Many moons ago, I worked in a college office. We were always literally the bucket brigade. We did everything to make sure the hosers (bless their hearts) that had let things go until the last minute on ‘insert educational delima here’ graduated. I made hundreds of phone calls to remind kids to sign up for a certain class that they had to have to graduate. Sometimes 4 kids all didn’t have this done and all lived in the same room with the same phone number and I had to call it FOUR times and talk to the same kid whose roommates weren’t there. These kids had guidance counselors, and YES a hold was placed on their registration until they signed up for the class, but somehow? We still had to make those calls. Or send information about guest speakers to individual kids- they had to attend x events before graduation. YES we WERE desperately approving almost anything as x in order to get these kids to graduate. Some people took offense to this because they thought it *brought down the standard of x*. I even had someone yell at me because he thought I was colluding with someone to get some sort of rally going. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with me. All I did was update the website, you know? My life made harder because they were lazy the first 3.75 years of college and didn’t attend any lectures. We’d write letters to the kids who skipped/missed class. As soon as a teacher was ‘concerned’, we wrote notes: Dear Bobby, professor X says you haven’t been going to his class, are you okay, we are here for you call us if you need us. Granted it was a small school, but it all felt too confining. Having gone to a large university, the thought of being micromanaged that much gave me the willies. I hated that aspect of my job. If I skipped class, I certainly would not have expected it to get so high up the food chain. You know? Something was always ‘wrong’. Anyway, I’m having that ‘bucket brigade’ feeling again.
All I do all day long is put out fires.
(Not literally, I’m a fairly good cook, actually and not a pyr0maniac or anything.)
I’m talking about having a 3 year old. She’s never satisfied. Ever. I get her a snack and a drink and turn on the tv, and make sure she doesn’t have to potty, and THEN I get up and half way through changing the baby’s diaper, she’s DESPERATE for another drink. She’d already downed what I got her. Asking her to wait.. well you can imagine. Go ahead, I have time … ….. ………..
see what I mean? It’s SO traumatic not to have a full glass of drink MAGICALLY appear when I *just* finished one, and my mommy told me that she was getting the baby now.. really?
I want to work for the *other* office in the college. The one that MAKES the plans. The one who has all the answers. The one who is NEVER scrambling at the last minute, because it’s all laid out nice and neat in front of you, you do what it says and voila, everything is taken care of. Why can’t I work in THAT office? Does that make sense? I’m tired of putting out fires, I want to take the matches away before anyone can strike them, but I don’t know how!
Also? I tried to sneak out of the house sans kids this afternoon but the baby woke up. Technically she may have not immediately been asleep, but anyway, I took her with me so Matt would work on the house. Worked out okay, I picked up some stuff for Keeley for Christmas (I *know* right!!!) in the peace and quiet, picked up some groceries (went to the mega mart, where they have it all), and the baby didn’t get really fussy until the check out line. It was SO quiet. I came home, and I realized I felt GOOD! It’s been a while. We danced in the kitchen while we made dinner, unloaded and reloaded the dishes, etc. etc. as a family. My spirits were up. About time. Maybe it was the quiet maybe it was the good night’s sleep, either way. I am thankful.