It’s quiet.

Really, really quiet.

And not the quiet where you are looking for something or someone to make noise.  It’s the quiet that comes when you are really alone.

My littles are with their grandma (Stephen’s mom) for the weekend.  We met at a random interstate Wendy’s and exchanged children, luggage and car seats just like a weekend parent.  I drove home, more than just a little bit flighty.

I’ve been on edge lately.  That’s a large part about why I haven’t been writing much.  There isn’t much to say other than my general annoyance, exhaustion and mental defeat. 

I know why I’m on edge too.  I’m afraid to admit it because I know I’m right.

I have not been to the gym in more than a week. 


I said it.

I have been out running.  Outside.  I know.  This is me we are talking about. 

I had a friend here for the weekend (and we will never speak of that trip again) who was an adult occupying the house so I could get out and run a little.  I haven’t done that yet and with all those 5k races looming, I thought I should get out into some weather and rough-ish terrain.  I don’t even know how far I went.  I could have done a 5 k.  I was out for an hour exactly.  I ran for 23 minutes of that hour and walked at a pace fast enough to keep up my heartrate for the rest of the time. 

I don’t know.  I thought I did well considering it was dark.

But it was just that one time.  I had to go back to being the only adult.  And I don’t do humidity, even at night.  It’s like a rainforest here: pouring and then hot and humid and then pouring and then hot and humid.  Repeat.  Ad nauseam.  I swear, if the AC goes out on my van, I might be homicidal.

I have not been to the gym.


It is taking its toll on me, this job.  I can do the work; I think I have proven that.  The teachers are all great.  The assistants are mostly great (even though they are all college girls and it’s kind of funny to listen to them talk about what they *think* is really important).  The directors?  Continue to look at me as if I have three heads. 

I am systematically getting rid of all the HFCS from the school.  I am now doing all the local grocery shopping.  I have convinced them that my biscuits are better, cheaper and almost as fast as the tube biscuits.  I have cut their grocery bill by a third since I started.  I waste nothing.  I shop carefully.  And, because of that, I get a little leeway in what I buy.  I got a cart full of whole grain bread and fresh broccoli today.  Whole eggs instead of “egg product”.  Actual apple juice instead of fruit punch. 

Slowly.  I’m getting the menu fixed very slowly.  One of the problems is that the directors don’t seem to care.  They are, understandably, trying to run a business.  I?  Am trying to feed 100 kids something tasty and not full of garbage. 

Sidenote:  I have dubbed the directors “The Sisters.”  Because they are.  And also because they haven’t exactly earned my respect.  It’s very strange to have a job that I care so very little about.  I mean, if I got fired for being mouthy (and, mark my words, it will happen at some point) I would not care one little bit.  Not one.  This is so not a career.  Some days I like it.  Most days?  Not so much.

Between the alarm going off way to early for my taste, my coffee pot shitting the bed (it’s 6 years old and probably doesn’t owe me a thing), the constant noise at the daycare, my exhausted children, my aching feet and sweaty ass….I’m just not so sure that this is a good fit.

I am mourning the loss of my summer and the freedom that goes with it.  I can’t tell if the girls are happy or not.  (They just seem to go along with what needs to be done, as is their way.  They don’t know any different because I have never asked their opinion.  We get along much better that way.)  I miss feeling like cooking for my family.  My kids eat like crap once we get home and I’m lucky if I eat at all. 

We’ve eaten our fair share of cereal dinners already.

But, for the weekend, it will be quiet.  Calm.  I will clean my house and organize my closets. 

(Oooo….I got rid of all my fat girl pants today.  Very proud moment.)

I will, hopefully, squeeze in a PT session with Molly.  I will sit by the pool and tan myself into a penny loafer because I always feel thinner with a little color.  I will brunch with my mom and dad and I won’t have to cut anyone’s meat.  I will read and sleep late. 

I might need another day or two.  Or six.


2 thoughts on “Edgy

  1. I wish you worked at my son’s daycare. It’s unfortunate the “sisters” don’t get what a valuable employee they have in you…someone that actually cares!

    Hope you enjoy your quiet time this weekend Jenn.

  2. Hang in there Jenn! Congrats on getting rid of the FG Pants! You have so much to be proud of—thanks for all you do to encourage the rest of us!

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