Happy Thoughts

I ignored the last phone call.

There were four this morning.

The first was to see if one of our people had been registered for the two-day show that opened this morning. I reminded the caller of our discussion yesterday. The one that went like this: "I tried to get him registered but I'm not getting the confirmation. I need you to find someone on site while you're setting up this afternoon to make sure he's ok for tomorrow."

My reminder was met with a simple, "Oh."

The second call came while Meg and I were at Gymboree and it was about the other event held today. "Are you busy?" said the one that is actually my favorite of the group.

"Well, we are in Gymboree. What's up?"

She was excited. And that was fine. I was happy for her, and, well frankly, for me. It was her first event. She had started the planning and I was asked to take over. It wasn't that she couldn't do it. It's that the big man didn't want a newbie running the show. I kept her invovled. I worked with her closely this week to make sure she was prepared to be our onsite point person. I had confidence in her.

We had promised the company we partnered with on this particular event that we'd get 20 good contacts to attend. I told my co-hort that we'd need at least 30 postitive RSVPs in order to get in the vicinity of 20 the day of the event. We closed yesterday with exactly 30 expected. She called me during Gymboree to tell me that the speakers had just started their presentations and we had just welcomed #20. There were at least one or two others wandering in.

She called about an hour later. I missed the call, which was ok because she called right back.

"When you placed the lunch order, what headcount did you end up with? I'm wondering I need to find someone. Think we have enough food? I was thinking we need food for at least 36 which, you know, includes all of us and the other company," she was starting to think outloud. I stopped her. I had ordered for 40.

"Excellent. This place, by the way, is amazing. It's just as pretty as the pictures. I mean [company founder] came over and asked me if I found the place and I said you did but I didn't know how and then he gushed about you and this place and then I gushed about it..." she went on. I love her dearly, but I was standing at the bottom of my basement steps with my arms full of bags and child.

"I googled," I admitted.

"Huh?" she seemed confused.

"I googled meeting venues and found it in the search results," I explained.

We chatted some more and then she decided she had to get back to the event before they wheeled lunch in. "I'll call you later and tell you how it went! Or I'll email you the attendee list and all that. I'll do both!" she hung up.

The phone rang again a few hours later. Meg was sleeping. Logan and I were playing. I worked a lot yesterday. Typically I don't do any work on a Wednesday. It's the day I reserve (if I can help it) for kid only focus. Last week I ended up attending an informal business lunch with the kids by my side. This week I put in nearly a full day from home. Logan and I didn't get to play much yesterday. We missed our "special" time together during Meg's nap.

The phone sang out from my purse. I started to move for it. I checked the clock. No. The event is over. It's done. There can be no emergency. The only possible question will be "What do I do with the extra stuff we didn't hand out?" and I figured the slew of management level types onsite could field that one. I let the call go to voice mail.

She was excited. She was calling to celebrate and tell me the details. I rubbed Logan's head. It could wait.

There were no mushroom clouds from the south. There were no ranting VPs on my phone. All was right with the world. Two successful events. (At least that's all I can assume since no one has called me in tears since that last ignored call.) It's over. I can now turn my focus on the big event of June. Four weeks to pull of a full-scale trade show. At least most of the work on it is already done. At least we just have one booth. At least I can ignore it for tonight and refocus tomorrow.



My son smiled as the phone stopped ringing. He knew what had happened. He knew I had made a choice right then. He retrieved the laminated project he had brought home from school. He drew a picture of me - I promise to scan it in. It is probably the thinnest I've looked in ages.

He had filled in six blanks with the help of his teacher. He provided the answer. She provided the handwriting:

My Mom
My mommy's name is Mommy.
My mommy is 100 years old.
My mommy is the prettiest when she puts on her makeup.
My favorite thing my mommy makes to eat isbroccoli.
My mommy is funny when she acts silly.
My mommy is special because she takes care of me.

He handed me the paper. "I think you should hang this up right there with all my art projects next to your desk. That way when you work or when we play games you can look up and remember how much I love you."

I hugged him. I thanked him. I told him I didn't need the reminder but I loved him for wanting me to have it. I suppose at 100 years old I could always use the little memory nudge.

And lest my occasionally smart ass-like husband think it's funny that my child thinks I'm 100. I have to point out Logan, who really does know my 'big people' name and my age, has told me Daddy is 151. So there.


Nicole said...

Congratulations. It sounds like both events went off well and you looked great without even having to be there. Behold the power of Google!!

Wordnerd said...

Well, you write very well for a 100-year-old! Good genes, eh?

Visiting from Michele's!

tommy said...

Hello Michele sent me.

So you googled broccoli in for an even over 100 years ago and it all worked?


Carmi said...

I think what your son meant was that you have the EXPERIENCE of someone who's been around for a century. But you're such a great multitasker that you accumulated all this expertise in only a fraction of the time.

My oh my, how magical things can be when viewed through a child's eyes. Thankfully for us, you're so adept at giving us a chance to peek in.

Maggie said...

Wow how fantastic is that great memeory. I suggest you archive it by using archiving spray from the craft store.
Via Michele

srp said...

I had to laugh. My Nyssa is 20. When we had just moved to Mississippi she was 3 1/2. Our neighbor asked her how old I was going to be on my birthday. She said 88. I know I felt like 88 sometimes but that was a shock.

At least he thinks his dad is 151. Great post. Sweet. Funny. I only wish blogging had been available when Nyssa was little. There are so many things they say and do that just scream "WRITE ME DOWN!!!". Have a great Mother's Day.

Here from Michele.