impugning her parent’s fine role modeling… which, of course, I was, albeit as delicately as I could muster.)

Her parents situation went like this: they had a family farm. It went bust. The mother didn’t want to leave the town they were living in. The father couldn’t find work there. So he took work that was a few hours drive away, lived there in an apartment during the weeks, and spent weekends at home. Meanwhile, the mother took a secretarial job in their farming community at the local high school and continued to raise their children.

I have also been informed by one of Penny’s brothers — and he believes Penny does not know this — that the father had an affair, and the mother found out. Given the way the mother acts around the father — cordial on the surface, but with eye rolls and other non-verbal signs of contempt — I think that the alleged affair is plausible. Either way, their marriage is poison.

[As a side note, I'll mention that I actually like the mother more than I like the father, despite the disrespect she always shows the father. Penny says she thinks her father is the smarter of the two -- by far -- and he may well be, but I have never once heard him actually complete a sentence. It's the most bizarre thing. He'll start a sentence, pause as if you can see where he's going, and start the next sentence. And half the time, I have no idea where he's going when he does that.]

When Penny refers to her father as selfish, she’s referring to the idea that he’d buy a lunch instead of packing a lunch. Doing things like that which are, well, easier but more expensive.

There’s much more about the subject of her parents, and about how Penny and I handle finances differently, but you get the idea.

Even as I type this, I see the words and shout in my mind: “Doomed! This is doomed! Get out! It’s over! Doooomed!” That’s certainly what was running through my mind on the evening of the Second Talk.

So, there it is then, right? Divorce is inevitable, because I’m not getting what I need to stay in the marriage (sex, affection, love, intimacy, and apparently, respect), and Penny isn’t getting what she needs, either. Case closed. No need for further discussion.

And yet, in every conversation since then, each reference she has made to future events presuppose us staying together. Comments about how we should handle child #1’s extra-curricular activities next year. How we should handle Thanksgiving next year. All as if we were staying married.

A couple of nights ago, we ended up going to bed at the same time. That almost never happens (because I typically won’t let it. I can’t fall asleep lying next to the rejection machine.) Typically, Penny slides waaay over on her side of the bed. It’s a king size. So, no hope or fear of us touching, be it accidentally or on purpose. Yet, a couple of nights ago, she sidled up next to me. She didn’t actually do anything. (I have occasionally wondered if her idea of initiating sex was to lie there and decide that if I offered, she won’t say “No” this time.) Nor did I make any advances. I was too confused. And angry. And just not willing.

Which all brings us to today. Thanksgiving, 2009. I smoke the bird. We clean up around the house and referee the kids while they play and fight amongst themselves. Penny makes the side dishes. We have a fantastic meal. The kids are well behaved, and the bird is perfect. Afterward, I do all the dishes while she stashes the leftovers. We bundle up the kids to go to the neighbors across the street for a small get-together.

And while we chat and mind the kids and sample the pot-luck dishes (even though we’ve already stuffed ourselves to the proverbial gills), two thoughts occur to me:

1) Penny is in denial at least as much as I am, if not more so, about our future together, and

2) Maybe living in denial is what’s making it possible for us to continue to working together as well as we are. And, for the most part, we are still working well together.

As long as I’m okay being celibate, I guess this situation could go on indefinitely. (Sooner or later, we are going to resolve the financial situation, because we must.)

But I’m not okay with being celibate, and so I’m mentally setting a deadline. Not a deadline to bring our sex life back from the dead. Rather, a deadline for us to separate.

More on that later. Right now, it’s time for me to go to bed.

I just completed 100 pages of AR!  Over 25,000 words complete. Hooray!

It is a milestone for this one. Up until now, it has been difficult for me to write. Now it’s starting to flow and its great.

However, I’m officially getting tired and making too many typos. So its off to bed. Will blog more on progress before I start tomorrow..

It’s official, Iggy has started teething.  Six weeks ago we were sure his pearly whites had started their descent from the gum line, but it was either a false alarm or they decided to scamper back to the safety of their home and plan a better orchestrated attack.  Well they’re back, ruthless and taking no prisoners.

The first sign was the drooling:

Simultaneous drooling while sleeping. He must get that from my side of the family.

Then he started poking his tongue out his mouth 90% of the time he was awake:

The red cheeks are a dead giveaway that bubs is teething.

