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.

   

Day One and the fun begins



So, of course each day comes with blessings, surprises and sometimes Karma's wrath.

I capitalized the K in Karma because for it to be as vengeful as it is at times, it has to be one bitter,

(not quite so lady-like) lady.

It starts of normally enough. The regular routine...

That freaking damn alarm, oh how I loathe thee. It interrupts my wonderful, peaceful, way too short sleep. I love those little dreaming sessions I am able to take (usually around 5 to 6 hours a night). Eight hours of sleep a night??? Whoever heard such a thing. This is reality, babe that does not happen in reality.

Anyway, I know I must have swiped that snooze button on my trusty, cherished smart phone (the Galaxy Note 3, I love that phone) at least twice before. What happens during the first alarm or the second alarm I have set on my phone, I have no idea. I really couldn't tell you. I don't even know if it helps me wake up. I would turn them off, but... what if... what if those two alarms help me wake up on the third alarm. If they get turned off... Will I think that the alarm I usually wake up on... will I think that is the first one and swipe to snooze or turn off???..... My subconscious thinking that I have two more alarms waiting?

So, can you see my delima?

Back to this morning... but please note that what you just read... IT HAPPENS EVERY MORNING!!!

And, I think I am a creature of habit. If things don't start off the same every morning, something along the process in my day will be screwed up. It never fails.

Well, I get out of bed (this morning it is more like tripped out of bed)... lost my balance and put my fist through one of the canvasses that I was going to paint for the craft fair in Houma, LA that which my sister and I will be selling our crafts. (Her selling her wreaths, and I selling my paintings).

I think to myself, "Well, isn't this just great? It's not like I needed this." That was said with EXTREME sarcasm, of course. I am a "starving" artist. I do have a full time job, however... I do have three children with mucho expenso, comprendo? (ha ha ha... I just made that up)

... the words, not the scenario.

And, art supplies are not cheap. However, I do purchase the cheaper of these supplies, knowing all too well that my work would take on such a much better quality if I were able to not be quite so concerned about the expenses.

With all that going through my mind in such a short minute, I gathered myself and continued my morning.

Like I said before, same routine..

Bathroom

Wake up Courtney... "Hey Co.. wake up sweetheart."

She will not say anything this time, just turn her head, sometimes she will turn her entire body over.

This morning, it was just the head.

Back to bedroom, get dressed

Wake up Courtney again, "Come on Co.. you've gotta get up."

(and here comes her routine response)... said in the sleepiest voice you can imagine

"I know mom, but I am soooo tired."

Wake up Grant... "Hey, Grant it is 6am. You don't want to be late, right?"

Start the waking up process on my youngest, Hunter...

(Oh, crap... I just realized I did not call him this morning to make sure he was up and dressed and ready to go wait for the bus. Which means that there is a 99.99998% chance he is snoring his cute little head of on the love seat in the living room right now.)

Give me a minute - let me text him.

.......

I waited and waited, but no reply to my, "Please tell me you made the bus and are at school" text.

I want to call him, but what if he is in class and he forgot to turn the ringer off?

I did that to my oldest once, it was during a test I think, only to get a call from the Vice Principal informing me that Grant's phone has been confiscated because he recieved a call during class.

Geesh.... Ugh. Well, I definitely couldn't fuss him for that one, right?

------

Checked again, still no reply. What to do? What to do?

So, while I am stressing over this, let me continue my morning summary.

Let's see... where was I?

Oh, yeah... I started the waking process on Hunter (sounds familiar?).

"Hunter... Hunter... Hey Hunter!!!"

A not quite as sleepy as Courtney reponse... "What mom?"

"You need to start waking up, do not miss that bus you hear me?"

"Alright Mom."

Then I check his alarm settings on his phone...

I usually make sure there are 3 (of course - just like mom) alarms set for him to fully wake up.

Awwww Dang!!!! Son of a gun!!

That is where I went wrong. This morning I did not check his alarms.

Well, like I said I USUALLY make sure he has 3 set... 6:50, 7:00 and 7:10. His bus passes for 7:30 when she decides to be on time - which is nearly NEVER! 

80% of the time the bus gets the kids to school late.

 - -

Moving along...

(and by the way... still no reply - I should call, right? No... I will wait a little while longer)

After I have done my normal routine of wakey wakies, I am usually out of the door. This morning, however (another break in the routine) I have to write checks for lunch (one for Hunter, Grant and Courtney) and checks for Grant's school fees so that he can purchase two prom tickets (yet another check written).  I am glad he is going to prom, not 100% of how the asking to prom thing went down.

