So as it turns out, yesterday? With the the two much older and should know better employees at The Boys work? Were NOT IGNORING THE BOY.
They were, though ignoring eachother.
Seems that the two other workers cannot STAND eachother - we're talking a dislike of Churchill and Hitlerian proportions. So although they have to travel around the acres and acres of farmland together in the cab of a truck, they will not speak to eachother unless absolutely necessary.
Which makes me wonder why I didn't adopt that 'tude at a specific previous job I had.
In any case, The Boy was fine. Had a great first day. Learned that harvesting zucchini is vile, I repeat...VILE business. He then went straight to Football practice which involved 3 hours of running, and pushing, and falling down hard - so needless to say?
The Boy? Was Ex-fricken'-hausted.
He's 14. He's busy. He's growing. Life is good for him. And indeed, for us, too.
17 August 2010
16 August 2010
SentiMENTALity
The Boy has always had an independent streak. Which viciously competes with every mothering instinct I have. At the age of 9, after moving away from the only school he had ever attended, and into a new community where he knew exactly nobody, he would not even permit me to accompany him into the school, let alone the auditorium, where the rest of the student body had gathered to await their classroom assignments.
Today he started his first real job. At a 40 year old community garden, laboring - harvesting cabbages by hand.
That's right. The boy is working in the cabbage patch.
He recently cut off the mop of the most beautifully shiny dark blond hair, and now looks exactly like a 14 year old version of his own 6 year old self, which I am telling you, doesn't help in matters when it comes to my flared up sentimentality.
As he hesitantly walked into the work shed this morning - he looked back at me and gave me a wave - I was reminded of his first day of kindergarten, when he did much the same thing. I was also reminded that time has marched onward, regardless of how ready I was for him to grow up so fast, or how I felt about little by little, letting him go.
It was only out of shear respect for The Boy that I didn't roll down my window and directly address the two much older and should know better employees already there. Like, he's 14, you assholes. Would it kill you to say "Good morning" to him and acknowledge his existence?
I suppose this how all mothers feel, when their little chicks stretch their wings, but recognizing this doesn't make this any easier on me, specifically.
In any case, first days are always awkward, and he's always done well in new situations. This alone makes me feel better...knowing that if anything - he'll adjust and adapt and be just fine.
I'm terribly, fiercely, ridiculously happy that he's ours.
Today he started his first real job. At a 40 year old community garden, laboring - harvesting cabbages by hand.
That's right. The boy is working in the cabbage patch.
He recently cut off the mop of the most beautifully shiny dark blond hair, and now looks exactly like a 14 year old version of his own 6 year old self, which I am telling you, doesn't help in matters when it comes to my flared up sentimentality.
As he hesitantly walked into the work shed this morning - he looked back at me and gave me a wave - I was reminded of his first day of kindergarten, when he did much the same thing. I was also reminded that time has marched onward, regardless of how ready I was for him to grow up so fast, or how I felt about little by little, letting him go.
It was only out of shear respect for The Boy that I didn't roll down my window and directly address the two much older and should know better employees already there. Like, he's 14, you assholes. Would it kill you to say "Good morning" to him and acknowledge his existence?
I suppose this how all mothers feel, when their little chicks stretch their wings, but recognizing this doesn't make this any easier on me, specifically.
In any case, first days are always awkward, and he's always done well in new situations. This alone makes me feel better...knowing that if anything - he'll adjust and adapt and be just fine.
I'm terribly, fiercely, ridiculously happy that he's ours.
13 August 2010
First Day Instructions
Being that I recently started a new job, it got me thinking about just how interesting first days of work really are. Like many first dayers, between wondering if I had made the right decision and wondering if I had seriously forgotten to wear deodorant, I was also given roughly 8 billion instructions of varying importance by 5 people whose names I was unsure of roughly 10 seconds after meeting them. (Her: Hi! I'm Sheila! Nice to meet you! Me (in my head): Sheila. Sheila. Sheila. Walrus. What? Walrus? Shelly. Shelly. Shit.)
Which got me thinking...Could we not pass a Federal Law that require all of the other employees to wear name tags which would detail not only their names, but also their position's relationship to your position?
For instance: "Name: Stephen. Position: Your supervisor. What this really means: Responsible for your performance reviews/and or salary adjustments. Nicey, nicey!" or "Name: Carol. Position: Front Desk Manager. What this really means: Knows everything about everyone. Wicked ally. Nicey, nicey!"
Discuss.
Like I was saying, the new employee instructions were delivered in a light, and carefree manner that would not cause a new employee to run and beg for a job at the nearest Farm Credit Canada branch. For instance, the instructions included these important nuggets: "This is the kitchen" "This guy is new, too" "Here is where we keep the pens" "Here's where we keep the toilets" "Here's how you submit your timesheets" and "This is how to disarm the alarm system".
Because I was busy trying to make a good impression by appearing smart (hello, probationary period!) and because I distinctly recall being totally preoccupied by the alarming rate that my underarms were generating moisture, I feared even then that I wasn't paying near enough attention to the alarm part. This piece of obviousness was never clearer than very recently, when I did just about the worst thing a 3 weeker could do. (Besides plugging a toilet. Which, for the record, I've never done.) I set off the burglar alarm. That's right. I typed in the magic code, and neglected to press "off" followed by "disarm" and "stand down" simultaneously while standing on one leg, singing the Star Spangled Banner. This gaffe resulted in a very uncomfortable exchange between myself, and what sounded to me like an alarm company employee who moonlights for a Jihadist terror group.
