While the Jury Deliberates...

...let me tell you about how I lost my mind yesterday. Seriously. Lost. My. Mind.

First we have the drive. Oh, the horror! What a long drive. Do you know if I add up how many miles I will end up driving in the next month, that I could have come and visit all of you?! Yes, that is right. If the jury comes back with a good verdict, Alice and I will be hopping in the car and coming to visit each and every one of you.

Then there is the fact that yesterday was Monday. I do NOT like Mondays. Why, you ask? Well, I've never been particularly fond of Monday. Just because it so far away from Friday. Mostly it is because of my current job. I have to go in three hours earlier than I do the rest of the week. Blame the banks being open on Saturday. Stupid federal regulations. So Monday is rough on me and Alice. Perhaps, one day, Monday and I can be friends again.

The day went smoothly. Or as smoothly as a Monday, in which you are short-staffed because your idiotic supervisor wants to be BFFs with all of her employees (except me) and bends over backwards and kisses their behinds and grants all of their requests (seriously, she has NEVER turned down any request for a day off... except mine), can. Fast forward to the evening... things were looking great for getting out of the office a bit early (early is relative here-I'm talking 9pm instead of 9:45). And then, one of the machines messes up. No big deal. I just move over to the other machine and finish running the work. And then, the problem ensues. The server that machine runs off of is down, and needs to be rebooted. Argh! Okay... this will only slow us down about 20 mintues. Twenty minutes later: my supervisor still hasn't even called to get it rebooted! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I'm starting to lose my mind.

So I go downstairs to the vending machine because I need to calm down, and I'm starving. Which as of yesterday, means I get nauseous (yay!). The vending machine is NOT taking money. WHAT? I lose it. I go to the restroom and bawl my eyes out, and rotate dry heaving. After a few minutes, I compose myself enough to go back in to the office. Luckily, my co-worker that knows I'm pregnant had some almonds and gave me some (she told me today that she could tell I was at a critical point!). My stomach feels better. So we wait. And wait. And wait. An hour goes by. I start getting really irritated again. I have at least a two hour drive. I need to leave. I should be almost home by now. And about twenty minutes later (immediately after I announced that I HAD to leave by 10:30 and would not stay any later) my super calls wondering what is going on. Several minutes later she finds out that some one was on call, and thought someone else was in the office. And that the guy on the phone realized he had to do it, but that he had an appointment and could just get there to do it. Huh? Who has an appointment at 10pm? And what appointment would that be? Call girl?

So we get done at 10:27. And I flew out of the building and didn't speak to anyone. I think I just kept looking down, because I LOST it in the car. Major water works.

Sean called at the same time I was leaving. And I told him I was done. I wasn't going back there, yada, yada, yada. So he told me that I could quit, IF I still get 100% of my severance. So I calmed down, was happy, and we all lived happily ever after.

Except, I woke up this morning and thought about a few things. Assuming I can get my severance and quit, I don't think I'd get the 100%. I'd have to take the 75%. Plus, I don't think I'd get my severance at all. I've talked to several people about this (all using hypotheticals of course) and they all tell me I wouldn't get it. Of course, I don't really care what they say. I care what HR says. So that is what I'm waiting on... the jury. But folks, this isn't looking good. I'm pouring over the information I have, and I think I was severely deluded by hormones, hunger, and fatigue. The next few weeks are going to suck.

Unless, of course, I can find someone to help out and watch her or the babysitter lets Alice and I move in with her temporarily (which she really may because they just moved, and she has a TON of unpacking, organizing, and cleaning and she is 8 months pregnant).

I'll let you know what the jury says, but they are still deliberating.

Say What?

Let me begin by saying that I really thought that Alice was 10 months old today... and then I realized that it was the 15th and not the 20th. Hmm. Have you seen my mind?

I have several things I want to write about, but I'll have to do separate posts for those. Instead, I'll tell you things I've seen, heard, or have been told in the past few days.

Setup: our bed. I'm nursing Alice, so my (.)(.) are hanging out. Sean comes in and lays down. He plays with Alice for a few minutes, and then turns and looks at me. "(pointing at now "deflated" (.)s) What are we, in Nairobi?"

Last night, while I was washing/sterilizing bottles (oh I can't wait to be done with that!!!) I hear Sean telling Alice, "Okay. Turn it on now." So I go into the living room to see what is going on. "Push it. You can do it. Push it." And Alice pushes the button on the front of the tv on. And then off. And then on. All while Daddy is cheering her on and clapping for her. So fast forward to today. I'm working out (GO ME!) and Alice walks up to the tv and pushes the button. Off goes the tv. Alice claps. Mommy get a bit frustrated because I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. Alice turns it on. She claps. I continue to work out. This continued for a few rounds, and then I sternly told Alice "NO! Stop turning the tv off while I'm working out" and waterworks ensued. I had to stop working out to comfort her, distract her, and then resume. So I tell Sean that he is in trouble for encouraging her to "play" with the tv, and do you know what he says? "Well she figured out how to turn it off, so I had to teach her how to turn it on." No, honey. What you did was teach her a new game.