Last Friday, I received some news that on its face was pretty unremarkable, but upon further explanation, was a rather stunning revelation. Sis, my co-worker, had just hung up her cell phone after a conversation with her mom, who is also Boss’ mom. Sis reported that her mom had just left Boss’ and Zilla’s, where she had been holding baby Speedway, their adorable and precious progeny.
You might remember that Boss’ mom had been one of the chosen two who were able to gain admission to Zilla’s room during her labor and delivery at the hospital, with the exception of the brief intercessory visit by the transient pastor and his wife. I had made the reckless assumption that at least the grandmothers had been able to satisfy their newborn baby fixes and had been able to enjoy their new grandson at will. On the contrary. This day, August 21, three weeks after the birth, was the very FIRST time Boss’ mom had been able to even lay a finger on that baby. Indeed, it was the very first time ANYONE on Boss’ side of the family (except Boss himself) had been able to touch the baby. And not only can Boss’ family not touch the baby, they are not welcome to enter Boss and Zilla’s house, either. After the solitary visit a couple of weeks ago at the end of which nephew got stiff-armed by Zilla for making an illegal approach too near the babe, Zilla has declared a moratorium on all visits until further notice. That visit, if you remember, was the first and only time any of them had been in the same room with the baby. Well, party’s over.
As for Zilla’s side of the family? Zilla’s mom landed herself in the hospital last Thursday. Her couple of weeks of live-in helping the new mom climaxed with some sort of health crisis and collapse. The doctors at first thought it was a stroke, then her heart. Testing came up clean in spite of her symptoms, so they finally pinned the cause on anxiety and an allergic reaction. Okay, two weeks of dealing with Zilla, meeting her demands, yet not being able to touch or draw too near her new grandson. Anxiety? Ya think???? And I’m not surprised she broke out in a mass of hives along with the chest pain, tremors and other neurological issues. Poor Zilla’s mom.
I’d like to wager that Zilla’s mom isn’t the only one close to the situation that is ready to dissolve in paroxysms. When I got the new corporate cell bill and was going over it, I saw a number I recognized. Over and over and over. Looks like Zilla’s been developing synergy with the pediatrician’s office. At least 15 minutes at a time, often several times per day. Bet they love that; an opportunity to both care for their patient AND work on their patience.
Boss himself has been strangely mum about the whole baby/parenthood thing. He will answer a direct question about Zilla or the baby, but rarely volunteers anything. No more effusive commentary than if he’d bought a new mattress, or switched toothpastes. “They’re doing fine,” is about all you can wrench out of him. We got more of a descriptive rundown about his grass mowing over the weekend than I’ve heard the last THREE weeks about that baby. No accounts of sleepy smiles and yawns, or how much he eats, or middle-of-the-night diaper changes. Nada. I wonder if Boss, not having a lot of previous experience with babies, expected his son to “do” something spectacular, even as a newborn, and is kind of disconcerted that Isaac just lies there.
Isaac. Yep, baby Speedway’s name is Isaac. Boss predicted this soon after they discovered the baby’s gender, claiming to have settled upon the moniker through supernatural means. In other words, he dreamed it. Problem was, Zilla ALSO had an auspiciously chosen name for the baby, and it WASN’T Isaac. She had already chosen paint for the nursery, picked a bedding set and begun to purchase decorations to match the name, so THAT WAS IT. Name decision made. Zilla intended for the baby to be a namesake of a different hero of the faith; one who built an ark, and cared for two of every kind of creature and rode out a flood. The baby’s room was going to resemble the inside of an ark, right down to the animal pairs.
All right, so if she had liked the name Daniel, would the nursery have looked like a lion’s den? Would little Jonah have been sentenced to lodge in the belly of a fish? Baby Adam might have really enjoyed the Garden of Eden… but would tiny Paul have appreciated peering through the bars of the crib at his room fashioned like a prison? I dunno. Maybe I’m being too picky, but I think decorating a nursery to match the biblical history of your child’s name – not just the name posted somewhere IN the nursery mind you, which I’m okay with, but the all-embracing décor – is a little creeeeepy. I guess I’m REALLY glad she didn’t pick the name Stephen… or Samson. Room decorations to go with those could have probably wreaked psychological havoc.
Anyhow, the months went by while Zilla was pregnant and she insisted that SHE had picked the baby’s name. Boss was just as sure – even MORE sure, if that’s possible – that HE had named the baby. There was no compromise for either of them. I knew better than to ask Zilla directly myself, but whenever some unsuspecting soul brought the subject up with Boss, he’d say that yes, the baby had a name. Then he’d admit the fact that Zilla had chosen a different name, and then he’d LAUGH (I thought, kind of uncharitably) and basically say that Zilla had a little bit to learn. Wow. Because he KNEW what the baby’s name was. And HER name for the baby just wouldn’t suit.
As the due date neared, neither Boss nor Zilla were budging and if anyone called attention to the baby’s possible name, Boss visibly tensed and would say only that they were seeking heavenly guidance on the matter. They reportedly sought heavenly guidance pretty much continuously for four months. After the birth, when well-wishers and family asked what the baby would be called, Boss and Zilla were STILL seeking heavenly guidance. In fact, they sequestered themselves in Zilla’s hospital room alone the whole afternoon following the baby’s birth seeking heavenly guidance.
Family members reported staking a watch reminiscent of keeping an eye on the smoke from the chimney of the Vatican when the cardinals are voting for a new pope. Not being able to gain admittance to visit the couple or the baby, yet continuing to post a strong and doggedly faithful presence in the waiting room of the hospital because Boss “is family,” they made a deal with the nurses to change the label placard on the bassinette in the nursery AS SOON as they could wheedle the name out of the parents. No such luck. The child remained Baby XXXXX for his entire stay. Boss and Zilla from all accounts, continued to seek periodic heavenly guidance for two full days, right up until the time the paperwork had to be filled out in order to be discharged from the hospital, at which time they either received a celestial answer or Boss cut some kind of earthly deal with Zilla. They named the baby Isaac.
We had a kind of informal poll going on at work regarding who we thought would win the battle of the names. Let’s just say that we weren’t surprised that Boss prevailed. We don’t know how he did it, what was said, or any of the details. We are sure of one constant, regardless of whether we ever hear the real story or not. Without a doubt, we know ZIlla was ROYALLY TICKED. She always is when she doesn’t get her way.
Even when it’s something NICE that someone does for her. Boss apparently invited VP, who is pretty good with a camera, to come on over to their house and spearhead the inaugural Family Photo Session, of course, free of charge. So VP went, on his best behavior, requesting that the family choose a time when the baby would be content, awake and alert. Boss chose 10:30 p.m. and Zilla wasn’t happy about it. Don’t know if it was that Boss had made the plans without her knowledge, or that VP was getting closer to the baby than Zilla was comfortable with, or just plain that VP was even in the house, period. It could even have had something to do with the fact that Boss had chosen the most horrible time EVER for a photo shoot, at the end of a long day with a newborn. The baby was SCREAMING, wouldn’t settle down, and kept rooting for a nipple. So the first couple dozen shots, VP said, all show an agitated baby Speedway in some state of craning his neck looking for lunch in all the wrong places.
Since Zilla had been getting HERSELF ready for the photo op , she hadn’t had time to feed the baby, so he was starving – and mad about it. Finally, Zilla excused herself and the babe to the bedroom so the baby could get some relief from his empty tummy and so they could all get some relief from the decibel level. VP appreciated the quiet, but not the forty-five minutes he had to cool his heels waiting for the pair to come back to continue the pictures. Sometime around midnight, Zilla reemerged with the baby. VP said he was able to finally go home around 1:30 a.m. Poor guy. He needed toothpicks for his eyelids.
