How's Work?

I'm going to try to type coherently with the Eagles game blasting into my right ear (interrupted only when there are commercials to any of the various mystery and crime shoot-up shows that air simultaneously) to tell you how I"m feeling about my job. It's been a month since my first day at CITP, and it's going okay. The reality is that I have not really been sufficiently trained. The woman who held my position before I came left in July, so I haven't had anyone guiding me around the office, not to mention guiding me through the files opened in the interim that I have to pick up and know what to do about. My supervisor is in a different building from me altogether, and although she held my position years ago and has a good idea about where I should start with intakes and assessments (which I'm not bad at to begin with), she hasn't given me much direction as far as follow-though and services rendered. Some days I feel pretty confident, and then there are days like many I had last week where I actually couldn't sleep at night because I felt so overwhelmed with what I was leaving undone. It doesn't help that I am in the position to help people keep their homes from going to Sheriff's Sale and I only meet them a few weeks before the sale is scheduled. I'm dealing with some pretty serious deadlines, as well as pretty serious lender attorneys. And math. (Ugh.) And legal paperwork. Meanwhile people are calling me because their house is being destroyed by termites, or they're in a rental and their landlord doesn't care that their bathroom ceiling just fell in, or they've been bouncing around staying with friends and relatives and they are desperate for housing that they can afford with their $618 monthly SSI check. So there's that.

And then I come home to my well-run house with my clean and well-dressed children and a hot meal. I get coached on not tossing my stuff in the living room which should really stay neat, get reprimanded for cleaning my paintbrushes out in the newly scrubbed bathroom sink, and get the run-down of the plan for the week with the kids and the daily routine, and I'm not sure where I fit in.

It's easy to feel like I'm not good at, well, anything.

It isn't like Michael is trying to make me feel bad. He is trying to keep the house running, and he's doing a fabulous job. The boys love being with him, and he's great at coming up with projects and activities to do with them. He plans meals and shops, and he even does laundry. (Granted, he can't keep track of which tshirts and shorts belong to which boy, but he can't know everything right off the bat, right?) Really it was my biggest hope and greatest fear that he would actually pull this "domestic dad" thing off. I always knew he would make a better stay at home mom than I would. Not in everything, but in a lot of ways he just has a better idea of what needs to get done and has a level of motivation that I don't. He knows when rooms need to be cleaned-up and has some knack to get the kids to comply with the cleaning up process. It's mostly reassuring and exciting, but a little bit disconcerting. I know my feelings are selfish, and then, well you know the cycle. I'm not good at anything, so I'll take myself out of everything, and then I'll feel guilty, and then....

I'm sure I will feel better after I'm through an official housing counselor training (with an outside agency, coming up in a couple weeks) and hopefully I will know how to do my job at least a little better. And the kids aren't being hard on me, so that helps. They still like to be around me and don't automatically call exclusively for daddy when they get hurt or upset. I know it is a hard transition time, and I, we, will get through it. Eventually. Until then, I'm just gonna sound like a complainer, probably. Try to let it roll.

Time Out for Mom

The scene: Michael left right after dinner to run off to a meeting. The boys and I weren't done eating our corn on the cob and burritos. Elias was being a little persnickety, and Kindred was egging him on. They were playing a game that involved grabbing things from the table. It was driving me nuts. I had repeatedly told Elias not to touch the butter dish. I had pulled it away, yelled, threatened. Then when I wasn't looking, his little fingers when right into the butter. My hand flew out, and smack smack smack, "DON'T TOUCH THE BUTTER!" I yelled as I smacked his hand in an effort to get his grubby fingers to stop smooshing the condiment. Usually he doesn't even pay attention to this (not that I do that very often), but this time his eyes widened and great tears welled up. He sobbed loudly and I picked him up and moved to the couch. I kissed his arm and told him how sorry I was. He quickly became completely distracted by wanting to wear my necklace ("Have that, peez, Mama?") and I let him down.

Kindred had come into the room by now. The first thing he did was go over the Elias and ask him if he was OK, and hug him. I asked Kindred why he was concerned, and he replied, "Because he was crying." Then he climbed up onto the couch with me. I said, "Do you know why he was crying?"

