Tomorrow is a day I've been dreading for awhile. First thing in the morning I head to the hospital for a CT scan of my kidneys to find out if they are normal. The layers of dread are many. For one thing, I have to fast for 3hrs, which doesn't sound that bad to most people, I'm guessing, but I'm a lifelong grazer with a super-high metabolism, and going over an hour w/o eating something tends to make me feel lightheaded. Three hours seems almost insurmountable. I can have clear liquids during those three hours, and I plan to load myself up with apple juice and such to keep my blood sugar from utterly plummeting. Still, that won't be a perfect solution, especially since you're talking about someone with the world's smallest bladder (well, I guess we might find out tomorrow if that's really true!) so the more I drink, the worse my morning will become.
SEcond layer of dread is that I have to get an IV because they'll be injecting me with a contrast dye to better outline my kidneys and such. Besides my icky feeling toward needles, I've been forewarned that the dye itself can make you feel warm and give you a metallic taste in your mouth. If I were a betting person, I would put money on the fact that the combo of those two sensations is gonna make me barf at some point. Anyone care to challenge me? This is one of those times I sincerely hope to be wrong, but I've had weirder reactions to more innocuous drugs and such before, so we shall see.
Third layer: Claustrophobia. I think the CT scan won't be as bad as an MRI (which I've never had, btw, but we've all seen ER and House, thank you very much), but I do have claustrophobia and am not eager to confront this machine. They could give me a sedative for the anxiety, but then I wouldn't be able to drive myself home, and alas, that brings me to layer four....
I'm going alone. Lest you think Ken must be some kind of beast to send me off on such a journey by myself, let me explain: Due to numerous illnesses in the family (some of them mine, some the kids, some his) over the past year, along with my heavy travel schedule and his smaller number of paid days off than what I get per year, Ken has burned through all his time off for 2008 except for a measly half day. Why, a half day, that's perfectly enough time for him to take off work tomorrow morning and come with me, right? Well, I wish. But, you see, I have a day trip to make for work on Thursday, and it's for a meeting I absolutely cannot miss because (a) I'm running it and (b) it involves the executive directors of my organization and the one we're visiting, along with my boss, her boss (our Publisher), and directors of other divisions of both organizations. Crapola, I cannot miss this meeting. And so, I asked Ken to save his half day off just in case one of the boys is sick and needs someone to stay home with him. For the remaining half day that Ken doesn't have left to use for such an occasion, he'd have to throw himself on the mercy of his boss and either take it unpaid or get an advance on next year's vacation (and you can see where the latter option would lead toward the end of 2009).
So we just need to squeak through tomorrow, get me through this stupid test, and move on with our lives. Except that brings me to layer five. What if there is something wrong with my kidneys? I have no symptoms of any such problem--my doctor is merely on a fact-finding mission at this point--but the what ifs keep playing through my head. So the only thing I am truly dreading more than tomorrow's test is the phone ringing the day after when my doctor calls with the results.
12.15.2008
Wow, so it's been awhile since I've posted my boring life happenings for you all to see. Sorry 'bout that. I know you've been dying to read more.
Ken and I remain exhausted and usually about a hair's breadth from losing all sanity, but the boys are doing well. Henry is 17 months now and still isn't walking independently. He's planning to hold out as long as humanly possible because he is stubborn as hell. Wonder where he gets that from? Hmmmmmm. (Don't let my mom tell you any stories. She's lying. My sister, too.) His vocabulary is burgeoning, though, so perhaps he's just going to be a wordsmith like me. Poor kid. Padraic is going to be 4-years-old in less than a month so please pinch me. Ken and I are already trying to figure out what we're going to do with our work schedules when Padraic starts kindergarten. In September 2010. Yeah, I like to plan ahead.
What's cool is that this is the first year that Padraic has enough awareness to know well in advance that Christmas is coming. He keeps telling me that when Santa comes, I can pet the reindeer. Sweet kid. I can't wait for Christmas morning, though, because when Padraic comes down the stairs, he is going to see a big red bike in front of it. I think his reaction will be priceless. He's been wanting a bike ever since our neighbor's son started riding his past our house every night toward the end of summer. I find myself wondering if he'll be talking about this Christmas morning when he's a grownup: As in "I still remember the Christmas I was 4. I came downstairs and saw that Santa had brought me my first bike, and I spent the afternoon riding up and down the street with my dad right behind me. My parents are awesome!" :) He'll make his own memories from the holiday, but as his mom I get the right to hope they are amazing and bring him joy whenever he thinks back on them, even when he's 95.
