I feel like I'm always ten posts behind on this blog. I would love to post every day, but that is a luxury for another year, I suppose.
So I had been working at A-Z Family Services, helping part-time with the administration part of a new case management program they're offering for teens on Drug Court, when Harbor House shut down. I asked my boss, Tom, if I could expand to full time hours and he said I could-- but not until business picked up in case management sufficiently for him to be able to afford to pay me.
It was looking like that might not happen for a while and we were starting to REALLY tighten our belts when a miracle happened.
One random I got a call from Tom, who said, "The main office receptionist just quit. Do you want to replace him? Tomorrow?"
Did I ever. I just about fell to my knees in gratitude at that very moment.
And thus began my venture into the wide world of being a full-time working mom. Which is shockingly different from being a part-time working mom, in case you were wondering. I work every day from 10 - 6, which means that I wake up, eat breakfast, get ready, play with the boys for a little while, drop Soren off at my mom's so that Abe can actually get some schoolwork done (except on Tuesday, when Collette watches him), and drive to work. And then I'm gone all day. This makes me a little bit sad, because it disconnects me a little from home life. I don't get to see the little things that happen during the day. I don't hear the funny songs that Soren makes up, I don't hear Liam's creaky squealing, I don't play blocks and play dough for hours, I don't hold a squishy fat baby in my lap, I don't serve up graham crackers and milk for an afternoon snack. (Abe is good to text me when something cute happens, though, which helps a little.) And there is a plus side: I also don't have to deal with one million tantrums, watch the clock until Abe gets home, feel lonely and isolated, try to scrub poop out of the carpet with a toddler climbing on my back and a baby clutched in my arms, or drag a screaming two-year-old to his room with one arm while holding a twenty-five pound nursing baby in the other. In the evenings, I come home, we eat dinner (which Hillary has frequently prepared, may God bless and keep her forever and ever), I play with the boys for a little while, we go through our bedtime routine, the boys go to sleep, I attempt to pick up a little clutter, and then I crash into bed as well.
One thing that has helped immensely is that Soren goes to my parents' house nearly every day. My mom was really worried about Soren when I started working full-time: he's such a mama's boy, and she noticed that during that first week he had begun acting up more and lashing out more at Liam. So she called me and said, "I think that Soren needs one-on-one attention and a predictable routine. Can I watch him for a few hours every morning and bring him home after his nap?" Could she??? Could she ever. That has been such a blessing, providing my "spirited child" with a consistent place to go and receive the one-on-one attention that he so desperately needs, while simultaneously increasing Liam's safety and providing a quiet atmosphere in which Abraham is able to do his homework.
Also, we now have Briar living with us, in addition to Hillary.
And we blessed Liam on Sunday. These are both things that I hope to post about soon.
But for now, I need sleepy.