Customer Service 101

I woke up with a fire in my belly this morning. And that was before I read the late-last-night email and early-this-morning text from my brother...

Let me tell you more.

In December, my sister and I planned a purely frivolous and extraordinary weekend in Vegas, to go see Dancing With the Stars Live in February.

As I was making the reservation, I kept asking my sister "Are you sure?" "Should I hit the 'I Accept' (and every other) button (there was to press along our way)?"

By the time we got off the phone that fateful night, it was a done deal. We were going to Vegas!

As if that wasn't exciting enough by itself, my sister-in-law texted me a few days later, asking me where we were staying, because she wanted to surprise my brother with the gift of a trip-for-two to Vegas (with her sister-in-laws, no less!) for Christmas; their upcoming 25th anniversary and my brother's looming 50th birthday. All in one.

The exhilaration levels rose by the moment. Between surprising my brother (he is a tough guy to surprise) and my sister with (at the time) that-which-only-my-sister-in-law-and-I-knew, was a gift unto itself.

It took (perhaps) less than a week before my brother admitted he read the confirmation email about the trip and the cat was out of the bag.

But my sister still didn't know.

We all walked around like Cheshire Cats, withholding this great surprise from my sister. It was fun and we were all anticipating her great surprise when we stumbled into my brother and his wife in Vegas, of all places. We couldn't wait to see her reaction.

Long story short, I was the one who spilled the beans to my sister. Perhaps it was meant to be, because due to circumstances beyond our control, it is looking like my brother and his wife may be backing out of the trip. Or at the very least, delaying their departure date by a day.

We had a 'conference call' between the three siblings last night. My sister and I agreed that my brother is in the hardest position of all, as we weighed out the facts we know and needed to decide whether we should all back out of our trip or not.

In the end, we thought the perfect compromise was for my brother and his wife to try and change their flight by one day.

Sounds simple, doesn't it?

Unfortunately this sounded like the best option for them because their 'comprehensive cancellation insurance package' has very strict guidelines about paying out. And our situation, as dire as it feels to us, does not meet their criteria. So they stood to lose their entire holiday and be out the full cost of the trip, plus their insurance costs.

Before I went to sleep last night, my brother emailed me to tell me that "Yes" they could change their departure date. The cost? $1800!! Their entire trip only cost $1600, so their total out-of-pocket-expense was $3400. It was 'cheaper' to bail out completely and not even go.

UNbelievable.

I woke up before my alarm this morning, with my brother and sister-in-law first and foremost in my mind. I had a plan.

I have learned a lesson within this little life of mine. "Never be afraid to ask". You still may be told 'no', but at least you gave it your best shot.

I called Expedia.ca bright and early this morning. I was on hold for less than two minutes. I got a polite representative and once she confirmed I had enough information to continue, I asked her if she had time to hear our story.

She said she did.

Our story is not long. It is not complicated. But it is fresh, new territory for our family, as we tread into this together.

Part two of the story is my brother and his wife.

This trip was booked with the best of intentions and a heart full of love and generosity. This is a couple who works hard for every penny they have, so a trip such as this is not taken lightly. It's a big thing. They will be honoring twenty five years of marriage in four months.

While they were on their modest honeymoon twenty five years ago, my brother looked at his new bride with stars in his eyes and full of wonder and hope for their future. I am not certain what the exact words were but in my mind's eye, I see this young couple boarding a ferry and my newly wed brother (probably) said (something to the effect of) "We will go on a cruise for our 25th anniversary ..."

A three-day-trip to Vegas was a small consolation prize. And one that cost them dearly.

I plead their case to the Expedia.ca representative. I did not deny their position of hearing every story in the book, when it comes to reasons for cancellation. But I explained this was new and foreign ground for our family and we would appreciate anything they could offer. Travel credit for a future holiday (for my brother and his wife) perhaps?

This representative listened to me without interruption and then relayed the facts to her supervisor.

Her supervisor first offered her condolences for our situation. She then offered two options (neither of which include losing the full cost of their holiday nor charging a exorbitant amount of money to switch dates).