When I say everything worked out in the end, what I really mean is my co-worker Jason magically appeared and disarmed the alarm, as the Jihadist was convinced that I was here to steal the solid gold bricks that everyone knows we keep in the photocopier. In any case, I think I learned a valuable lesson about first days that I think is Universal. And it is:
“Even if you don't remember anyone's name, for crying out loud, remember deodorant.”
Which got me thinking...Could we not pass a Federal Law that require all of the other employees to wear name tags which would detail not only their names, but also their position's relationship to your position?
For instance: "Name: Stephen. Position: Your supervisor. What this really means: Responsible for your performance reviews/and or salary adjustments. Nicey, nicey!" or "Name: Carol. Position: Front Desk Manager. What this really means: Knows everything about everyone. Wicked ally. Nicey, nicey!"
Discuss.
Like I was saying, the new employee instructions were delivered in a light, and carefree manner that would not cause a new employee to run and beg for a job at the nearest Farm Credit Canada branch. For instance, the instructions included these important nuggets: "This is the kitchen" "This guy is new, too" "Here is where we keep the pens" "Here's where we keep the toilets" "Here's how you submit your timesheets" and "This is how to disarm the alarm system".
Because I was busy trying to make a good impression by appearing smart (hello, probationary period!) and because I distinctly recall being totally preoccupied by the alarming rate that my underarms were generating moisture, I feared even then that I wasn't paying near enough attention to the alarm part. This piece of obviousness was never clearer than very recently, when I did just about the worst thing a 3 weeker could do. (Besides plugging a toilet. Which, for the record, I've never done.) I set off the burglar alarm. That's right. I typed in the magic code, and neglected to press "off" followed by "disarm" and "stand down" simultaneously while standing on one leg, singing the Star Spangled Banner. This gaffe resulted in a very uncomfortable exchange between myself, and what sounded to me like an alarm company employee who moonlights for a Jihadist terror group.
When I say everything worked out in the end, what I really mean is my co-worker Jason magically appeared and disarmed the alarm, as the Jihadist was convinced that I was here to steal the solid gold bricks that everyone knows we keep in the photocopier. In any case, I think I learned a valuable lesson about first days that I think is Universal. And it is:
“Even if you don't remember anyone's name, for crying out loud, remember deodorant.”
07 July 2010
shameless self promotion
Want to know where I write far more frequently?
Twitter.
Follow me! www.twitter.com/lisemerle
The end. Have a real nice day.
06 July 2010
idiot darling
With all of the precipitation (read: *$&#^(@ rain) we've been getting in Saskatchewan, muddy idiot (darling) dog feet have become an issue at our house. In the winter, Izzy wears Muttluks outside, as her feeties are sensitive and have you ever seen a shih tzu trying to hold all 4 paws off the ground at the same time? It involves a lot of little dogs tipping over in snow banks. Which looks as funny as it sounds. Anyhow, I'm thinking that because of all of the rain, I would look for a pair of rain boots for Izzy to at least save me from mopping the whole house more than once a week.
This would have been a done deal several months ago, when Husband and I found ourselves putzing* through Winners, I saw the KEEEUTEST doggy shoes. They would have been perfect for keeping Izzy's feeties clean, so I hold them up to show Husband, and before I can even say "Look at how KEEEEEUUUUTE these are!", Husband lowers his head, and from under his purely menacing eyebrows says through clenched teeth "SHE. IS. A. DOG."
Listen. Getting hissed at under eyebrows was bad enough, but then! THEN! A PERFECT STRANGER who just happened to be walking in our general vicinity pipes in "Amen, Brother!"
Amen, Brother?
If I owned a firearm, I would have forced this Amen Brother Man into my Volkswagen, driven him to my house, and shown him to my Swiffer Wet Jet.
At gunpoint.
The nerve of some people. Rude. RUDE, I SAY!
*I was putzing. Husband was being dragged.
05 July 2010
planetary alignment
2 years, 8 months, and 22 days my life changed in ways I cannot explain here. But it was also 2 years, 8 months, and 22 days ago that it was decided for me, and accepted by me, that I would not wait for the planets to align, I would not wait for a sign, I would not wait for the right time, I would not wait for permission, I would not wait for justification, that I would claim my birthright, I would chase what it is that I am after and I would not take no for an answer and if that's what I got, I would ask politely, but firmly, to be directed to whomever would tell me yes.
I landed my dream job last week. At a company I've wanted to work at since the beginning of time, practically. I've got a trip to the States planned for the end of the month, and huge things are going to come out of that trip, too.
My children are brilliant and are each other's best buddy despite an 8 year age difference, we've got grass growing on our 5+ acres instead of weeds, I am healthy, and happy, and wildly blessed.
To quote an adorable little girl on a viral video, I like my whole house. And I can do anything good, yeah, yeah, yeah.
24 June 2010
father’s day
For Father's Day, The Boy gave J. coupons.
They were:
One free me making dinner for you and you get to pick what it is.
(keeping in mind my specialties are grilled cheese and ichiban)
One free "Yo! Go get me something!"
One free "Where the *$#& is the remote" find.
One free grass cutting.*
One free accent of your choice. Circle one:
Russian George W. Bush Beatles or Czech (very close to Russian)
* It should be noted that our grass takes approximately 8 hours to cut.
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