So I kind of like working. Mostly. Also, my supervisor-type-people are very understanding of family responsibilities, which helps. (One of my work friends complains that people with kids get away with working reasonable hours, but they assume single people will work 50 hours every single week. Which is totally true. Also, I have made it clear to the supervisor types that I will work my ass off for every minute of the 41.75 hours I am at work, which helps. It's still not fair to the childless.) And my boss's boss stopped by the other day to tell me I'm doing great.
But.
The Pumpkin has caught his first Daycare Plague, and we all want to die. We have all been coughing for a week. He has stayed home for 4.5 of the last 6 weekdays. He keeps getting feverish (only a little, i.e., enough to be sent home). He just nursed for THREE HOURS STRAIGHT. He keeps waking up at 3 AM. Daycare keeps calling me: 'Your child has a fever... again.' 'I SWEAR he didn't yesterday! Or this morning!' I think I have a sinus infection, but I do not want Thrush, Again, Kill Me Now, so hot washcloths and misery all around! Where's a retired grandma when I need her? (Three states away, is where.)
File under 'Working Parents Hating Life.'