One subsequent morning at the office, VP tossed the portrait session’s resultant picture CD to me for a look-see. Little Speedway IS a cute, cute baby. Well, as cute as a close-up taken from across a family room with a standard zoom lens can show, anyway. VP told me, with a laugh, to look at Zilla’s face in the initial pictures. Yep, she was REALLY honked off about something. What a sourpuss.
Later on, as he was taking fewer pictures focusing on the baby, and more of the three of them; Boss, Zilla and baby together, VP said he’d made a query about Zilla’s unpleasant expression. He asked her if it would break her face to smile. Marvelous to relate, it didn’t break her face. Maybe Zilla didn’t even realize she looked so unwelcoming. Regardless of the root cause of the attitude change, the rest of the CD shows images of Zilla positively beaming in various poses next to the peacefully sleeping babe (of course, being a newborn, he fell fast asleep after he ate) and the perpetually grimacing Boss.
By the way, that baby furniture apparently is set to be a permanent fixture in our conference room. We just had a fundraising sale, for which I was hoping that item had been brought, but apparently not. Someone has made room for it in a conspicuous corner. (Not in the ladies’ restroom, or in Boss’ office, but in the freakin’ public CONFERENCE room where we host important and influential guests.) A white Jenny Lind changing table, complete with clear acrylic diaper stacker/wipe holder, right next to the fancy upholstered mahogany chairs and occasional table certainly makes an incongruous addition to the décor. Wonder how many of the corporate execs and community leaders, too polite to make a comment, do double-takes when they come in for a meeting?
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Chapter 18 - Pregzilla: A Pregnant Pause
(Okay, I lied. This chapter isn’t about the baby’s name. It got too long, and I still hadn’t gotten to the discussion of infant nomenclature, so I had to change the title. It’s kind of on the darker side, as Pregzilla Chronicles go. Just a warning. )
From the time the pregnancy announcement was made, we all knew that Zilla and Boss had some heavy decision-making ahead. On paper, at least, this was not a good time to add a family member.
First of all , Boss’ landlord had recently made notification that the house Boss was occupying was about to be put on the market. Which would mean the two of them could soon be homeless.
A little backstory on that. You might remember that I have said that I had been caring for Boss’ personal finances. He has very little time for routine, menial tasks. I think I started paying Boss’ bills about a year before he got married, long before he ever met Zilla, beginning when he abashedly brought in a disconnect notice from the water company that services his home. He was preparing for a trip out of state, and was terribly busy, but knew this needed to be attended to, pronto. Boss wanted to see if I’d be willing to call the water company and attempt to talk them out of a huge late fee and service charge they’d tacked onto his bill. I’m pretty good at working with vendors and smoothing over problems, and he thought I might be able to help.
The reason behind this unpaid bill was that Boss’ roommate, a young college graduate (incidentally, the earnest musician from the wedding prelude concert ), had been stacking the mail in the wrong place in the house. Boss doesn’t pay much attention unless a bill is actually placed in hand, so he had missed his water payment a couple of times. And incidentally, he shared with me, his other utility bills were either already in arrears or about to be, due to the misplaced mail.
My previous job had been as a mortgage loan officer, so I was well aware the havoc that can be wreaked on a credit report by having accounts in collections. I knew also that Boss’ deep desire was to get married. Putting both of these together , and knowing that this probably wasn’t the first time Boss had a slow pay on an account, I wanted to help him get his act together. I offered to set up online accounts for all his bills, check them regularly and make sure they were always paid on time, even when he was out of town. I knew that what was costing HIM several hours a month of disorganization and stress would only take me a few minutes per week after the initial set-up. I even pulled Boss’ credit report for him and showed him what steps he needed to take to bring up his score, so that at some time in the future, he could be prepared to offer a new bride more pleasant financial possibilities, like, the ability to get a credit card, car loan, or mortgage, for example. Or simply not to have to pay an arm and a leg for auto insurance! The little things that mean so much to a spouse and make you much less likely to want to wring their necks!
I’d been doing all I could to help Boss improve his credit history as quickly as possible, but obviously, it can’t happen overnight, and even though it had been several months since I’d taken over his personal finances, when the wedding took place it had not been NEARLY enough time to make a real impact on his financial reputation. I had talked to him a little bit about the realistic money-related goals he wanted to meet before he married, and although there was SOME progress, he hadn’t reached even ONE of those goals yet when he asked Zilla for her hand. I mean, he had to take out a loan for her wedding and engagement rings, even after deciding that having sufficient resources to pay CASH for wedding jewelry had been one of his FIRM goals. But what are ya gonna do? He’s a big boy.
One thing I knew almost for sure; they were in no position to put a downpayment on a home, in the event they had to leave the place he and Zilla were occupying now. None of my business, but I was skeptical whether they could even scrape together enough for a rental deposit, let alone pay monthly rent, based on the whopper of a medical tab Zilla surely must have run up on the honeymoon , and Boss’ somewhat anxious comments about the lack of cash gifts from the wedding reception(s). So if Boss and Zilla had their current residence sold out from under them, the house on which Boss had secured FREE rent from the owner, they’d probably be at the mercy of family members for a place to stay. Boss had previously lived with one of his sisters and her DH for awhile, but – not with Pregzilla. Since Miss Princess Zilla has so de-ingratiated herself with Boss’ family, the imposition of asking any one of them to share their home is not likely to ever be a viable alternative.
Secondly , Boss had developed a pretty ambitious set of objectives for our organization over the next year, which included several time-intensive major events and a trip overseas. Had Zilla (or anyone – we weren’t that picky! ) been able to jump right in and be an active member of our support staff, we might have been able to pull them all off. But Boss’ aspirations were far too grandiose for our small staff. An even worse sign - the overseas trip, which Boss remained doggedly committed to up until early spring, was scheduled for late July into early August. They had just announced that Zilla was due on August 7. In fact, the delegation was set to return to the states on August 4, which turned out to be three days AFTER the baby’s actual birth.
We at the office had some frustrated fun with Boss’ delusion about his being able to keep the foreign journey obligation. He readily agreed that of course, Zilla probably wouldn’t be able to go. No kidding. But it would still work out okay, because she could just have that baby before they left. Oh REALLY, just like that? Well, and then she’s not actually DUE until the 7th, so she could also just wait until they got back. As if the mom controls the time of the labor, and Zilla could just will the birth to occur on whatever day was convenient. Boss actually said this with Zilla sitting right THERE at the table with us. I had never before realized how unattentive Boss must have been during his siblings’ and their spouses’ pregnancies. Like, totally oblivious. He did finally nix the idea of the overseas trip later, in April, citing some overcharging of fees by the trip organizers and that he no longer felt peace about going. No, if my husband was planning on going on a non-mandatory foreign expedition three days before I was due with our first child, I can bet you that peace is the LAST thing he would feel.
Thirdly , again due to skimpy corporate finances, all employees of our organization must supply their own health insurance independently. Boss, being a fairly healthy single guy with a lot of connections, didn’t bother with it. If he got sick and needed a doctor, he’d call a physician friend who’d be glad to take a look at him. Zilla lost her health insurance when the store where she worked went out of business. Boss had already experienced the incredible financial vortex of Zilla’s recurring need for medical attention, so I’m sure the thought of Zilla pregnant and requiring even more health monitoring was quite shocking for him.
And finally , though there was never any specific communication regarding such from either Boss or Zilla, we could all tell that married life wasn’t at ALL what either of them had anticipated it would be. Each of them had built up an image of the other that had most likely been dashed to pieces sometime during those first couple of weeks of marriage. They just plain ol’ hadn’t had enough time to get to fully acquainted before they were ceremonially stuck with each other “forever.” Cautionary word to the wise…
In Boss’ own words, speaking of the pregnancy “This isn’t the time we would have picked for this to happen.” Well, as my dear mom said once, “Those that play have gotta pay,” and “If you can’t afford a condom, you surely can’t afford a baby.” Wise woman. I’m just sayin’.