"Because you hit him."

"Yes. I should not have hit him. I probably should have a time out."

"Yes you should. I will get the timer, Mama. Wait till it dings."

He got the timer, let me set it, and sat quietly with me on the couch until it went off. Then he looked at me solemnly. "Now we should talk. Mommy, no hitting. You can't hit when you're mad. Not people. You can hit other things. You can hit the couch. You can hit my bed. Or Elias' bed. But not people. Okay, Mama? I love you, Mama. I need to give you a hug." He hugged me. "Now will you play with me?"

At least now I know he's listening.

More on Thomas

It was reported to us by a number of people that ThomasTankEngine makes a grand appearance a few times a year in Lancaster County, so we made a trek out to ride the Thomas train since it is only about 1 1/2 hours away. When we were looking for parking around the farmland, the little blue engine came rolling along. It was so exciting for the boys. Train sightings in general cause a scene, but Thomas! What a treat!


We did not realize the extent of the festivities near the boarding station, so we stopped for lunch with Grandma and PopPop in the Red Caboose Diner when we got there.

Kindred and Elias' friend Benjamin came long with us. He's a die-hard Thomas fan. He brought his train whistle and Kindred brought the whistle Ben had gotten him for his 2nd birthday and we loaded onto the school bus shuttle that would take us from the parking lot to the train. This part was nearly as exciting as rising the train. The two boys picked the back seat to ride by themselves.


Then we got there, stood in line for a while, and at long last got to see the blue engine peeping it's way towards us, eyes moving all around, smiling with glee at all the children. There was a boy in front of us I thought was going to jump out of his pants he was so happy. Then we boarded an open air train car, Thomas pushed us backwards for about a mile, then forward, then we got off.



When we took the shuttle back to the parking area, the boys got to play on the playground near the car which was right next to the tracks. This is where the video was taken.

On the way home, the boys all worked out nearly all of their sharing conflicts on there own. We were very proud of them. When we asked them how they enjoyed seeing Thomas, Ben remarked that of course that wasn't the really real Thomas. The real one is the one in the movies. When Michael tried to explain that this Thomas was perhaps more real than the one in the movies because it was taller than 6 inches and real people were able to ride it, he was sternly corrected. Apparently very real people DO ride Thomas in the movies, and they do talk. And move their arms. Get it straight, Michael.

Peep peep!

Tomorrow's post: Mama Gets A Time Out

What We Did This Weekend

on Vimeo

The kindness of small strangers

I was in foreclosure diversion court today-- not for me, for a client, and a couple came in to the courtroom with their son. He was probably about 5 or 6, beautiful, with a full head of soft curly hair. He climbed immediately into the seat next to me and smiled. I smiled back and then listened to his mother try to explain her situation to the court attendant. The mother was instructed to speak with someone behind us and the little boy got off his chair and followed her. After a few minutes, they turned to leave the courtroom. As the three of them passed me, the little boy turned suddenly, threw his arms around my neck and gave me a fabulous hug, my nose tickled by his hair. I squeezed back, totally surprised, and he giggled and walked out with his parents. Lovely.

Mmm Mmm Good

This morning as I was scrambling to leave the house, the boys were with me in the kitchen. Elias started singing about breakfast. Then it turned into: "Yummy yummy yummy mummy! Yummy yummy mummy!"

Kindred was appalled. "No Elias! No!" he exclaimed forcefully.

Elias continued. "Yummy yummy mummy yummy...."

Kindred, defending me with all his heart and soul: "No Elias! You CAN'T EAT MOMMY! She loves you! She LOVES you!"

I haven't felt that good in days.

Makes Me Alla Doshus

Super-Al on Vimeo

Kindred has been learning new words and songs, and here's one of them. Elias has been learning tons of new words too, and today he learned how to say his name clearly: Ee-LI-Us! He ran around all afternoon shouting it. (Then Kindred started calling him "Eli." That was a first.)