(But that is another story for another day - probably Saturday, the prom day)

After the checks were written, I picked up my small back pack/hand bag combination thing and my large backpack. It is actually a laptop bag with compartments for everything under the sun. And, I have everything under the sun inside of it... BUT a laptop. I rarely use anything for the purpose it is supposed to be used for. For instance, my last bag was a beach tote. That thing fell apart really quick. But, as I usually see it (but I really should get out of this habit) - the larger the bag, the more crap I could put in it.

I walk out of the door and proceeded to my car. I throw my large bag in the back seat and my small bag in the front seat with me. I take off, to Dad's house for my usual, routine morning cup of coffee with him. I pull down the street and I see... Ooooooh, the prettiest sunset, and of course I have to stop driving - in the middle of the street, pull out my trusty phone and take a pic.

((I wanted to insert the picture I took here, but of course, my phone is not in a good connection situation here, at work... sooooooo, while waiting for the email to go through, I will continue))

I walk in Dad's house, pour myself a cup of coffee... spill a good bit of it, but that's okay because it has become part of my new routine since they switched to this "special" coffee maker. I play it off, like I usually do, but I am pretty sure Dad seen it even though he is pretending not to.

I carry my cup to the table and spill just a bit more - which, as an FYI.. has also become part of my routine. This one, I cannot play off because I always take the chair at the table right in front of dear old Dad.

And, I don't mean "old" as in "OLD" - I totally meant that as an endearing term.

Drink the coffee, chat about: the weather, LSU baseball, New Orleans Saints, any current events, and the kids. Oh, yeah... can't forget, we also talk about work adventures and mishaps.

I pick on Lauren a bit and Abel if he is up. Timmy, I don't get a chance to pick on in the morning because he is rarely up that early. Realize this.. I have to do this. I have to pick on them, make them smile and laugh and start their day off in a good way. Otherwise, they think I am mad. How weird is that? If I am not being sarcastic, people think I am mad???

I finish the cup of coffee (it's around 6:25am, as usual), and I kiss the folks goodbye (sometimes mom is up that early, especially if she has an early doctor appointment), wish them a good day, tell them I love them and head on out the door. Get in the car, drive to work. Nothing ever happens on that short 5 minute drive to go 7 miles from Des Allemands to Paradis, to the office.

Oh, take that back... I do have a typical "routine" thing I do on that drive. I either call Courtney or Grant to make sure they are up, dressing and just about ready to leave. You see, neither of them can afford to be late or miss school.  This morning, I call Courtney (called Grant yesterday morning, her turn... lol)...

Ring, ring, ring... and I hear a just as sleepy as this mornings' drawn out, "Hello???"

"Hey Co, it's mom, I was just calling to see if y'all were up, getting dressed, ready to go.. So, you up?"

(I asked that question knowing good and well what the answer was just by her salutation)

"uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh.... what?" she says.

"Oh, so NO, you are not up, right" I say, sarcastically of course..

I wouldn't want her to think I am mad, right?

"No, because Mom, I am so tired."

Then we go in to the conversation that she is a growing teenage girl who is also borderline anemic and that it is perfectly normal for a 16 year old to have a hard time waking up in the morning. I remember dad having to pour freaking freezing water on my face in the morning because room temperature water just didn't have the power to wake me up. Sometimes, I would sleep for 13 hours on the weekends - so glad my awesome parents just let me catch up on that sleep.

"Courtney, you better get up, get Grant up and get Hunter up again."

"Ok"

"Do not be late for school you hear?"

"Ok"

"Alright get up and get dress, I have to go"

"Ok mom"

We exchanged "I love you's" and I pulled into the parking lot at work.

I see that stupid sign

"Back in parking only"

Look, I know it is safest that way in a parking garage or a large parking lot, but in this parking lot, really?

We have 0 rows of parking here. It is just perimeter parking, all along the gravel. Is it really necessary to back in? I say the same thing in my head every morning because you never know, some fairy might come and change the rules a bit... but nothing ever changes.

I pull up past the parking spot I park in so that I can back in. I have a certain way of backing in. I cannot use just the mirrors like Mark does. I have no Earthly idea how he does that. I have to twist my body, turn my head and look out of the rear window of my Toyota Highlander Hybrid

(I love that car ...and no, this is not a paid advertisment).

So, I do my usual, first step, place my left foot firmly somewhere on the floor between the brake pedal and the emergency brake. Well, this morning for some stupid reason (ahem.. queue karma),

---did I spell that right? queue - it looks odd---

anyway, I attempt to firmly place my foot when it slips and the top of my foot karate chops the bottom of the emergency brake. Without a doubt, of course, the padding was "mysteriously" missing and I think I puncture a vein. Not really, but it did feel like I broke something other than my pride. I know I must have looked stupid because when my left foot slipped, my right foot tried to "catch my fall" and reacted by pressing on the gas. I peeled out a little before I caught myself and was able to back in correctly and park.