After the initial shock of the announcement wore off, the magnitude of what was happening truly set in. Zilla was sick, she was crotchety, and if anything, she was even less charming than she had been in the enlightening and prophetic moments just before her wedding. Sis and the nephews happened to be stranded by bad weather one night early in January, and Boss reluctantly (which seemed odd to them because he’s typically so hospitable) invited them to bunk down at his place. Sis told me they had arrived, been there for a short time, and were expecting Zilla to come greet them at any moment. Zilla materialized at the door of her bedroom, glared silently at all of them for a long moment , turned and slammed the door. Boss excused himself and went in to speak with her.
Nephew said as they were settling onto the couches and recliners to sleep, they heard a heated exchange behind that closed door. Boss eventually emerged from the bedroom carrying a pillow and blanket and asked one of them to move to the floor so Boss could have the recliner. Nephew asked what was going on and got the reply, “She can’t stand the way I smell, so I’ve been sleeping out here until she feels better.” Ouch. I didn’t ask many questions, but the family updates confirmed that Boss’ bedroom was the living room for a good long time.
When in the office, Boss spent a lot of time on the phone with Zilla. He always spoke soothingly, like you would imagine a horseman might talk to a skittish colt. You’d hear, before Boss shut his office door, things like, “No, Sweetheart, that’s not it at all…. Now, you don’t have to do THAT….” Sounded like he was trying to peel her off the walls over the phone. I was praying, for his sake – for all our sakes – that it was just those crazy pregnancy hormones.
Zilla reportedly couldn’t keep anything down , yet Boss reported a plethora of stereotypical middle-of-the night runs to the grocery to fulfill her random cravings. Then, her beloved Kitty died and things really went south. Once, she was admitted to the hospital overnight for dehydration, and a whole handful of occurrences of visits to the urgent care - for a bag of fluids this time, a bleeding hemorrhoid next, indigestion or vomiting the time after. Her OB pleaded with her to call the office first (I know him - he would have talked her down and told her to stay home ) but somehow, that didn’t happen. She wouldn’t call. Boss started to stress about the bills. The OB gave Boss a way out by offering his services free of charge – see, I told you people just love to give Boss things…
Boss had a birthday in January. Birthdays are a big deal in Boss’ family – EVERYBODY goes to each family member’s birthday celebration. We in the office decided to take Boss to lunch on his birthday, at a place just across the street from the subdivision where Boss and Zilla live. His whole family was invited, and they all came. We had already heard from Boss that Zilla had been feeling better that day – she was nearly 12 weeks along, and her all-day morning sickness seemed to be improving somewhat. Zilla was going to drive the, oh, 400 feet or so to the restaurant and meet us there. NO, she did NOT want anyone to pick her up. Boss shrugged. She was funny about things like that sometimes, he said.
So we waited on her. And waited. Boss called her. She must be on her way, no answer. “No ma’am, we’ll order when the rest of our party gets here. “ More waiting. Boss called again. Short conversation. Rather stunned look. Zilla wasn’t coming. She had changed her mind, ON BOSS’ BIRTHDAY, and had stood up the whole family and office staff while we waited for her at the restaurant. Boss tried not to show it, but he HAD to be crushed. He spent a long time talking with one of his siblings after we ate – one who had also had some marriage struggles. I felt really bad for Boss. But ya know, It wasn’t like he wasn’t warned…
By the way, the thing about Boss’ landlord selling the house he lives in – it seems to have gone away. Boss and Zilla repainted the rooms and replaced that tainted carpet in the nursery. I don’t know the details, but they’re staying put for now.
Home Sweet (I mean Sterile) Home.
From the time the pregnancy announcement was made, we all knew that Zilla and Boss had some heavy decision-making ahead. On paper, at least, this was not a good time to add a family member.
First of all , Boss’ landlord had recently made notification that the house Boss was occupying was about to be put on the market. Which would mean the two of them could soon be homeless.
A little backstory on that. You might remember that I have said that I had been caring for Boss’ personal finances. He has very little time for routine, menial tasks. I think I started paying Boss’ bills about a year before he got married, long before he ever met Zilla, beginning when he abashedly brought in a disconnect notice from the water company that services his home. He was preparing for a trip out of state, and was terribly busy, but knew this needed to be attended to, pronto. Boss wanted to see if I’d be willing to call the water company and attempt to talk them out of a huge late fee and service charge they’d tacked onto his bill. I’m pretty good at working with vendors and smoothing over problems, and he thought I might be able to help.
The reason behind this unpaid bill was that Boss’ roommate, a young college graduate (incidentally, the earnest musician from the wedding prelude concert ), had been stacking the mail in the wrong place in the house. Boss doesn’t pay much attention unless a bill is actually placed in hand, so he had missed his water payment a couple of times. And incidentally, he shared with me, his other utility bills were either already in arrears or about to be, due to the misplaced mail.
My previous job had been as a mortgage loan officer, so I was well aware the havoc that can be wreaked on a credit report by having accounts in collections. I knew also that Boss’ deep desire was to get married. Putting both of these together , and knowing that this probably wasn’t the first time Boss had a slow pay on an account, I wanted to help him get his act together. I offered to set up online accounts for all his bills, check them regularly and make sure they were always paid on time, even when he was out of town. I knew that what was costing HIM several hours a month of disorganization and stress would only take me a few minutes per week after the initial set-up. I even pulled Boss’ credit report for him and showed him what steps he needed to take to bring up his score, so that at some time in the future, he could be prepared to offer a new bride more pleasant financial possibilities, like, the ability to get a credit card, car loan, or mortgage, for example. Or simply not to have to pay an arm and a leg for auto insurance! The little things that mean so much to a spouse and make you much less likely to want to wring their necks!
I’d been doing all I could to help Boss improve his credit history as quickly as possible, but obviously, it can’t happen overnight, and even though it had been several months since I’d taken over his personal finances, when the wedding took place it had not been NEARLY enough time to make a real impact on his financial reputation. I had talked to him a little bit about the realistic money-related goals he wanted to meet before he married, and although there was SOME progress, he hadn’t reached even ONE of those goals yet when he asked Zilla for her hand. I mean, he had to take out a loan for her wedding and engagement rings, even after deciding that having sufficient resources to pay CASH for wedding jewelry had been one of his FIRM goals. But what are ya gonna do? He’s a big boy.
One thing I knew almost for sure; they were in no position to put a downpayment on a home, in the event they had to leave the place he and Zilla were occupying now. None of my business, but I was skeptical whether they could even scrape together enough for a rental deposit, let alone pay monthly rent, based on the whopper of a medical tab Zilla surely must have run up on the honeymoon , and Boss’ somewhat anxious comments about the lack of cash gifts from the wedding reception(s). So if Boss and Zilla had their current residence sold out from under them, the house on which Boss had secured FREE rent from the owner, they’d probably be at the mercy of family members for a place to stay. Boss had previously lived with one of his sisters and her DH for awhile, but – not with Pregzilla. Since Miss Princess Zilla has so de-ingratiated herself with Boss’ family, the imposition of asking any one of them to share their home is not likely to ever be a viable alternative.
Secondly , Boss had developed a pretty ambitious set of objectives for our organization over the next year, which included several time-intensive major events and a trip overseas. Had Zilla (or anyone – we weren’t that picky! ) been able to jump right in and be an active member of our support staff, we might have been able to pull them all off. But Boss’ aspirations were far too grandiose for our small staff. An even worse sign - the overseas trip, which Boss remained doggedly committed to up until early spring, was scheduled for late July into early August. They had just announced that Zilla was due on August 7. In fact, the delegation was set to return to the states on August 4, which turned out to be three days AFTER the baby’s actual birth.