I'm sorry I haven't had many current updates. This weekend left me a little out of sorts. Next week? Oh, here's a question for all you readers: Since Michael is home with the boys, he has been collecting all the stories that I used to tell about the boys' adventures during the day. We are trying to figure out where he should blog them. Should he use this one or should he use his own? What do you think?

Civic Duty

There are few places like the place I was today. It is a place full of contradictions: You feel isolated and alone in a room full of people, cut off from outside communications. It's a place in which you are required by law to arrive at on time and stay the whole day, essentially locked in, yet you should consider it a privilege and an honor to be there. A place where you are referred to by your number (I was #39) and yet you are encouraged to discover the names of the people to your left and right (Susan and Dave), mostly so you don't lose your place in line. And God forbid you do, because you will be belittled and treated sarcastically if you don't have the right answers or right amount of respect or project enthusiastically. Where men called "Your Honor" give a pep talk about how important we are by using illustrations about being an umpire in baseball. And where, in a room full of city folk, reruns of the "Beverly Hillbillies" play on the wall-mounted flat-screen TVs all around the room where we waited to head up to the courtrooms, lined up and led off in pairs to our special elevator.

So basically I sat around from 8:15am to 3:45pm in three different rooms. I didn't even get the usual excitement of hearing other people talk a little bit about themselves to the judge questioning them. It was just sitting silently, wishing something would happen. Anything to end the doldrums. Nothing did. (I did get to listen to several of my podcasts of This American Life, Wait! Wait! Don't Tell Me... and Radio Times, but even they got a little tiring.) And when the end of the day came and we got our $9 (mine came right when the early stages of 'migraine' were being delivered in full force), I was a little pissed that what I had been done was considered a great honor. It felt like an awful waste of time.

Flashback Series 1

I have gotten a little behind in the blogging (record keeping) so I am going to post a short series of flashbacks: events that happened, some long ago, some more recently, but all are times I want to remember and share photographically with you. So I begin with our first Family Day since the Great "Parent Job Swap." Last Sunday we went to a lovely place: The Tyler Arboretum, because Michael heard that they were displaying a bunch of treehouses that had been built by artists and architects.

Time Management

After 8 days of work, I am realizing that I don't have enough time. For the first time in forever, I find myself falling asleep (sitting up) around 10:30pm, no matter where I am or who I am talking to. Usually, though, I'm talking to Michael, or more like Michael is talking to me, and I'm just out in lala land, dozing away. I feel terrible about it. But the reality is even though I don't have a long commute to work, I have been walking there, so I still have to leave at 8am to walk the mile to get there by 8:30am. This means I'm up around 7am. Elias wakes up like clockwork at 7am, so I'm used to that. But I'm not used to having to get up too. He wakes Kindred and they play (usually in Elias' crib) until they get bored or loud, or someone gets hurt. This could take an hour. So I could relax and work into being awake. Not so anymore. I have to get up and get myself together to walk out the door. Since I don't have a "snooze" feature on my phone/alarm clock, I can't even doze after my alarm goes off. But oh well. Such as it is.

Anyway, the boys joined me for lunch today and I was so happy to have them here. The job is going to keep me completely busy, but the time they can spend with me during the day is so special. Last night I asked Kindred how he felt about me going to work everyday. He said it made him sad. When I asked why, he said, "Because I love you and I want you to stay here." Then I asked how it was to have daddy stay home with him. His reply, "It's great! We play, and we make bread, and we make cookies." I would love that too. (Then he went off on this tangent about fans and how one of ours got broken and that the Honorable Chrissy broke it when she was little, and he held up his finger and thumb a few centimeters apart to demonstrate just how little she was when she did this bad thing.)

The boys (all three) went to the zoo yesterday with Kellie and Grif and Graham, and met the aforementioned H. Chrissy and Kaleb there unexpectedly. They reported having a great time. When Elias is asked about what he saw there, or what he wanted to see there, he says "Bears." Of course. He's been doing this hilarious act lately where he will turn to you and say:

"I'mabeawroooooaaaaarrrrrr!" (translation: I'm a bear, roar.")

He will do this after claiming to be a lion or a monster as well. Delightful.