piecrust promises

I know I should be grateful but...

I am so completely beyond miserable sitting at work all day that I can't even get anything done.  Yes, I am even writing this as a way to burn up another 10 minutes of the slowest moving time of the day.

I hate sitting here.  I hate the droning noise of the people around me.  I hate the meetings and the pointless chatter.  I hate the mission statement and the vision statement and the statement statement.

I don't belong here.  I wasn't supposed to spend my years editing PowerPoint slides and pretending to give a shit about road alignment or carrying capacity or buffers or whatever other nonsense that has been filling my head over the past 3 years.

I couldn't be more bored.  I couldn't be more jaded.  I couldn't be more screwed...because there is nothing I can do about it.  No where else to go.  And I'm too tired to go looking anyway...and the truth of the matter is that I don't want to find anything else.  All the other jobs will be exactly the same...they all are just one long soul suck.

It's a crime and a shame that I spend more time with these other so-called "professionals" than my own child.  I see my child for about 5 hours everyday vs. the 8-10 I spend with my coworkers and let's not even talk about the 2 hours stuck in a car everyday.

Sigh.  I don't have any answers.

I don't have any plan. 

But damnit...do I ever need one.

I wanna hit that hiiiiiigh!

I just spent the last 2ish minutes lipsyncing to "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" in the bathroom at work. 

Because nothing starts off the workday quite like Wham!

Experiment #2974. Result: FAIL.

Somewhere far away or maybe real nearby, there is a little blonde girl with deep blue eyes who has spent her day quietly flipping through picture books, building grand towers out of a variety of responsibly forested wooden blocks, skillfully shimmying into a variety of organic cotton dress up clothes, and artfully drawing on recycled paper.  Her mother has been diligently chipping away at an important work project at the dining room table, pausing periodically to commend her lovely daughter's behavior, fashion sense, and environmental responsibility.  The evil television has been silent all day and a feeling of accomplishment pervades the house.  A husband comes home in good spirits, kisses his wife and tousles his child's hair.  He is pleased that the house is in order and that the savory scents of dinner are already wafting toward his nose.

I'm sure that somewhere this exact scenario is playing out as the day draws to a close.

Too bad it isn't in this house.

Today I attempted my latest ridiculous fantasy brilliant idea. It didn't go as well as I had hoped...it didn't go as badly as I imagined it could either...but still.  Every single toy Amelia owns is scattered throughout the entire first floor of the house.  An entire pack of wipes has been pulled from the box and each individual wipe has been either crumpled into a ball or used as a blanket for a variety of stuffed creatures.  A 94 pack of crayons has been evenly distributed between the couch cushions. Two banana peels, three sippy cups, an empty candy bar wrapper, an entire set of measuring scoops, and two boxes of spaghetti are currently housed in the bathroom trash can. At least the TV was only on for two Blue's Clues, one Franklin, three Lazy Towns, and an entire Go Diego Go DVD a little while.  Let's not even talk about the number of dishes in the sink or the number of crusty spots on Amelia's clothes.

However, I did get some work done...perhaps not as much as I would have liked to...but I certainly didn't get to spend as much quality time with Amelia as I had wanted to either.  I feel like I spent the majority of the day chasing her away from swishing stuff in the toilet, prying things out of her mouth, stopping the dogs from humping each other, and reminding myself that yelling does nothing to help control the noise level.

So I'm going to have to say that my work at home experiment was a failure.  Perhaps it would work if I had only light work to do that I could do for a while and then put on hold for some playtime...but not when I'm trying to muscle through a big project with a deadline that requires me to do things like concentrate or finish a sentence.  So in short, never...this idea will never work.

Especially not after today...while I was wrangling a baby and cursing about having the Go Diego Go theme song stuck in my head (Deep inside the jungle where nature's running wild, mumble, mumble, mumble, swinging from a vine, mumble, mumble, working overtime! DEEEAAAAGOOOO!)...my coworkers were getting laid off one by one. While I got several emails saying how nice it must have been to be away from all the chaos at work today...it couldn't be further from the truth. As much as I love my family, I actually spend far more time with my coworkers than I do with my husband and child.  And there were people that I have come to respect and cherish as great people to work with...but also as a sort of cobbled together family...complete with feuds and drama and a lot of laugher...having their lives turned upside down because of a crappy economy.  I felt horrible when I got the first phone call to let me know what was happening.  The first emotion was fear for my own future, followed by relief that I was spared this round, and then a pit of the stomach nausea over the fact that I would most likely never see some of these people again.  I wouldn't have a chance for a proper goodbye...that the fabric of my daily routine had been shredded and picked over.