I just sat there in my car for a minute... on the verge of tears because that really hurt.

Oh, look... what I just recieved on my email:

Maaaaan.... not sure why, but it isn't uploading.

Wait, I know why... because I tripped this morning and ruined my routine and karma is there to make sure things continue that way.

So, back to this morning.

I walk up to the door (which we have to keep locked for security reasons due to the fact that this is an oil and gas field office - but I am finding it hard to understand what they think some terrorist could accomplish here... perhaps pirate our ice machine? -because we have some really good ice.. Sonic type ice, the little bitty, soft ice cubes that just crumble so softly when you bite into it.)

Do you see how my mind works? I have adult ADD - isn't it obvious?

On task Stephanie!!! Stay on task!!

(I can say that 1,000 times, it won't work)

you see... there I go again.

Back to this morning, yet once again...

I walked up to the eternally locked door (eternally, except on special occassions, like the Fridays that I have to work... what they don't know won't hurt them, right).

"Where is my key... what did I do with it... Come on, really, Stephanie?"

Nope, not on my personal key ring...

Nope not in my small bag,

Nope, not in my large bag,

Nope, not in my pants pockets...

Ugh!!!

I frantically search for my key because knocking on the door was no where near the thoughts in my head. I think all the other voices in my head were talking to loud, letting me know how much of an idiot I was for not being able to find my key.

Right when I am ready to give up and go back to the car to look, I do the "I give up" motion with my arms. Right as I bring my hands up (in surrender) my hand hits the bottom of my plastic badge holder on my lanyard. It also hits something else, hard, cold... 

Oh, wait... lo and behold, it's a key.

Yep, THE key.

So, stupid me, instead of removing the key from the lanyard or even taking the lanyard off from around my neck.. I bend down so that I can reach the lock with the key still on the lanyard that is still around my neck.

Guess what?

Yes, the key gets stuck...

I cannot pull it out, I yank and yank and nothing. 

You know me, I still do not take the lanyard off because why would I do such a thing? You think that would make it easier? Pshaw... Whatever. It's easier to just yank on the key while I am leaning back pulling the lanyard while it remains around my neck. Of course it will come out this way... or nah.

(stole that slang phrase from Grant because I find it is an appropriate usage for this instance) 

That is when the door opens. Someone heard all the commotion I was doing with the door... or rather seen it. The entire door was rattling. The door opens and I sit there still leaning back a little, key still in the door, still on the lanyard that is still around my neck. Deer in the headlights look on my face.

Wouldn't you know, at that instant, the key every so easily slips out of the key hole.

I stand up, collect myself, adjust my bags on my shoulder so that they are hanging on my right shoulder with one strap each, and walk in.

Or so I thought I was just going to walk in...

 when I get violently yanked backward.

"Woah!.. What the.....????"

It seems that the other strap on my bulging at the seams, large bag on my shoulder has wrapped it self (do not ask me how.. I have no idea) around the door knob on the inside of the door. The door is closed and the strap (padded strap) has been lodged in between the door frame and the door knob and it is stuck. I yank and yank, pulling hard until it comes free. I turn around, readjust the bags and see three of the guys standing there by the coffee pot, just laughing at me.

One says, "Haha... One of those days, huh?"

I just give him the mommy stare...

The one out of the corner of my eyes that I give the kids when they are attempting to do something they shouldn't be doing...

"Oh, you just don't know..."

It has only just begun.

I tried again...

Success...

Maybe there is a silver lining to this day after all...

Welcome

Welcome to my blog!!!

What I will be blogging about, you ask? - Well, whatever it takes.

A little background information for you about me. I am a full time working mother of three wonderful kids (ages 17, 16, 12). I have worked at a pile of different jobs in different positions (mostly sitting, lol), none of them being my dream job. But, that is okay, I turned my dream job into my hobby. I love to create art. In short, these are the main things I will be posting pictures of... My kids and my art.

What I will be mostly blogging about... well, there are tons of things I can talk about, But, I will focus on work related issues (that place can really frazzle me at times) and the antics and adventrues of being a mom (the dazzled part is my wonderful kids).

I welcome suggestions, constructive critisism and comments. I tend to lean toward the grammar nazi side of life, but some tend to go a bit overboard with it. Please, do not be one of THOSE people. 

Here is a link to my art page for your enjoyment:

https://www.facebook.com/StephiesArt