"(breathe life into your story)"

Now, see, I write a serious post and you all are quiet. Seriously, though, there's some updates to the story at Red's place (Run Over by the Truth in my sidebar, I'm being lazy), so if you are interested in the continuing saga of the memos go there.

Today was Monday. I was anxious...nothing new there. Got more work. Figured out another reason why this new transition to a new manager is hard. My old manager was a mom (literally she had about 7 children). This new manager wants to the be Herb Brooks (not your friend and willing to make you work your ass to the ice, if you don't play the hardest game you have in you - I'm sure only about 2 of you got that analogy). The question is can I make the transition from mom to Herb Brooks. Time will tell, I suppose.

But I want to do something other than what I have been, namely complaining about work. The reality is that I am lucky to work and to be paid what I do. This attitude has a limited shelf-life, so I'll enjoy it for today.

So, where did we leave my story. Oh, yes, my parents. That means...it's now all about me!

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I was born April 6, 1970. The youngest child of 2. Sister had been born 4 1/2 years earlier.

I've mentioned before, my father has always claimed that I was an "oops!" But recently my mother confessed that I was planned by her. I'm not sure if this confession is true, or if she thought I might be disturbed by not being planned. The reality is that I was never made to feel unwanted by my parents, so the idea of being an "accident" was actually kind of fun.

My mother was advised, early in the pregnancy by her doctor, that she might want to consider not carrying me to term. It had something to do with the confliction rh factors of our blood...possibly something more. It's pretty obvious what the decision was. However, there were consequences. My mother started spotting and cramping at month 4 and spent most of the rest of the pregnancy in bed.

3 weeks before my due date, she went to the hospital and labor was induced. She tells me that her doctor told her he was going to make rounds and would be back to deliver later. She told him to hurry because I would be out for lunch. And, sure enough, about 2 1/2 hours later I was born at 11:58 a.m.

But the ordeal wasn't over for my mother. After 5 months of threatening miscarriage, her uterus now refused to contract fully and she was hemoraging. They ended up having to pack her uterus with gauze to induce contraction. It worked, thank the gods, and she is with us to this day.

Apparently, I liked the hospital nursery...or I was so worn out by the quick transition into the world, but I'm told I slept for the 3 days my mother was in the hospital. Then, once they got me in the car, I discovered my lungs and I cried all the way home.

My mother likes to say I didn't stop crying for another 3 days, but I know this isn't true. You see, they got me home and my aunts, who'd been taking care of my sister were there. Neither of them wanted to hold me, but Sister was more than eager to do so. I've mentioned there is a picture of her sitting on our old couch with me in her arms...staring down at me, either in awe or in horror. But one thing I know for sure, in her arms, I wasn't crying.

Somehow, it seems appropriate at this point to share this picture from my visit to SF on Sunday. We went into a shoe store and found these baby shoes...



I think baby shoes are probably as cute as inanimate objects can get.

And that's all for tonight folks. Another fun-filled adventure of a day awaits me tomorrow. Luckily, Tuesdays are my half-way point at this job!