Number 1 - I appreciated both of these representatives hearing me out. Number 2 - I was relieved neither one of them immediately defaulted to a line akin to "I'm sorry, but that is our policy". Number 3 - I was grateful to be passed along to a supervisor without having to demand that my plea be heard by someone who could make decisions that fell outside of regular company policy.

I wish they had offered my brother and his wife a free cruise as a gift for their 25th wedding anniversary but all stories do not end with a fairy tale ending.

Because the second thing my quiet little life has taught me is to "Dare to dream for impossible things".

Ready for a Weekend

The week that never ends (it goes on and on, my friend) is sliding down to a stop at the end of today.

Apparently I was in the twilight zone at 9:51 p.m., as the phone on the nightstand beside my bed rang a minimum of four times and I didn't hear a thing until my bookkeeping boss' voice woke me up as she was in the process of leaving me a message.

She has to leave town this weekend so we will be unable to work, as previously planned. I was so disappointed (not really).

I have not yet completed the project I was supposed to do at home, to lessen our load this weekend so I was just a small bit elated.

That job went from "I must get it done before I go into work tomorrow" to "I must get it done so I can fully enjoy my unexpected day off tomorrow!!"

Same end result. Different level of elation (or not).

I must have become accustomed to letting unfinished business weigh me down over the course of (not) completing my dad's family's book of memories. Because I seem to be weighed down an awful lot lately.

The ten minute task of writing my daycare receipts for my families felt daunting this year. The receipt book sat on the computer desk for almost two weeks before I wrapped up that job yesterday afternoon.

Another ten minute job related to my son's bookkeeping work has been shelved (possibly because I know this will lead up to year end tax work).

I didn't write my mom's weekly letter (which I try to do on Monday) until Wednesday.

I haven't swept the kitchen floor all week. Nor have I vacuumed. I found a sticky patch of floor in the kitchen yesterday and swiped down one piece of the floor. And nothing else.

I delayed sending an email to the family (which was of a 'copy and paste' variety) because it felt too hard to do.

I find it harder and harder to wake up in the morning. Writing has become work and something I squeeze into the minutes before my day takes over.

I think I am feeling the January Blues. I just want to curl up on the couch and read, watch TV, play solitaire and work up an appetite to want to snack (even snacking has become something that I find hard to squeeze into my day).

It has been a long month.

I know I am the one who is in control of turning things around and changing the drudgery of my days.

Morning is key for me. Sleeping in that extra hour has given me a little more wakefulness at the end of my day. But sleeping in has also deprived me of the time I used to do 'hard things'.

Six impossible things before lunch has become a daunting task. Those impossible things have boiled down to:

1. Getting out of bed
2. Getting dressed
3. Opening the blinds
4. Unlocking the door
5. Allowing the day to 'walk in'
6. Smiling and accepting my fate

I am tired. The more I sleep, the more I want to sleep.

I feel drained. The less I do, the more I want to do less.

I crave solitude. The more alone I feel, the more I want to be alone.

I'm teetering on the edge of sadness, but I know I am truly content underneath my exterior. I feel like I am conserving my resources for an uncertain fate.

I think it is time for a weekend. I am grateful that is exactly what is in store for me, ten hours from now.

Now it is time to make the most of these ten hours, so the weekend I think I need so badly is free and clear of obligations.

Small Victories

As I closed the door on my daycare day yesterday, I felt like running a victory lap.

It was just one of those days where (about a trillion) reminders of the 'same old', 'same old' all seemed to come together and create a friction-free kind of day.

I am not exactly certain how many times I repeat myself throughout the course of my day. It is a lot.

I say the same old things. Time and time again. Everyone gets the same lessons. Caring. Sharing. Taking turns. Be gentle. Be kind. Manners, manners, manners.

If you push, you get put to the 'back of the line'. If you don't say please, you don't get 'more'. If you want to walk in front of someone say 'excuse me'.

Reminders, reminders, reminders.

Our days are pretty loosely structured but there are many things the same.

The routines before we go outside. Everyone must go to the bathroom first. All snow gear is laid out on the floor so everyone can do their best to get dressed on their own. Coming back inside is the same thing, only in reverse.