We at the office had some frustrated fun with Boss’ delusion about his being able to keep the foreign journey obligation. He readily agreed that of course, Zilla probably wouldn’t be able to go. No kidding. But it would still work out okay, because she could just have that baby before they left. Oh REALLY, just like that? Well, and then she’s not actually DUE until the 7th, so she could also just wait until they got back. As if the mom controls the time of the labor, and Zilla could just will the birth to occur on whatever day was convenient. Boss actually said this with Zilla sitting right THERE at the table with us. I had never before realized how unattentive Boss must have been during his siblings’ and their spouses’ pregnancies. Like, totally oblivious. He did finally nix the idea of the overseas trip later, in April, citing some overcharging of fees by the trip organizers and that he no longer felt peace about going. No, if my husband was planning on going on a non-mandatory foreign expedition three days before I was due with our first child, I can bet you that peace is the LAST thing he would feel.
Thirdly , again due to skimpy corporate finances, all employees of our organization must supply their own health insurance independently. Boss, being a fairly healthy single guy with a lot of connections, didn’t bother with it. If he got sick and needed a doctor, he’d call a physician friend who’d be glad to take a look at him. Zilla lost her health insurance when the store where she worked went out of business. Boss had already experienced the incredible financial vortex of Zilla’s recurring need for medical attention, so I’m sure the thought of Zilla pregnant and requiring even more health monitoring was quite shocking for him.
And finally , though there was never any specific communication regarding such from either Boss or Zilla, we could all tell that married life wasn’t at ALL what either of them had anticipated it would be. Each of them had built up an image of the other that had most likely been dashed to pieces sometime during those first couple of weeks of marriage. They just plain ol’ hadn’t had enough time to get to fully acquainted before they were ceremonially stuck with each other “forever.” Cautionary word to the wise…
In Boss’ own words, speaking of the pregnancy “This isn’t the time we would have picked for this to happen.” Well, as my dear mom said once, “Those that play have gotta pay,” and “If you can’t afford a condom, you surely can’t afford a baby.” Wise woman. I’m just sayin’.
After the initial shock of the announcement wore off, the magnitude of what was happening truly set in. Zilla was sick, she was crotchety, and if anything, she was even less charming than she had been in the enlightening and prophetic moments just before her wedding. Sis and the nephews happened to be stranded by bad weather one night early in January, and Boss reluctantly (which seemed odd to them because he’s typically so hospitable) invited them to bunk down at his place. Sis told me they had arrived, been there for a short time, and were expecting Zilla to come greet them at any moment. Zilla materialized at the door of her bedroom, glared silently at all of them for a long moment , turned and slammed the door. Boss excused himself and went in to speak with her.
Nephew said as they were settling onto the couches and recliners to sleep, they heard a heated exchange behind that closed door. Boss eventually emerged from the bedroom carrying a pillow and blanket and asked one of them to move to the floor so Boss could have the recliner. Nephew asked what was going on and got the reply, “She can’t stand the way I smell, so I’ve been sleeping out here until she feels better.” Ouch. I didn’t ask many questions, but the family updates confirmed that Boss’ bedroom was the living room for a good long time.
When in the office, Boss spent a lot of time on the phone with Zilla. He always spoke soothingly, like you would imagine a horseman might talk to a skittish colt. You’d hear, before Boss shut his office door, things like, “No, Sweetheart, that’s not it at all…. Now, you don’t have to do THAT….” Sounded like he was trying to peel her off the walls over the phone. I was praying, for his sake – for all our sakes – that it was just those crazy pregnancy hormones.
Zilla reportedly couldn’t keep anything down , yet Boss reported a plethora of stereotypical middle-of-the night runs to the grocery to fulfill her random cravings. Then, her beloved Kitty died and things really went south. Once, she was admitted to the hospital overnight for dehydration, and a whole handful of occurrences of visits to the urgent care - for a bag of fluids this time, a bleeding hemorrhoid next, indigestion or vomiting the time after. Her OB pleaded with her to call the office first (I know him - he would have talked her down and told her to stay home ) but somehow, that didn’t happen. She wouldn’t call. Boss started to stress about the bills. The OB gave Boss a way out by offering his services free of charge – see, I told you people just love to give Boss things…
Boss had a birthday in January. Birthdays are a big deal in Boss’ family – EVERYBODY goes to each family member’s birthday celebration. We in the office decided to take Boss to lunch on his birthday, at a place just across the street from the subdivision where Boss and Zilla live. His whole family was invited, and they all came. We had already heard from Boss that Zilla had been feeling better that day – she was nearly 12 weeks along, and her all-day morning sickness seemed to be improving somewhat. Zilla was going to drive the, oh, 400 feet or so to the restaurant and meet us there. NO, she did NOT want anyone to pick her up. Boss shrugged. She was funny about things like that sometimes, he said.
So we waited on her. And waited. Boss called her. She must be on her way, no answer. “No ma’am, we’ll order when the rest of our party gets here. “ More waiting. Boss called again. Short conversation. Rather stunned look. Zilla wasn’t coming. She had changed her mind, ON BOSS’ BIRTHDAY, and had stood up the whole family and office staff while we waited for her at the restaurant. Boss tried not to show it, but he HAD to be crushed. He spent a long time talking with one of his siblings after we ate – one who had also had some marriage struggles. I felt really bad for Boss. But ya know, It wasn’t like he wasn’t warned…
By the way, the thing about Boss’ landlord selling the house he lives in – it seems to have gone away. Boss and Zilla repainted the rooms and replaced that tainted carpet in the nursery. I don’t know the details, but they’re staying put for now.
Home Sweet (I mean Sterile) Home.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Chapter 17 – Pregzilla Delivers!
(I'm absolutely SURE there will be more info coming about the blessed event, but here's what I know so far:)
Birthdate: August 1, 2008, 9:05 p.m. (5 days and 3 hours before his due date)
Vitals: 8 lb., 2.6 oz., 22 inches (tall)
OH. MY. GOSH. After all that I’ve seen and heard about over the last 10 months, I thought I’d be prepared for whatever was likely to occur during/after the birth of Boss’ and Pregzilla’s Little Man. Now that the madness has begun in earnest, I have realized that there was no way anyone COULD be prepared…
Zilla’s water broke at home on Friday midmorning. Boss was at a meeting in the city. He had ridden with our organization’s VP, so after Zilla’s frantic cell call , they sped back to Boss’ place. Boss scurried to get the bags in the vehicle and Zilla loaded, just like in the movies. They arrived at the hospital where the details I have now become a little sketchy, but I do know that someone picked up the grandmothers – neither of whom drive, and dropped them off at the hospital to be a part of the labor room support team.
As I’ve mentioned before, Boss’ family is pretty tight, so it wasn’t long before his whole clan had set up camp in the waiting room of labor & delivery. They were all expecting that, as in past family birth experiences, they’d each get a chance to casually visit in turn with the prospective parents, and then after the delivery, be invited in to meet the new family member as soon as it was practical. That’s just the way they do things. It’s nice, it’s friendly, it’s inclusive……and it was TOTALLY not a part of Zilla’s birth plan.
Zilla decided that there would, in addition to the medical staff, be three and only three other people allowed in the birthing suite. Boss, Zilla’s mom and Boss’ mom. Boss’ mom was allowed in only because Boss specifically had requested/demanded it. Zilla had conceded as long as Boss’ mom would take care of the video footage. I found that extremely interesting, because if you knew Boss’ mom, she is probably one of the last people on the planet you would choose to enlist to video ANYTHING, let alone an important event like a birth. So the fact that Boss had slid her into the room in the capacity of videographer was amazing, because having high-quality video is typically SO important to Boss. It also showed what I imagined to be Boss’ desperation to get a ticket for his mom. That must have been the ONLY way Zilla was letting her through the door.