The Christmas memory I wish I had was of Ken's company holiday party last weekend. I couldn't go because we didn't have a babysitter and then Henry came down with a stomach bug anyway. Not wanting to keep Ken from enjoying what really is part of his holiday bonus from work, I elected to stay home alone, wiping Henry's stinky butt at all hours of the day and night, while Ken went to the party (which includes an overnight stay at the hotel) and got some serious drink on. Enough so that he joined his friend Mike in the annual demonstration of that most excellent dance move known as "The Worm." Oh, yeah. Right in front of his boss, who was heard to say, "Stick a fork in Ken. He's done." Priceless memories that I have to have second hand.
If you're not laughing already, I should add that Sunday morning when Ken got home, he noted that his forehead was sore. Around 2pm he suddenly remembered that it was from smacking his head into the dance floor while pulling his super dance move. I almost pee my pants whenever I think of it. Thank God I made sure his good friends would be there to keep an eye on him. For Ken to have been anywhere near a dance floor indicates to me exactly how much whiskey he had in his system. To his credit, last night when we had dinner w/all those friends, he promised that next year he'll bring his better judgment with him. Meaning, of course, me. Mwahahahaha.
But enough chit-chat about Christmas. I have to get off my ass and get shopping and cleaning. I have bought exactly 4 presents so far, and if you've checked your calendar lately you'll have noticed that Christmas is coming in nine days. I've always been a wicked procrastinator, though, so I can do this. (I think.)
Ken and I remain exhausted and usually about a hair's breadth from losing all sanity, but the boys are doing well. Henry is 17 months now and still isn't walking independently. He's planning to hold out as long as humanly possible because he is stubborn as hell. Wonder where he gets that from? Hmmmmmm. (Don't let my mom tell you any stories. She's lying. My sister, too.) His vocabulary is burgeoning, though, so perhaps he's just going to be a wordsmith like me. Poor kid. Padraic is going to be 4-years-old in less than a month so please pinch me. Ken and I are already trying to figure out what we're going to do with our work schedules when Padraic starts kindergarten. In September 2010. Yeah, I like to plan ahead.
What's cool is that this is the first year that Padraic has enough awareness to know well in advance that Christmas is coming. He keeps telling me that when Santa comes, I can pet the reindeer. Sweet kid. I can't wait for Christmas morning, though, because when Padraic comes down the stairs, he is going to see a big red bike in front of it. I think his reaction will be priceless. He's been wanting a bike ever since our neighbor's son started riding his past our house every night toward the end of summer. I find myself wondering if he'll be talking about this Christmas morning when he's a grownup: As in "I still remember the Christmas I was 4. I came downstairs and saw that Santa had brought me my first bike, and I spent the afternoon riding up and down the street with my dad right behind me. My parents are awesome!" :) He'll make his own memories from the holiday, but as his mom I get the right to hope they are amazing and bring him joy whenever he thinks back on them, even when he's 95.
The Christmas memory I wish I had was of Ken's company holiday party last weekend. I couldn't go because we didn't have a babysitter and then Henry came down with a stomach bug anyway. Not wanting to keep Ken from enjoying what really is part of his holiday bonus from work, I elected to stay home alone, wiping Henry's stinky butt at all hours of the day and night, while Ken went to the party (which includes an overnight stay at the hotel) and got some serious drink on. Enough so that he joined his friend Mike in the annual demonstration of that most excellent dance move known as "The Worm." Oh, yeah. Right in front of his boss, who was heard to say, "Stick a fork in Ken. He's done." Priceless memories that I have to have second hand.
If you're not laughing already, I should add that Sunday morning when Ken got home, he noted that his forehead was sore. Around 2pm he suddenly remembered that it was from smacking his head into the dance floor while pulling his super dance move. I almost pee my pants whenever I think of it. Thank God I made sure his good friends would be there to keep an eye on him. For Ken to have been anywhere near a dance floor indicates to me exactly how much whiskey he had in his system. To his credit, last night when we had dinner w/all those friends, he promised that next year he'll bring his better judgment with him. Meaning, of course, me. Mwahahahaha.