Meal time is pretty routine. Manners are always encouraged. Chew, chew, chew, chew some more and swallow is the name of the game. Bathroom time follows meal time.

Before nap routines are another version of 'rinse and repeat'. Every day. Everyone goes to the bathroom (again) and we either settle in and read books or watch (part of) one of the three Toy Story movies.

Yesterday was an interesting day because I bought a second 'Leap Pad' game. Up until yesterday, the Leap Pad was only for the 'bigger kids'. But ages do not remain stagnant. Our one-year-olds have all turned 'two' and our two year olds have all turned 'three'. It was time to bite the bullet and introduce the little guys into the big guy's territory.

Two Leap Pads and four kids means sharing. A concept young people hear about but don't like too much when sharing involves something shiny, brand new and full of interactive fun.

As long as we had 'four', sharing was rather easy. The little guys didn't know they were going to get a turn at first, so they had absolutely no trouble sitting beside their older friends and watching. Then when the three-year-olds tired of the games and were ready to abandon them, I let the little guys have a turn. Easy peasy.

The challenge came at the end of the day. We were down to three kids and two Leap Pads. I have a timer that I set for five minutes at a time. I explained the concept to my young audience and the only one who had had first hand experience with taking turns every five minutes was the three year old. So I gave the little guys the first five minute stretch. All went well until they had to 'switch' and rotate their turn.

Two years old is a little young to grasp the idea of 'five minute turns'. But not too young to be introduced to it regardless.

My little two-year-old girl does not take kindly to a world which does not spin according to her rules. She cried. She cried so long and so loud she could not hear my assurances she would get the next turn. Thankfully she stopped crying before the five minutes were up, so she did get her turn. But the next time her time was up, she was doubly angry. She cried past the five minute mark and forfeited her next turn. By the third go-round, she still wasn't happy but she sort understood the concept.

Her two-year-old buddy was pretty dramatic when his turn came to wait out five minutes. He wiped non-existent tears off his face. He turned the corners of his lips downward and breathed very, very heavily. But he did not cry. So he did hear me saying the words reassuring him he would get another turn.

These guys have all honed the art of making their parents feel bad at the end of the day and 'pretending' they don't want to go home. My plan was, to have the Leap Pads out of circulation before parents arrived. But I missed the mark by about one minute and thirty six seconds.

Parent #1 (mom of my two-year-old boy) arrived a minute (and thirty six seconds) before his turn was up. I explained to her what we were doing and the timer was due to go off in seconds and his turn would be over. She encouraged us to finish out his last turn.

Her little guy wasn't thrilled to give up the Leap Pad at the end of his turn but was resigned to the (now) familiar routine.

#1 - Mom was totally impressed with her boy for being so accepting of giving up a coveted new play-thing.

Then her little boy decided to play the 'I don't want to go home' game and I scrouched down to his level, asked him to look at my eyes and told him we would bring out the Leap Pads tomorrow, but he had to be really good for his mom and put on his jacket. And he listened!!

#2 - I was shocked and surprised at this success. And so was his mom.

She then asked how his toilet training went that day. I said, "Perfect!" She said at home, he won't even try. He cries and screams and will not even try to go any more.

#3 - I think his mom felt a little defeated. Why is her son so different at daycare??

She left and I thought of the ways 'toilet training' is working for him here.

He is doing what 'the big kids do'. All four of them go to the bathroom before they go outside, after meals, before watching Toy Story (or reading books).

It is a routine. We do (much of) the same thing day in and day out. Often 'something good' follows going to the bathroom. We head off and do something that I don't want interrupted by one-of-four needing to go to the bathroom.

Expectations never (ever) change here.

I expect these guys to listen, be respectful (to me and to everyone else) and do their best. My mom has often reminded me "They are only two!!" and I shake my head and think "WOW!! They are only two and look how good they are doing!!"

Some of my days, I feel like I'm banging my head against a cement wall. I do the same things over and over. I say the same things over and over. I have to remind everyone of the same things over and over. I feel like Bill Murray's character in 'Ground Hog Day'. I feel like I'm caught in a time warp, running in circles and getting no where.

