Yesterday started off with J's four-year checkup, complete with an anemia test (finger stick), TB test (arm stick), and four shots (three of which we were able to get - gotta go back for the fourth, as they didn't have it in the office yet). All that made for one pissed-off little boy. And I love it when the nurse asks me to hold him still - he's 50.5 pounds and 3 feet, 7 inches tall to my 5'1", and pissed off and strong as an ox to boot. Hold him with what, I ask you?
Anyway, we got that taken care of. He told me in the car, "Mama, those shots hurt me." I said I knew they did, but explained that shots hurt for a little while, but are meant to help keep us well, so that in the long run they're good things. He seemed OK with that, and told me that the shots had stopped hurting by the time we got to school.
Speaking of that - drop-off was fabulous yesterday. That made me so happy! I think I've pinpointed the problem - he wants to go straight up to class like he's used to doing, rather than wait in the TV room. His teacher makes a bus run to take the older children to their schools, and she can't be there when we first get there. The kids can't go to class alone, so they get to wait and watch TV. Now, as nuts as J is about TV, you'd think he'd be all over that - but he isn't, and that's why drop-off has turned into a scene from The Exorcist (minus the barf, that is). Yesterday, since we were late, his class was already in the classroom, reading a story. He went and sat down without even a backward glance at me, and when I left, he was telling his teacher about his shots. Today, when we got there at the regular time? Right back to World War III. So, at least I've identified the cause (I think), but haven't yet figured out how to help J accept that this is our new routine, it is what it is, and we've gotta work with it.
Bedtime last night - ugliness. But he did finally fall asleep in his own bed, after sleeping in my bed for a week or so, and slept there all night. Drop-off today - ugliness.
Work is - well, work. My heart really isn't in it these days. As I was driving in this morning, I sat at a stop light and cried because I so desperately want to be working somewhere else. I'm applying for everything I can find, but haven't gotten any more real leads. No word from Waco yet - I keep telling myself it hasn't even been a week. If I don't get at least a second interview, I will be crushed. But it takes all the strength I have not to run screaming from this place, and it doesn't get better. I'm just tired of working someplace where the work never, ever slacks up, not even for a moment, and where the workload just keeps getting heavier. Do this new project, take that online training sometime in the next three days, cover for these four people who are out, don't forget to make all your callbacks, try to keep all the accounts that are closing here, and oh, by the way, I see you didn't address this issue yet (that's been hanging around for the last three years, but which has suddenly become *your* emergency), can you hop right on that? If I were the only one who felt this way, I'd figure the fault was with me, that there was something about my psyche or my personality that made me unfit for this job. But it's not just me. I've never worked anywhere where so many people are so desperately unhappy and trying so hard to get out. For a company that makes such a big deal about wanting its employees to be happy, doesn't that seem not quite right?
More later, it's almost time for me to go fetch the boy. I think I'll crank up some really loud music on the way home - Nightwish is always good to listen to when I'm in a mood.