The day started out like all others, with me getting up on the 3rd beckoning from my alarm and still being way too tired to function properly and doing highly intelligent things like putting the milk in the cabinet and the cereal in the fridge and then barely getting my kids to school before the bell rang. Then I remembered that it was egg hunt day at the little ones preschool, so I got them up and dressed with their dozen eggs each and took them to school. I checked at the office on my way out of the building and found out that egg hunting was to commence at 1:30. I went home, had coffee, and then the crushing blow to my day came in the form of a phone call. It was a phone call we had been expecting, but not with the news we thought was coming. The news was bad. Not death or natural disaster bad, but it was a "hope-killer" bad. This was the beginning of the sucky day.
Despite the fact that I was devastated by that stupid phone call, I had to get on with my day. I took a shower, even put on make-up, and got to the pre-school early by at least 10 minutes to put on a happy face for my kids' egg hunt. Unfortunately my "happy face" didn't last long. This is my 2-year olds first year ever at pre-school. His class had already done their egg hunt around 11:30 or 12:00, right after lunch. I had missed it. His first EVER school Easter egg hunt, and I wasn't there. This was the first kid, out of all 4 that I had missed their first egg hunt. (If you aren't a parent, you're probably thinking this is not a big deal. If you are a parent, then you totally get this). Apparently, they "always" do the 2 year old's at lunch, right after recess because otherwise they are "too tired and cranky" at 1:30 and just want to go home. Well, thanks for telling me and the other moms who showed up at 1:30 to see their 2 year old's hunt eggs. I went with Lorelei's class to her egg hunt and then collected the 2 minions and went home.
I got to the parking lot to discover that some other mini-van driving mom had parked her van close enough to mine that they could have been mating. After side-stepping to get to the sliding van door and getting my 4 year old buckled in, I got the 2 year old in and then had to literally crawl across from the passenger side to get to my seat because there was no way I could get the driver's side door open enough to squeeze in. Then one of the few songs that is like nails on a chalkboard came on the radio followed by a bunch of crappy commercials with the kids' Nick Jr. DVD on right behind my right ear and I got distracted and topped the speed limit by a whole 3 miles per hour. I got pulled over. Less than a mile from home. I only got a warning, but the little things were already piling up on the proverbial camel's back.
I came home and checked some emails and got a snarky one about my blog so my "Sneaky Hate Spiral" continued. My kids were attacking their candy-filled Easter eggs like a couple of blood-thirsty wolverines, and they devoured more candy in the 4 minutes while I went to pee than I usually let them have in a week. There were wrappers EVERYWHERE. The dust from the air was already settling on their sticky little faces making them look like a couple of hobos from Big Rock Candy Mountain. Then the other 2 came home from school and the choruses of "How come they get candy and we don't? That's not fair! We want candy!" started. After about 30 minutes of that crap, I'd had it. I bolted the front and back door, told the kids that I had a headache and needed an hour of quiet, went to my room and closed the door.
Even my nap was screwed up. All I wanted was to lie alone in the dark and wallow in self-pity, but that didn't happen. The kids came in my room no fewer that 26 times. THAT was half expected. What I didn't expect, was that there was a predator in my room with me. When I got up 72 minutes after trying to lie down, I had 3 half-dollar sized whelps on my back....just out of reach. Stupid mosquito.
I came out to the den to discover that my kids had, once again, thwarted the laws of physics. The small handful of Easter grass from Jackson's bag from preschool is just enough to cover the bottom of a white sandwich bag and also inexplicably enough to cover the ENTIRE den floor. And my vacuum doesn't like it -- it kept spitting it back out. Then the minions walked in. My camera was still in the car from the egg hunt at preschool. I wanted to properly convey the image that stood before me, so I searched and searched the internet for a specific picture from this 1954 Bugs Bunny Cartoon called "Bewitched Bunny." It is the one where he rescues Hansel and Gretel. I couldn't find the image I was searching for, but this IS from that cartoon and it IS of those characters:
The specific image that I was looking for was the one where they turned and faced the camera all wide-eyed and covered in chocolate.....because THAT is more like what was staring at me. I cleaned the chocolate, sugar residue, dirt dog hair and other crap that was stuck all over their faces and hands and realized I had nothing planned for dinner.
After all that, there was NO WAY I was cooking, so I went and got McDonald's. I then got a phone call from my husband who informed me that he would be home early from work (hopes raised like a shooting star!) ....because he had to be back at work at 7 AM for a stupid training class before working his regular shift from 1-1 (aaaaaaaaaand the hopes go crashing down). He will be at work for 17-18 hours today and will be paid for 8. I loathe and detest his job. He only gets paid overtime if he works on a weekend. It doesn't matter that they take him away from his family for an average of 12 hours a day during the week and only pay him for 8 and then spring these "special training classes" on him requiring an extra 4-8 hours on a day when he is already working. He has been stuck on 2nd shift since last June even though his position is supposed to be a rotating shift. Before this he was stuck on 3rd shift for 18 months. He has been with this company for 3 1/2 years and has worked 1st shift about 4 months, and one of those was his 1st month where he was shadowing another manager. If it weren't necessary for him to work to pay for things like food, rent, utilities, etc. I'd tell him to quit and we'd go back to Alabama where we belong.
So, how was your day?
4 comments:
Now that was a rough one. Sorry about your day! But, my main question is about your husband's job. . .How can they legally not pay him overtime?? My understanding is once you are over 40 hours you get time and a half. Doesn't matter if it is the weekend or not.
Because he's a manager. If he were one of the Union whiney-butts who is working for him, then they'd have to. Some of his line workers actually make more than he does because they DO make time and a half for overtime and double-time for holidays. The overtime he DOES get for working on weekends is also fixed -- $300 for 8 hours (which is less than his normal salary) and he doesn't get paid but half that if he only works 7 hours and 45 minutes. Not that it is all about the money -- it is more about the fact that he is NEVER here. (But the money would help, of course).
That is absolutely ridiculous and horribly frustrating, I am sure. Praying that you get the opportunity to move back to AL like you are hoping!!
Maybe I'll just post his resume here and ask for anyone who needs a Manufacturing Manager near North Alabama to send me an email.....
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