Guest Blogger:Mom on her Performance Review

Performance Review

I am a woman. A slovakian. A Montanan. A filmmaker. A professional. I am a wife, a daughter, a sister. An aunt, neighbor and friend. A collector, a traveler, a thinker.  As I update my resume with my latest position, the letters are so big, they push out the text of all my previous jobs. I type in bold text: M-O-T-H-E-R. And it takes up the whole page pushing out all previous positions. I bring my updated resume to the performance review.

There she sits at her little desk, in her little chair. One and a half years old.  And very serious.

The following is a transcription of my half-quarterly performance review.

She: So you’ve been with me for a year and a half.

Plus nine months, I say, remember?

Well, that was just on-the-job-training, you know. We’ll say 18 months.

She looks down and scribbles with crayon some notes I can’t decipher.

You’re the boss, I say.

Yes, that’s right, she says.

So, am I doing ok?

Yes, she says. Overall. I’d give you an 8 out 10.

Hmm, I say. Thanks.

Sure. You come when I cry and you are an above average cuddler.

Thank you, I say.

You get most of my jokes and are quite proficient at cutting fruit, cheese and chicken into little bits I can safely chew. 

Thanks, I say.

You change my diapers and are fun to play chase with.

I try, I say.

Now, don’t take this personally, but there’s room for improvement.

I understand, I say.

You could slow down a bit.  Work on your patience.

I see. How long with this performance review take?

She shakes her head, clicking head in judgement.  You know, Mom,this rushing here and there.  Putting my boots on so fast and stuffing my little fat arms into my jacket.  I mean, its no good.  What are we hurrying for?

I see your point.

You know, your whole life happens “now”. Always.  

That’s pretty deep for a toddler, honey.

Indeed.

And mom? More time at the park. Please.

OK. Duly noted.

And another thing, Mom.  I know when you skip some pages of the stories that aren’t your favorite. Plus, when you tuck me in at night, you could add a few more books to the line-up. I You know how I love it when you read to me.

Yeah, I know.  Sorry about my singing voice. I know its kinda out of tune.

Not to me. I think your voice is perfect.

Really?  Thanks.

No, problem.

Any chance you will start sleeping through the night?

Unlikely, she says.

What’s your favorite part of the job? she asks.

When you come up and put your arms around my leg in the kitchen when I am cooking. Or when you giggle so much your nose wrinkles. Or when you are a little sick and you are warm and melted in my arms.

You like it when I am sick?

No of course not, but its just sort of precious.

You know when you put my hair in pig tails? You shouldn’t do that.  

But you look so cute!

It doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter if my socks match my outfit.  Dad knows it doesn’t matter.

Right. You sure it doesn’t matter?

Nope. Not even a little.

If you say so.

But overall, Mom, you are doing pretty good. Do you have any questions for me before we finish?

Yeah, any chance you can stay this age a little bit longer?

Not a chance. Its not in the contract.  Better pay attention and enjoy.

I have another question.

Go ahead, mom.

Will you always be boss?

Yep. All my life.

I thought so.

One more question: Any chance of increasing my compensation package and benefits?

Not in this economy, Mom.  Get real.  You are lucky to have the job.

I know I am. I know I am.

Thanks for your time, Mom.

Of course.

Anything you ask. I love you, baby.

I know, Mom. I love you too. 

The Zoo Wall

Well...Hello, party animals!

I recently went to San Diego Safari Zoo.  This got me thinking, zoos.  It occurred some of you may not know that I have a Zoo Wall in my very own house.  Its a hallway where my mom and dad keep all these wild animals captive, in picture frames.  Here's a where we keep them.

Don't tell my mom and dad, but one of these days, when I am tall enough, I'm going to sneak up and let all the animals out of their frames!

Also, check out one of favorite documentaries about zoo animals.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P3AAdkfiamU

Small Puffle Village Attacked by Monster Baby

Just in. A report from a small, little known Puffle village near Ballard. Another devastating attack has occurred. Ben Jakupcak reports...More at ten.

WWSD?

Often times if I can't quite figure out what to do in a given situation, I find myself coming back to one simple question:

What Would Sophie Do?

As most all you people know, Sophie is my best friend and she is a small rubber french giraffe. I like to chew on her head. So when I wake up in my crib, I ask, hmmm in a case like this, What would Sophie do? When I fall over on the carpet when I am practicing sitting up, I ask myself, What would Sophie do? When my parents give me cold sweet potatoes mashed up, What would Sophie do?

And the answer is usually quite clear: Cry! Waaaaaaaa! Waaaaaaaa!

QUEEN BABY WINS THE CIVIL WAR

Here is a recent video clip reported on by Miss Eliza.

It shows Queen Baby flying and apparently also winning the civil war.

OCCUPY LIVING ROOM

Nutmeg and Sophie and I recently started a movement called Occupy Living Room. We are outraged! We don't think its fair. My Mom says our complaints are a little vague and that we need to organize our strategy. That we can't just protest and complain without putting forth some decisive bullet points of what we want to change.

So here are our demands:

We want to eat big people food.

We want to walk on two feet.

We think the current system around the house is totally tyrannical.

We are socialists and want justice.

We resent people thinking we don't understand this whole Christmas business.(We get it-we totally get it!)

So here's how its gonna go-this movement OCCUPY LIVING ROOM. Me, Nutmeg and Sophie are not going to leave until we are good and ready. OK, Nutmeg says she might leave if somebody feeds her. But me & Sophie will stay. At least until our bedtime. We want justice to be served.

I'm Serious. Opal

Me & My Best Friend, Sophie

This is Sophie. Sophie is a giraffe. She is my best friend. Her and Nutmeg. Sometimes people mistake Sophie for a doggie chew toy because she squeaks when you squeeze her. This offends her. She is from France and gets insulted easily. But she is so fun! (Thanks Uncle David and Auntie Roxane!) She is 50 years old, but doesn't look a day over three months. My mom said that if she were from my Montana grandparents, she might indeed be a doggie chewy toy, but that that is out of the question since she came from Uncle David and Aunt Roxane who have very discriminating taste. She is very sophisticated and fun.

Sophie and I have private jokes that no one else knows about. She and I have in-jokes about Nutmeg and Mom and Dad. Sometimes we just crack each other up! I never knew I would have so much in common with a giraffe.

Oh, Sophie, I love you!

Opal