Day Two - What a Beautiful Day - second attempt

Look at that picture and just try to tell me that this is not going to be a beautiful day....    

This just happens to be the view I walk out to every morning after drinking my routine cup of coffee with my dad in the morning.

I just had to take a picture.

Things went routinely this morning

This is my second attempt at this post. Hopefully I can actually get through this one completely without the computer freezing up on me. A fortune 500, multi-billion dollar company and I have a dinosaur computer. Really, I do… I can even smell the smoke from it sometimes.

But here is what I was trying to tell you the first time. Actually, I kind of got way of the topic of what I wanted to post in the first place (my ADD kicking in) so it’s just as well I start over fresh.

Oh, hold on… I drank that cup of coffee fast.. Actually, mug of coffee.  – Let me go get a refill…

-          I’m baaaaaaaack! (Jack Nicholson style)

(I actually had to google that.. Nicholson, Nicklaus... I get them mixed up...
movie star, pro golfer... so close, right?)

Just an FYI – I am serious about my coffee… can’t function without it. There is way too much going on to not have that quick energy pick me up in the morning. I am sooooo not a morning person. The guys have come to learn that and do not approach me with too much in the morning these days. If they have to, the first thing they ask is, “Have you had your coffee yet”, or “Where’s the level on that coffee mug?” Here is a picture to explain that last one…

It reads:

Check the coffee level

It is equal to my tolerance level.

If the level is high

There is a high possibility

That I am not very tolerant.

Again… Back to the topic.

Not much happened this morning. I did not trip or fall out of the bed. . The kids were easy to wake up, Hunter made the bus without a problem. (By the way, Hunter made the bus yesterday – but in a way I am not to pleased about - but, I will get to that in a minute). I did not spill the coffee at Dad’s house. Courtney was awake on my "you better be up, getting dressed and ready to leave for school" call to her on the way to work. No troubles with the office door key or my bag getting caught on the door knob.,

I did have Hunter call before leaving the house to walk to the bus stop, saying that he couldn’t find a school shirt. However, I was able to direct him to where it will be and he found it. Got dressed and was on his way. Situation averted.

Wait a minute…. can things be going TOO well? It’s a little scary perfect now that I think about it.

So far, the only thing I didn’t like about this morning is the same thing I don’t like about every morning. My boss’ car in the parking lot. I don’t know why. He isn’t a bad guy. In fact he is 500% better than the guy whose place he took (and thank GOD for answering those prayers). I think it is just that his title is BOSS. So, I automatically hate to see his vehicle there. What it could be is that the car he has used to belong to Kris (my last boss). I never had anyone treat me as awfully as he had. Every time he had felt the wrath of the “higher-uppers”, it always trickled down to me. So I learned to loathe seeing that white ford explorer every morning. When I seen it there, I knew there was a potential of me quitting and walking out. EVERYDAY… Yes, it was that bad. Clay, unfortunately, has inherited my “hate the boss” attitude. I don’t trust them anymore. They are not out to help you. They only want to squash you like a bug to the brink of death and then give you a moment of reprieve. When you are feeling all better, and you think all is okay… they do it again. It has taken a year, and I am finally starting to ever so cautiously, come out of that way of thinking. Cautiously, because my subconscious is telling me “Watch out… it happens when you least expect it.” It’s unfair for me to feel that way toward all bosses now, I know… but, it is what it is. It’s Kris’ fault.

Since there is nothing I have to tell you about the Karma’s wrath, tripping, getting caught on door knobs, etc… I will go back to yesterday morning where I left off.

And, it goes a little something like this …. Hit it!

(If you get that you are awesome)

After I signed off yesterday… SHORTLY after… like just a minute after I ended my post yesterday, I received a phone call from my beautiful daughter, Courtney. This was no surprise… kind of expected because of them still being asleep when I did my “you better not be late for school” call on my way to work.