In fact, one of Boss’ sisters had offered to video so that Boss’ mom could relax (an oxymoron, if you know Boss’ mom, who doesn’t relax about ANYthing) and enjoy the birth of her new grandchild. No dice, and no thank you. Zilla did permit the entrance of a minister and his wife early on for a short time, and this peeved Boss’ family even more. Why, those people weren’t even FAMILY, and they weren’t even from Boss’ and Zilla’s church, Boss’ family sniped. But still, they waited, sure that when all was said and done, and labor was ended, they’d be allowed in to meet the baby and spend time with the new family.
By evening, Zilla had spiked a low grade fever, and when it came time to push, she tuckered out quickly. The OB decided to use vacuum extraction to deliver the baby. There are so many double entendres that could describe this dynamic course of action, but none of them are very polite or politically correct, so we’ll just say that Little Man was eventually sucked out of Zilla’s loins. He had a brief breathing issue, but was soon hale and hearty with a strong set of lungs. After a short stay in the nursery for observation and his first bath, where Boss’ family was able to snap some pictures through the glass, he was returned to his parents.
And still the family waited. As the medical team had attended to Zilla, and the neonatal staff had cared for the baby in the nursery, Boss had jovially visited with his family. After it was clear that everything was going well, Boss disappeared into Zilla’s room, promising to be “right back.” The family said they heard the sound of a baby crying inside the room, and realized that Boss and Zilla were watching the birth video together. THE WHOLE THING. The baby was eventually brought in, and the new family had some time alone together.
And still, the family waited. After quite a while, Boss reemerged from the room, reporting that Zilla and the baby were resting, thanks for coming, and they’d see them all soon. Bye. Anticlimax, to the max, especially after they’d all spent all day at the hospital, and it was now after midnight. Mad is another word I heard bandied about during the recounting.
I talked to our organization’s VP on Saturday morning. He was on his way to the hospital for a visit. I got the lowdown on that visit this morning at work. I really didn’t expect to hear ANYTHING juicy from VP, as he’s always VERY discreet, but the first words out of his mouth after his greeting to me, and asking me if I’d seen the baby yet – I haven’t – was to tell me that the little guy is very cute; oh, and Zilla is NUTS. Poor Boss. He's in for a long haul. Whaaaaaaaaat???
Yep. Nuts. VP is baby-saavy enough not to touch a newborn without the mom’s permission, but I guess when he bent down (not even very close) to get a good look at the baby’s face, Zilla gasped and whipped the babe over on the other side of her, AWAY from VP. Okay, he chalked it up to new mom jitters….
And then, he said, the baby got the hiccups. Zilla went into hysterics, shrieking at Boss to go get the nurse. VP said you would have thought the baby was choking to death. VP, an experienced dad, tried to calm Zilla down and explain that hiccups in newborns are pretty common and normal, and not dangerous, and they bother the parents more than they bother the baby. Boss was soaking up the wisdom appreciatively, but Zilla wasn’t having any of it. She kept frantically yelping at Boss until he got up and sprinted out in the hallway to flag down a nurse. Disaster averted, I guess.
VP mentioned to me that Zilla needs an experienced mother to mentor her and help her deal with the stresses of new motherhood. No kidding?! And that I’d be a good one for that job. Nope, nothing doing. Whoa. I wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole. Not with Zilla. Not unless I saw a total 180° change in her way of thinking. I’m compassionate, but I’m not crazy. Thanks for the vote of confidence just the same, though.
Zilla and the babe were released from the hospital late Sunday night. Family gathered at Boss’ house to welcome them home, figuring that surely, now that they were out of the hospital, Zilla would soften and let them have a crack at holding, or at least TOUCHING the baby. They were dreaming once again. NOBODY but Zilla and Boss hold the baby. NOBODY. Nobody but Zilla and Boss touch the baby. No exceptions. One of the seven-foot nephews reported that Zilla stiff-armed him when he passed too close to the baby during the welcome home assembly, and again when he awkwardly attempted to give Zilla a customary goodbye hug when they all gave up on ever getting ahold of the baby and left to go home. No warm embraces of thankfulness for the siblings’ presence and support during labor from Zilla, and DEFINITELY no sweet baby nuzzles. Step AWAY from the baby. Shoot, step AWAY from Zilla!
Boss called during our staff meeting at the office this morning. Since they just got home from the hospital last night, he wasn’t in the office today. VP predicts that we won’t be seeing much of Boss for SOME time to come; that Zilla will be keeping Boss pretty busy waiting on her and Babezilla. I’ll have to admit, Boss sounded REALLY frazzled on the speakerphone. He said the baby is doing well, but Zilla is in lots of pain. They had just been to the doctor for her. Really? Less than 12 hours after she was released from the hospital? What a surprise! But everything is normal, and there are no problems with Zilla’s recovery. Just her nagging pain. (And his. And ours. ) Again, what a surprise.
In a wicked moment, VP asked when Boss and Zilla would be bringing the baby in to the office so that everyone could hold it and snuggle with it. I couldn’t BELIEVE he asked that, but how entertaining! Since Boss was on the speakerphone on his end as well as ours, we were all nobly muffling our guffaws of helpless laughter so Zilla wouldn’t hear. We didn’t want either her or Boss to suspect that the staff was already swapping shocking stories about her Momzilla ways, complete with references to John Travolta and the Boy in the Plastic Bubble. And all this with the poor babe yet less than three days old! Boss would say only that the little family would pay the office a visit “in time.” I’m not holding my breath, how about you? Well, on second thought, maybe we SHOULD hold our breaths after all, ALL OF US, since we all share the same atmosphere with the sterile Babezilla.
Okay, I know I gotta go see that kid, and soon , but how discomfiting it will be to be in the presence of a perfectly healthy newborn that I can’t touch, no matter how well I scrub up. I LOVE babies, new ones most especially, and that’s just going to be so weird for me. I think maybe I’ll take along the sign-language books Zilla asked me about a few months ago, (Little Man’s going to learn sign language.) and the “What to Expect” books I dug out of my collection for her. And a nice little baby gift (but not clothes, of course). Anybody know where I can pick up a good used autoclave in a Noah’s Ark pattern?
Birthdate: August 1, 2008, 9:05 p.m. (5 days and 3 hours before his due date)
Vitals: 8 lb., 2.6 oz., 22 inches (tall)
OH. MY. GOSH. After all that I’ve seen and heard about over the last 10 months, I thought I’d be prepared for whatever was likely to occur during/after the birth of Boss’ and Pregzilla’s Little Man. Now that the madness has begun in earnest, I have realized that there was no way anyone COULD be prepared…
Zilla’s water broke at home on Friday midmorning. Boss was at a meeting in the city. He had ridden with our organization’s VP, so after Zilla’s frantic cell call , they sped back to Boss’ place. Boss scurried to get the bags in the vehicle and Zilla loaded, just like in the movies. They arrived at the hospital where the details I have now become a little sketchy, but I do know that someone picked up the grandmothers – neither of whom drive, and dropped them off at the hospital to be a part of the labor room support team.
As I’ve mentioned before, Boss’ family is pretty tight, so it wasn’t long before his whole clan had set up camp in the waiting room of labor & delivery. They were all expecting that, as in past family birth experiences, they’d each get a chance to casually visit in turn with the prospective parents, and then after the delivery, be invited in to meet the new family member as soon as it was practical. That’s just the way they do things. It’s nice, it’s friendly, it’s inclusive……and it was TOTALLY not a part of Zilla’s birth plan.
Zilla decided that there would, in addition to the medical staff, be three and only three other people allowed in the birthing suite. Boss, Zilla’s mom and Boss’ mom. Boss’ mom was allowed in only because Boss specifically had requested/demanded it. Zilla had conceded as long as Boss’ mom would take care of the video footage. I found that extremely interesting, because if you knew Boss’ mom, she is probably one of the last people on the planet you would choose to enlist to video ANYTHING, let alone an important event like a birth. So the fact that Boss had slid her into the room in the capacity of videographer was amazing, because having high-quality video is typically SO important to Boss. It also showed what I imagined to be Boss’ desperation to get a ticket for his mom. That must have been the ONLY way Zilla was letting her through the door.