But enough chit-chat about Christmas. I have to get off my ass and get shopping and cleaning. I have bought exactly 4 presents so far, and if you've checked your calendar lately you'll have noticed that Christmas is coming in nine days. I've always been a wicked procrastinator, though, so I can do this. (I think.)
11.22.2008
Insomnia
I'm on a business trip. The last one of 2008, to be exact, and I was psyched as all hell yesterday about that fact. I'm in New Brunswick, NJ, which is less than 2hrs from home, so I'm in the comfort zone where I could get a good night's sleep since the kids are safe and snug at home (meaning, not here waking me up), yet I could be there quickly should something happen where Mommy would be needed in a pinch, like an ER trip for pneumonia or something. Which did actually happen last December when I was in Phoenix for work and I was not conveniently located within driving distance. Oh, the guilt.
Anyway, so I'm here for a two-day conference put on by the organization that I work for, and I have just one night to spend in this hotel. The hotel is only 1.5yrs old so it's not as skeevy as some hotels (even nicer chain ones) can be. I mean, the bed linens seem like only a few dozen people have used them, not a few thousand.
So what's the problem? The problem is that I fell into a nice, cozy sleep around 10pm, after talking to Ken and saying goodnight to Padraic. And then I bolted out of bed at midnight when the freaking herd of teenagers who's here for a model UN project began running up and down the hall, slamming doors, shrieking, giggling, and generally making huge asses of themselves.
When I get awakened in a manner that makes my adrenaline rush, like by one of my kids screaming for me because he's sick, say, that's pretty much it for me where sleep is concerned. Now it's 2am, I've been awake for 2hrs that I could've been snoozing away, and I am ticked off. The teenagers seem to have settled in for a quiet night, but every now and then I hear some cackling and carrying on in the room to one side of me. I know I was once a teenager on a trip away from home w/my friends, and it was exciting to have that much freedom. But now I am a crochety old lady who works for a living, has two kids, and needs some damn sleep. So shut up already, or I will be the hoser who calls hotel security to shut your ass up.
I don't have to be up until the "late" hour of 6:30 so there is still a bit of hope that I will get a few more hours of rest before I have to be back at the conference, working. I'd ask you to cross your fingers for me and send me sleepy vibes, but you, dear reader, are already asleep. Lucky you.
Anyway, so I'm here for a two-day conference put on by the organization that I work for, and I have just one night to spend in this hotel. The hotel is only 1.5yrs old so it's not as skeevy as some hotels (even nicer chain ones) can be. I mean, the bed linens seem like only a few dozen people have used them, not a few thousand.
So what's the problem? The problem is that I fell into a nice, cozy sleep around 10pm, after talking to Ken and saying goodnight to Padraic. And then I bolted out of bed at midnight when the freaking herd of teenagers who's here for a model UN project began running up and down the hall, slamming doors, shrieking, giggling, and generally making huge asses of themselves.
When I get awakened in a manner that makes my adrenaline rush, like by one of my kids screaming for me because he's sick, say, that's pretty much it for me where sleep is concerned. Now it's 2am, I've been awake for 2hrs that I could've been snoozing away, and I am ticked off. The teenagers seem to have settled in for a quiet night, but every now and then I hear some cackling and carrying on in the room to one side of me. I know I was once a teenager on a trip away from home w/my friends, and it was exciting to have that much freedom. But now I am a crochety old lady who works for a living, has two kids, and needs some damn sleep. So shut up already, or I will be the hoser who calls hotel security to shut your ass up.
I don't have to be up until the "late" hour of 6:30 so there is still a bit of hope that I will get a few more hours of rest before I have to be back at the conference, working. I'd ask you to cross your fingers for me and send me sleepy vibes, but you, dear reader, are already asleep. Lucky you.
11.14.2008
Poor customer service
We have an awesome new pediatrician, thanks to the recommendation of my friend TallGirl, and I have no intention of changing, but let's just say I have a few comments on their customer service.
I recently took Henry to his 15-month checkup, and he got his first flu shot. Since it's his first ever (he was too young for one last fall), he needs a second shot a month after the first one. At the front desk, I tried to make his appt for his second shot.
"Oh, you'll have to talk to Diane to do that. I can't make flu shot appointments, just ones for physicals," I was told by the woman at the front desk. Um, OK. I don't know who Diane is, but I know flu shots are their own animal, having experienced at our old pediatrician's office the horror of "flu shot days," which were ill-timed days in November on which your child could get scheduled for a flu shot. Only on these inconvenient days were the shots administered, and they were always behind schedule so you'd sit there for ages waiting for your 30-second visit with the nurse.
