Typhoid Teddy

He finally managed to infect me.

He decided, after months of nagging, to actually start brushing his teeth. And gargling.

I told him repeatedly that he needed to get the disposable cups (screw the environment right now--you'll see in a minute why) and to NOT leave them EVER just sitting on the sink. I didn't care if he threw them out immediately after using them, but if they hung out on the sink, the Howler would use 'em and then SHE'd be sick. Which means my Sweetie and I being infected would happen within days, also.

So what does the stupid f* of a Toad do? He uses non-disposable, plastic cups; and PUTS THEM IN THE CUP HOLDER.

Being 1/2 awake at 3am getting a drink of water means that I don't focus, I simply pick up the cup and USE it.

And now, my eyes feel as if they are shrinking (while my sinuses are expanding) my head hurts enough to make me want to cut it off, sleep doesn't help much, the nasal drip is annoying and disgusting, and at one point this morning, my throat tried to crawl out of my body.

And he can't figure out why I'm totally pissed off.

It's like he's the only person on the entire freaking planet.

I've got enough crap from work without adding infecting all of them and missing more work because of illness. (I don't sweat any body the time/pay if I am sick and miss, but they sure get their knickers in knots over my calling off--even if I haven't in months.) He's the most selfish asshole on the planet. I want to beat him more senseless than he already is.

They Said WHAT?!!!

I swear to God, I heard the Little Einsteins say "penis." I believe the sentence was "Do you see the penis?"

Never mind that the words some bozo writes for the classical music are insipid and stupid. More likely to get stuck in your head than Laurie Berkner's "Victor Vito," these words--and the classical tune they are supposed to improve for young children--will get stuck in your head. FOR YEARS.

I still, 2 years after having seen the show once, I find "I love, I love, I love I love ballooooooons" still playing.

I admit I wasn't listening well (and God knows I cannot stomach watching this tripe) but I'd swear that's what was said.

Today, Bach is rolling in his grave.

Situation Normal...

Tonight at work, none of the three people who seem to have a problem with me were there.

Things felt *normal*.

I was allowed to actually THINK, to MOVE, to do my job the way I do it best--left alone, and basically FREE to do it.

I don't need supervised closely. If I need help, or find myself in a situation where I am uncomfortable, I make a call and let people know that I need more information, help, whatever.

The atmosphere was so much nicer to be around.

Geez. And now, I need to make a note of that.

Right Now

I'm work stressed. It's not attractive, and I'm still sorting it out.

Basically, it comes down to Orwell's phrase: All animals are created equal, but pigs are more equal than other animals.

I'm not saying that I work with pigs. I'm not a farmer. But there are definite discrepancies in how the rules are applied--and who gets listened to and who doesn't.

I'm one of the "doesn'ts."

I am required to tell no less than 4 people when I need to be relieved on time at the end of my shift. And I need to tell those 4 people as early (read: hours ahead of time) as possible. I am also required to not leave written messages, and I am also supposed to remind at least 1 of those 4 people when it gets close to the end of my shift.

Yet, when I do, something else ALWAYS comes up (and it's always in the guise of "a customer issue"). If I am heard, the response is "yeah, whatever."

But there are others in the same department, with the same job description I have, who can *forget* to let anyone know when she needs out EARLY, but there's always coverage for her when she needs it. She can tell them with as little as 25 minutes to spare.

I'm still wondering how in the F* that works.

I can list my faults here, but anyone who knows me already knows them. The only common denominator in the entire thing is ME. That apparently makes it my fault.

Yep. That's the only way we can read this:

It's my fault when my supervisors can't (or won't) hear me.

It's my fault when my supervisors decide to *punish* me with crappy assignments. When they keep me from leaving at my scheduled time, but others, who are younger, can leave well before their scheduled times. (Usually, to go to the bar, or some cool party.)

I'm not one to play the gender or age card, but I see that there is a discrimination against me--if I were 20 years younger (said drinking to be done as underage) or if I were physically one of the guys, then it would not only be A-OK for me to sneak out early, it would be up to everyone else to do my share of whatever after-closing work there is to do.

It's annoying; it's frustrating. It's pissing me off. Again or Still, I haven't figured out yet.

The part that is the most obnoxious about it is that it seems to be a store/company/corporate kind of mind-set. It doesn't matter who my supervisors are; it doesn't matter how well-behaved or (gag) nice I am being. Actually, if anything, the nicer I am, the more well behaved I am, the worse I am treated.