Same tongue, different day

Then came the thumb sucking:

Little does he know his Mom sucked her thumb until she was at least 8 years old.

So we decided to give him a rusk to chew on:

Almost......

And....Touchdown!

For those of you not fluent in babyspeak, a rusk is defined as:

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Apparently this teething thing can last until bubs is 3 years old, so we’ve got a LONG way to go.  Until then, it looks as though we better arm ourselves with an arsenal of rusks, paracetamol, chew toys, drool bibs and ear plugs.

Today, we celebrated in a very quiet way everything that we have to be thankful for. Of course you were high on that list for both daddy and me. Specifically, for me anyway, I was thankful for THE TOES. I just love the piggies. What can I say?

This year, as opposed to last, when you were little more than a blob who, if memory serves, slept right through dinner in your car seat adjacent to the table, you were much more a part of our festivities. Last year, you were SO unimpressed by our gluttony. This year, you gleefully entered the land of way too much food and dove in with delight. I broke up some zucchini, broccoli, carrots and turkey for you into pieces and you just shoved pieces willy nilly into your trap. You even got a taste of some whipped cream from Grandma’s pie that she waited all of 3 seconds after dinner to dive into and really, once you know Grandma, you will know that those 3 seconds probably killed her as she pretty much woke up wanting pie since about 7 AM.

I also have not commented on………let’s call it Gift Fest 2009, or what others probably call your birthday party. Dude. It was not a huge lavish affair, because sorry I just don’t roll like that. I like family and friends to come and eat and enjoy each other’s company which is basically what we did, but yeah, they brought you gift after gift after gift. It was borderline obnoxious. I mean, don’t get me wrong – you are loved. Holy shit on a stick, are you loved. In that way, I thought it was wonderful, but how many toys can one little boy play with, I ask you? Some of them I have stored up in your closet and we will have to rotate them out and others in at some point in the future. We only have so much room, buddy. I hate to ask people to not get you gifts because I remember when Aunt Krista had Wrenna and she was all “Don’t buy her a lot of crap – if you want to give, please contribute to her college fund.” I was like “OK, you big fuddy duddy – we’ll see.” Yeah, now I see. Aunt Krista was on to something brilliant there. She knew first hand just how much STUFF you little people collect. Insert “Mama’s purse fund” in where Aunt Krista has Wrenna’s college fund and I think we have a winner. WHAT? I’m kidding. Sorta.

Actually we just recently opened you up a little savings account of your very own. How stinkin’ cute. Ya know what’s not stinkin’ cute? That on certain days like one day before payday or the day after I pay a crap ton of bills, you have more money than Daddy and me. What the piss is that about, son? That’s some bullshit right there. I’m just sayin’. We work for our cash, son and can I point out that most of THAT cash goes to you too???? You just sit around…..show people the toes and collect the dinero. Something stinks in Denmark.

You are getting closer and closer to walking. You are now balanced enough that you can hold just one hand to either us or whatever and stroll around. ONLY IF YOU ARE IN THE MOOD. You have totally discovered that you can just collapse those fat legs of yours if you are not in the mood and there is not a damn thing we can do to get you to cooperate. You also keep forgetting to hold on constantly and at times, you have let go of the sofa or whatever toy you are leaning against and stand for a moment all on your own and then of course, I very cooly shriek like an idiot and you fall. Why do I not learn this lesson?

Your adjustment to going to see Ms. Emily three days a week is still going well. She tells me that you play with the other boys and she has yet to mention any hair pulling/biting/bitch slaps etc so I guess you are not in danger of getting kicked out yet. That’s always good. It is always such fun to drive up and if Emily hears me, she will open the door for you to see me coming. Man, you truck your little butt up to that door and start banging on it like “Did you know it’s dark? It’s dark, mama, and you not get me ALL day and now you are just coming and HELLO, it’s dark.” I pick you up and sometimes you just look at me like “Hey, you came back again…..cool.” And then my most favorite, is when I pick you up and you look at me and then lay your head down on my shoulder like “I just stay here, okay?” Man I love that.

