I’ve had a strange day already and it isn’t even lunch time yet. This past weekend was the first since I started back to work after eight weeks off for maternity leave. Saturday and Sunday flew by and I did nothing productive at all. Well, I took Grant to have his 2 month photos taken, but other than that and one load of laundry, I did nothing. My house looks pretty awful right now. My husband “cleaned the kitchen” yesterday which really means that he unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher. (To me, cleaning the kitchen means washing counter tops and appliances, vacuuming and mopping the floor in addition to the dishes, but I digress.) I guess I don’t care that much. I wanted to be lazy after working all week. I also realize that I can’t do that all of the time or I’ll be living in a pretty serious amount of pet hair and little boy filth in no time flat.
So, after two days of yoga pants and lounging, (as much as you can lounge with a two year old around!) before I knew it Monday was here. She announced her arrival first at 2:15 am in the form of a crying baby with a very stuffy nose. Fifteen minutes in a steamy bathroom and a bulb syringe later, I was able to keep Monday at bay for another three hours. Then she rudely barged back in via cell phone alarm. My first thought at 5:30 was, “Call in sick.” I fought the urge and got up, got clean, got dressed, made three booby milk bottles, packed the milk cooler, grabbed new crib sheets for daycare, changed two diapers, dressed two babies, found my purse, keys and make-up bag, located a pair of shoes for myself, found Truman’s shoes under my bed, giggled and cooed at Grant’s big gummy smiles, loaded both kids in the van and headed off to drop Mike at work. He kissed me good-bye, and as I walked around to the drivers side, the gas light came on. Of course. The gas tank runs low at just the right moment, ensuring that I will have to be the one to fill it. My van is a dumb bitch.
I headed off to daycare, deciding that the van would make it until lunch time without a stop for gas. I dropped Truman off and he refused to kiss or hug me good-bye, and wiggled away from me when I tried. What a difference a week makes! He was wailing like I broke his heart and clutching at my leg a mere seven days ago. Stinker. I took Grant to his room and nursed him. I was snuggling with him when the teacher came in with two young toddlers, one of which made a beeline for the cell phone and keys that were on my lap next to Grant. I managed to wrestle them away from her and not drop the baby, (Seriously? I have to go through this with other peoples’ kids now too?) and she backed away while giving me the stank eye. I placed Grant in his crib instead of on the play mat like I usually do. Little Miss Stank Eye obviously had it out for me and I worried about his well being if left within her reach. I said good-bye and took off, grabbing McDonald’s coffee on my way to the office.
I was five minutes early when I walked to my office door, turned the knob…wait. The knob won’t turn. My door is locked. It took a second to absorb my situation. I only work out of my tiny little optical room. My desk, computer, products and everything else I need to do my work is in one little room. That I was currently locked out of. I had a key at one time on the key ring with my old car keys, but I was told not to lock my door in case I was out sick and someone needed to get drops or protective eye shields, or a patient came to pick up glasses. I haven’t locked the door in over a year. I don’t carry the king ring anymore, since I no longer drive that car. I asked the front desk coordinator if she had a key. No. I checked the office next to mine, thinking maybe she had a key. No. So… I headed home to get the key. I found the key ring with no problem, jumped in the van only to be reminded that my gas was very low. (Dumb bitch van.) I stopped at the corner and paid seven cents more per gallon than I planned on. $20.00 later, I drove back to the office. The key didn’t work. God only knows where my office door key is. I’m now wondering if I ever got it back after they took it to make copies (that are obviously no longer in existence since NO ONE at the office has one.) Now, I had nothing to do but wait for the building maintenance man to come with a master key and let me in. I don’t know why, but this kind of thing really irks me. I hate not being able to get into my space and do my normal thing. Maybe I’m too territorial. I sat in the break room and waited. I was finally able to get in around 8:45.
At 9:30 it was time to pump. I pulled my pump out and started hooking up tubes, only to find that I had no power in my office. Neither did the two surgery scheduling offices next to me. So, I trudged off to the employee bathroom muttering swear words and complaining about injustice and incompetent people (I hate pumping in the bathroom. It grosses me out. I also will not breastfeed my baby in a bathroom.) okay, I was probably over reacting. I had to drag two chairs into the bathroom, one to sit on and one to put my pump on and then I had to drag them back out after I was done. When I got back to my office my receptacles were working again, so hopefully I won’t have to pump in the bathroom again today. I’ve had a few patients and they haven’t been mean, so that’s one for the plus side; but what a weird morning! I’m hoping the rest of the day goes by without incident, this is all too much for a Monday.