linden_jay

If you can't afford to hold the Olympics without slashing the fuck out of education, financially crippling teachers and support staff and fucking up the opportunities of students? DON'T HOLD THE FUCKING OLYMPICS!

Why is this not obvious? Why is this not utterly and completely fucking obvious? Imagine if private citizens decided to hold a giant party in their backyard, redecorate their house, add a few rooms, change the bathrooms and the kitchen, do landscaping, and then when the bill game due went 'oh, shit... guess I didn't have enough money for that. No worries--I'll just cut back the amount of money I pay in taxes per month... I'm sure that the government can get the money from somewhere else. Plenty of other sources out there for them to get money from!'

Yeah. Okay. Probably not the most fluid of all analogies, but come on, here. We don't get to pay for things we can't afford without being the ones to suffer the consequences. But when they do it... we suffer the consequences.

I'm a fan of sport. I see the value in it, and I see the value in athletics, and athletic competition. I also see the value in building infrastructure that holding an event like the Olympics requires, and the benefit to the city and province that comes from having that infrastructure built. I see that it creates jobs.

But you can't sell me on the benefit of the Olympics and how it creates jobs when you turn around and gut the education system. When you cut the jobs from thousands of people, either entirely, or down to part-time, or even casual and substitute work. People who have held jobs for years now are going to be back on the substitute and casual lists in BC because all of a sudden, just coincidentally a few months after the Olympics have been held, the schools budgets have been drastically, devastatingly cut.

And you can't sell me on the concept that we don't have money enough to pay for education when not only did you just hold a giant party in our backyard, but it turns out that millions of dollars were spent on free tickets and complimentary this and that for VIPs.

Because wow. I'm so glad that I'll be working two jobs this fall just to break even, if we're lucky. I'm so glad that I'll be working twelve hour days, at least three days of the week to pay for daycare because the only job I could work that has benefits is smack in the middle of the day--meaning that I have to pay for a full day and not just a half day of daycare--but doesn't pay enough to cover daycare because it's only part time hours. I'm so glad that my husband's going to be substitute teaching for his eighth year running, because, you've raised class sizes, cut programs, and removed actual teaching positions. Again.

No, really. All of this was completely worth it, so long as we managed to impress and wine and dine and entertain the VIPs. And if teachers and support staff are affected by the cuts to education, if children are affected, well. All part of the cost of doing business.

1) I am tired. Raise your hand if you're shocked. Really, I need to find a new #1 thing to whine about, but it's just so, well. True.

2) The aliens have been getting slightly better about sleeping now that they're not sick anymore, but that didn't stop them from having a truly epically wretched night last night. Poor Monkey kept falling asleep and waking up in hysterics, like she was having nightmares, and the Frog was just completely stubborn and Do Not Want as regards sleep. I blame it on them having shit naps on Sunday in the daytime. Hopefully I can break the cycle if I can get them down for two good naps today.

3) Work continues to be... interesting. I only get one more training shift at my actual job before I'm all on my own on a weekend *cue panic*. I left a note for my boss that said I didn't feel ready and that I'd like one more training shift before my last training shift, but he never called me back. Which leads me to:

4) Work has called me three times already today. At nine am. NINE AM. 1) I have babies, and 2), dude, I know I didn't work last night, but I work the night shift. Who calls someone who works the night shift at nine am!?!?! The first was to ask me about my tax forms (which I left in a pile with the note that never got answered, so clearly he didn't find those), the second was to ask me for my Social Insurance Number, and the third was to ask me for my birthday. This is all for my paycheque, so y'know. I'll take the calls, but he better not have been kidding when he promised not to call again today.

5) I am on episode 12 of Season Two of Doctor Who. I have been warned by ashinae that my opinions re: some things/characters/whatnot might be considered heretical in circles, so I will tread carefully until I know what kind of Whosits I have on my flist. I will say this though--watching Doctor Who? Making Torchwood make OH so very much more sense.

6) It may be Monday, but I have hot chocolate, three cattens curled up on my bed, and napping aliens. I'll take that as a win, for now.

Yes. Um. That. I posted that on twitter, and never quite explained myself. So, new job!

This is one of those situations where someone went 'hey, the night auditor at the hotel doesn't have nearly enough work to do--so why don't we also have them do all the pool maintenance, as well as mopping the pool area/vacuuming the front lobby area/other work that we used to pay a bellman to do. This is much better!' As it happens, I disagree with this assessment. But they don't pay me to disagree.