In fact, one of Boss’ sisters had offered to video so that Boss’ mom could relax (an oxymoron, if you know Boss’ mom, who doesn’t relax about ANYthing) and enjoy the birth of her new grandchild. No dice, and no thank you. Zilla did permit the entrance of a minister and his wife early on for a short time, and this peeved Boss’ family even more. Why, those people weren’t even FAMILY, and they weren’t even from Boss’ and Zilla’s church, Boss’ family sniped. But still, they waited, sure that when all was said and done, and labor was ended, they’d be allowed in to meet the baby and spend time with the new family.
By evening, Zilla had spiked a low grade fever, and when it came time to push, she tuckered out quickly. The OB decided to use vacuum extraction to deliver the baby. There are so many double entendres that could describe this dynamic course of action, but none of them are very polite or politically correct, so we’ll just say that Little Man was eventually sucked out of Zilla’s loins. He had a brief breathing issue, but was soon hale and hearty with a strong set of lungs. After a short stay in the nursery for observation and his first bath, where Boss’ family was able to snap some pictures through the glass, he was returned to his parents.
And still the family waited. As the medical team had attended to Zilla, and the neonatal staff had cared for the baby in the nursery, Boss had jovially visited with his family. After it was clear that everything was going well, Boss disappeared into Zilla’s room, promising to be “right back.” The family said they heard the sound of a baby crying inside the room, and realized that Boss and Zilla were watching the birth video together. THE WHOLE THING. The baby was eventually brought in, and the new family had some time alone together.
And still, the family waited. After quite a while, Boss reemerged from the room, reporting that Zilla and the baby were resting, thanks for coming, and they’d see them all soon. Bye. Anticlimax, to the max, especially after they’d all spent all day at the hospital, and it was now after midnight. Mad is another word I heard bandied about during the recounting.
I talked to our organization’s VP on Saturday morning. He was on his way to the hospital for a visit. I got the lowdown on that visit this morning at work. I really didn’t expect to hear ANYTHING juicy from VP, as he’s always VERY discreet, but the first words out of his mouth after his greeting to me, and asking me if I’d seen the baby yet – I haven’t – was to tell me that the little guy is very cute; oh, and Zilla is NUTS. Poor Boss. He's in for a long haul. Whaaaaaaaaat???
Yep. Nuts. VP is baby-saavy enough not to touch a newborn without the mom’s permission, but I guess when he bent down (not even very close) to get a good look at the baby’s face, Zilla gasped and whipped the babe over on the other side of her, AWAY from VP. Okay, he chalked it up to new mom jitters….
And then, he said, the baby got the hiccups. Zilla went into hysterics, shrieking at Boss to go get the nurse. VP said you would have thought the baby was choking to death. VP, an experienced dad, tried to calm Zilla down and explain that hiccups in newborns are pretty common and normal, and not dangerous, and they bother the parents more than they bother the baby. Boss was soaking up the wisdom appreciatively, but Zilla wasn’t having any of it. She kept frantically yelping at Boss until he got up and sprinted out in the hallway to flag down a nurse. Disaster averted, I guess.
VP mentioned to me that Zilla needs an experienced mother to mentor her and help her deal with the stresses of new motherhood. No kidding?! And that I’d be a good one for that job. Nope, nothing doing. Whoa. I wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole. Not with Zilla. Not unless I saw a total 180° change in her way of thinking. I’m compassionate, but I’m not crazy. Thanks for the vote of confidence just the same, though.
Zilla and the babe were released from the hospital late Sunday night. Family gathered at Boss’ house to welcome them home, figuring that surely, now that they were out of the hospital, Zilla would soften and let them have a crack at holding, or at least TOUCHING the baby. They were dreaming once again. NOBODY but Zilla and Boss hold the baby. NOBODY. Nobody but Zilla and Boss touch the baby. No exceptions. One of the seven-foot nephews reported that Zilla stiff-armed him when he passed too close to the baby during the welcome home assembly, and again when he awkwardly attempted to give Zilla a customary goodbye hug when they all gave up on ever getting ahold of the baby and left to go home. No warm embraces of thankfulness for the siblings’ presence and support during labor from Zilla, and DEFINITELY no sweet baby nuzzles. Step AWAY from the baby. Shoot, step AWAY from Zilla!
Boss called during our staff meeting at the office this morning. Since they just got home from the hospital last night, he wasn’t in the office today. VP predicts that we won’t be seeing much of Boss for SOME time to come; that Zilla will be keeping Boss pretty busy waiting on her and Babezilla. I’ll have to admit, Boss sounded REALLY frazzled on the speakerphone. He said the baby is doing well, but Zilla is in lots of pain. They had just been to the doctor for her. Really? Less than 12 hours after she was released from the hospital? What a surprise! But everything is normal, and there are no problems with Zilla’s recovery. Just her nagging pain. (And his. And ours. ) Again, what a surprise.
In a wicked moment, VP asked when Boss and Zilla would be bringing the baby in to the office so that everyone could hold it and snuggle with it. I couldn’t BELIEVE he asked that, but how entertaining! Since Boss was on the speakerphone on his end as well as ours, we were all nobly muffling our guffaws of helpless laughter so Zilla wouldn’t hear. We didn’t want either her or Boss to suspect that the staff was already swapping shocking stories about her Momzilla ways, complete with references to John Travolta and the Boy in the Plastic Bubble. And all this with the poor babe yet less than three days old! Boss would say only that the little family would pay the office a visit “in time.” I’m not holding my breath, how about you? Well, on second thought, maybe we SHOULD hold our breaths after all, ALL OF US, since we all share the same atmosphere with the sterile Babezilla.
Okay, I know I gotta go see that kid, and soon , but how discomfiting it will be to be in the presence of a perfectly healthy newborn that I can’t touch, no matter how well I scrub up. I LOVE babies, new ones most especially, and that’s just going to be so weird for me. I think maybe I’ll take along the sign-language books Zilla asked me about a few months ago, (Little Man’s going to learn sign language.) and the “What to Expect” books I dug out of my collection for her. And a nice little baby gift (but not clothes, of course). Anybody know where I can pick up a good used autoclave in a Noah’s Ark pattern?
Chapter 16 – Pregzilla: The More Things Change…
(Yeah, I know the baby's here. But this was already queued up, so I finished it. )
“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” right? You’ve heard the old adage. Likewise, I’ve noticed that certain deficient elements of Boss’ and Zilla’s character appear as recurrent themes in our stories. Like obliviousness, entitlement, and lack of preparation.
You’ll recall that soon after Zilla and Boss returned from their honeymoon, as Zilla crammed her first and last day of employment with our organization into a single 10-day period, our heroine was feeling increasingly ill. Every few days was punctuated with a trip to an immediate care facility or the local emergency room, depending on the perceived severity of Zilla’s symptoms.
She really WAS feeling puny, I’ll grant her that. First her UTI, which caused intense pelvic pain and later morphed into a mild kidney infection. Then she had a little stomach bug, followed by the steady development of a head cold. On the heels of their return home, she had the notorious ovulation experience, after which the aforementioned cold settled in her chest and created a nasty, lingering cough. And THEN, she began to suffer from some hauntingly familiar (to ME) flu-like symptoms that compounded her misery. I guessed she was pregnant even before she burst through the front door of our office one evening and made a nauseous beeline for the porcelain bowl in the ladies’ room.
Zilla was convinced she would surely die of her mysterious and debilitating ailment. I knew that my pulling her aside and informing her that I suspected she was PREGNANT would probably not end well, so I kept my yap shut. Especially after Zilla’s mass email debacle, and the account password shut-out, and the double-paid bills muddle. Zilla would probably think I was trying to exact some sort of revenge for making a disaster of my nice organized office procedures. Besides, I knew she’d eventually figure out her delicate condition on her own.