My workday won't have the same flow of small talk and chitchat over kids and weather and primetime television.  I won't be able to say, "Oh so-and-so will be able to answer that" because they aren't there anymore.  It feels like there has been some sort of horrible accident...and the death toll keeps getting longer and louder.  Work will never be the same...and I can't even imagine what my former coworkers are feeling tonight.  Lost?  Betrayed?  Hopeless?

I wish the very best for each and every one of them.  I hope they find a new place to call their own...with new challenges and new coworkers to love and hate. Tonight, I'm not only mourning the fact that this whole work at home idea isn't going to be the answer to my whole I-feel-like-I-can't-breathe-being-away-from-Amelia problem...but also for the hardships and stress being felt by families all over Central Florida.

Here's to new opportunities and to enjoying the time that I do have with Amelia.  

And if it makes anyone feel better...here's proof of what an idiot I am...because what sane, rational person would think that finger painting (FINGER PAINTING + TODDLER) (HA!) was a nice, easy, relaxing activity to wrap up the day.

Hey! Jealousy!

So I think I've come up with my craziest idea ever...I'm thinking about trying to work at home with the baby twice a week.

Yeah.  Do actual work.  At home.  With an almost 2 year old who *might* be the Antichrist.

Now, I'm a firm believer that every mother "works" who stays home...but this is a bit different.  This is dealing with graphics! and websites! and maps! and things that people can only explain to me by using big! arm! movements! and things that need to get done now.

Then I started thinking about how great it would be to not have to wear pants all day and how I could very easily be 600 pounds and have my skin permanently graft to the couch from lack of movement with this setup.

And then I started thinking about money.  And I don't know about you...but I don't have any. But I could have some more if I didn't have to drive an hour each way to work...and I'd have some more if we could cut our daycare costs.

So out of curiosity I ran the numbers and figured that I could possibly save $300ish a month. Nothing to sneeze at there.  And if that means that I get to cut out 4 hours of sitting in traffic every week AND having to wear pants...plus I get to spend some more time with my own personal slave driver wonderful child, then I'm even more all for it.

 

But there is an even bigger reason for this whole crazy idea...jealousy with a side order of guilt and frustration. Recently, a dearly loved coworker (Hi Jane! Yes, I'm talking about you! Stop blushing...no one else who reads this knows who in the hell you are.) came back from maternity leave.  And while I was thrilled to bits to have my buddy back...I was surprised by a sudden surge of...something. And I couldn't quite get a hold of what this something was...I just knew that it was a dark and ugly something.  Something a shade of non-eco friendly green...jealousy. Jane is now working part-time.  Part-time...ahh...it just sounds magical. She also took a longer maternity leave than I did.  Mine was just 8 weeks. 8 short weeks...most of which I spent a sobbing mess dealing with a lovely case of postpartum.  And then after the money had really run out, I went back to work full time.  There didn't seem to be any other option...it STILL doesn't seem like there are any other options.  It feels like I squandered away those precious first weeks.

 

And then the guilt that has always been there bubbled up to the surface.  Perfect strangers have taken care of my child, day after day since she was 8 weeks old.  They spend more time with her than I do...everyday they have a full 8 hours of Amelia sunshine...and I get the leftover 4 hours of an overly tired, cranky, hungry, and generally grumpy toddler who just wants to go back to that place with all the songs and toys and craft supplies and cheery grandma types who call her "sugar"...and who can blame her?  Those 4 hours at home aren't even spent focusing on her...there is dinner to make, dogs to walk, a house to clean, a husband to tend to, a zombie mama who just wants to watch Top Chef...how do people do this?  I suck at this.    