As much as I tangle my work, home life, and fandom all together, I think I'm going to be mostly blogging at work over at jay_bean, just to keep it away from the jay_linden identity. I'll also probably be flocking most of my work related rants whether they're here or there, but particularly if they're here (oh, there are going to be work related rants... I can see this already), so if you want to be on that filter, or you want off that filter, then look! It's a handy poll!

[Poll #1557066]

Later, I can do the actual, y'know. Ranting. But I figured I should know who wants to listen to me do the ranting first.

It's been a full week since my interview, I've heard nothing yet, and they're still running the ad in the paper. I'm really not sure what to take from that... or what the policy is for what someone should do, in this eventuality. Is a follow-up email appropriate? Assuming I could find an email address to even write to. Gah. This is why I hate looking for work. Just hire me, people! I'm awesome! I will bring the internets to vouch for me! I'm organized and all kinds of shiny... can the people in my RPG who have seen my dorktastic organizational skills be my reference? Perhaps not.

The Frog and Monkey are mostly over the cold/flu/respiratory virus of doom, except that the Frog is still coughing his little lungs out. All night. Which wakes him up even more than usual, which wakes me up even more than usual. I can't tell if my sore throat is just a protest of the seasonal change and lack of sleep, or if I'm getting sick...er. Since I don't know that I ever got over being sick in the first place.

It's kind of ridiculous the stuff that happens while under the influence of lack of sleep. I know that the Frog woke me up at sometime past 5:00am. I know that I took him to bed with me and we both fell back asleep. I know that I did not put him back in his crib. I have no memory record of the Academic Husband coming in and relieving me of the Frog. So, at some point, he came in and like, literally took my wee one out of my arms and spirited away with him... and I do not remember this at all. One hopes that if it were someone, y'know, OTHER than my husband doing that, I would remember it. SIGH.

Sigh. The Frog did not sleep. I know, right? Shock. He's still sick, still snotty, and I think he keeps trying to breathe through his nose in the middle of the night, not being able to do it, and freaking himself out into a coughing fit because of it. Every. 45. to. 90. Minutes. Good grief on toast.

You know it's bad when the babies are so tired and snarky that they can't get through a bowl of applesauce. Take a bite, lip tremble, SOB. Only an hour after they wake up. Okay, back to bed for you. Never mind that Mummy hasn't slept yet, that's immaterial! Clearly we need a nap! Except... why are you bouncing in your crib? Two minutes ago you were so tired you were rubbing apple sauce in your eyes and hair... and now you're bouncing? WOT? That makes NO SENSE.

Babies are freaks, man. Also possibly evil.

I was already prepared for today to suck. I'm a month away from running out of maternity leave (I know, cry moar you Canadian, with your year long paid maternity leave), but that means that I need to find more work. Because my job won't start up again until September, because that's when the new school year starts.

There are two things I hate more than anything in the world: doing the cold call walk in the door and drop off a resume thing, and training for a new job once I get the new job. HATE HATE HATE. I hate not being good at things. I hate the fucking up until you get it right stage. Plus, I'm convinced that my resume looks like it was put together by a particularly intelligent Shi-tzu.

I think that I don't hear babies. Oh please, please let me be right. I am so tired.

Why? Because this is my wee frog, who is still supposed to be a tiny baby and not growing up and getting ready for y'know, his own car, and university, and dating, and whatever, but here he is, at ten months, sixteen days, and he's standing, all by himself.



*does iharthdarth BREATHE*

I'm not ready! Where did my tiny wee alien who left the hospital at under five pounds go?

And you know, his sister's not far behind him. Look!



I think I really do need to go lie down. Or have a drink. Or a cry. My babies are growing up!

*awesome Hollywood t-shirt from sabrinagb

**awesome monkey dress from ashinae

( A few more GIANT ALIEN pictures behind the cut... )

Babies are evil, sleep is non-existent. Oh well, at least my current issues are ecologically sound. I'm recycling.

The Monkey also has nasty diaper rash, which seems to be bothering me more than it's bothering her, at least in the sense that I want it to go away, and she doesn't seem to be all that in pain or itchy because of it. However, since it has currently refused to respond to the fistfuls of zinc cream I've put on it, we're trying something new.

Leave the baby naked.

I can sense that some of you are seeing some flaws with this plan. First of all... it's winter. Second of all... the baby is not wearing a diaper. Yeah. I know. This is gonna be a fun couple of days.

The one positive in all of this? She thinks that getting to be naked=Christmas and her birthday all wrapped up in one. So, at least she's happy.

Fuck.

