So I admit, I see this picture and it makes me think of work these days.  As with most companies the last few months, we have implemented cost-cutting measures including the reductions in staff.  I narrowly missed this event only because there was only one other person that it could have been, and she unfortunately was the last one in.  (I confess maybe a slight advantage in versatility and experience but I was costing the company more as well.)  In any case, it’s made for more work on any given day.  The last few months have also seen the implementation of a new management philosophy with respect to how we do business internally as well.  To maximize efficiencies, we have basically seen a shift towards less process and control to a more practical approach rooted in strong collaboration and communication. ..with people who aren’t necessarily used to doing either.  It’s basically been pretty crazy.

I suppose yesterday ended perhaps the craziest period yet since my boss came back after a brief period of recovery from an angioplasty Monday last week precipitated by a “walking” heart attack just the Wednesday before that.  It’s kind of puzzling that she has felt the pressure to be back so quickly since I haven’t seen any indication that there was that much of a need to have her come back.  I myself would have been happier to continue to work on my own.  My indoctrination into the working world suggested that it’s supposed to be chaotic, hectic, and full of stress.  Until recent times, this job has been the complete opposite of that, and in fact, I might have wondered how anyone could pay me for what I did.  But since I have been working on my own, I have a renewed sense of purpose and have been approaching work with far more enthusiasm than I have in the past.  Especially when I’m under the gun and have my hands full, my brain buzzes happily as if recharged from a well of sharp productivity. Making my own decisions powered by my own initiative has renewed my sense of worth as it relates to my work life as well.

Ugh…I hope things don’t revert to back to dullness and monotony now!

• My babies seem to be channeling crazy these days, and I question my worth and competency as a mother.
• My boss, who is a woman, will be out of the office the greater part of this week due to a heart attack.  She’s not even fifty, seems to eat healthy, and walks her dog a good bit twice a day.  This may be a wakeup call for me and my own lifestyle choices.
• I might speculate on why two of my uncles, partners in a very lucrative business, could hire and then a few weeks later fire my sweet and close to penniless other uncle on his birthday.  I’m organizing a family reunion at a beach house where I expect these parties to attend for a week.  Yikes!
• RIP, dear friend M.

Not even these sad and worrying thoughts can stop this sleep train from departing the station…Prosezac out!

Anyway, the carnival was interesting as all these first-mom things are to me.  I haven’t had a lot of exposure to kids and their events, even anecdotally among my friends.  Those that have them had them at about the same time or later than I have.  Neither do I remember my own elementary school days with enough clarity to be able to anticipate how this would be set up.  The school is small, and the hallways were crowded.  The various midway sort of games were in classrooms in a maze of short corridors that branched off in odd angles and ending abruptly in some in some instances.  We got Juice to try his hand at a Ring Toss after much coaxing.  Once he understood the concept, he was much more enthusiastic and shy no more.  He couldn’t wait for the Goldfish Pong (ball toss into vases) and suffered the line a few times before he fretted the last time he was up.  He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just stay up there and toss to his heart’s content.  I suppose that should have prompted me to give him a good talking to but it was hot and crowded, and I didn’t notice the signs.

I convinced him to take a break at a lollipop pull before ending up at what I will affectionately call Prosezac’s Folly, which fair organizers called the Animal Walk.  Okay, so I admit I probably should have surmised what that was but I wasn’t sure so I bumped us forward and to the side of the line starting to build at the door so I could observe the rules for purposes of coaching my kid through the game.  Similar to musical chairs, the players circle in time to music, stopping on numbered circles when the music stops.  Numbers are pulled out of a hat to find the winners (3) who get to select a plush toy for a prize.  The lady running the thing was frazzled to say the least, barking at me when I pushed forward to look to let me know that I needed to submit 2 tickets (the equivalent of 50 cents) to play.  I told her I wanted to observe and she directed me to stay to the side and out of the way, from which location I accidentally knocked over some panel that appeared to be a cubicle wall that they were using to block people from entering an auxiliary room.  As Juice often says, “Oops!  Sorry!”

Really, she was like the animal walk Nazi!  She glared at me and sprinted to right the panel, all the while muttering at me not to help in a tone that suggested, “Because you’ll only just screw it up!”  She continued to glare at me as we filed past and dutifully paid our 2 tickets for a play.  I guided Juice through our round despite starting off on the wrong number (he wanted to be on 5, which was all the way across the room.  It’s a wonder what things you can demand once your learn those concepts!).  Alas, we were not winners.  No big deal!  Juice didn’t care because in fact, he was not interested in collecting a stuffed animal friend but on staying on the circles through the next round.  Of course, I was anxious to follow the rules and exit the activity as directed by the leader.  I guess I let the pressure get to me and hustled him out by dragging him by one arm, kicking and screaming as we filed past the consolation bag of candy.  That ended the whole thing, of course, as he was inconsolable at that point.  At the end of the day, what really surprises me is that the lady, whether parent or teacher, was so unsympathetic.  It makes me wonder if one day, I’ll look without pity on a new mom with a tantruming toddler when my own kids are long past that phase.  Or worse, I wonder if my kids will one day be dealt the unlucky hand of a teacher with very little patience.