One of the funniest things you do and it’s sorta in line with you beating ass to the door at Emily’s is you love to lean against the storm door here and look out. If I, heaven forbid, go out to take garbage out or check the mail or whatever, you fly over to the door and I inevitably come back to the door to find a very irate little boy with both hands flung up over his head banging away. Then once you see that I see you, you scream in happiness and bang even harder. It’s hard to not find that irresistible. I mean, it’s just that cute.

Well buddy, this year I am thankful for you and the fact that you are healthy and usually happy (USUALLY) and that we are able to take good care of you. I can’t imagine being one of those people who look at their children and worry about feeding them or making sure they are safe. Daddy and I belly ache sometimes about working hard and moan, whine, bitch, whatever. I guess that’s normal, but we are so blessed, buddy. We are able to keep you warm and fed and clothed and just having the ability to do that for you brings me a level of contentment that heretofore only came with the purchase of a really pretty comforter or a purse with such soft leather, it made me utter words IN PUBLIC like “ooooooh, it feels like buttah.”

So you now trump purse and comforter purchases. That’s pretty big. You can brag to your friends later in life about that one.

I never want to eat again.

I learned that one can actually feel their butt grow.

When you ask James what a turkey says, he’ll tell you “Dobble dobble.”

I pushed through the turkey coma, finished addressing our Christmas cards and put them in the mail on the way back home from my parent’s house. This is a personal best. I usually do this the week before Christmas.

A great thing about this weekend? There are TWO days available for parental sleeping in. I’m taking Saturday morning and Michael gets tomorrow morning. TRULY something to be thankful for.

The everyday operating concerns of your business, the people, the problems, the planning, and the pursuit of profits are the matters that occupy us daily. Dealing with these issues in straight forward, common sense manner is a worthwhile objective for us all.

This is the second anniversary of “It’s Your Business”. I know that we share common view points on many of the issues raised in this column during these past two years. The real challenge in managing, however, is to be able to effectively apply our well thought out ideas. To do the things that we know we should be doing is not always so easy while operating under the pressures of our daily schedules.

Employment milestones and anniversaries, the subject of the first anniversary column of “It’s Your Business”, highlighted some of these shared areas of concern. Published for the first time just one year ago, it went something like this.

Anniversaries are important. Forget one year and you’ll see just how important. Birthdays are important. Just look at the anticipation of children of all ages as their special day approaches.

There is another kind of milestone that often remains unrecognized. It is your employment anniversary. It generally doesn’t get the attention that it deserves but it is a date that few of us forget. From the most menial of jobs to the most meaningful, we all feel a bit neglected and under appreciated from time to time.

In companies that don’t recognize employee anniversaries, you probably won’t hear much talk about them and you might think that people really don’t care that much. Don’t make that mistake. Believe me, you might not hear it, but particularly at times of triumph or tragedy, people can always be heard to say, “I worked at that place for x years.”

Use the self test if you doubt the importance of employment anniversaries. Don’t you remember how many years you have had at particular job? Don’t you remember the day you started that job? Wouldn’t it be nice if somebody came up to you and said, “We will have been working together for eleven years on Friday. Let’s get together for lunch to mark the occasion.”

Your recognition of an employee’s anniversary shows your appreciation for what that individual has contributed. People not only contribute their labors for which they are compensated, but they are also contributing their lives. Your interest will give meaning and a sense of satisfaction to people as they reflect back on how they have spent their years.

Your recognition of these milestones will recall, for both you and your employee, the commitment, the enthusiasm and the high expectations that each of your shared when you started to work together. You will have the opportunity to review with pride your mutual accomplishments. In a relaxed setting, you will remember the frustrations and hard times with sentimental amusement.

There was a time when I was too busy, or perhaps just not smart enough, to remember these occasions. On more than one occasion an employee came to me, shook my hand with pride and said they had been working for me for three years as of that day. I felt bad that I hadn’t remembered the anniversary and that I hadn’t initiated the conversation. I came to understand the importance of these milestones.

Service awards for longevity are an accepted tradition in many businesses. They are good programs and should be continued. But the handing out of a two, five or ten year pin at an annual company dinner doesn’t fully recognize the contribution of each person that receives those awards. Complement a formal program that publicly acknowledges the individual with a gesture that shows your personal recognition of that person’s dedication.

