Friday, January 19, 2007

ROARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A HUGE ANGRY GUILTY ANGRY ROAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

WITH EXTRA ADDED EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I normally start work on a friday at 1.15pm. P and I usually go into town for a little ladies time, then we have lunch, then I drop her at preschool by 1 ish. I ususally then telecon into breakfast meetings happening in the US. It's a pretty good system. This morning I got a message asking if I could make a telecon at 7.30 am eastern time, and becasue of every thing going on at the moment, and because of beign paranoid about getting RIF'd on account of being the only part timer and living so far away and the appearance that can give of being inflexible, I said "sure, ok, no problem". We had just been, she and I, to visit a big girl school, which she'd really enjoyed and had asked lots of questions (even though she won't be going to school til sept 08)(do you hcave computers? do you have a trampoline? do you have books with numbers in? do you have chairs? why is there no top A note on your glockenspiel?) (i love it when she makes people's eyebrows disappear over the tops of their heads) and wanted to chat about it. I phoned the preschool to see if she could come in early, they said ok, but they hadn't cooked enough lunch to include her, so I'd have to feed her first. absolutely fine. so, we're sitting in the coffee shop, from where I'm making the calls and drinking tea and P is chatting to the coffee house guy about why he doesn't have any blueberry muffins today and could she maybe come in the kitchen and help him and that he would need eggs and flour and milk and blueberries and did he have any blueberries because if not she could go get some from the big shop but if they didn't have any blueberries in the big shop maybe they could make raspberry muffins instead because she likes raspberries and they usually have raspberris in the big shop, and I'm loving this because I love how she's such an independent person with her own relationships and her own tastes and the way she sets about problem solving and wanting to help, and I'm feeling bad that I have to take her to nursery early, but console myself with the thought that at least her favourite staff combo will be in charge this afternoon. So, the plan was that after drink and cake we would go to primark (v cheap shop that anyone interested in brands and labels chokes at the thought of entering) to choose some new tights because her favourite pink tights now seem to have the crotch permanently around her ankles. great, so we can pop get the tights, stop and get her some lunch then on to preschool.

now, backtrack a little, she has an intolerance to cow dairy, it exacerbates her asthma, so we have to be pretty restricted on her intake (she has goats milk for cereal, drinking etc). yesterday she asked if we could have mac and cheese for lunch, and since I wanted some too (and can't stand taste of goat milk) and because she hadn't had any dairy for a few days, i made one with a little cow milk, some creme fraiche and some cheese.
Needless to say she woke at 6.30 this morning coughing and with a chest full of slime. great. have poisoned child. deliberately poisoned child because was too lazy to make two separate dishes or to use my imagination to think of somethin else she'd like for lunch.
so anyway, we're in the coffee shop and she starts to cough, whioch leads to coughing and wheezing, which leads to throwing up copiously down her pinafore, tights, shoes (suede, naturally)(please don't think I would normally buy suede shoes for a 3 year old,t hey were in the sale, seriously reduced). I take her and clean her up, but instead of going homeshe insists on finishing her juice and croissant and insists she still wants to go to get tights. So, we rush to primark, rush to another errand i'd forgeotten about, rush to a cafe to get her a sandwich - where seh wants to spend ages choosignn just the right combination of bread and chicken and olives and mayo. which we then don't have time for her to eat more than a quarter of before I realise that time is running out on me. I get up to go pay while she's still eating, and my chair falls backward (had left heavy bag on back of it) into the lap of an older lady sitting at the table behind. i apologise profusely. she apparently has heard me apologising to p for rushing her and explaining about my meeting.
loud voice of lady "it's such a shame that mothers these days can't seemt o put their children first"
omigod.
voice of me "well, if you can think of another way that i can earn x0,000k for a 25 hour week, leaving me, nine weeks out of ten, to spend 5 straight days out of 7 with my child, then I'm all ears, otherwise can you keep your foul judgmental mouth pursed up tight!"
not my finest hour. in front of my baby.
we don't havethe stroller with us, because we hardly use it anymore, so i rushed her little legs, still in the wiped up sicky tights and shoes (i'd bought new tights, and a pair of track pants for her to change into at primark) out of there. her clutching remains of sandwich in little bag. crying becasue i'd shouted at the lady. it's a good half mile to the nursery, i half carried half ran ehr there, she fell down, but wouldn't let me look at it. she's wheezing away because she could really do with having a sit down and a toke on her inhaler (which is at school) I rush her there, dump her off, rush home, pee, call the guy at 6 minutes passed the appointed time . . .
and he tells me he now has to go. could i call him on monday.
what. am. I. doing?

1 Comments:

At 3:21 pm, January 19, 2007, Anonymous Jenny said...

I wish I didn't relate to this...but I do. And sister, you're kicking ass. It might not feel like it but you're balancing two very heavy loads and being flexible with both of them.

You rock...even if it doesn't feel like it right now.

 

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