I figured I'd wait until I got home and then call the mysterious Diane, who meanwhile was probably sitting in an office less than 30 feet from me. Whatever.
So I tried to make Henry's 18-month appointment and Padraic's 4-year appointment for the same day in late January to avoid having to come back twice.
Woman at the desk: "What was the date of Padraic's last physical?"
Me: "I'm not sure of the exact date, but it was within the week of his birthday, so anything after January 19 would be fine."
Woman: "We need to confirm the actual date because the insurance will not pay if the appointment happens less than 12 months from his previous one."
Me: "I know that, and it's fine. If we shoot for the last week of January, we'll be fine."
Woman: "I can't do that without knowing for sure it'll be more than 12 months from his previous physical. You don't remember the date?"
Me (who can hardly remember to put shoes on before leaving the house): "No, but it's in his medical records that we transferred over here so it'd be easy to look it up in his file."
Woman: "Oh, we can't look that up for you. You'll have to call your insurance company, find out the date, and then let us know. Now what date would you like for Henry's next appointment?"
Me (incredulous): "Forget it. I don't want to have to come back twice for two physicals that could be done at once. I'll just have to call some other time and set up the appointments."
I admit I left somewhat in a huff. I didn't expect someone to have looked up Padraic's last dr's appointment date for me that second, but if his file is in the room behind the front desk (probably right near the elusive Diane, too) and if someone was going to have to refile Henry's medical records since he'd just had an appointment, would it really have been that difficult for someone to open Padraic's folder, stare at the sheet of paper from his last appointment, and note the date? I didn't think that was too much to ask, and neither did my insurance company. I called them to find out the date, and they thought I was crazy. They asked me why I didn't just have the dr's office look it up in his file. Gee, I wish I'd thought of that.
Once I had the date in hand, I called the office to make the appointments. First, I figured I'd make the flu shot appointments since they are needed sooner. The phone menu gave no option for how to reach Diane, so I chose the option for the appointment secretary. When I reached her, I told her I'd like to talk to Diane about flu shot appts. She told me I'd have to call back to the same number I'd just called, but this time wait on hold to talk to the sick nurse. Then tell the sick nurse that I need to talk to Diane. WTF? I was already on the phone with someone at the office, and I bet she was sitting in the same room as the unreachable Diane, and she wouldn't just transfer me herself?! Are you kidding me?
Doesn't it make more sense to have an appointment secretary, who probably is on each call for only 1-2 minutes, make a call transfer instead of having someone wait on hold with the sick nurse, whose conversations about symptoms and such run much longer each? I tried to get transferred without having to call back. No dice. I called the sick nurse's number again and got a dial tone. Fuck it. I will call back another day when I don't feel like wringing their necks anymore.
Is it too much to ask to streamline your customer service so people can make the appointments they need w/o waiting on hold for someone they don't really need to talk to? How about just giving Diane her own number in the phone menu so people can reach her directly? And how about asking your office staff to handle simple requests like looking up something in a patient's medical record. That's what the records are kept for, right? So in the future someone can look back and find information about something that was done? If I gave people the run-around like this at work, I'd be taken to task for it. Don't think I won't be mentioning it to the dr the next time we actually are able to make an appointment via this labyrinthine system.
I recently took Henry to his 15-month checkup, and he got his first flu shot. Since it's his first ever (he was too young for one last fall), he needs a second shot a month after the first one. At the front desk, I tried to make his appt for his second shot.
"Oh, you'll have to talk to Diane to do that. I can't make flu shot appointments, just ones for physicals," I was told by the woman at the front desk. Um, OK. I don't know who Diane is, but I know flu shots are their own animal, having experienced at our old pediatrician's office the horror of "flu shot days," which were ill-timed days in November on which your child could get scheduled for a flu shot. Only on these inconvenient days were the shots administered, and they were always behind schedule so you'd sit there for ages waiting for your 30-second visit with the nurse.
I figured I'd wait until I got home and then call the mysterious Diane, who meanwhile was probably sitting in an office less than 30 feet from me. Whatever.
So I tried to make Henry's 18-month appointment and Padraic's 4-year appointment for the same day in late January to avoid having to come back twice.
