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A baby dropped by work yesterday accompanied by Big Brother, Mom, and Dad. Women came from all directions as if there was some scent in the air. What is it with all the squeaking and cooing and can I hold him? Men fled and women stood in line to hold the baby. He was passed around like a hot potato. He’s not even a month old yet. So it was a very small sack of potatoes, more like a very large roast. Big Brother got bored and started racing around the cube-farm at top speed, bouncing off walls, and stealing candy. I didn’t blame him. At his age, what fun is it if you can’t play with it. All those adults inquisitioning him about his new Little Brother. Give him a break, he’s really not sure how he feels yet.
All this fuss, and it was legion, was going on right outside my cube. I had a front row seat for all the squeaking, cooing, and pregnancy stories. As I sat there, it struck me as bizarre. You get pregnant. You swing between moments of sheer terror and incredible joy. You can’t stop nature and shazaam, you suddenly have another life that you are responsible for. At this stage, its sleep deprivation for you and constant sleep, poop, and eat cycle for him. Men flinch and women exchange war stories.
His mom confessed she’s bored stiff and has already been sneaking peaks at email, keeping tabs on work, and just plain craving adult conversation. She gladly passed him off to all the cooing females just to have a few minutes off.
Eventually, all the more aggressive moms wandered away and the shy people popped out. Those people who aren’t quite sure what to do with a baby, want to look, or feel socially obligated to go see the baby. They stand back a few feet, right on the edge, hesitant. You can see things flitting through their minds: “It’s a baby.” “Am I ever going to have one of those?” “Does it bite?” “Let me get a little closer..” “Eww, ohh, wow.” “It’s a baby.” “There, did it. Social obligation fulfilled. Run.” “Do I want to hold it?” “It’s a baby.” “It looks like every other one I’ve seen.” “Cool.” “Eww, are they supposed to do that?” And then they too drift away.
Then it was my turn. She turned to me and said, “I have to pee. Do you mind holding him for a bit?” I must have looked wrong because after a frustrated sigh, one of the women plopped him in my arms, told me how to hold him, and next thing I knew, I was feeding a three week old infant. I must have been doing it right, because everyone settled down. Then he farted, burped, and went to sleep. I was told I had truly been accepted. But I must confess. No twinges of maternal instinct. No ticks from the old clock. Nada. Zilch. Zippo.
Long time ago I realized that on the subject of having children, I really was apathetic. I’m sure if I was with someone who really had the joneses for them, I would have them. But who I’m with now, likes them a lot but also likes to give them back. We’ve talked about it and agree, if something happened to our friends, we would gladly step in and raise em. But having our own just isn’t in the stars.
Ciao
A grown man blushing from the neck up after saying, “Fuck no”.
Seeing a herd of deer lope away, white tails in the air.
The full moon casting shadows on freshly fallen snow.
Driving in a white out, heart racing, praying you won’t run off the road but enjoying the wicked beauty of it all.
Getting reassigned, reorged, and a new boss all in the same day.
Lavender bubble bath.
A very ambitious co-worker scrambling for your territory.
Enjoying a well performed Books on Tape.
A heartfelt hug.
Laughing as something tickled your fancy.
Realizing that getting reassigned, reorged, and new boss isn’t all that bad.
Ciao
I shouted, “The Guys are here, hon. Get dressed.”
If you ever wander back through my little blog of diatribes, you might notice that I started this when we started our house building. Well at least when we actually bought land not the 7 year odyssey that it took to get there. We became proud owners in Dec ’05. Not much has gone wrong with the house. A few mechanical difficulties which were promptly fixed by “the Guys”.
“The Guys” would show up after a call and eat our food, drink coffee, and generally be loud fixer-uppers of stuff. Nothing was too small or too big. Fixed and off they would go. I often wish my SO had their talents. Sigh… All he did was rip the spigot off the side of the house with the lawn mower..
Well its time for our 1 year walk-thru and due to the vagaries of scheduling they appeared this morning and are eating our food, drinking coffee, and are quietly banging around the house fixing nail pops, cracks, leaks, etc. Over the next few days, I’ll get to see all “the Guys” who we worked with to build our home.
People delighted in telling us how bad our experience would be and to tell the truth, it wasn’t so bad. Sure we had our arguments, discussions. But those mainly were me and the SO trying to find tile, colors, cabinets, and lights. Early on we determined we would move no load-bearing walls, not re-arrange the kitchen for the umpteenth time, or change our minds half-way thru anything major like tile work. Every horror story we heard seemed to come from those three with a healthy dose of (you guessed it) lack of communications.
We would make a choice and for better-or-worse stick with it. The Builder knew his stuff and we have a very beautiful solidly built house.
Guess what I’m trying to say is “the Guys” can come over anytime and eat our food, drink coffee, and bang around the place.
Ciao
Looking back over the years, I realize I’ve reached the months of the year where I absolutely loath my job. My company is one of those huge ocean liners that never turn on a dime and think they are just on the cutting edge of things.
We constantly are bombarded by emails, posters, and cheery phone messages saying how wonderful our company is to work for and how much money they are raking in. But if you work for a large corporation, you know where this rant is going to end up.
It’s justify-your-job-time yet once again. It’s that lovely time of year where you have to come up with ways for them to prove to you and their managers that they have good little workers and they deserve all the credit for making them that way!
I do like working for Large Company. It’s nice, friendly, and pays me okay. It gives me health benies and lovely lots of paid vacation. But 2 months out of the year I hate Large Company for making me think about how little of a raise I’m going to get and just how darn grateful I should feel.
“You want more gruel?” “Yes please.” “Here it is and that will be a pound of flesh if you dont mind”..
Meanwhile, smothering me under emails, cheery posters, and frickin’ phone calls……
Argh!
I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. Every year I make the usual resolutions. Like lose weight. Be a better person. Get organized. Too general, I guess cause they never seem to pan out. This year I determined to be a bit different. Maybe have some baby-step goals and see where it leads me. So here are my resolutions for 2007.
1. Write at least once a week. I feel my knowledge of the English language is disappearing. Nouns seem to float by without any connections. I often come up with words that start with the same sound and mutter on. It gets embarrassing when you can describe every attribute of something almost down to its molecular level, but yet can’t come up with it’s proper name. So maybe the act of writing will help blow some of the cobwebs out of the attic.
2. Be more healthy. Not just lose weight, but actually do things that are health smart. Go see the doctor. Get a physical. Get more sleep. Eat 3 meals a day. Stop the junk food raids in the kitchen. Walk. Take the steps. Little things like that. Even plan to get a bike in the spring. I do not and will not focus on loosing weight. I hate how everyone goes on fad diets and becomes a food zealot not only watching what they eat, but what you eat as well.
3. Get some education. Take some classes in things I want to learn whether they are part of my job or not. If I want to take a course in under-water-basket-weaving, then so be it.
4. Record one year of books. I want to see how much and what I read.
5. Take more bubble baths. I got the tub, I need to use it. Guess this falls under taking time out for me.
Let’s see how far I get. Happy New Year. May 2007 be better than 2006.
Ciao
Thoughts of an Old Fart 