We managed to get through last weekend disease-free, but Friday we started noticing some crusties in Henry's eyes....yep, he's got pinkeye. Can't go back to day care til Wednesday, so that means I take a day off, and so does Ben. Thank God I have an understanding boss-I've only been there two freaking months and have had to miss for his illnesses, and then for mine when I catch whatever he has. I know my former workplace wouldn't have been so understanding.
But then again my former job was a den of passive aggressive gossips and miserable people-with some notable exceptions. When you go to HR to try to get some help dealing with difficult people and the HR staffperson you talk to says "A lot of people at your office are on medication to deal with it til retirement. That, or they have a really strong relationship with their church."
Look, I'm all for people having whatever faith they want. But when the HR policy at a GOVERNMENT AGENCY is "Turn to Jesus"...well, it's just time to get the hell out. When she said that to me, and started talking to me about her relationship with the Lord, I really wanted to say "Are you shitting me?" Totally inappropriate.
And finding work in a great place really makes you realize how much a toxic job can affect your life-your health, your mood, your relationship with other people-everything.
Other than that this weekend has been interesting, we've had some family drama. My sister called me to tell me about it, and Henry was asleep on an overstuffed chair. I got up to talk to her, and somehow he managed to roll himself off of it-luckily he landed on a pillow and was fine, but I was completely horrified. The feeling I had when I saw that empty chair and didn't know if he was okay or not-that was the worst feeling I've ever had. It just reminded me of this new vulnerability that comes with having a kid, the realization that if anything happened to them, it would kill you. I remember sitting at home the first week I had him home and just crying, thinking about all the things that could happen to him. (Of course, when I started obsessing about things like "What if we take him to the beach and a shark eats him?" I realized that post-partum depression is no joke and got some help for it). I don't want to be one of those irritating people who dramatically heaves about how "you just don't understand until you have a child" but it's certainly a feeling that I'd never had before I had one. I have lots of people I love, but that kid is a piece of me. He's my whole life. And those moments will never stop-when I'm not sure where he is or if he's ok. God help me when he starts driving and misses curfew.
So yesterday I felt like a horrible mother-he has never rolled from belly to back in front of me, and still hasn't, I had no idea he could move that much. A word of advice to all the new moms who read this-never assume ANYTHING. Some silver linings, though-lots of people have similar stories and will tell them to you to make you feel better, and I decided that the crib is no longer an optional piece of furniture-he is sleeping in that damn thing. The fall gave me the motivation and determination to get him sleeping in it.
And he's in it now, looking like a little Halloween prisoner in his orange and black striped PJs.