Woman at the desk: "What was the date of Padraic's last physical?"
Me: "I'm not sure of the exact date, but it was within the week of his birthday, so anything after January 19 would be fine."
Woman: "We need to confirm the actual date because the insurance will not pay if the appointment happens less than 12 months from his previous one."
Me: "I know that, and it's fine. If we shoot for the last week of January, we'll be fine."
Woman: "I can't do that without knowing for sure it'll be more than 12 months from his previous physical. You don't remember the date?"
Me (who can hardly remember to put shoes on before leaving the house): "No, but it's in his medical records that we transferred over here so it'd be easy to look it up in his file."
Woman: "Oh, we can't look that up for you. You'll have to call your insurance company, find out the date, and then let us know. Now what date would you like for Henry's next appointment?"
Me (incredulous): "Forget it. I don't want to have to come back twice for two physicals that could be done at once. I'll just have to call some other time and set up the appointments."
I admit I left somewhat in a huff. I didn't expect someone to have looked up Padraic's last dr's appointment date for me that second, but if his file is in the room behind the front desk (probably right near the elusive Diane, too) and if someone was going to have to refile Henry's medical records since he'd just had an appointment, would it really have been that difficult for someone to open Padraic's folder, stare at the sheet of paper from his last appointment, and note the date? I didn't think that was too much to ask, and neither did my insurance company. I called them to find out the date, and they thought I was crazy. They asked me why I didn't just have the dr's office look it up in his file. Gee, I wish I'd thought of that.
Once I had the date in hand, I called the office to make the appointments. First, I figured I'd make the flu shot appointments since they are needed sooner. The phone menu gave no option for how to reach Diane, so I chose the option for the appointment secretary. When I reached her, I told her I'd like to talk to Diane about flu shot appts. She told me I'd have to call back to the same number I'd just called, but this time wait on hold to talk to the sick nurse. Then tell the sick nurse that I need to talk to Diane. WTF? I was already on the phone with someone at the office, and I bet she was sitting in the same room as the unreachable Diane, and she wouldn't just transfer me herself?! Are you kidding me?
Doesn't it make more sense to have an appointment secretary, who probably is on each call for only 1-2 minutes, make a call transfer instead of having someone wait on hold with the sick nurse, whose conversations about symptoms and such run much longer each? I tried to get transferred without having to call back. No dice. I called the sick nurse's number again and got a dial tone. Fuck it. I will call back another day when I don't feel like wringing their necks anymore.
Is it too much to ask to streamline your customer service so people can make the appointments they need w/o waiting on hold for someone they don't really need to talk to? How about just giving Diane her own number in the phone menu so people can reach her directly? And how about asking your office staff to handle simple requests like looking up something in a patient's medical record. That's what the records are kept for, right? So in the future someone can look back and find information about something that was done? If I gave people the run-around like this at work, I'd be taken to task for it. Don't think I won't be mentioning it to the dr the next time we actually are able to make an appointment via this labyrinthine system.
Heading for financial solvency
News flash: Life is expensive. Education, kids, house, cars, all the other things that fill life with either happiness (vacations) or just doodads (souvenirs).
Actually, when I think about it my education expenses could've been a lot worse. I went to a private liberal arts college and paid out-of-pocket via summer jobs and student loans the equivalent of less than what one year of my tuition, room, and board cost. Then I went to grad school, which deferred my loan repayment but added to my overall debt since my assistantships and extra employment (at the library, what a surprise) didn't fully cover my life expenses. Bygones, it was worth it in the long run since grad school led me to (a) Ken and (b) my current career.
Getting married and buying a house definitely put a crimp in the ole cash flow, though the generosity of our wedding guests boosted our downpayment nicely. Just as we were feeling confident with our newest financial situation, we started our family and had to rework the system all over again.
If you don't use day care, then you may not be aware of the shocking price of various day-care options. I'm not comfortable with in-home care (just my personal opinion; to each his or her own) so we have always used centers. The first one we used seemed pricey to us at the time, but in retrospect it was not that bad, and you get what you pay for. Ahem, after I got through the initial period back to work of thinking I'd be unhappy with any day-care situation, I realized that I was unhappy with it because the center truly was subpar.