Ring ring (or more like chimes, chimes… my cell phone does not ring like the old time land phones.. I kind of miss those. Kids these days will never know how it is to hear a phone ring and not be able to walk more than 15 feet from the base of the phone. AND, Oh how I miss being able to slam the phone down on someone in particular… no name mentioned right now – with cell phones, it’s just press that end button as hard as you can)

I answer the phone and I hear, “Mom, can you meet us at the school to sign us in?”

I just took a deep breath, almost wanted to hold it for eternity, but I released it slowly – giving me a few seconds to calm down a little before I try to calmly answer, “No! I can’t”

Now, this wouldn’t be such a problem had I not done this a dozen times this year. It’s just that I think maybe this time; mommy shouldn’t go run and take responsibility for them being late. You see, if they have to go to school late without a parent to sign them in, they get an “It’s all your fault, kid” tardy and not a “It’s a possibility it’s mom’s fault” tardy. It’s more like an unexcused vs excused tardy – sort of.

Anyhow, I ask her, “Maybe call your Aunt blah blah (a two syllable name there which limits it to all 3 of their Aunts, Mar-gie, Char-lene, Kath-leen)” Honestly any one of them would do anything for them anytime they can. But her response was:

“I can’t do that, what if she is working?”

Hello…. What am I doing? Chopping liver? Playing in the sand? Skipping amongst the daisies?

I am working… what do they think I do here? I am the only female working with 20 guys. I do all the service order requests, purchase order requests, authority for expenditure requests, I do payroll, budget tracking, mileage reports, overtime reports, paying bills, ordering supplies, schedule training, meetings and that is just about 25% of the things I do. I am a busy little cookie.

Getting back on track…. A thought popped into my mind. Well, if she is still at home, she can tell me if Hunter made it to the bus. Her answer relieved me tons. Yes, he made the bus and that is why he did not reply. When he gets to school, he turns off his phone until he is allowed “BYOT” (bring your own technology) time. Thank Goodness.

The rest of the day went well. No more issues at work, thank God. You know – I can only take so much stress a day and my stress level was filling up with angry fluid pretty quick.

The end of the work day came and I pulled my badge out of the card reader (which makes the computer go to sleep – or rather hibernate since this thing is a dinosaur we can use the appropriate terms, right), and walked to my car. I opened the door and looked up and seen this and had to take a picture:

It looks so peaceful; I just knew that it was telling me the rest of the day will be awesome, wonderful and just perfect… Obviously I am not that good at reading skies.

Baseball practice at 5:30, field 1

I am coaching an 8 year old baseball team with my 17 year old son, Grant. You see, Timmy (My sister, Mindi’s son – RIP Mindi – Miss you tons) asked me one day if I would coach his team because there was no one who would volunteer. I said “Uhmmm… OKAY?”

I have coached girl’s basketball, girl’s volleyball, softball… but never, never baseball and not to a bunch of 8 year old, full of ridiculous amounts of energy, boys. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice baseball with 8 year old boys.

Practice actually went well, until a couple of the kids had to leave a little early and we had no 2^nd baseman. Grant was pitching to the kids (it’s coach pitch, so he has to get used to pitching to them just as much as they have to get used to the way he pitches) so I went to 2^nd base. I did not have a glove, but I also did not think I needed one. Nearly all of the ball hit were ground balls… it’s 8 year olds after all, how hard can they hit?

Ask a stupid question, get a stupid (and painful) answer…

Here it is:

This is caused by an ego bigger than my hand obviously… a line drive headed straight toward me and a lifetime of softball playing forced me to automatically catch the ball. Remember when I said I hadn’t a glove? Oh, and remember I asked how hard can an 8 year old hit? Well, I found out… real quick, as quick as that ball took to get to me. I did catch the ball and gripped it(or so I thought). And, in that instant I thought, “Nice Catch”. But, the extreme and sudden pain, caused me to drop the ball. The ball just fell and I just followed it with my eyes to the ground. Then I looked at my hand, still in the “ball caught position”, the fingers still thinking they are gripping the ball. For some reason or other, my entire body just stood there for a moment, frozen in the “I just caught the ball” position. Finally, I moved and brought my hand to my face – oh geesh… it was hurting. Kohl made it to first on what should have been and easy out. I was in shock that he hit the ball so hard. What dad said was true, “Good thing you didn’t stop the ball with your face.”

