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Craziness All Around

Is it a full moon? Because, MAN! Things have been weird around here lately. Yesterday as I was sitting in my office, most likely working on something completely unrelated to work, my boss stuck her head gingerly inside the barriers of my large gray cube: "Kristen. Do you have a minute?" Quick! Minimize all the e-mail windows! Close the blog post you were working on! Act busy, using the George Costanza method! I gave a half-sigh, furrowed my brow, then smiled quickly, as if to say, "well, no, I'm VERY VERY BUSY, but you're my boss, so of course I'll take time out of my busy and hectic work schedule to talk with you." I followed her gesturing hand out of my cube and as we walked toward an empty conference room, she turned to me and said quietly, "don't worry. It's nothing bad." Crap. Should I have thought it was something bad? When we walked into the conference room, she closed the door and told me that I was getting a mid-year raise.

Just like that, people! Look at me! I go to the office, I read blogs and wait for real work, I tell those in power as politely as possible that I'm ready for real work, when I get real work, I do it, and then read more blogs. And this behavior earns me a raise. Extra money. In the middle of the year. Just for being me. Sarcastic, fatigued, bored, frustrated me. I took the post-it note with all of the financial details from her outstretched hand and squealed, "you like me, you REALLY like me!"


This morning when I woke up, Bryce was curled up on the floor next to my side of the bed. He'd been there long enough that he had carpet indentations on his cheek and his voice had that deep and clumsy sleepy sound to it. We both opened our eyes at about the same time, looked at each other, and he immediately said, as if we'd been in the middle of a conversation and had stopped for a six-hour reprieve, "do you know why I got up last night? It's because I just needed some water and I couldn't get comfortable." I noticed his pajama bottoms were different and yawned, "Bryce, what happened to your pants?" He climbed into my bed as I forced myself out and towards the shower and said, eyes wide and expressive, but still sleepy, "I don't know! They just got wet, but I don't even know how! I didn't even wet them. But I just got up and got some new ones, all by myself. And I put my old ones in the dirty clothes hamper." Later as I was ironing my shirt, Bryce was chattering in his favorite morning way when all of a sudden, his voice changed to one of disgust and terror: "WHAT IN THE WORLD IS THIS GROSS STUFF ON THE FLOOR?!" I looked over and noticed he was pointing to a sticky mass of jelly on our living room rug. I said, "Oh! I knew I stepped on something sticky last night! You had jelly on your sandwich yesterday - did you bring it into the living room?" He denied it, knowing that admission would mean he'd broken a very basic rule. I didn't say anything else about it, but a few minutes later, he came up to me and quietly said, "Mom, I'm sorry I brought the sandwich into the living room - I just wanted to see the TV while I was eating it." I masked my shock at his cooperative, peaceful nature, accepted his apology, and went back to getting ready for work. He walked away, then returned to the sink with a clean wash cloth, "I'm going to clean up the jelly now." (Again with the shock-masking.)


When I got to work this morning, my phone started ringing, my head started spinning, my inbox started flooding, and by the time I looked up, it was lunch time. I had enough time to eat a frozen, sodium-filled concoction at my desk before it all started again, and by the end of the day I realized that that mid-year raise was going to be well-earned, damn it (there's always an ulterior motive, GAH!). Tomorrow I fly out of state for - get this - a ONE. HOUR. MEETING. A meeting I could easily facilitate via phone. But they're all saying, "it's just a day trip! No big deal!" and I can only object so many times before I just expose myself for the lazy employee I apparently am. So, right now I'm trying to decide whether I should use this time to catch up with my blog-reading or be responsible and go to sleep so that when the alarm goes off at 4:15 a.m., I'll actually 1.) hear it and 2.) get out of bed.


When I put Bryce to bed tonight, I told him he wouldn't see me in the morning because I had to go to a meeting out of town. "I'll see you after dinner tomorrow night, though." He tsssked and moaned and groaned in complete disgust: "WHY do you have to go out of TOWN for a MEETING? We usually spend the DAAAYY together!"

"Uh, no. No, we don't. You normally don't see me until dinner time anyway, dude. I just wanted to tell you this so you wouldn't be upset when I'm gone in the morning - I have to leave really early."

He seemed okay with this, and I headed downstairs. Once I was situated comfortably with the laptop, he tiptoed into my room. "Back upstairs, Bryce," I told him. "No, mom, I just have to say one thing."

"Okay, what?"

"Tomorrow? When you come back from your trip? It's going to take you longer."

"What do you mean?"

"It's going to take you longer on the way home!"


"It just is. It's a long way away."

I'm flying Southwest. They have the best record for on-time flights. If my flight home tomorrow is significantly delayed, this is just more evidence that the kid is spoo-kay.

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