We found a new one, with a steeper price tag but one that was well worth the cleanliness, safety, and educational value provided. And that is the center we use to this day. Of course, once you add a second child to the day-care bill, as we did in 2007, you are going to have to start selling your internal organs to make the weekly payments. Don't worry; I sure I didn't need my left lung or that lobe of my liver, anyway.
Oh, and did I mention that right before we started our family, we needed to buy a new car because we had two unreliable ones? So we threw that into the mix. And in between having baby #1 and baby #2, the second vehicle needed to replaced. We bought used that time, but there's still a loan involved.
The only good news is that having all these commitments has made us uber-focused on what we owe to whom and how quickly we can possibly pay it off. I'm happy to report that my car is finally paid off, and we're 5 months early on that one. While it's tempting to make a pile of money in the middle of the family room and roll in it a la Scrooge McDuck, I will simply be earmarking the freed-up cash for speeding up the payments on my almost-done student loans.
I feel like we're making progress here, which is heartening given the economic situation we're now in across the United States, but I won't feel truly good until any and all education-related and (even worse) consumer debts are wiped out. Then I might, just might, make that money pile. But probably not because by then I'll be paying for sports and God-knows-what lessons and such things for the boys. There's always something, which is fine as long as it makes us happy and doesn't just drain the coffers.
Actually, when I think about it my education expenses could've been a lot worse. I went to a private liberal arts college and paid out-of-pocket via summer jobs and student loans the equivalent of less than what one year of my tuition, room, and board cost. Then I went to grad school, which deferred my loan repayment but added to my overall debt since my assistantships and extra employment (at the library, what a surprise) didn't fully cover my life expenses. Bygones, it was worth it in the long run since grad school led me to (a) Ken and (b) my current career.
Getting married and buying a house definitely put a crimp in the ole cash flow, though the generosity of our wedding guests boosted our downpayment nicely. Just as we were feeling confident with our newest financial situation, we started our family and had to rework the system all over again.
If you don't use day care, then you may not be aware of the shocking price of various day-care options. I'm not comfortable with in-home care (just my personal opinion; to each his or her own) so we have always used centers. The first one we used seemed pricey to us at the time, but in retrospect it was not that bad, and you get what you pay for. Ahem, after I got through the initial period back to work of thinking I'd be unhappy with any day-care situation, I realized that I was unhappy with it because the center truly was subpar.
We found a new one, with a steeper price tag but one that was well worth the cleanliness, safety, and educational value provided. And that is the center we use to this day. Of course, once you add a second child to the day-care bill, as we did in 2007, you are going to have to start selling your internal organs to make the weekly payments. Don't worry; I sure I didn't need my left lung or that lobe of my liver, anyway.
Oh, and did I mention that right before we started our family, we needed to buy a new car because we had two unreliable ones? So we threw that into the mix. And in between having baby #1 and baby #2, the second vehicle needed to replaced. We bought used that time, but there's still a loan involved.
The only good news is that having all these commitments has made us uber-focused on what we owe to whom and how quickly we can possibly pay it off. I'm happy to report that my car is finally paid off, and we're 5 months early on that one. While it's tempting to make a pile of money in the middle of the family room and roll in it a la Scrooge McDuck, I will simply be earmarking the freed-up cash for speeding up the payments on my almost-done student loans.
I feel like we're making progress here, which is heartening given the economic situation we're now in across the United States, but I won't feel truly good until any and all education-related and (even worse) consumer debts are wiped out. Then I might, just might, make that money pile. But probably not because by then I'll be paying for sports and God-knows-what lessons and such things for the boys. There's always something, which is fine as long as it makes us happy and doesn't just drain the coffers.
11.11.2008
Road trip
Doesn't that subject line smack of fun times, freedom, the wind blowing through your hair? Yeah, well, don't get too excited. This afternoon Ken dropped me at the airport so I could pick up my rental car for my trip to Ithaca tomorrow. Yup, Ithaca. Ithaca, New York. Home of Cornell University. I'm sure it's very nice...when it's not snowing.
Somehow I have managed to screw myself this fall by picking universities to visit that are in colder places than Philadelphia. A couple weeks ago I flew to Pittsburgh and back, and I experienced my first snow flurry of the season. It wasn't horrible, but since I still had a nagging cough from the bug du jour that had infected us all around that time, it was not all fun and games. The cold air made me want to spit out my clogged lungs and start over with new ones.