Then I have a day like yesterday.

All four of 'my kids' went home happily and without making their parents feel badly for working all day.

All four of 'my kids' had a relatively successful day in caring, sharing, being kind and taking turns.

All four of 'my kids' have been listening all along.

Sometimes, it is the littlest things that make the biggest difference. Watching little people be kind to one another, using their manners and doing hard things (taking turns when you are 'only two' is one of the hardest things in the world) is one of life's greatest rewards.

These little guys are going to grow up one day. If they leave my daycare with the mantra 'Be kind. Use your manners. Care. Share." running through their brains on auto replay, my work here is done.

Be Gentle Out There

I let the weight of my world fall onto my shoulders one morning and allowed myself to succumb to the emotions that came to the surface.

Heavy thoughts entered into my mind and I felt them.

I didn't know what to do with these feelings so I turned on some music, played a mindless game of solitaire and sang.

Music speaks directly to my soul. I found a song that hit home and played it over and over again. I found another song that hurt my heart. I couldn't sing the words. The tears started to roll down my cheeks and I simply felt.

I purged the emotions that hit me like waves in the solitude of my morning. I simply existed without pretense or any form of outward strength. 

I felt raw and vulnerable when I picked myself up up and had a cleansing shower before I faced the day ahead of me.

I met a friend for lunch. I dropped by to see another friend on my way home. 

I felt raw and ragged inside. I was sore and I was hurting. 

I couldn't believe that no one could see through the veneer I had erected around my outer self. I felt hollow and vulnerable but carried on in my regular, ordinary fashion. And no one saw through the cracks.

That realization stopped me in my tracks.

How many other people are out there, wading through that-which-must-be-done on a daily basis feeling broken inside?

I replayed my day and wondered what I may have missed as I spoke with friends about things-that-really-don't-matter. We had conversations which did not break beneath the surface. There is a very good chance (a certainty, I am almost sure) they had their own 'cracks' which I did not peek through and ask about what I did not see.

I was conscious of this throughout the week that followed.

I kept my iron curtain closed and talked about nothing to those who crossed my path. The better I knew a person, the less I revealed. 

I had a conversation with a friend who I tell all. I told her nothing. She told me of what was transpiring within her busy, hectic and often stressful life. It was a conversation like many others. She knows me better than I know myself but she did not hear the difference within me.

We talked a week later.

I was ready to open up and reveal my hurting heart. She said, "Why didn't you tell me?" 

I told her I had to come to terms with things in my own head and heart first. During that quiet week, I realized that is what I do each and every time I am standing on the precipice of a time-of-great-change. 

I get very quiet. I keep to myself. I need to think my own thoughts before I am ready to share them with the world and allow others inside. I need to be strong in my own conviction before I'm ready to buffer the opinions of those who-are-not-walking-in-my-shoes.

I explained this to my friend and she immediately found herself within my words. "I do exactly the same thing" was her thoughtful response.

Each of us opened our door of vulnerability and shared that-which-we-dared-not-speak-aloud. 

Taking the words out of your head and putting a voice to them is not an easy thing to do. 

Opening up and baring an open wound is a risk. 

No one wants their deepest fears trampled on or cast aside. No one wants to hear someone tell them what to do or how to feel. No one wants their trust to be shattered by laying it all out on the line and no one 'hearing' them.

Yet opening up and releasing the very words which you have been guarding so closely takes the power and impact of those words out of your head and out into the open where they can be seen, heard and felt with greater perspective.

There have been times I have withheld the 'good stuff' and held it near and dear to my heart just as closely. That very same 'power' is a wonderful thing when it is a head and heart full of words and emotions, that make your heart sing. They tend to lose some of their impact when shared.

Be gentle out there. You just never know what someone is not saying when you think they are telling you so much.

Diving Back In

I woke up in the middle of the morning (aka: sometime in the twilight zone before my alarm went off), and had no idea what day it was.

This story usually has a better ending because it was akin to how I usually feel when I wake up on a Saturday morning. The week is behind me and I'm anticipating my weekend.

