Up until five minutes ago, this post was planned as an Andrew's school days update, and I was actually in a pretty good mood. All that changes quickly, though, and somehow I ended up with a bunch of crap to bitch about.
Andrew's (and my) week started in the complete opposite direction from last week. As great as last week was, Monday and Tuesday morning were equally sucky. What had been a bright, smiling face boarding the bus last week turned into a sobbing, hysterical, tear-Mommy's-heart-out-and-stomp-on-it pathetic, crying face--all out of the blue. He had not mentioned not wanting to go to school or ride the bus until almost time to leave the house, and then he was fine until I walked him out to the bus at my school. Of course, I shoved him onto the bus as he held onto my skirt...and then cried myself as the bus pulled away with his sad little face still crying as he held my gaze. Ugggh. We talked that afternoon, but didn't get to the root of the problem...only to have a smaller scale repeat on Tuesday morning. WTH? We all decided that Daddy would drive the little guy to school this morning, and on the way there, Andrew revealed the problem: his little girl friend was pressuring him to sit on the bus with her every day, and he just doesn't want to. It was fine the first few days when they both needed something familiar, but he's moving on. She wasn't taking "no" for an answer, and he was trying really hard to stand up to her without hurting her feelings. So, he was causing himself pain and anguish in an effort to be nice. Good for him...but geez! Of course, today there were no tears, but we're attempting the bus again tomorrow. I just might have to tell her myself to preserve my own sanity.
We are on Fish Death Watch II, I think. Jiggah II, the replacement for the dearly-departed Jiggah I, was upside down in a plant when I came upstairs this evening. He was fine this morning, dammit! So, Goldfish 911 to the rescue---some time in a small glass, a dose of antibiotics, and a few peas to clean him out---and he righted himself in no time! Ever (stupidly) optimistic, I thought for a while he just might be okay, and I put him back in the tank with Bootie. I was even encouraged by seeing him poop! Sadly, though, I realize it's probably just a matter of time, but to quote Andrew upon seeing Jiggah in his ICU glass, "Oh, I really hope he doesn't die too!" (My poor son has seen entirely too much death for his young years.) So, keep your fins crossed, and short of mouth-to-mouth and any kind of vet bill (I like him a lot, but he is "just" a fish!), I'll do what I can to save him.
My stress level at work is entirely too high for this early in the year. Between psycho kids who give me death stares when I expect them to work, colleagues who don't do what they're supposed to, and principals who dump on trust me with entirely too many responsibilities, I am almost fed up already. My nature, typically, is just to take on the extra responsibilities, regardless of what havoc it causes for me. But not today. My proud moment of the day was a triple-redelegation. No, I won't call so-and-so's parents to arrange a conference, but his homeroom teacher will. No, I won't call so-and-so's parents to find out why she hasn't been at school for days and days already, but her homeroom teacher will. And no, I won't create a huge thank you poster for the whole faculty to sign to thank the donor of Subway sandwiches for a first day treat, but the art teacher will. And in the end, I have "taken care of" these things by ensuring that they get done...even if it is by others. It may sound unprofessional and as if I don't like my job (I do), but I stand by my opinion that lately, it does not do me any good to excel at any aspect of my job--all it gets me is more thrown my way, because I "can handle it." It also doesn't seem to hurt to SUCK--those people get absolved of extra duties because they CAN'T handle them, and they still get to keep their jobs and take home paychecks. It's. Not. Fair.
To top it all off, my car has been in the shop for over two weeks now and still hasn't been touched. Granted, I procrastinated taking it to our local neighborhood mechanic, but seriously! Guys, maybe if you took shorter lunches and stayed at the shop past four p.m., you'd get a little work done! I know I said I wasn't in a rush, but I also didn't mean to wait until Halloween. Thanks to you, I got yelled at and made to feel like a ten year-old again by my dad, whose van (Edna's) I have borrowed to tide us over, and who can GLADLY have his damn van back right this very minute if he insists on making me feel like crap. Please--yell at me about things over which I have no control. That's my favorite!
To ice the cake, Dad mentioned he is taking a trailer full of stuff with him to the lake this weekend, just in case we needed anything hauled. He rattled off a bunch of things, the last of which were some plastic outdoor chairs he's taking down for my sister. His next comment? "She probably won't want them, though, because they're not new and pretty. If she doesn't want them, you can have them for your place." Need I say more?