Some years ago I had an employee, Stan, who had worked in this business for many years prior to my arrival. On the 30th anniversary of Stan’s employment I asked him to join me for breakfast. At 7 o’clock that morning we meet on the shop floor. As everyone else headed to their work stations, he and I headed for the parking lot and a short ride to the coffee shop. We had a great breakfast. We talked for over an hour and the bill wasn’t more than ten bucks.

Stan said that breakfast meant a lot to him. Despite all his accomplishments and responsibilities, nobody had ever spent time like that with him before. He said everybody knows you’re the boss and that you took the time to be with me. That’s important.

That might seem like a small and simple story in today’s fast paced world, but the need for that recognition is there. People who dedicate themselves to a job deserve that recognition. You have the power to meet that need and in so doing create a better company.

Readers can contact “It’s Your Business” C/O The Herald, P. O. Box 271, Monterey, 93942 or write to J. L. Driscoll & Co., P. O. Box AV, Carmel, Ca 93921.

Lila-Jeanne is here now on the sunshine side of the womb. She is beautiful beyond the singing of it. Just before dawn she surfaces from her heroic struggle. Breaking through, she lets loose with an impassioned caterwauling filling her lungs with air for the first time. Under her membranous wrapping she is our rosy pink gift – warm, spluttering movement, uncertain and authentically surprised.

Mélanie sweats, grinds, bears down, pushes, struggling through the pain. Bands of steely muscle contract and loosen. Her body marches inexorably to a final unwinding. She is courageous beyond the telling of it. A last determined push helps propel Lila out to our side. Her serpentine cord, that inimitable bond, unravels like a lazy spring. In an instant, nine long months of anticipation become a joyous eternity. Her presence overwhelms us. Lila is laid on Mélanie’s breast – mother and daughter heartbeat to racing heartbeat.

I am buoyant, awash in a warm sea inhaling life’s elemental scent. This is pure joy. I am a lucky man to experience this miraculous moment one more time. I cradle Lila in my arms, our first skin-to-skin touch, and look into her small, awakened face. She stops crying as I gently rock her while walking back and forth. I’m pleased the tears pause. Just maybe I’m emitting some subliminal positive vibes that are helping her in some small way.

Did I mention that maman shows her champion mettle throughout this crescendo of breathe, push, pain – breathe, cry, birth – baby, sigh, smile?

It wasn’t always a sure thing though. Mélanie was convinced we would be returning home to The Passage with her big belly intact. Three hours after checking in dilation was still only at 2 cm. We walked around and around and around the small maze garden to stir things up after the early labour nurse gave it a go too. It didn’t appear that the stirring was going to take.

It was a relatively calm evening so we got checked into a birthing room. Mé took a long warm bath and soon afterward the contractions picked up intensity and frequency. After several waves, Mé decided it was time to call on the purveyor of the epidural – the magic man. As well as diminishing the pain, the anesthetic provided an energy jolt.

Mé was in her groove initiating conversations with the nurses about family and children, reaching out to learn about their lives. One of the nurses works regularly in remote communities in northern Manitoba. Mélanie was able to share her Poplar River experiences from many years ago. It was one of the few communities the nurse had not yet visited.

Our main nurse was with us right through to the birth. She is the same age as my oldest daughter and has two young children of her own – one pre-schooler, one school age. She was a sweet heart helping Mé throughout the night. She is a member of the Salvation Army and one of her pastors was a close friend of mine during high school. The world can be so small and beautiful.

Our doctor had been alerted earlier in the evening and received a second call to haul her out of bed and get her to the hospital. On arrival she told us she had already delivered this baby once in a dream. There had been only one snag, she couldn’t find a clamp she needed, nor could any of the nurses. There were massive amounts of blood spurting from the baby getting on everyone and everything and then she woke up. Happily, there were no lost clamp issues in the real life delivery. However, I did have to pull the doctor’s ringing blackberry our of her back pocket, tell her daughter to get ready for hockey and let her know that her mom was busy and would call her back. Life goes on even as new life bursts on the scene.

The kids are waking up back in The Passage. Lila-Jeanne and Mé get a kiss as I float out the door, dazed and euphoric. Back home, Raymond and the children are waiting wide-eyed. Noah’s exuberant, impromptu dance while rapid fire chanting his new sister’s name is a welling up of primal joy, unbridled, uncut. Nellie is right there by his side spinning, weaving, smiling, laughing still a pixie babe herself. Raymond is beatific tout court.

