Sorry Your Kid is Disappointed; But it Was Only $5

I don't think I'm unreasonable. I really don't.

But, there are certain situations that are easily avoided through simple, clear communication. Two such examples from this past weekend.

A number of months ago, we signed up our son for the "Kidgits" program at the SmithHaven Mall. He's too young for most of the programs -- he's not really an "arts and crafts" kinda kid, at this time. But, one -- in particular -- struck us as a "must-do." Saturday, December 7, 8:30am-10am -- Breakfast with Santa.

So, I dutifully drove to the mall the day they opened registration; signed up my son. Then, despite the fact that we were exhausted (still getting over my PMP midterm class project, that sucked most of my energy), we got up on Saturday; dressed my son, and drove to the mall, all the while telling him that he would be able to see Santa.

We got to the mall around 8:40am (which we didn't think anything of -- most of the programs are more 'open-house' than anything). We quickly saw the inefficiency -- rather than having people there to check you in; you had to find your own name on the poorly written registration list (which took quite a long time); then, you got hit up for a $1 donation (more paperwork); and then, you went down to get the child's breakfast -- your choice of a sugary cereal; milk, juice and a donut. We finally got seated around 8:50am.

And, Santa was gone. I immediately suspected something was up; my wife chastised me for being too negative ("He probably had to run to the bathroom," she said.). Twenty minutes later, I retorted that was starting to seem improbable, unless he had a prostate issue. She went to inquire, and learned he was gone. So I went up.

I said, "My wife tells me Santa is gone?" The useless lead worker, Joanne, said, "Yes, he had to go to take pictures in the center." I pointed to the listing -- and asked, "Um ... did no one think that a pivotal part of 'Breakfast with Santa' was, Santa?" And she shrugged ... "Santa was here until 9am." I said that was certainly not true, and she relented that he had left at 8:50. So, he made two-thirds of the one-third of the time he going to be there (which was still vastly less than the 90 minutes any of us had thought).

I told the woman she could keep my kid's membership card. She smiled at me, way too pompously for my liking and said, "It's only $5 a year." I said -- the money isn't the issue. The whole way here, we told my son he'd be seeing Santa; now he's not here. If someone went out of their way to disappoint YOUR kid, would you take solace in the fact that you'd only spent $5 for the privilege?"

She asked, "What can I do to make this better?" I said, "Get Santa back here ...." No, that wasn't an option. So, I started to say -- "Perhaps you could, I dunno, *MENTION* that Santa will only be present until 8:50 -- that after that it's just "breakfast" (and, in fact, a nutritionally inferior breakfast to what my wife would've made him if we'd stayed home)." But, I didn't get all of that out -- instead, Joanne interrupted me to condescendingly sneer, "We have a thousand Kidgits members, there'll always be some that are impossible to please."

I then asked if she was interested in hearing my recommendation, since she'd interrupted me, or, if her request for how she could make things better was just a thinly veiled offer so she could continue to sit there and insult me?

Fortunately, my son is two, and the heartbreak was short-lived, and I didn't have to go into details about poor advertising, corporate greed and the inappropriateness of having non people-persons in customer service roles. But, it doesn't change the fact that a *simple* fix would have been to (1) list the times that Santa WOULD be at the "Breakfast with Santa" (as poorly named as that turned out to be) and/or (2) to speed up the check-in process; there's no reason to hold me up to request a $1 donation, so that Santa can be on his way before we even see him.

Yes, it's only $5; but in the future, that's going to be $5 in my pocket; and not in Kidgits'.

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Today was the Stony Brook Holiday Festival. And, I had great hopes for this, as well -- lots of events -- petting zoo, model train display, etc.

We went to the Winnie the Pooh play at St. Joseph's College earlier, and made our way up to Stony Brook by around 2:45pm, which seemed great, since everything was scheduled to end around 4pm. The operative word is "scheduled."

When we went to the "Inner Court," the Petting Zoo was GONE. When we made our way to the model train display, one had already been taken down and the other, larger one, was in the process of being dismantled. This is at 3:10.

Now, I have no real issue with the individuals -- although, really, show a little class; and don't start taking stuff apart while people are there. But, the organizers should be on top of this. Either *ask* the people, "how long do you want to be here?" or hold them to the times you've committed them to. No one should be seeing them pulling stuff apart an hour (or more!) before the scheduled event ends.

And, it's not as though the organizers are oblivious -- Santa was set up over by the Post Office, and he was scheduled to re-appear for the tree-lighting at 5:30. How do you ensure that happens?

It's really not that hard.