I don't enjoy being mean and nasty (or nagging)--but I do have exacting standards that, while they meet-and-exceed the company set policies, don't seem to be appreciated (or rewarded) by the local powers-that-be. Actually, if anything, they seem to be punishable.

I alternate, in this arena, between being invisible and unintelligible and being forced into the conformity of laziness and shallowness.

Being a fully-realized human being is, apparently, a liability. Being an intelligent, competent person leaves me with a harassement target settled squarely upon my back.

I can't lower my standards, and I can keep my mouth shut for only so long. I should take bets on how long I can do this before my head explodes. Any takers?

My 2 Cents

I've read (and re-read) MommyK's blog about Pregnancy & Violence.

I have no personal history with violent relationships (came close a few times--close enough to make me wonder what it is about me that kept these jerks from actually hitting me), and the one time I truly felt stalked was back in college, in the late 80's. Unfortunately, that asshole had done this enough times that the mutual friends we had thought nothing of it--and advised me to "just let him have his way" so he'd leave me alone. (No, those *friendships* didn't last long, especially after my sister offered to beat the living hell out of him AND all those mutual *friends*--thank you, so much, sis, for that. I didn't fully understand then, but I do now.)

Anyway, here's why I'm thinking on this.

I work with a young girl--a girl who could be, literally, my daughter. She graduated with the Toad. The Toad has told me some things about her--what she was like, and when I put that together with the stories I've heard at work from some of the guys who worked with her mother at one point, I honestly don't think this girl has anyone who cares for her, just for her. (Even the worst things I've said about the Toad don't even come close to what this woman said about her daughter.)

Whatever else the girl is, she doesn't deserve to have HER MOTHER saying these things about her. And I worry that she deserves better, but that she doesn't even KNOW that there is better out there.

The girl is pregnant, and I wonder, even for the way she talks about her BF, if he doesn't treat her shabbily. I wonder if he may push or slap at her. She has questions about what's happening with her body, but doesn't have anyone she can ask.

One night in December, after the store closed at 9pm, we were leaving--it was already after 9:30pm, and her mother was coming from a town about 15-20 minutes drive to pick her up. She called her mom to see how soon she'd be there--her mother hadn't even started the car to warm it up yet! Now, this is on a night when the temps her freezing and the windchill factor (the store sits on a very windy hill!) were very much well-below freezing.

My heart breaks for her--because, in all honesty, I was barely out of my teens when I was unmarried and pregnant with the Toad.

What can I do to make a difference? Our jobs do not allow for more than "hi" and "bye" really. How do I talk to this young woman about these things--without seeming preachy and know-it-all?

It's not always a clear-cut case of stepping in or giving out a number. It's not always as simple as dialing 911, or *being there*--sometimes, it's gut feeling and a hope that you can make contact and get through.

Slacker

I've been a slacker in updating this blog (and others), but I don't apologize.

Sometimes, you just gotta say, "I don't want to!" and then not do it. So, that's what I did.

What I have been doing is spending an grossly excessive amount of time paying attention my Sweetie and the Spawnlings. I have also been playing Spider Solitaire, instead of checking email, or posting anything anywhere, and, last night, in a determined mood, I went to the PTA meeting.

I walked in, and was not late. I was ignored anyway. Not a smile, not a hello in the bunch. Hard as it was to imagine, the group was actually smaller than it was back in November. And still, nada recognito.

I didn't feel invisible, but I didn't feel welcomed, either. And yet, I was not fidgeting or uncomfortable. I did not feel stupid. I felt bored.

A guest speaker talked about the program that the children, district wide, would have: blah blah blah sexual abuse and it's avoidance. Now, I'm listening, because this is such a scary topic, while being such a can of worms. Of course, I don't have anything to worry about, but the Howler, being the Howler, can be rather like a dog with a bone when given information like this. (She still asks, regularly, about where babies come from, and recently noticed that she and the Toad do not have the same last name, and the Toad calls her Daddy by his given name--and she brings it up, a lot.) So, needless to say, I'm interested in what's going to be said.

After the guest speaker, it's down to business. I have nothing much to say, except that I, for one, am glad that Donkey Basketball was abandoned as a fund raiser.

The topic of the Craft Day came up. The chairperson seemed rather miffed that there was a snow-day cancellation of school on that day, as if the cosmos and the district were conspiring against her. She also seemed to be personally offended by the idea that many families do want the Santa Secret Shop shopping day, even if they keep the craft day also.

