Six weeks in to the new schedule, and new job. I think that, as a family, we may be slowly growing and sending out strengthened roots, enduring this winter, getting ready to bloom.
Working just 19 hours a week (automatic benefits kick in at 20 hours, and I'm a provisional employee at this point), there is time for me in the mornings and afternoons just to be by myself. I can think. I can breathe. I can eat breakfast and have coffee at home. I sit in front of the HappyLight for at least 15 minutes every morning.
The place I work for now is a non-profit that serves children and young adults with mental health issues, and their families.
At the agency, I have my own office. It's quiet. It's got a translucent 6 x 7-foot window that would otherwise look into the ground-level parking lot and train tracks. I will soon be moving a slightly different office, and I have my choice of paint colors and a new desk. The people are so deeply kind there. I don't really know how to open up to that yet. Years of work-related sarcasm and management-by-neglect feel like a too-tight shell around me.
It's hard for me, being the new kid in a role for which I'm mostly perfectly prepared. I'm used to being able to do anything and everything required by almost anyone in my business. I don't fully understand all of the processes and reasons behind them, and I don't always get all the details of a task on the first time around. Oh, and I'm a perfectionist!
One of my goals during this time of transition is to support my family more. In one way, I'm doing that by cooking dinner for the family every night. I was shooting for a goal of ten nights in a row without resorting to take-out or frozen pizza. We've gotten to six nights for a few weeks so far; I'm pretty happy with that.
So far, some of the dinners have been raving successes, and some have been real learning experiences. Three out of four of us usually like meal as it is served; there's usually one person who doesn't care for it. Last night was an exception. Primo has strong preferences regarding food textures, and I thought I was going to get to a good place with our main dish --lentil and sausage soup -- by making the texture consistent. I blended the soup into a thick, pasty mix and served it with hot cornbread. While the texture was a bit grainy, the I thought flavor was wonderful, especially with fresh sweet cornbread.
The boys did not agree. And I've been a bit testy lately about some of their responses to my cooking. We've always been an eat-it-or-make-your-own kind of family when it comes to dinnertimes . . . so the kids usually make an effort to try the meal before they choose to go hungry or make a sandwich.
Well, this time, I saw the boys were really trying to eat the soup, taking a hunk of cornbread and quickly spooning a small bit of soup in with it. No dice. We started laughing. There was a brief mention of Utah Phillips' Moose turd pie. (Listen to it!!)
True to that story's form, no one complained! So I let the kids fill up on cornbread, got out some veggies and hummus, cheese and crackers, and we called it a night.
Showing posts with label Work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Work. Show all posts
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Sunday, January 12, 2014
More than two months have passed. Ready to exhale.
Friday, January 3, 2014: the second day of the rest of my life.
The job change has come. I almost didn't make it to the end, but it in order to claim unemployment, I had to work as long as the job was available.
The boys and I have been in our jammies all day, keeping warm and doing indoor activities. There's tortilla soup on the stove, cats freaking out with catnip toys in the dining room, and kids playing Minecraft, too. Our Christmas tree stands in a corner of our living room, unlit. I think we'll put it away tomorrow.
Hero has just arrived home. I kissed him hello. He promptly changed out of his work clothes and into flannel pajama pants, slippers, hoodie, hat, and thick insulated vest. That's how we roll. A cold snap is heading our way. We may not venture out all weekend. Due to a forecast with dangerous wind chills, school has already been cancelled for Monday.
I've tried to make a habit of not expecting much out of life, especially not expecting happiness. When I received the layoff notice, I went into a period of very low self-esteem and high-energy job searching. It wasn't a very nice time to live through. Then, as I settled in to the reality of being forced to make a much-needed career change, my spirit rallied a bit. I'd hate to say that I started 'leaning in,' because I'm not fond of that term. But I did start daring to hope.
Since having children and getting Primo's autism diagnosis, I've tended to be a keep-your-head down, keep-working-to-support-your-family kind of person when it comes to work. I know what I'm good at, and though I've built up new skills over time, I tend to do the same kind of work wherever I go. Even when a job gets boring, tiresome, and lacks challenges or interesting people, I tend to stick to it loyally. But then things start to change, and the boredom starts to show my productivity. I lose focus. If the management style of the next-higher-up isn't proactive, I find it difficult to not go into something of a stasis, if not a tailspin. And then it's time to change.
It seems that the life cycle for my jobs is between two and five years.
The job change has come. I almost didn't make it to the end, but it in order to claim unemployment, I had to work as long as the job was available.
The boys and I have been in our jammies all day, keeping warm and doing indoor activities. There's tortilla soup on the stove, cats freaking out with catnip toys in the dining room, and kids playing Minecraft, too. Our Christmas tree stands in a corner of our living room, unlit. I think we'll put it away tomorrow.
Hero has just arrived home. I kissed him hello. He promptly changed out of his work clothes and into flannel pajama pants, slippers, hoodie, hat, and thick insulated vest. That's how we roll. A cold snap is heading our way. We may not venture out all weekend. Due to a forecast with dangerous wind chills, school has already been cancelled for Monday.
I've tried to make a habit of not expecting much out of life, especially not expecting happiness. When I received the layoff notice, I went into a period of very low self-esteem and high-energy job searching. It wasn't a very nice time to live through. Then, as I settled in to the reality of being forced to make a much-needed career change, my spirit rallied a bit. I'd hate to say that I started 'leaning in,' because I'm not fond of that term. But I did start daring to hope.