This time, the week was behind me alright. Except I had worked through the weekend and I woke up to a Monday, of all days!

I have been very spoiled lately. I haven't had to work off-site (go to my bookkeeping job) for three weeks. It has been marvelous.

I have had more energy, time to read, time to do what I want and not be ruled by a week-that-never-ends.

I dragged myself out of the house both mornings and the moment I stepped out of the house and into the car, I was fine.

I like my bookkeeping job. I really do. I like who I work for. I enjoy the challenge of 'balancing to zero', learning the ropes and expanding my horizons.

I like that I come home and I still have an entire evening to myself.

I like everything about it. Except for the fact that I really, really like weekends too.

I brought home a bucket full of work with me. This has guaranteed me one day off next weekend, at the expense of squeezing the job into my week.

This shouldn't be a problem but I sometimes make it into one.

I am a creature of habit.

I write in the morning. I wind down at night. My days are kid-filled so it is a rare thing to accomplish something during the day. How will I fit in this into my quiet little life?

It is really not an issue unless I make it into one. The mere thought of accomplishing one small task at home buying me one day off next weekend should be enough to spur me into action.

I walked away from this for a few minutes and returned with a renewed perspective.

Lately I have been wondering why I am not more concerned about the fluctuations in my daycare income. I have a time-of-great-change coming within my daycare world and I am not feeling panicked. Why?

Perhaps the reason 'why' can be answered in three words: "Other income sources"

My other income sources don't pay the bills. But they provide security, a back-up source of revenue and room to breathe within my financial state of affairs.

I've dipped my fingers into several different 'pools' and even though I feel a little water-logged from time to time, it keeps me afloat.

I've been buoyed up for an enjoyable spell. It's hard to dive back into the water after enjoying a peaceful ride on a raft.

I'm glad I gazed up and enjoyed every moment while it lasted. It could be time to start treading water again.

Small Town Connections

I met with a new daycare family yesterday.

They found me via my website and advertising on a daycare listings site. After we had corresponded several times and decided we both felt like this could be a good 'fit' for each one of us, we discovered that our origins are from the same small town (population 118, according to 2006 census stats).

We knew many of the same people. We are semi-sorta-related through marriage (my sister is married to his dad's cousin). His parents know my cousin's family well. They heard about 'who I was' before they even met me.

What more could you ask for, when seeking daycare for your infant??

This happened one other time. The difference was that my other small-town-connection was via a referral.

But the connections we discovered once we met face-to-face were amazing to each of us.

We not only had the same small-town-origins, but her grandmother taught me piano (and just happened to be living with this family at the time), we shared the same birth date and our 'significant others' ended up working at the same place of business. When we went to a Christmas party at this place of business, one of my class-mates (from this very same home town) worked at the same place of business.

This small town connection seems to be a guiding force in my life.

I rekindled a friendship with my first-ever-best-friend-in-the-world after we met up again at our mutual home town's reunion almost nine years ago.

My dad's family ended up calling this their home town and most of Dad's brothers still live there. I managed to weave myself into their lives as I documented the 'story of their lives' over the course of the past six years.

I moved away from our small town community when I was nine years old and the past eight years have brought me back 'home' on so very many levels that I know 'this' is exactly where I am meant to be.

When a town, as small as our home-town, continues to reach out and touch me in up close and personal ways it continues to reaffirm that I have made many right choices within this life of mine.

The feeling of that small town community continues to envelope me into that small, safe world of my childhood. It keeps beckoning to me.

I wrote about this little dream of mine a long time ago: http://colleen-lifeasiknowit.blogspot.ca/2009/07/past-future.html

I can still bring up the image of that dream in my mind's eye. The way that small little town we called 'home' keeps calling to me, I feel like nothing is impossible...

Incomplete Thoughts

I started three blog posts this week which I never did come back and complete.

My day started walking in earlier than anticipated and my thoughts walked off the job. Is that an excuse or an explanation?

It is an excuse.