She complained that it was a lot for her to do on her own--the entire school, which is comprised of approx 60 kids per grade level, 6 grade levels plus the special ed class. Sure it's a lot, but did you not have any clue before you agreed to do this? Seriously. Anyway, I behaved myself, and kept my negative comments to myself, until she mentioned that she had typed up directions and that each class had a copy of those directions. And that the homeroom parents said they didn't get them, and didn't know about them, even though she told the HR parents when she talked to them.

I had to break into this train of thought. I identified myself as a homeroom mom, and that although I had spoken with her twice, I didn't remember her mentioning these written instructions at all. Luckily, it was an easy to figure out thing, and instructions weren't really needed. I did tell her that the K kids in my room enjoyed making them a lot. She glared daggers at me the rest of the meeting.

They started talking about how little information the previous PTA officers and chairpersons left for them, and that they're muddling through quite a bit this year. "No Clue" seems to be the catch phrase for this group--and while it's not entirely their fault, they know who did this previously, and they should have called them by now and said, "Hey, throw me a bone, here. What did you do last year?"

They don't even have a list of the things that were done last year for fundraisers or anything. Not even for just last year, never mind a list of what worked and what didn't over the years! Holy Moly! And school started back in August, and they're just mentioning noticing now?

They mentioned that they don't even have a master list of parents who volunteered for any of the activities. Ever. I commented that they truly did need that--it'd be the best place to find people to chair next year's events, because someone who has worked an event previously (especially if it was several years previously) might be more inclined to say "yes," because they know what works, what doesn't, who they can count on, etc. I also told them that a list of that kind would also be handy in making sure those people got thanked--I told them of my insidious plan to actually show appreciation to the parents and families who help with the parties. Sure, it's kind of a pain, especially in the wrist and hand, to write 12 thank yous, but I honestly think it made a difference in the overwhelming positive response I had for the Christmas party. I had parents tripping over each other I had so many of 'em, and treats and things for the parties isn't something I worry about. I reminded them how easy it is, as a parent, to feel left out and unwelcome, and a handwritten thank you (or a phone call after the fact) can make all the difference in the world to those who volunteer. I even had one mom already ask me about the Valentine's party.

And mostly, they complain that they don't have help. Sure my parents are Kindergarten parents, but even so, I see that meaning they have a little bit more interest in being there/being involved, but I don't see that as being the sum-total explaination for it. I think the fact that no matter who you are, you've heard at least one story about crappy treatment at the hands of the PTA--and that hand written thank you mentioning your snack, treat or presence at a party can make the difference. (I didn't mention that I told all my parents that I wasn't expecting much--but I also wasn't looking forward to doing this HR Mom gig, either.)

Anyway, they mentioned two things I honestly believe I may be able to help in: they want an activity of some sort to get the Dads/Significant Male Influence (need better phrase for that!) more involved, and they're fixing up the teacher's lounge, and need folding chairs. So, I made a few phone calls today, and then called the appropriate PTA person to let them know what I thought and learned. Now we'll see how serious they were about wanting help and ideas.

Overall, my impressions of them have changed some, but not greatly. At the end of the meeting, I stood up, put on my coat, and left. No one even said "goodbye."

But I Play One On TV

Toadwort is sick. He had strep before Christmas. He took the antibiotic, religiously. I know it's hard to believe, but he did. Apparently, he is afraid of strep. Good Boy.

Now, he's complaining of a sore throat again, and I've looked at it. Bleck. It's disgusting again. It turned the nurse and the PA green before Christmas, and it's not looking too good now.

It's bad enough that he actually called the doc's today and got another appointment to see them. He stopped here briefly, to tell me that they did culture it and sent it to the lab to see if there's something else besides the strep growing in there. Now, that's a comforting thought! NOT!

Anyway, my mother is now on a jag that he needs to have his tonsils out. Never mind that he rarely got sick as a child (even though he was exposed to just about everything that came down the pike). Nevermind that he's had, including this round of strep, 2 cases of strep throat. He was more susceptible to sinus infections.

Then, again, this is a woman who insisted that he had an ear infection because as an older infant he would hold his ear as he drank a bottle when he was sleepy.

Of course, she went to NBC Medical School--you know, that school where you watch ER whether your friends would all be talking about it the next day or not.

*sigh* She's not a doctor, but she watches them on TV.