 

At 2 years old...I'm already excluded from my daughter's life.  I have no idea what she does all day...this is something I was expecting to happen when she turned 13...not 2.  Yes, I know the daycare schedule by heart...I look at the clock on my computer at work and think, 9:15AM...I wonder what Amelia is making out of construction paper today, 11:45AM...Amelia must be sitting down to eat lunch now, 12:30PM...I hope someone remembered to give her the green blanket with polka dots for nap time, 2:30PM...I wonder what she's having for snack?  And on and on and on.  I know the mechanics...I just don't know the specifics.  Did she do something funny?  Did she learn something new? Did she get hurt?  Did she choose a new life ambition?  Did she learn how to drive? Is she dating? Did she smear paste all over herself and do some interpretive dance?

 

I have to do better than this.  I feel like I've already missed out on so much...insert whole "life's short" cliche here.

But here's the catch...can I actually do this?  There are several problems with the work at home scenario...the largest being how to actually get work done while interacting with a toddler...this isn't a good situation if the TV ends up babysitting all day.

 

Then there is the whole the-economy-sucks-and-I'm-lucky-to-still-have-a-job-at-all-and-if-I-start-working-at-home-people-are-going-to-assume-that-I'm-sitting-around-eating-bonbons-and-watching-Maury situation. (Is Maury even on still?  I mean really, how many more people out there need to figure out which of the 37 thugs is the daddy?)

So I'm going to be doing a test run this week...before I go spouting off to someone about my whole new child friendly, earth friendly, wallet friendly, oh yeah and totally work friendly idea here.  What a concept...me TRYING something BEFORE spouting off about it.  Ha!  

Wait a minute...this blog post doesn't count as spouting off first right?

Riiiiggght.

Worst blogger ever...

Yeah...that would be me.

Lemme tell ya'll...this new job is kicking my ass. KICKING MY ASS!

I don't think I have ever sucked at anything so bad in my entire life...and that includes the time my mom made me do gymnastics...even though I was the fattest eight year old in a leotard ever...so fat that my mom had to make said leotard. You would think that it would be easier for someone so round to tumble...but it just wasn't so.

So anyways...this new job. And don't tell anybody...but...well...I kind of hate it...and I suppose now is as good a time as any to talk about work...something I was avoiding.

I’m a fake graphic designer. Well I was a fake graphic designer...but more on that later. So what exactly makes a graphic designer fake? Well I don’t get to do awesome ad campaigns or create excellent packaging for new products.

Oh no...I get to decide between Times New Roman or Arial for the title of reports. I suffer over the perfect shade of navy and which version of beige, sand, or tan I should use as the accent color. I mull over aerial maps and determine if all the major roadways should be 2 or 3 points wide. I shift around mathematically determined blobs that represent wetlands, future development, current development, property boundaries, county boundaries, city boundaries, and a million other statistics that are simplified and shown in a range of neon colors. I fashion page long legends and scale bars of all sizes. I choose from thousands of photos of people walking, people in cities, people bicycling, people at work, people at play, people living. Happy people...or unhappy people....it depends on the project. And that’s what graphic design really is...a million insignificant decisions....decisions that don’t matter much on their own...but decisions that make a giant impact when grouped together...at least if you do it right.

So when people ask what I do...I just say that I’m a graphic designer...which I suppose is mostly true. But it’s not the type of designer that I had envisioned being back in art school. But it pays the bills and gives me a place to go all day...so who can really complain?

But like I was saying...I was a graphic designer. Now because of some company shifts and a troubled economy...I’ve got shifted around and my job got split in half...and now I have double the work, triple the responsibilities, quadruple the headaches. The powers that be gave me a “choice” as to whether or not to take on an entirely new position on top of my old one...but after having witnessed a few too many layoffs...there really was no “choice” in the matter.

So now I am sort of an administrative assistant on crack. I’m now the property of one person instead of a whole group of people. He travels constantly and does workshops and lectures and makes decisions all over the country...and all over the world every now and then. So I’ll be his graphic designer, his admin, his travel agent, his marketing department, his report maker, his contract negotiator, his everything...his...his...well...his bitch.

That's what this comes down to...I'm someone's bitch. No one thought it was humorous when I asked to get that put on my business card.

