Once again, it’s quiet. Jim is at the house, working. Vincent is in bed, quiet. I’m thinking of all the packing I need to do but taking Jim’s advice to stay off my foot.
My foot has been hurting for the past two weeks, although I’ve no clue why. I had agreed with Jim that I needed to go in to see someone about it. Saturday morning, I told him. Instead of going to work for overtime, I will go to the walk-in clinic.
But Friday night, Jim texted me while I was on my way to his dad’s and step-mom’s. I checked it at a stop sign. Call me when you get to Dad’s, it said. What on earth? Turns out Jim had Big Life Event News of a very good friend, the not-so-good kind of news. Jim took the friend out to dinner, then they went to another friend’s, and then the Bad News friend brought Jim home (because I had the car and the van is in the shop) and accidentally snapped the key to his car in the lock of his trunk. Long story short, Jim ended up taking him home, didn’t get home until 2:30 am, then was back up at 5:30 am to drive back to town, pick up the friend, and take him to work.
Because Jim had so little sleep, I not only did not do overtime, but I did not go in to the walk-in clinic. I kept an eye on Vincent and left Jim to sleep past noon. It was the least I could do; Jim can drive me crazy sometimes, but I’m always in awe of how good he is to his friends when they need him most. In light of the Big Life Event News of the friend, my foot didn’t seem to matter anymore.
The weekend, instead, was full of Vincent, which is exactly how I like it. I hate when I work Saturday mornings because mornings are when Vincent is at his best. He smiles, babbles in a sing-song voice, spins around and dances to the openings of the kid shows on TV. And, if I’m really lucky–and I’m luckier more and more these days, it seems–he will crawl up in my lap, snuggle with me, and eat Cheerios.
It’s a ritual I only get twice a week if I’m lucky. I cannot lie: I’m so jealous that Jim gets this everyday. As I trudge upstairs to my office, I often think how much I would give to trade with Jim. Don’t get me wrong: watching Vincent is work. A lot. On the weekends when I take over, he wears me out and frustrates me. But I would trade everything in the world for that to be my full-time job. He’s growing up fast. Too fast. Both Jim’s mom and step-mom commented this weekend that it looked like Vincent had grown, and they just saw him a week ago. I agree. I had been thinking that he seemed taller as well. He seemed to be reaching for things this weekend that I don’t remember him being able to reach even a week ago.
He’s growing up so fast, and I’m missing it for a job.
Speaking of, a bunch of positions are opening up at work. A couple that I’m interested in are not eligible for work-from-home. A couple that I’m not nearly as interested in but would probably have an okay chance of getting are.
So I’m debating. Once upon a time, I would have thought I would have gone for whatever made the most money once I had kids. Admittedly, that is still the biggest factor, but I’m coming to discover that it’s really important that I don’t hate my job because, unlike some people, I cannot leave my job at the office. Literally,I can’t, since I work from home. That means in the middle of my work day, on my breaks, if I’m having a bad day, Jim and Vincent know because my breaks are often in our kitchen rather than a break room. In the new place, there will be even less separation, as I won’t have an office and will have to work out of our bedroom.
If you had told me a year ago that I would even be considering a different position, I wouldn’t have believed it. My actual job–written CA–is great. Even though they changed stuff to make the numbers we need harder to get, I still see it as a challenge. Frustrating at times, but I wouldn’t leave for that. However, because all of the insurance changes have made our call volumes go up, I’m on the phones half of the time, and then I get frustrated. What was point of working so hard and getting my numbers up and interviewing to get out of being a phone CA if I was just going to get shuffled back to the phones anyway?
Truthfully, the time we’re getting put on the phones is going down. Rumor has it, though, that it’s not going to go away. They don’t know when or even if we’re ever going back to just working inventory. Some of these new job postings they’re putting out, I would probably definitely be on the phones, but if I’m going to be on the phones anyway, why not get paid more for it?
But would I hate it? Would be it like the days when I’m stuck on the phone all day and Jim feels like he can’t go out because I’m so drained that keeping up with Vincent seems too much? I don’t mind calls here and there, but call center work–call after call after call–wears me out. The days I’m on the hotline all day, I feel like the quality of my family life suffers.
So you see where there’s more than money to consider.
I hate this time of night. I hate this time of week. Sunday evenings are always the worst, even worse than Mondays because at least on Monday evening, you know you’ve gotten Monday over with. Sunday, the week of drudgery spreads out before you, and you already wish it was Friday night again. What a waste, to live life wishing for the future. The future comes too fast as it is.
But I do have one thing to look forward to. My vacation was approved. Next week, I will have a week off. I’m so looking forward to it, although it’s looking more and more like it will be mostly a working vacation to move in and get settled into the new place. But it will be a week of Not Work, of All Vincent and Jim, a week of moving into our new home and starting a new chapter of our lives. OUR home. That’s so crazy.