So, yeah. We've had family visiting this weekend, and that's been stressful, as well as completely blowing any sleep schedule that the babies have to shit, not that they take to scheduling all that well at the best of times. But you can guarantee that when they get home at 10pm, it's not gonna do anything good for getting them to sleep, and to sleep well. So two nights this weekend, it's been pretty much a wash as far as having them sleep anything even close to resembling the night. So I've been up with them a couple times a night, which I'm used to, but I've been struggling with sleep myself by the time I finally get them both down, or it's late enough so the Academic Husband can take over if they do wake up.

This whole time, we've had a double bed in the nursery, and one of us has always slept in the same room as the babies, either having one in each room, or both in the nursery and one of us in there. But they've been finally sleeping longer than 2 hours at a time (thank you Frog), so I decided to move the bed into the office, which is right next to the nursery, freeing up some room in the nursery for a couple of dressers, which we really need because baby clothes spawn more baby clothes. Especially socks.

It was six am before I think I finally went to sleep at all, maybe later, and the boy got a call that he had to work, so I had to be up again by eight. I got up, hung out with the babies, and since they were cranky (unsurprising), I put them both down to sleep by about eight thirty. Frog in the master bedroom in a playpen, Monkey in the nursery in her crib. I usually split them up for naps so that they don't disturb each other if one sleeps longer.

And I thought, hey, since I'm exhausted off my ass, why don't I try that 'sleep while the baby sleeps' thing that I've been hearing about. Apparently all the cool kids are doing it. So I went into the office (so not to disturb the Frog sleeping in the master bedroom) and curled up under the covers.

And I wake up at about 12:30, with my mom standing at the foot of my bed.

She and my husband had been trying to reach me, and couldn't. They called my cell phone, which was right next to my head. I didn't hear it. They called the land line, which is very loud and annoying. I didn't hear it. So my mom decided to swing by on her lunch break and find out if we were all sleeping. Oh, I was sleeping all right. But the babies weren't. They were in hysterics, screaming and crying, and I didn't hear it. Not a bit of it. I just kept sleeping. And there's no way for me to know how long they were crying like that.

So my mom calmed my sobbing children down, fed them lunch, woke me to check on me, let me sleep another hour or so, then woke me up for a shower before she left around two. And right now, I feel so guilty and horrible about the whole thing that I could either burst into tears or throw up. Maybe both.

So, today, my aliens are being baptized. This is a special event in our church, and in our family, particularly the Academic husband's family, who have been Lutheran for as long as there have been Lutherans. We have godparents who have traveled a long way to be here for the service, his uncle is going to be doing the baptism, there's a dinner and stuff afterward, big deal stuff.

Despite being exhausted, I toss and turn from about 2:30 when I go to bed after baby feeding, until about 4:30 when the frog wants food. At 4:30am, I feed the frog. At 4:45am, I have sudden onset, acute, motherfucking OW FUCK OW pain right below my ribcage. Can't breathe kind of pain. Very similar to my birthday in London, oh, say four years ago. Signs point to gallbladder attack/gallstones. MOTHERFUCK.

I wake the Academic Husband, he drops me off at the hospital, runs the aliens to his parent's house. At 5:00am. I cry through intake from the pain, get put into a room fairly quickly, get an IV, get morphine.

I like morphine. Morphine is KEEN. But I'm still crying, because they're talking X-Rays, they're talking Ultrasounds, and they're talking noon at the earliest before I can get the ultrasound done.

The baptism is at 10:00am.

So we're scrambling, trying to find a video camera, trying to find someone who can record it for me if I'm stuck in the hospital, and in the meantime, I'm bargaining with nurses, trying to find out if I can leave now that my pain is controlled, just for two hours, just for enough time to see my babies get baptized. We're debating (at the nurse's suggestion) just signing me out against medical advice, if necessary, IV heplock still in my arm.

And the the doctor comes back and says that they'll do the ultrasound tomorrow, gives me a few tabs of Dilaudid, and says to come back if the pain gets uncontrollable again, but other than that, it can wait until tomorrow.

You're not supposed to get married under the influence... I wonder if there are rules against getting folk baptized under the influence. Because WOW am I loopy right now. Did I mention I like morphine?

It's only 8:15am right now, and I'm already so totally done with this day. SERIOUSLY. I am on freakin' narcotics, and I have not yet SLEPT fortheloveofMishaCollins.

PS. I like morphine.

You know what's tiring? Canning pears.

You know what's really tiring? Canning pears and looking after twins.

I know I'll be grateful in a few months when the babies are eating solids and there's jars and jars of canned pears and peaches to work with. Right now?

Fuck, I'm tired.

(Also, there's the part where the Frog (and the Academic Husband) learned new words when a jar shattered as my mum took it out of the boiling water, all over the floor. Good times...)