ABOUT ME

About me: My husband Chuck, our six-year-old Junior, our three-year-old Everette and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Woe is a hoe named me

I have been struggling.

I have been sick. I have had to call out of work. Chuck has been sick. I have had to call out of work. The kids have been sick. I have had to call out of work. My grandmother was sick and my mother, our lovely free babysitter, had to leave to care for her. I have had to call out of work.

Some mornings I misplace my keys, and I am late for work. Some mornings I realize I have spit-up and boogers on my shirt, and I am late for work. Some mornings I simply lose track of time.

I am late.
I am late.
I am late.

Where is Chuck? Working. Always working. Trying to rebuild his career. His run of being a stay-at-home father will be short-lived this time. He has been out of full-time work since 2008. He wants more. He wants to be back in the saddle.

I support him in that.

But really, the madness needs to stop. After a bad run of morning tardiness I sometimes hide my purse and coat in the bathroom nearest the parking lot so I can walk the long halls to my office as if I've been in all morning. Then, after I've unlocked my office and turned on the lights and answered a few emails I go retrieve my belongings.

It's all a bit nerve-wracking. And I didn't even tell you about the day my mother was babysitting the kids and driving around Mulletville with them so they'd nap, and how she looked back and saw that Junior's face was covered in blood from a bloody nose and how she drove to my office because she was so scared.

I missed a meeting that day. I met her in the bathroom of Mulletville Corp. Cleaned Junior up. Bought him crackers from the vending machine. Held him. Kissed Diddlydoo.

Ah yes, the secret lives of corporate bathrooms.

Not as riveting as how to poop in a corporate bathroom , but hey you're lucky I showed up for this post.

Or maybe I'm the lucky one.

9 comments:

Mama Badger said...

Ugh. I hated the first few months back to work after the 2nd baby. It sounds like yours are very, very similar. Hold on, though, it gets easier. Instead of milestones being something to smile about, they become something that makes life just a little easier.

Elizabeth said...

Oh, yes--beyond familiar. In fact, I'm pretty sure I wrote that and you stole it. Except that I never left my stuff in the bathroom, I'd leave it in my car. Now I'm self-employed (not exactly voluntarily, though not for reasons I could have done anything to prevent, either). At least I don't have the daily panic about that. It's been replaced by other things, though. My daughter just started kindergarten, an I THOUGHT I understood the carpool drop-off line thing (four lanes, with a system that looks like one of those WWII battle strategy diagrams). Well, today marked our third day of trying a drop off from a middle lane. And today was also my third day to be called out by the carpool Nazi (I knew rhey had to go all the way up the yellow lines, and I remind her every day, but I SWEAR they said the kids could get out of the first THREE rows of cars, not the first TWO). Today was also the day I just started bawling after I cleared the parking lot and had to just pull over and cry for a few minutes. Thank God my daughter didn't see me. Maybe I should think twice the next time I want to point out that one of her little crying fits is unwarranted...I think we're going to blame this one on PMS. Look at it this way--you can have your little moments of incompetence along with the rest of us, and be in good company, or you can be perfect and superior, and have everyone secretly hate you! Some days it's just not easy, is it? (((Hugs!)))

Pricilla said...

Goat hugs. All I can do is send you lots and lots of cyber goats hugs. Which in truth are much better and less smelly than real goat hugs....

Sparkling said...

Wow. Poster mother everywhere for why businesses need to be more mother friendly. Hiding your stuff in a bathroom so no one will know you are late. Do you work for Lou Grant? Not that schools are any better on mothers. You'd think schools would know how important that first year is, but no, they make you go back after 8 weeks, no matter how many hundreds of sick days you have accumulated. This country is such a mess with parental leave. France has it really together. You can be gone for 2 years and still get paid for part of it, male or female! And still get your job when you get back! And get an allocation just for having a kid! Let's go!

Keely said...

Man, I'm lucky to be Canadian. Although...it was still hard. It's always going to be hard, leaving your kid with someone else and going back to work. You feel like less of a mother and less of an employee. I *still* feel guilty, even in my super-supportive new workplace, about leaving early because Xander has a fever or I have to take him to the doctor or whatever.

And then they grow up and pay us back in no way whatsoever! Yay, motherhood!

(Hang in there.)

SmartBear said...

I have not been on time to work since the day I had a child. Not once. In fact, I am late TO EVERYTHING. I can't imagine with two. You are a saint.
Best,
Tina

Jeri Kleiber said...

I'm a new follower...loved your blog. You leaving your purse in the bathroom was too funny...seems like something out of a comedy..I look forward to reading more of your blogs....hope you can stop by mine sometime :)

Mrs. Tuna said...

I tried hiding in the bathroom during the last round of layoffs. Sadly, standing the seat didn't save me.

LazyBones said...

I remember this so vividly from when I returned to work! Always late, always exhausted. All I can say is, I hope it gets easier. It got easier for me, but that's mostly b/c I got laid off, so I won't wish that for you! And actually, it's not easier now. It's harder, just for a whole different set of reasons. I'm never late anymore, but that's only b/c I have nowhere to go! Good, good, good, good luck!!!