And, I think people can understand this a little more (especially since it's consistent with what's in the flyer). What's *not* in the flyer is the notice that (1) the Petting Zoo, scheduled for three hours, would barely last 90 minutes; and (2) the model train show, scheduled for four hours, would effectively be a show of watching the display being packed up.

Again - on both of these situations, I'm not suggesting that longer hours, etc. are needed. What I *am* saying is that clear communication needs to be the norm.

When I used to visit trade shows (as a magazine editor); there were occasions, during slower shows, when vendors would start packing up their booths earlier than the show end-time on the last day of the show. The organizers would come around and tell them to stop or don't bother signing up for next year. I'm starting to gain a far greater appreciation for that approach.

Daddy Isn’t So Good With the Onesies

So, many of you know that my wife and I finally had our dreams realized with the adoption of our son, Nicolo Alessandro. Things happened extremely quickly and – especially after the events of this past February (a post on that will follow) – we kept things quiet until the end.

But, now that things have progressed well, I thought I’d provide some insights into how everything happened and how things have evolved since then!

We began working with the birthmother about 3-3.5 weeks before the birth. She had actually been working with another couple, who found themselves unable to continue the process due to some life changes. We share the same adoption consultant and attorney as the other couple and our consultant (Geri Scher) immediately thought of us, and arranged a conversation between us and the birthmom.

She was extremely nice and easygoing – quite the change from our previous experience! Of course, the one concern we had was that her projected birthdate (late September) would put her in direct conflict with my sister’s wedding on October 2. And, the birthmom was in Indiana – not exactly easy commuting (as we would discover).

She was visiting her OB/GYN every few days, as they narrowed down the due date. He first thought he would induce labor on September 30 (which we thought was not a great idea – because of the impending wedding), then, he changed his mind and moved it to October 7 (much better) and then, forward again to October 4 (also good).

On Thursday, September 29, she visited him again, and he told her, “You’re nowhere near ready – we’ll just reevaluate next week” and there were no plans for inducing.

On Saturday, October 1, we had a slew of errands to run. I needed to get my brakes repaired on my vehicle, since I knew the trip to Indiana was pending. We also had a few other preparatory tasks to accomplish.

Around 9:30am, the birthmother called us, to tell us she thought she was in labor. My wife (a nurse) talked with her for about two hours, trying to determine if it was true labor or something else. Around 11:30am, she finally convinced her to call an ambulance.

The ambulance arrived at 11:40am; she got to the hospital at 11:50am; and she delivered the baby at 12:16pm.

Then, she called my wife at 12:27pm, to tell her she was heading home! My wife convinced her to stick around for a while and avail herself of the medical attention she probably needed.

Of course, this was completely unexpected for my wife and me. We moved into high gear – we hadn’t packed yet (we threw things into suitcases; I – of course – overestimated how much free time I’d have); we needed to set up care for our dog (my sister would watch her; but we still needed to transport her first); and then we had the small matter of the fact that my car was in the shop. And, we had to tell my sister that we wouldn't be at her wedding -- good times all around!

Things work out; they always do; and we were on the road by 4:30pm. We drove straight through the night; finally arriving in Indiana at 9:20am the following morning. Made a stop at WalMart to pick up some amenities for the birthmother (who had been transported to the hospital in a nightgown) and then, we were on our way to the hospital.

We showed up – tired, unshowered and looking like we’d just driven 17 hours. Somehow, they still entrusted the child to us! He was actually waiting at the front area of the nursery.

I can’t even do the nursing staff justice. Their efforts to ensure our comfort were exceptional. We were treated as well as I’ve ever been treated in a hospital (which is saying something, considering my wife is very nearly the mayor at the hospital where she works).

Of course, adoption is truly a bureaucratic process. Every agency in each state has its hands out to get its $250 in fees for the adoption. This also means you have to stick around for a few days after the baby is released from the hospital before you’re allowed to leave the state.

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First, some insights about where we were staying. Frankfort, Indiana is never going to be confused for New York City. The first night we were there, we wanted to go out to get something to eat (remember, we’d been up since 8am the day before; with no sleep; and no real food). We also knew it would be the last night we’d be without a child, providing us with the opportunity to go somewhere “nice” to eat.

I headed down to the front desk at the Holiday Inn Express, where we were staying (the *only* hotel in Frankfort, for the record).

“Hi, my wife and I were looking to head out for dinner; do you have any recommendations?”

“Sure, are you looking to eat out; or bring food in?”

“We’re probably looking to eat out – it’ll be the last night we can do that easily.”

“Oh, well, you’re in luck; we have an Applebees right in town!”