When Kohl gets to 2^nd base on the very next hit, I turned to him and said, “I am so glad you are on our team.” Then I showed him my hand. He laughed, I can tell he was proud of how hard he hit the ball and he should be. That hit right there, most kids his age would probably duck or just let it go past them to the outfield and let it be someone else’s responsibility. I was proud of his hit for him. I was actually proud of the team yesterday. They were all hitting pretty well.

It was the end of practice and I was tending to my injury and sitting on the bench on the side of the field. A few of the boys stayed a little after to continue hitting and Grant was pitching to them. Timmy got a hit and ran to 2^nd. Good job Tim! I look down to see how bruised it was getting so fast. Wow… fast!!! I look back up to see Timmy, standing on the base at 2^nd and all of a sudden he jumps. While in the air, he folds his legs under his butt and lands smack dab, right on his knees. I think, “Goodness, boys will be boys” and I laugh to myself a little, shaking my head in the “Oh my goodness, someone is not going to want him in their car” way. I just watch as he does it a couple more times, sort of reminiscing, thinking of old times when I was a kid. That is when I snapped out of it and realized… wait… that someone is me. He is riding home with me.

Hunter pitching, Grant catching and guess who at 2nd...

can't you tell my the knees? Yes, that's Timmy.

I said it before; I will say it again… “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice baseball with 8 year old boys.”

Fast-forward back to this morning… fast forward back??? Is that even possible???

I get up this morning thinking, my hand hurts… should I go in to work or should I take the day off?

I should go… but I really don’t want to.

Then stay… but I can hear it now..

I will call in and say, “Clay, I am taking the day off, an 8 year old nearly broke my hand.”

He will say, “Stephanie, it’s always something with you.”

But, it is – it really is. Always. If it’s not this, it’s that. Why do people even say that anyway? It’s always something with you. That applies to everyone, all the time. There is a reason for every action you take, so in essence… yes… it IS always something. Kris used to say that to me and I would roll my eyes in the back of my head and fear they wouldn’t roll back. It was that bad with him.

I go to work.

Hand hurts

Typing hurts, but yet… here I am, typing.

Not as swollen as last night, but still just a little.

I decide, now that I have come to work, that I should have stayed home.

I want to ask for ½ day vacation. But, I don’t want to give him and excuse that would make him say, “It’s always something with you isn’t it?”

Why do I always think he will say that? He has never said it and I honestly don’t think he ever will. He is not condescending like Kris was. Kris said that no matter what the situation was. For instance, one time I called in, “Kris, I have to take the day off, I have the flu.”

Kris’ typical reply, “It’s always something with you huh Steph?”

Who ever gave him the right to call me Steph? You don’t just get to call me Steph. You have to earn that privilege. I ain’t your friend. It’s STEPHANIE to you.

So, I send an instant message to Clay asking for ½ day vacation, giving him a reason other than the 8 year old nearly killing me. – no reply - …. Wait 10 more minutes - no reply. I send the same message, this time via email. No reply… 10 more minutes, no reply…  I am thinking, “He just don’t even want to tell me ‘it’s always something with you’ – he must be past that point.”

About 20 minutes later, I get an email notification. I open Outlook and see that it is from Clay. I open the email and there it is… just as I expected. His reply???? Two words and this is how I read them… “No……………………………..… problem”

Why do I do that? Why do I make things out to be worse than they should be? He will never say “it is always something with you..”.  And, it’s not fair for me to keep thinking that way about it him.

You see Kris… you see what you’ve done?

But, it is what it is and life is not always fair.