This Just Isn't Working/Day of Memorial

Originally I had conceived these ideas as two different posts, but as time is limited (as it is, I am practically typing this while giving Sully a bath), I am combining two topics into one mega-blog.

First, there are the work woes which, instead of subsiding, have only grown worse. I won't go into detail, as I have already verbally bitched the topic out. Instead, I want to focus on the broader topic of work. It occurs to be that I have been working on and off (though mostly on) for 20 years. That feels rather like a prison sentence (and, given some of the jobs I have had, a prison sentence might have been less painful). A root canal and colonoscopy combo deal might have been less painful.

If I were still at my first job, well, I couldn't still be at my first job because when I was 14 I worked bussing tables at a restaurant (which has since burned down -- not while I was still working there, though). Of course at 13 and 14, I was a babysitter, but the job at the restaurant was the first where I had my own time card. Then, a job waitressing at a chain pizza restaurant. I am insanely polite to wait staff because I know how hard that job is. I was not a good waitress, based on the number of drinks I spilled on people, said number being more than the number of fingers I have on one hand. That same summer, I also worked the late shift at a sub shop and was equally good at that. My first night, a guy from my high school came in. I tried to cut a piece of bread, cut my own finger instead and ended up bleeding all over his sandwich.

Then, college, where I worked for four years as a library assistant. This was a standout job for me, in that it was actually a job I was good at. And, except for the instance when the county sheriff's office was called (I wish I was making that up), I was a good employee there. I know and love books. My first summer I spent as a counselor in a summer camp for inner-city kids. Then back to school where, in addition to the library job, I also worked as a tutor and in my last two years worked in the school cafe, slinging hash. I spent a summer working in a fudge shop on Mackinac Island. Then, graduation.

After graduation, I put in some time temping. I worked at one office where my sole job was faxing. I was actually engaged to that fax machine for a brief period and, it turns out, that was the most satisfying relationship of my early twenties. I worked as a tutor at the local community college. I spent evenings doing telemarketing (which is every bit as heinous as it sounds). I worked as a clerk in a furniture store. I prepared titles and abstracts at a title company. I worked in a hospital doing patient registrations. While at the hospital, I spent evenings working at a gas station doing second shift. I worked at a law firm as a legal assistant doing personal injury cases (a job I did for nearly 7 years). I cleaned offices during the evening while at that job -- my shortest-lived job (I discovered that the employees at the office where I was cleaning routinely left full cups of coffee in their trash cans and I ended up getting coffee all over myself one too many times). I worked as an assistant to a rabbi and at a private Jewish school. Currently, I work at a legal assistant in a law firm.

The point of that (pointless) work history is to illustrate that I have had jobs. Loads of them. And, I know when a job just isn't working and when I just can't stay. That's where I am now. In not one of the above-listed jobs did I find myself actually crying in the mornings because I dread going into work -- an uncomfortable position in which to find myself. I feel terrible for Jeff for having to listen to my misery every day. So, wish me luck (seriously. Just say it. Please. I need you).

The past three days, in contrast, have been wonderful. Jeff and I have actually both been off of work for three days in a row and have been able to spend time with Jude and Sullivan, quality time, as opposed to the time during the week that translates into my saying "We have to go. We need to hurry. Blah. Blah. Blah." (Half of whatever I say to Jude, I think, automatically sounds like "blah" to him.) Today is Monday, Memorial Day, and I am cognizant of the fact that I am cramming memory--making experiences into these three days. I want to freeze time, just for a little while longer, not only because I am enjoying just being here with my family but because things change so rapidly. Yesterday I had a baby and now we're looking at preschools for him. Three is such an awkward and wonderful age. Jude is getting to be so independent, pulling away from us, boldly declaring he is a "big boy" but then still depends so much on us. I love his freedom and try to foster it as much as possible by letting him make decisions. He sometimes uses that freedom to deliberately disobey. He has decided to share his beloved Mr. Pooh with his younger brother, such a generous act considering how attached he is to that piece of golden fabric.

And Sullivan? I swear that just last evening I was pregnant and now, my baby is over 7 months old. He is rolling over and sitting up and even has a tiny tooth that looks adorable in his perfect grin. How can I stop them from growing just a little? How can I get more days like these last three, days when I can soak up their tiny perfection and their individuals imperfections? More days of picnics and shopping, of going to the park and building sand castles in a little tiny sandtrap.

Okay, now that I have depressed myself on Memorial Day, it is time for an upbeat new feature to the blog which, like newly introduced features in the past, will likely appear in a few blogs and then never be mentioned again. It is time for Movies Reviews for Movies You Have Either Already Seen or Never Intend to See.

This week's Movie is Moulin Rouge. Jude "watched" this with me (he "watched" about half an hour while playing with his pirate ship) and his review is as follows: "This movie was boring. You should throw it in the trash." Now, my take on the movie (and I actually watched it) was a bit different. I loved it (this is my third or fourth viewing of it). It is bold and color, beautiful to look at and to listen to. I love the singing and the dancing, the theatrics and drama and it speaks to my inner bohemian. I fancy myself a bohemian with a full time job and a family and a bedtime of 9:30 p.m. And, of course, Ewan McgGregor, who does love-lorn with the same ease that he does drug-addled and Jedi Knight. If there ever is a film that stars Ewan McGregor as a love-lorn, drug-addled Jedi Knight, I will toss that to the top of my Netflix queue.

Song of the day: Pepper from the Butthole Surfers. Not a song about summer, exactly, but a great song to play with the windows down. I just love it.

Now, I am off to make a few more memories before returning to the work week . . .