Since having children and getting Primo's autism diagnosis, I've tended to be a keep-your-head down, keep-working-to-support-your-family kind of person when it comes to work. I know what I'm good at, and though I've built up new skills over time, I tend to do the same kind of work wherever I go. Even when a job gets boring, tiresome, and lacks challenges or interesting people, I tend to stick to it loyally. But then things start to change, and the boredom starts to show my productivity. I lose focus. If the management style of the next-higher-up isn't proactive, I find it difficult to not go into something of a stasis, if not a tailspin. And then it's time to change.
It seems that the life cycle for my jobs is between two and five years.
Friday, October 25, 2013
October 25 evening
Spark is laying out the four pairs of mittens and gloves. He's preparing for the winter cold. The end of October here means an opportunity to trick-or-treat in freezing rain and/or snow; I can think of many childhood Halloweens where I had to design a costume that would fit over my winter coat.
I'm on the couch with the laptop, looking for new jobs.
The kittens, Hazel and Mabel, are hiding in the folds of five layers of blankets on Primo's bed. Our house is uninsulated, yet we find ways of keeping warm.
When I'm stressed out, I tend to write less and less. I eat less. I sleep more. In the last three months, we've had one cat go missing, one cat need to be put down, my parents moved across the country, and I received official notice that my employment will end by December 31. It's been a bit of a hard go for my emotions.
Primo's voice is changing. Spark is getting taller and skinnier and sweeter by the moment. We filled the kitty void with two seven-month-old female kittens. Hero is playing more music with friends. Maybe we're finding some balance of the difficult with the joyous.
I'm on the couch with the laptop, looking for new jobs.
The kittens, Hazel and Mabel, are hiding in the folds of five layers of blankets on Primo's bed. Our house is uninsulated, yet we find ways of keeping warm.
When I'm stressed out, I tend to write less and less. I eat less. I sleep more. In the last three months, we've had one cat go missing, one cat need to be put down, my parents moved across the country, and I received official notice that my employment will end by December 31. It's been a bit of a hard go for my emotions.
Primo's voice is changing. Spark is getting taller and skinnier and sweeter by the moment. We filled the kitty void with two seven-month-old female kittens. Hero is playing more music with friends. Maybe we're finding some balance of the difficult with the joyous.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Two small confessions.
I have two confessions to make today. First, when I sit on my couch with my laptop on my lap, catching up on all the news of the day, I'm really mostly doing it to keep my lap warm.
Second, I've started to hate being at work. I think it's the complete lack of windows. Three years is enough of this. Also, I no longer feel like I'm making a difference there. I'm not helping enough, and no one really needs me.
And a bonus confession: Winter is not ended here in the Upper Midwest. The tulips are growing and snowdrops have already faded, but it's snowing little f-bomb white pellets and blowing and gray all over. Sigh.
Second, I've started to hate being at work. I think it's the complete lack of windows. Three years is enough of this. Also, I no longer feel like I'm making a difference there. I'm not helping enough, and no one really needs me.
And a bonus confession: Winter is not ended here in the Upper Midwest. The tulips are growing and snowdrops have already faded, but it's snowing little f-bomb white pellets and blowing and gray all over. Sigh.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Tuesday afternoon
Thoughts going through my head late at night, ideas for writing posts. Not falling asleep.
Did Hero know what he was suggesting when he said I should have a blog? Thinking of setting up categories, organizing ideas. But I should also get the laundry up into the bedrooms and make some dinner and scoop the cat boxes. Then back to work for the evening shift. Then home to bed and not sleeping because I'm thinking about writing.
Sigh.
Now, in the early evening, Primo sits at the table, crunching on cereal and trying to do his math homework. Spark is silently playing a builders game on the computer. It's snowed for half the day and now the temperature is dropping to the coldest yet of this season. Drafts move through the house, swirling, making our little cat pester me to hold her for warmth. She hides near a heat vent, waiting for the furnace. I've got a hat and vest on.
Hot dogs? Soup? Dinner. The boys have gotten picky about food lately.
Dinner was left to Hero last night when I left for work in a huff. After the Christmas break, he didn't remember I usually work on Monday nights. They all set a place for me: pork chops and green beans. And I stayed away until my shift was over. There were hugs and kisses and I'm sorrys when I returned.
Did Hero know what he was suggesting when he said I should have a blog? Thinking of setting up categories, organizing ideas. But I should also get the laundry up into the bedrooms and make some dinner and scoop the cat boxes. Then back to work for the evening shift. Then home to bed and not sleeping because I'm thinking about writing.
Sigh.
Now, in the early evening, Primo sits at the table, crunching on cereal and trying to do his math homework. Spark is silently playing a builders game on the computer. It's snowed for half the day and now the temperature is dropping to the coldest yet of this season. Drafts move through the house, swirling, making our little cat pester me to hold her for warmth. She hides near a heat vent, waiting for the furnace. I've got a hat and vest on.
Hot dogs? Soup? Dinner. The boys have gotten picky about food lately.
Dinner was left to Hero last night when I left for work in a huff. After the Christmas break, he didn't remember I usually work on Monday nights. They all set a place for me: pork chops and green beans. And I stayed away until my shift was over. There were hugs and kisses and I'm sorrys when I returned.
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