I haven't been too inspired to write about anything, nothing or something special. My brain has been sitting in limbo and gotten stuck there. I think I just need to write without purpose for a while and see if I can unclog the brain-to-fingertip connection that usually fires up on demand.

The brain-to-fingertip connection. It is amazing to me. I can sit down and think I am going to write about one thing, but if I don't censor my thought processes, my fingertips often type out a completely different message than the one I think I have on a certain day.

Maybe I'm trying to censor my thoughts. Maybe I have simply run out of things to say (doubtful). Maybe I am not living an interesting enough life to create new thoughts and ideas. Maybe I just need 'fifteen minutes more'.

I have mourned the loss of that fifteen minutes at the onset of my day all week (with one of my daycare families arriving earlier than anticipated). Instead of taking a proactive approach and getting out of bed fifteen minutes earlier, I seem to be letting this one small change fester and grow.

Little things like an evolving nap-time within my daycare family have threatened my sense of quiet within our day.

We have routines and limits and structure within our day-at-daycare. There may be times of chaos and confusion but when it comes to nap time, I am rigid.

We all do better (me included!) after a period of quiet. I have witnessed overtired kids learn to override their 'sleep mechanisms' by jerking, twisting, moving, talking and generally doing-whatever-it-takes to keep themselves awake. Then once they miss that opportunity to let their body shut down for a short period, they cry at the drop of a pin. Emotions are over-the-top. From anger to giddiness to their ability (and desire) to listen. A tired child is not fun to be around. An overtired child? Don't get me started.

Then the 'quiet suggestions' from parents about waking a sleeping child. Or getting outside (we already were, but it was still pretty cool and we weren't out long). Or making a snowman on a day where it is too cold for the snow to make a snowball.

Some people are walking into my world ahead of schedule. Others are telling me how to run my day.

Then there is the one who is grateful for everything I do and gives me the okay to 'just be me' and direct our world in the best way I know how.

I know I am feeling super-sensitive this week. I can tell the way little things are not rolling off my back. Nothing has really changed. All that has changed is the way I am reacting to it.

It is now "fifteen minutes early" and I have opened my blinds, turned on the lights and unlocked the door. I'm begging no one to walk through said door for ten more minutes but I am trying so very hard to let myself be open to the reality that is my day.

I am meeting new people who will be starting to come to my daycare as spots open up. Even though one-year-olds are a lot of work, I am ready, willing and able to take on a new challenge and start again.

I think that is what I miss about Daycare 1.0. The first time I ran my daycare, there was much more coming and going. Different ages and stages and schedules and personalities. It was challenging. But it was never boring. I think my little two-year-old is bored. When he is bored, he gets into trouble.

Maybe we are all a little bored with the same-old, same-old around here. It is quite likely time to shake things up a little.

That is what is in store for us this year. It scares and exhilarates me at the same time.

Change is a necessary evil. Whether we like it or not, that is the only thing we can truly count on.

I am not ready for some of the change I foresee in my future. The ground beneath my feet has been unsteady. I don't like being in that place between the known and the unknown. But that seems to be exactly where I spent a great deal of time this week.

What do I know?

I know (more or less) what today will bring. I have anticipated some of the challenges and tried to prepare for them.

I know I must work this upcoming weekend. I haven't received the confirmation call but when we last spoke, it sounds like a two-day-working-weekend. This is not my favorite way to spend a weekend. Quite likely this is playing havoc with my coping skills this week.

I know I am meeting a new daycare family tomorrow. I am looking forward to this. I am looking at these young, new families and seeing the 'future'. Hope, anticipation and job security all rolled into one.

I know I have a chance to start over.

Every minute. Each morning. Every time I think I should have done better, I know I can start from that moment on and go forward.

It's been a tough week. Today could be the day it changes.

Attitude is everything. The right attitude is gratitude. And that is where I shall begin. I am grateful to feel like I know what to expect today. And tomorrow. That is much more than a lot of people have.

It is all in the moments.

The minutes are ticking by and I have been granted some of those extra minutes I lost at the onset of the week.

My family who has been arriving fifteen minutes is not yet here. I just gained twelve minutes I didn't think I may have.

My day is off to a good start.