I make the calls to immediate family with the good news and contact my office. Even though I didn’t do any of the hard work, it’s been a long night. Raymond lets me crash to get a little rest. I drift off with the new baby smell and thoughts of Lila-Jeanne in my mind.

Thank you Mélanie for being a loving maman and a fearless championne.

Parking lot lights, busy gray bodies, and those polyester shoulders can’t mean anything to me anymore. It was a first, sure, but he didn’t know your name. He called you something else. So it shouldn’t mean anything. Not those shoulders, not that feeling. 

So what if it felt nice? So what if it made you so happy your heart could have danced with the stars? You have to put that picture down, or burn it so you won’t be tempted to put it up again. That way you can’t ever think that way again. 

He’s with her, she’s with him. They’re as happy as can be. And if I had only known that when it happened, I wouldn’t have leaned in that far, or let myself get too happy. If I had paid attention to how he had drawn me in closer, with my name–not my name, not my name–I wouldn’t have thought it to be that great. Not if I knew why he had been so happy. 

And if  I had paid any attention to his face, the other drummer. The way he reminded the first that my name was Rachel, the way he kept looking at me anxiously. If I had heeded any of his warnings, the memory wouldn’t have been soured. There wouldn’t have been a memory to begin with.

I can’t listen to it anymore, the song. And it was all yellow. Look at the stars, look how they shine for you. Not again. I just think of it when I hear it. The book is still open on my piano, waiting for me to finish the song. It’s over. I don’t want to play it ever again. My limbs just grow weary and sick and deceived. I have to get up. I can’t ever finish it. Such a shame. It was a beautiful song.

And the wristband that I tossed away in a box, a time capsule. Twenty years from now, I told myself that night, I’ll look back on this. I didn’t think about what a disaster it could turn out to be. Didn’t think it was anything but genuine. The wristband still sits there, alone, gathering dust. At least I won’t see it for a while. Until I’ve moved fully past it. Until I’ve reached another milestone.

You don’t care, you don’t care, I tell myself. And I know that much is true. I just care about how much of myself I put into that one memory, only to slam it against the wall. I just care about how happy I was and how I can’t remember it anymore without wanting to get sick. That is why I care.

I know that much to be true.

this month has been a time of celebrating the fall of the Berlin Wall, a “peaceful revolution”, & “These events triggered drastic changes around the world, marking the end of the Cold War and of the division of Europe.”, more info here

weird face wearing Huggalugs leg warmers

sitting up for the first time!

nice kitty

Lil head butting Benji

Benji's friends

Benji and Bella what are you staring at?

**In some of the pics you can see Benji wearing Huggalugs, our preferred brand of leg warmers, straight from Australia.  They are super cute and come in many styles, great for boys, as where some leg warmers have more girly prints.  Please check out: http://www.justkiddn.com  for great Huggalug styles! **
So tired… Barely slept a wink. 

Just when we had gotten into some sort of groove with sleeping, teething has gone and janked the whole affair and the bags under my eyes say it all. 

Jamie was nice this morning.  After a long night of nursing at 2:30, bouncing and singing at 3:30, and finally bringing Benji into our bed at 4:30, I was surprised by breakfast in bed this morning.  (Good thing because resentment builds up really fast at 4 am when you feel like you are losing your mind from lack of sleep).  Jamie does whatever he can to make it easier on me- I just need to vent about getting up every night and how it is making me crazy!  I try to make each day fun and positive, even when I am feeling upset or just exhausted. 

This week we had our PEPS friends over.  The night before that was really hard, and I think both Benji and I benefitted from seeing our friends.  A good distraction from what could’ve been a bummer morning.  It was great to see how all the babies are sitting up now on their own (with some falls here and there).  We only just discovered that Benji could do this a few nights ago, and of course I freaked out!  Sitting up all on his own, he is a genius.  The cat Lil was into it too.  It made me kind of warm up to her again when she was letting Benji pet her.  

Tomorrow T-Giving.  Yum!

Rose Reflections by BL1961

Yes, The Misadventures of Moppet got its thousandth hit today!  And I’m delighted, especially considering the blog is less than one month old.

Unfortunately I haven’t a prize to offer the thousandth visitor, like a week in Portofino, or a helium balloon.  But here are some flowers for all of you, to say thank you so much for stopping by.