Below, what we should have done instead.  This is what we did the last mild day that we had a few weeks ago, when spring actually strongly threatened.

We’ll check back in with an update on the fair.

Yesterday, the kids and I went to my parents’ home as is our habit once a week to give them a chance to spoil the kids rotten.  Some time in the course of the day, I allowed Juice to trail behind me into the powder room.  Although I rarely leave them with my parents at all, they seem to have some constant anxiety that I will be leaving them behind.  In any case, once I indicated that I would let him in, Juice awkwardly maneuvered himself and his Swiffer broom in before closing the door.  Since we are poised to attempt potty training in the next few months, I explained what I was doing there and that someday, I hoped he would like to use the potty as well.  I suffered through his usual agreeability when presented with this topic after which we sat in companionable silence.  Eventually, he took in a deep breath with all the force and enthusiasm that only a child can apply to an action and queried, “What’s that smell, Mommy?”  Mock-innocent, I replied, “I don’t know; what is that smell?” {pause}…”Bananas!”  Ahem…indeed!

This weekend and the few days leading up to it, I was overcome by the urge and the continuing motivation to clean, purge, and organize.  This is not in my nature nor part of my habits.  I have, over the years, hoarded and piled the detritus of an altogether interested mind; interested in just about everything with no ability to acknowledge that I don’t have the time to read all the articles in all the magazines or scraps of magazines I have piled all over the house.  For the books I have read, surprisingly many in physical form though I have gone through at least 3 PDAs and a few years enjoying audible books on my ipod, I have never been able to simply toss when completed because I attach a high value to books in concept and as possessions.

But this weekend, I was able to box a good bit of my library with a very concrete plan for submitting them for credit to the local used bookstore.  I hope to use the credit for children’s books if they have any or very sparingly to rotate new stock through my own library until I lose all value at the store.  I definitely don’t want to accumulate any more physical mass in books than I currently have.  The relatively bare, white-backed bookshelves are more suggestive of style than frump and dowdiness, and I suppose I’m ready for a little more style at home.  Above is a small section of what I kept, the reasons being various and interesting though only two because of any real possibility that I will read them again.

In the background, the boys were well-behaved though still energetic and lots of fun.  Only a few things were broken, and those I could afford to break.  They played together throughout and were generally glad of each other’s company.

I miss this little boy (and even myself) from three years ago!

Sometimes, they don’t drive me so crazy.

In the past, I have cautioned her against taking certain routes home and been proven right by a fallen tree blocking the road.  More recently, I predicted an organizational change without much knowledge about the events leading up to it.  In other circumstances, I have been observant enough to predict illness or skeptical enough to uncover a person’s motive long before anyone has any inkling of deceit.  Several times, I have intuited the cause for marital strife/divorce, often without knowing the spouse.  Whatever the case, my mother has always appreciated the thought when I have expressed a “feeling” about something.  To which I have always replied that people just need to pay attention and listen to their gut.

Over the last few weeks at work, she has had a string of strange occurrences as well.  When someone confessed her anxiety about laying off a subordinate, my mother replied, “Well, let’s hope that [employee X] already has a job, which would be the best possible scenario for all concerned.”  Lo and behold, X did already have another job lined up.  This wasn’t so out of the ordinary as X himself had previously expressed his concern that the worsening economy would affect the organization’s ability to maintain his position.

A week or so later, a line employee expressed her concern about the security of her job (they had previously been unaffected by the layoffs which were primarily in the administrative offices).  My mother offhandedly remarked, “Well, you had better be prepared.  You know what happened to the last person that worried about their job.”  Shortly thereafter, that very person was released from duty.

But the final kicker was when their Assistant Director was discussing her recent experiences with losing her grip on her coffee cup.  A lively water cooler banter ensued in which various potential causes were suggested, typically age, menopause, and other fairly innocuous possibilities.  My mother joined in late in the game, and without thinking, said, “You know, you should get yourself checked out.  You might have a brain tumor.” An awkward silence followed which the A.D. broke lightly by saying, “Geez, there are so many things wrong with me from old age to PMS, and to top it off, [my mother] thinks that I might have a brain tumor.”

After getting back to her desk, my mother reflected and spent the rest of the work week distressed about what she perceived as a particularly egregious faux pas, at work no less.  Well, over the weekend, she received the the sad and disturbing news through the office phone tree that the A.D. had been transported by helicopter from one local hospital to another, more sophisticated hospital in order to receive emergency surgical care for, of all things, a brain tumor detected after some sort of collapse.

Yikes!  My mother has been banned from making any more comments at work unless it’s to suggest that someone at the office might be winning the lottery.