Last Sunday I was on edge all day because I was starting a new job Monday. All day I had butterflies in my stomach. Having spent two years--which may not seem like a lot but is to me--at my previous job, where, for the most part I really liked it, I was wondering whether I had made the right choice for myself and my family by switching career paths. What if I didn't like the work? What if nobody was nice? Would I be able to have my cell phone out in case daycare called? Was there a coffee maker? (I have my priorities.)
In addition to the usual worries, I was incredibly anxious by Sunday evening because Z started exhibiting signs of pink eye. Those gooey, sticky eye crusties plus my poor baby's swollen eyes was freaking me out. I wouldn't be able to take her to the doctor if she needed to go, which made me feel like a bad mom. Additionally, the cough/cold combo I'd been battling for a week was starting to feel more like bronchitis by the minute, and I was puffing on my rescue inhaler way more than I liked. I went to bed Sunday night hoping that when we woke up in the morning, everything would be perfect. Um, no.
An hour after going to bed, I was in a deep sleep, when R started yelling "SHE PEED ON ME!" Lily, our cat who's been spayed twice and battles bladder infections off-and-on, had indeed urinated on her father for no apparent reason. Lucky for me, my side was nice and dry, and Lily came and curled up with me. Girl power! R went to the couch, because our guest room is still a mess from when we painted our kitchen this summer (yes, we've procrastinated on cleaning that). After hearing him yell and fuss at the dog for 15 minutes, he came storming back in our room and turned on the light, deciding to change the sheets. He started doing it while I was still in bed, and I freaked out. Once the sheets were changed, the cats in the basement for the night, and the dog had a treat to calm down, we all drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
I awoke feeling like I had a fever. Z awoke with her eyes swollen shut. Pinkeye indeed. R stayed home with her and took her to the doctor for eyedrops. I went to work, where my first day was incredibly stressful. Things were very hectic because some large projects are nearing completion. As a result, people are stressed and have been working overtime. The high-energy atmosphere isn't anything I'm used to, so that was overwhelming. All day I battled chills and breathing issues and coughing. Getting off work at 5 was a totally new experience for me; at my old job, I left at 3, picked Z up from school at 3:30, and we were home most days at 3:45, giving us ample time to play and relax before the dinner-bathtime-bedtime routine. Not the case here. Right when I left the parking lot, I had a meltdown, wondering if I had made the right choice by starting a new job. I felt so guilty for cutting my time with Z by two hours each day. That's 10 hours a week. She goes to bed at 7:30, so when I get home at 5:30, we have little time to relax because of all of the necessities.
When I got home, my meltdown was in full form. I know I freaked Z out, because she was looking at me strangely. After I calmed down and ate, I went to Urgent Care to get some antibiotics.
As the antibiotics began working, and I slowly adjusted to a new office, new hours, new coworkers, new job, and new schedule for my family, I started to feel better. I really love the work. Z is in good hands. She loves her daycare and R picks her up early and they hang out every afternoon. I still wish I could somehow finagle my old hours, but that's not likely. After such an epic first day, I'm looking forward to a peaceful week.