“Hmmm… Well, Applebees is good; but I have those at home; anything else?”

Dumbfounded look.

So, off to Applebees we went.

The next night, with Nicolo in the room, we wanted to bring food in. I went back to the front desk.

“So, my wife and I were interested in recommendations again; we’re looking to bring food in tonight.”

“Fantastic, Sir – what are you looking to have?”

“Well, we’re actually in the mood for Italian.”

“Great, we have lots of excellent pizza places – 3Ds Pizza, Arni’s Pizza; Pizza King…”

“Are these ‘pizzerias’? or do they serve dinners, as well?”

“Well, they have sandwiches, too!”

“But, do they have dinners?”

“What do you mean?”

“So, say I wanted a nice chicken parmigiana with ziti or penne?”

“Oh [extended pause] … Well, we have an Applebees!”

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So, once we were able to leave Frankfort (after I drove the birthmom to court, to officially rescind her rights), we did. Tuesday night, we headed to Indianapolis, where we had made reservations at an Extended Stay (as we had, erroneously, thought we’d be room-bound, cooking meals, etc.).

We checked in and checked out as quickly as we could. While the hotel was old (understandable), it also just stank of transience. It would not have surprised me to find a dead body in the closet.

Thankfully, the manager was exceptional and worked with another facility in Indianapolis to not only get us a room; but also to get us one at the same rate. We checked in to the Homewood Suites and experienced – again – some of the nicest people (then again, people love babies; and they REALLY love people who adopt babies…).

We ended up doing nearly no cooking in the room (aside from toasting English muffins each morning) (although, thankfully, the suites were still cheaper than a normal hotel room). By Thursday morning, we’d already received notice from the attorney in Indiana that Indiana had signed off on our paperwork – all that was left was New York’s approval. Feeling pretty confident about things, we headed to the Indianapolis Zoo Thursday afternoon.

While at the zoo, around 3:15pm, we get a call from our attorney. He asked where we were (and, after we said, “Um, Indiana”, he asked, more specifically, where.) We told him we were at the zoo. He then asked if we had a fax machine handy (huh?), and that there was ONE more piece of paper left to be filled out. And, if we could get it signed (oh, and NOTARIZED (double huh?)) by 4pm, we could leave.

Thanks for all the advance warning.

We finally made arrangements to have it faxed to the Indiana attorney’s office; and we hauled ass to get there (on the complete opposite side of Indianapolis). We got there by 3:55; but the faxed, notarized copy did not get back to NY until 4:01, and – as such – they wouldn’t approve it.

Making matters worse, in speaking with the Indiana attorney, the form was something that should have been completed *months* ago. Both attorneys told us we were *probably* okay to leave (but, when I asked my attorney to provide something in writing, he declined; and said, if we did leave and were ‘caught’, he’d deny ever telling us we could leave – classy).

We went back to the hotel and did some research on ‘leaving before actually receiving permission’ (even though both attorneys stated that permission *would* be granted; the form was something silly that referenced how we knew, entering into an adoption, there were no guarantees – something that was also moot, now that the birthmother had stood before a judge). We elected to wait, and so – rather than leaving at 4am Friday morning (and arriving home at a reasonable hour); we had to wait to leave until nearly 10:30am (after hearing from our attorney), and arrived home at 3am, Saturday.

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So far, there hasn’t been an enormous change to my life – admittedly, my wife has handled 90 percent of the caregiving. We did have two baby showers this past weekend; which resulted in most of my house looking like a Babies R Us warehouse.

I have changed diapers, though; and tried to dress him. Some clothes are easy – others (like the afore-mentioned ‘onesies’) are just debilitating. It’s sobering to try to squeeze his head through the onesie, only to have him look at me with a face that says, “Good God, I hope I make it to three years old.”

My wife has taken it on herself to be the one that wakes up in the middle of the night for feeding (I’ve done so, sparingly, on weekends); but mostly, since I’m still working, she takes care of the feeding (although, it’s a misnomer to say I *don’t* get up – as he’s gotten older, his ‘cry’ has become far stronger … he might even be able to wake the deaf).

I’ve been able to keep most of my social commitments; but there has been expense (mainly the fact that our ‘fall cleaning’ has stalled out). Still, I’m a huge fan of structure – and I’m optimistic we’ll return to something like that (since we all need it).

Most importantly, however, today marks ONE MONTH since Nicolo was born. That is both amazing and humbling in my eyes. In only a month, I’d have a hard time envisioning a world without him (of course, I can easily envision a world where he sleeps through the night – that doesn’t make me a bad person, I hope)!