I worked 51 hours this week. That's less than I was originally scheduled to work. In addition to being called in to take the night shift twice, I am doing a split shift 7am-9am and 5pm-7pm while these people are out of town for a week and a half. She asked me to stop in during lunch time if I am able, too. I have had to keep an air tight schedule. Some days I saw four clients. Plus try to fit in time to pick up and drop off Guy or my Mom because my car was in the shop for most of the week.
After all that getting up early and running around, I was even too tired to go dancing on Friday night. As much as I could have used the release, I was just useless. What I am really wanting is someone to give me some special attention. Where is my caregiver?
I can usually count on Guy for some hugs and kisses, but I only see him when he is either already too tired and cranky or just waking up and cranky. Not to mention the potty struggle I am having with him. Just last week, I declared Potty War with him. I don't understand why he resists it so much. I am having to crack down on him. I don't like myself when I have to be so stern with him. I should have never stopped having him go on the potty when he was 9 months old. I guess I got tired of cleaning up the puddle on the floor because they still haven't figured out how to make baby potties anatomically correct for little boys. I went through four different potties. Now he uses his Dora seat on the big toilet.
My point is, I have been crazy stressed. I still wonder how I kept from spontaniously combusting. Oh, plus my mom has been putting the pressure on for me to help get the house ready to sell, so any spare minute at home is expected to be spent towards that. She is stressing because it may take longer for it to get ready. What's the hurry? We have waited 6 months already, what's another week?
OH, I did get a $50 bonus from my boss in the mail on Friday. The scheduler was pushing for me to get a raise, but I know I am already making max allowable pay. The letter from my boss encouraged me to get my nursing degree. I am thinking that I must need a degree to be able to make more money at this job. Which would mean that I would be sent to more hospice and dirty work jobs, rather than the cushy Driving Miss Daisy type jobs. The letter also incuded a copy of the letter than Sandy's husband sent to my boss that mentions how much they appreciated my help. I asked my mom to read it to me while I was driving and she got choked up. I really do love my job. I wish I could make more money at it without having to work around the clock, like this week.