After a fair number of unsatisfying clinic and ER visits, Zilla and Boss took matters into their own hands. They completely forsook modern medicine and had enlisted Boss’ favorite alternative homeopathic/naturopathic/herbal guru to guide Zilla through a lemon juice fast, charcoal cleanse and super vitamin bulk-up as a last gasp effort to rid her body of whatever ghastly and insidious germs had invaded her system.
All became strangely quiet on the office front. The desk that Zilla had meticulously sanitized sat empty, its array of undisturbed disinfecting products a tacit reminder that surface underneath was falling victim to the degeneration of time and unsterile air particles, and that her careful efforts had been essentially futile. She never came back to the office as a staff member. We kept her desk empty for a while out of deference to her, but it was for naught. Boss was frequently absent, pressed into service as Zilla’s nurse.
In the meantime, the ever-active Boss and his family had been amassing a list of key associates and acquaintances who had curiously slipped through the cracks of being issued an invitation to the wedding. As the wedding plans had been going forward, there were about a BAZILLION people whom we staff knew Boss would want to witness the ceremony. Since there was no time for formal invitations, they all had to be notified via phone or email, or in person. Boss, being the control-freak micromanager that he is, wanted the honor of making all these notifications PERSONALLY. Boss gets a real charge out of shock value, and he wanted to hear or see the stunned reaction HIMSELF as each listener learned that Boss was getting married in TWO WEEKS to a stranger they’d never laid eyes on.
It quite frankly became somewhat of an uncomfortable situation for our staff in the weeks preceding the wedding. We’d been asked by Boss not to spread the news ourselves, so whenever we’d get a call, we couldn’t make any notifications beyond, “Hey, have you talked to Boss lately? I think you oughta talk to Boss.” There were literally THOUSANDS of people who needed to learn this matrimonial news to prevent hurt feelings, but our hands were tied.
So, do the math. Two weeks and change to prepare for the wedding. Even though Boss talks on the phone several hours per day, he had quite a few details to attend to, plus a time-consuming major event to prepare for which was totally unrelated to the speedily approaching ceremony. When Boss talks on the phone, he typically doesn’t get right to the point, and as a result spends at least 15-20 minutes on each call, sometimes more. So even if he was able to reach 10 or 12 new people per day with the blessed news, he was still going to fall far short of the thousands he had intended. And that’s just what happened.
As near the ceremony as the very afternoon of, Boss was calling me asking, “Did you tell Yoohoo and Yahoo and Yayhoo? How about Skeezix? Could you give them a call and let them know?” Okay Dude, your wedding is in less than two hours. How tacky is that, for your office assistant to extend an emergency telephone wedding invitation to a person who has erroneously harbored the thought that they might be your close buddy? Fine tribute to friendship there, old chum. Yessiree.
Bottom line, although the attendance was quite remarkable for a slap-dash affair, it wasn’t even CLOSE to what MIGHT have been the turnout if there had been time for a REAL engagement period that included LEGITIMATE wedding planning. Of course, lack of invited guests created one other lamentable result: a shortage of wedding gifts. Now, the table at the venue was piled high, don’t get me wrong. But Boss didn’t turn nearly the cash profit he was expecting on the wedding. He seemed rather bewildered when he told me that he and Zilla basically broke even on their honeymoon. That’s presumably not ALL they broke , but I go off the point.
Our usual customary business at the office valiantly carried on. A little less than one month after the wedding, our newly resurrected email list got a heartfelt summons to an “evening of celebration.” At the top of the newsletter was a brief agenda of the evening’s festivities, which were to include food, music and a discussion of upcoming events and opportunities for giving in support of them.
I had heard a little discussion about a party, but had no idea the newsletter was being sent, or even that a firm date had been set, until the email surreptitiously showed up in my inbox at home. I’d been home for a couple of days with a sick child.
There was an odd title at the top of the email. I recognized it as what was to be the evening’s “theme”. Unveiled, Restored, United. Nobody ever DID figure out exactly what that meant, by the way, and it wasn’t explained at the event. I’m sure Boss intended to enlighten us, but he got off on a tangent that night, and the audience was left hanging…
Anyway, as I scrolled to the bottom half of that email page, I was appalled, and wondered WHO had been given the go-ahead to send this dispatch. There was a HUGE wedding picture of Zilla splayed over Boss’ shoulder with the caption: “Please also join us in celebrating the marriage of (Boss and Bridezilla). We look forward to sharing the evening with you. God Bless!” I knew that Boss’ family had shared his bafflement that there wasn’t a bigger monetary take on the wedding day, so I guessed that one of them had volunteered to help with the event email and slid in the part about celebrating the marriage without the knowledge of the newlyweds, who would surely be aghast at the implication that they were having a second reception in the same locale where their wedding had taken place a few weeks prior.
Turned out I was TOTALLY off base. The couple had indeed cooked this up THEMSELVES. Boss and Zilla had been collectively thinking of a way to allow all those inadvertently uniformed potential wedding guests a second chance to demonstrate, in a tangible way, their delight about the union. Cha-ching. Their consensus was that this little email addendum was a very polished and subtle way to suggest that it wasn’t too late to endow their new household with a wedding gift. In addition to our elist, copies of this invitation were posted on the doors of our corporate offices, and horror of horrors, a press release was even sent to the local paper. To prove that the event was a BIG deal, it had an RSVP deadline.
As I said, I was appalled by the boorishness. Obviously others were as well. By the evening of the event, two weeks later, I think there were only about 30 RSVPs instead of the hundreds Boss expected. A large chunk of those coming were Boss’ family members, with the remainder being made up of a smattering of supporters and other folks whose curiosity had gotten the best of them , along with some of my family, and a few stragglers. There are ALWAYS a few stragglers.
By the night of the affair, I had come down with the same virus that had afflicted my kids a couple of weeks earlier, so sadly I couldn’t go. DH had to keep me up to speed via text message that night.
A GIFT TABLE set up in the banquet room. With a money basket. Gag. Both nearly empty. Gag. Stouffer’s lasagnas, bagged salad, bread sticks and brownies on the menu. Gag. The standard pizza-alternative meal that everyone in our organization hates, but that no one dares to disparage, because Boss thinks it’s glorious. There was a little Kum-bay-yah-esque group singing, followed with a set by a ROCKING band and then some kind of disjointed inspirational address delivered by Boss. Even DH, who knows Boss well, was surprised at his total lack of focus. The expository texts from DH were comical. Boss’ train of thought had utterly jumped the tracks. At the very end of the evening, DH sent one last message: “(Boss) just made an announcement. His bride is with child.” Oh, boy. Here we go.
Monday at the office, I congratulated Boss in person. “Were you surprised?” he prodded.
“I already knew, actually.” I was immediately sorry I said that, for he seemed a little deflated.
“When did you find out?” He must have thought one of his siblings let the secret slip.
“Oh, about two weeks ago.”
Obviously puzzled, Boss exclaimed, “Two WEEKS; but Zilla and I just found out a couple of days ago!”
“I know,” I said, as I shrugged, smiled compassionately, turned on my heel and walked out of his office.
“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” right? You’ve heard the old adage. Likewise, I’ve noticed that certain deficient elements of Boss’ and Zilla’s character appear as recurrent themes in our stories. Like obliviousness, entitlement, and lack of preparation.
You’ll recall that soon after Zilla and Boss returned from their honeymoon, as Zilla crammed her first and last day of employment with our organization into a single 10-day period, our heroine was feeling increasingly ill. Every few days was punctuated with a trip to an immediate care facility or the local emergency room, depending on the perceived severity of Zilla’s symptoms.