So all of these new responsibilities are seriously cutting into my blogging time. I mean, seriously. Doesn't work know that I've got three readers who really need new material?! Geesh.

So stay with me here while I figure out how to deal. It's not like when I was 23 and could just quit whatever job I had and just say fuck it. Now things are different...now I've got two mortgages and a baby that really likes to eat.

Life's hard...wear a helmet.

Things to do alone in a hotel room...

...none of which involve a.) masturbating, b.) the $8.99 pay-per-view movies, or c.) crank calls. (Sorry male readers...maybe next time.)

1. Open each and every cabinet, drawer, and closet in hopes of finding some left behind treasure.
2. Feel mildly disappointed to find nothing but the Gideon Bible and the Book of Mormon.
3. Search through Book of Mormon for 15 minutes in hopes of finding out how (or why) someone gets their eyebrows to do this.
4. Listen with ear to door as a husband and wife have what seems to be a highly ordinary conversation/semi-argument about the amount of luggage they were hauling around.
5. Discover that the conversation was totally worth eavesdropping on when husband asks his wife, "I mean did you really have to bring two vibrators? Wouldn't one have sufficed?"
6. Nearly poke eye out when scrambling to look through peephole at vibrator-obsessed wife.
7. Carefully inspect all mirrors, smoke detectors, and paintings for any hidden video cameras.
8. Do funny dance just in case there are any hidden video cameras.
9. Realize blinds are open and office workers in neighboring building are starting to gather.
10. Make split second decision...should you finish the funny dance or act like you were having a seizure?
11. Look under bed for forgotten treasure.
12. Find one lonely dust bunny. Feel bad for loner bunnies everywhere.
13. Jump on bed.
14. Feel mildly disappointed again when you realize jumping on the bed really isn't very much fun.
15. Take a ridiculous amount of showers. (Seriously...I've been here for two days and I've already taken 4 showers...what is it about being in a different environment that makes you feel so damn dirty?)
16. Realize now would be an excellent time to finally shave your legs.
17. Realize you forgot to pack razor.
18. Go to front desk and request complimentary razor.
19. Discover in the elevator that said complimentary razor is so cheap that it will only be able to conquer one of your frighteningly hairy legs.
20. Worry too much that the front desk will know that you must have frighteningly hairy legs to go and ask for another complimentary razor.
21. Have one silky smooth leg and one razor-burned-hairy splotches-mess of a leg.
22. Feel delighted that you accomplished shaving the one leg properly and plan on doing it again in another three months or so.
23. Worry the entire time you are in the tub that housekeeping is going to walk in.
24. Play the scenario of housekeeping walking in and seeing your ridiculously hairy legs in your head until you've determined exactly what your mix of shock/embarrassment/horror will be...just in case.
25. Feel mildly disappointed that no housekeeping staff walked in on you after deciding what an excellent blog post it would be if anyone did come in.
26. Pee with the door wide open...and be glad that there is no baby crawling in and out of the bathroom.
27. Miss baby terribly and cry for 15 minutes about a.) missing the baby, b.) what an awful mother you are, c.) how you haven't replaced all the sippy cups with BPA free ones yet.
28. Get distracted by funny commercial on television.
29. Realize that you can watch WHATEVER SHOW YOU WANT. WITH NO ONE COMPLAINING ABOUT IT.
30. End up watching a "Deadliest Catch" mini-marathon...the same mini-marathon that you probably would have watched if you had been home with the hubby.
31. Write whole blog post about what to do in a hotel by yourself.
32. Wonder if there is some clever way of getting the hotel to promote your blog and your brilliant list of things to do while staying in their lovely chain of hotels.
33. Think of nothing clever.
34. Realize list is suddenly not funny anymore.
35. Go back to watching "Deadliest Catch" mini-marathon.
36. Go to bed at 8:30. Feel pleased that you were able to stay up later than Amalah.

Traveling...

I'm in Atlanta!

For work!

This sucks ass!

I miss my baby!

I miss my dogs!

I miss my bed!

Hell...I even miss my husband! (Just kidding honey! I miss you tons!)

More complaints after my pizza arrives...

You can get a pizza delivered to a hotel room right? I've never done this whole hotel/business travel/expense meals deal before...guess we'll find out.