And now tomorrow I will head to a city where the temperature is going to top out in the low 40s. What was I thinking? At least I ditched the idea of traveling to Penn State's main campus this winter. I told my boss that that trip will just have to wait until the spring thaw. I'm no fan of cold weather as it is, and I have to stop seeking it out via business travel. Next year maybe I'll be smart enough to choose to visit the deep south during November/December. Or maybe sunny southern California, though that long a flight makes me want to live in a Star Trek episode and have a transporter beam instead.
Let's just hope that the rain that is supposed to start in PA and NY sometime tomorrow night waits until I'm home. Cuz I really don't want to find out how my awesome Chevy Cobalt from Hertz handles in slick conditions. I shoulda taken the Mercury Mariner they offered me at first, but no, I didn't want a car that big. Silly Sara.
Somehow I have managed to screw myself this fall by picking universities to visit that are in colder places than Philadelphia. A couple weeks ago I flew to Pittsburgh and back, and I experienced my first snow flurry of the season. It wasn't horrible, but since I still had a nagging cough from the bug du jour that had infected us all around that time, it was not all fun and games. The cold air made me want to spit out my clogged lungs and start over with new ones.
And now tomorrow I will head to a city where the temperature is going to top out in the low 40s. What was I thinking? At least I ditched the idea of traveling to Penn State's main campus this winter. I told my boss that that trip will just have to wait until the spring thaw. I'm no fan of cold weather as it is, and I have to stop seeking it out via business travel. Next year maybe I'll be smart enough to choose to visit the deep south during November/December. Or maybe sunny southern California, though that long a flight makes me want to live in a Star Trek episode and have a transporter beam instead.
Let's just hope that the rain that is supposed to start in PA and NY sometime tomorrow night waits until I'm home. Cuz I really don't want to find out how my awesome Chevy Cobalt from Hertz handles in slick conditions. I shoulda taken the Mercury Mariner they offered me at first, but no, I didn't want a car that big. Silly Sara.
11.08.2008
Overload
I have this book called Survival Tips for Working Moms by Linda Goodman Pillsbury, and in the beginning of the book is a list of life tasks. She asks the reader to go through the list, jotting down who in the household is responsible for each task. There are too many for me to list here, 91 to be exact, broken down into the following categories: A typical day, Sick kids, Cleaning, Laundry, Groceries, Outside, Errands, Cars, Organization, and School.
I counted which ones I am responsible for versus which ones Ken usually does. Let's call it a little uneven:
Me 79
Him 12
And that's being gracious by not counting for myself anything we both might do. I gave all those overlaps to his count.
Hey, no wonder I'm tired.
If you're a working mommy, how do you and your significant other (if there is one in the picture) divvy up the housework and childcare responsibilities? Apparently I've done a great job of screwing myself and am going to have to set out on a campaign of dividing the big to-do list more fairly. After all, both Ken and I work full time. Yes, I telecommute two days/week while he's at the office, but that doesn't provide all the time to get stuff done around the house that he (or you?) might think. In fact, I don't really get any housework done on those days since it's a full enough day just working and watching Henry. Maybe when Padraic is home instead I'll find time to throw in a load of laundry here and there, but let's not expect miracles.
Now I have to think of how to successfully navigate a conversation in which I ask my husband to do about 40 more things than he's been doing around the house. And on a regular basis, preferably w/o constant reminders from me. That's what Outlook is for, right?
I counted which ones I am responsible for versus which ones Ken usually does. Let's call it a little uneven:
Me 79
Him 12
And that's being gracious by not counting for myself anything we both might do. I gave all those overlaps to his count.
Hey, no wonder I'm tired.
If you're a working mommy, how do you and your significant other (if there is one in the picture) divvy up the housework and childcare responsibilities? Apparently I've done a great job of screwing myself and am going to have to set out on a campaign of dividing the big to-do list more fairly. After all, both Ken and I work full time. Yes, I telecommute two days/week while he's at the office, but that doesn't provide all the time to get stuff done around the house that he (or you?) might think. In fact, I don't really get any housework done on those days since it's a full enough day just working and watching Henry. Maybe when Padraic is home instead I'll find time to throw in a load of laundry here and there, but let's not expect miracles.
Now I have to think of how to successfully navigate a conversation in which I ask my husband to do about 40 more things than he's been doing around the house. And on a regular basis, preferably w/o constant reminders from me. That's what Outlook is for, right?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)