She really WAS feeling puny, I’ll grant her that. First her UTI, which caused intense pelvic pain and later morphed into a mild kidney infection. Then she had a little stomach bug, followed by the steady development of a head cold. On the heels of their return home, she had the notorious ovulation experience, after which the aforementioned cold settled in her chest and created a nasty, lingering cough. And THEN, she began to suffer from some hauntingly familiar (to ME) flu-like symptoms that compounded her misery. I guessed she was pregnant even before she burst through the front door of our office one evening and made a nauseous beeline for the porcelain bowl in the ladies’ room.
Zilla was convinced she would surely die of her mysterious and debilitating ailment. I knew that my pulling her aside and informing her that I suspected she was PREGNANT would probably not end well, so I kept my yap shut. Especially after Zilla’s mass email debacle, and the account password shut-out, and the double-paid bills muddle. Zilla would probably think I was trying to exact some sort of revenge for making a disaster of my nice organized office procedures. Besides, I knew she’d eventually figure out her delicate condition on her own.
After a fair number of unsatisfying clinic and ER visits, Zilla and Boss took matters into their own hands. They completely forsook modern medicine and had enlisted Boss’ favorite alternative homeopathic/naturopathic/herbal guru to guide Zilla through a lemon juice fast, charcoal cleanse and super vitamin bulk-up as a last gasp effort to rid her body of whatever ghastly and insidious germs had invaded her system.
All became strangely quiet on the office front. The desk that Zilla had meticulously sanitized sat empty, its array of undisturbed disinfecting products a tacit reminder that surface underneath was falling victim to the degeneration of time and unsterile air particles, and that her careful efforts had been essentially futile. She never came back to the office as a staff member. We kept her desk empty for a while out of deference to her, but it was for naught. Boss was frequently absent, pressed into service as Zilla’s nurse.
In the meantime, the ever-active Boss and his family had been amassing a list of key associates and acquaintances who had curiously slipped through the cracks of being issued an invitation to the wedding. As the wedding plans had been going forward, there were about a BAZILLION people whom we staff knew Boss would want to witness the ceremony. Since there was no time for formal invitations, they all had to be notified via phone or email, or in person. Boss, being the control-freak micromanager that he is, wanted the honor of making all these notifications PERSONALLY. Boss gets a real charge out of shock value, and he wanted to hear or see the stunned reaction HIMSELF as each listener learned that Boss was getting married in TWO WEEKS to a stranger they’d never laid eyes on.
It quite frankly became somewhat of an uncomfortable situation for our staff in the weeks preceding the wedding. We’d been asked by Boss not to spread the news ourselves, so whenever we’d get a call, we couldn’t make any notifications beyond, “Hey, have you talked to Boss lately? I think you oughta talk to Boss.” There were literally THOUSANDS of people who needed to learn this matrimonial news to prevent hurt feelings, but our hands were tied.
So, do the math. Two weeks and change to prepare for the wedding. Even though Boss talks on the phone several hours per day, he had quite a few details to attend to, plus a time-consuming major event to prepare for which was totally unrelated to the speedily approaching ceremony. When Boss talks on the phone, he typically doesn’t get right to the point, and as a result spends at least 15-20 minutes on each call, sometimes more. So even if he was able to reach 10 or 12 new people per day with the blessed news, he was still going to fall far short of the thousands he had intended. And that’s just what happened.
As near the ceremony as the very afternoon of, Boss was calling me asking, “Did you tell Yoohoo and Yahoo and Yayhoo? How about Skeezix? Could you give them a call and let them know?” Okay Dude, your wedding is in less than two hours. How tacky is that, for your office assistant to extend an emergency telephone wedding invitation to a person who has erroneously harbored the thought that they might be your close buddy? Fine tribute to friendship there, old chum. Yessiree.
Bottom line, although the attendance was quite remarkable for a slap-dash affair, it wasn’t even CLOSE to what MIGHT have been the turnout if there had been time for a REAL engagement period that included LEGITIMATE wedding planning. Of course, lack of invited guests created one other lamentable result: a shortage of wedding gifts. Now, the table at the venue was piled high, don’t get me wrong. But Boss didn’t turn nearly the cash profit he was expecting on the wedding. He seemed rather bewildered when he told me that he and Zilla basically broke even on their honeymoon. That’s presumably not ALL they broke , but I go off the point.
Our usual customary business at the office valiantly carried on. A little less than one month after the wedding, our newly resurrected email list got a heartfelt summons to an “evening of celebration.” At the top of the newsletter was a brief agenda of the evening’s festivities, which were to include food, music and a discussion of upcoming events and opportunities for giving in support of them.
I had heard a little discussion about a party, but had no idea the newsletter was being sent, or even that a firm date had been set, until the email surreptitiously showed up in my inbox at home. I’d been home for a couple of days with a sick child.
There was an odd title at the top of the email. I recognized it as what was to be the evening’s “theme”. Unveiled, Restored, United. Nobody ever DID figure out exactly what that meant, by the way, and it wasn’t explained at the event. I’m sure Boss intended to enlighten us, but he got off on a tangent that night, and the audience was left hanging…
Anyway, as I scrolled to the bottom half of that email page, I was appalled, and wondered WHO had been given the go-ahead to send this dispatch. There was a HUGE wedding picture of Zilla splayed over Boss’ shoulder with the caption: “Please also join us in celebrating the marriage of (Boss and Bridezilla). We look forward to sharing the evening with you. God Bless!” I knew that Boss’ family had shared his bafflement that there wasn’t a bigger monetary take on the wedding day, so I guessed that one of them had volunteered to help with the event email and slid in the part about celebrating the marriage without the knowledge of the newlyweds, who would surely be aghast at the implication that they were having a second reception in the same locale where their wedding had taken place a few weeks prior.
Turned out I was TOTALLY off base. The couple had indeed cooked this up THEMSELVES. Boss and Zilla had been collectively thinking of a way to allow all those inadvertently uniformed potential wedding guests a second chance to demonstrate, in a tangible way, their delight about the union. Cha-ching. Their consensus was that this little email addendum was a very polished and subtle way to suggest that it wasn’t too late to endow their new household with a wedding gift. In addition to our elist, copies of this invitation were posted on the doors of our corporate offices, and horror of horrors, a press release was even sent to the local paper. To prove that the event was a BIG deal, it had an RSVP deadline.
As I said, I was appalled by the boorishness. Obviously others were as well. By the evening of the event, two weeks later, I think there were only about 30 RSVPs instead of the hundreds Boss expected. A large chunk of those coming were Boss’ family members, with the remainder being made up of a smattering of supporters and other folks whose curiosity had gotten the best of them , along with some of my family, and a few stragglers. There are ALWAYS a few stragglers.
By the night of the affair, I had come down with the same virus that had afflicted my kids a couple of weeks earlier, so sadly I couldn’t go. DH had to keep me up to speed via text message that night.
A GIFT TABLE set up in the banquet room. With a money basket. Gag. Both nearly empty. Gag. Stouffer’s lasagnas, bagged salad, bread sticks and brownies on the menu. Gag. The standard pizza-alternative meal that everyone in our organization hates, but that no one dares to disparage, because Boss thinks it’s glorious. There was a little Kum-bay-yah-esque group singing, followed with a set by a ROCKING band and then some kind of disjointed inspirational address delivered by Boss. Even DH, who knows Boss well, was surprised at his total lack of focus. The expository texts from DH were comical. Boss’ train of thought had utterly jumped the tracks. At the very end of the evening, DH sent one last message: “(Boss) just made an announcement. His bride is with child.” Oh, boy. Here we go.
Monday at the office, I congratulated Boss in person. “Were you surprised?” he prodded.
“I already knew, actually.” I was immediately sorry I said that, for he seemed a little deflated.
“When did you find out?” He must have thought one of his siblings let the secret slip.
“Oh, about two weeks ago.”
Obviously puzzled, Boss exclaimed, “Two WEEKS; but Zilla and I just found out a couple of days ago!”
“I know,” I said, as I shrugged, smiled compassionately, turned on my heel and walked out of his office.
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