Super Frustrated


But not really.

I’m frustrated because I can’t get online, but not because of the things that have been monkeying around my mind for the last week.

Oh thank you Jesus for inventory.

I did a lot today.

I did a lot last night.

I got through the day and by the end of it I was happy and satisfied and grateful and feeling all the love.

There is a solution.

And it has little or nothing to do with my best ideas.

They usually get me in trouble.

Taking the next action in front of me, that works.

I got honest with a lot of people, myself included, and though I have not had the talk with my employers, they were not available to do so today, I know that when another situation arises I have something to say.

I have a sort of script.

I have some work to do.

I am not looking forward to the conversation and I kept expecting that it was going to happen today, as I finally did enough work to see where the real work was at that had to be done, but it did not happen today.

It may not happen tomorrow either.

However.

It will happen.

The next time I am told that I’ll be doing an unsupervised play date I have something to address and I will get to do so.

I will also, and quietly, gently, put it out there that I may be available.

I have no guarantee with the family past the summer.

I have been keeping myself quiet as I keep thinking this is the job for me, may I have it the entire time I’m in school and live happily ever after.

But.

The fact is.

Working a nanny job with two parents that are predominately stay at home parents is a far bigger challenge than I have let on.

I think some of my very close friends know.

However.

For the most part I have kept my thoughts and experiences regarding it to a very small pool of people.

I’m not certain that I’m going to put all my cards on the table here either, however, suffice to say I feel often times that I am in performance form.

I don’t have a lot of alone time or down time or away time.

I’m always on.

“That sounds exhausting,” a friend of mine commiserated with me today.

I laid all the cards on the table with her, not going to do it here, just isn’t the right forum.

Especially since I really like my family and I like so much of my job, the boys especially.

But there is a lot of my job that I don’t like.

And I miss the babies.

I miss all those sweet milestones in the first couple of years, the first words, the first “I love you,” then again.

“Carmen, thank you, I’ll miss you, good night, wait I have to go give my babysitter a hug good night,” my littlest guy said tonight to his play date—double play date two siblings of the same ages as my charges, one little friend for each of them.

He came running over and flung himself at me.

“I love you Carmen, I love you so much,” he clung to me.

He’s been a very sweet, soft, mushy cuddle with me all week.

“I need to love you because we are leaving on a plane and going away,” he said to me yesterday when he tackled me in the kitchen and was anchored to my ankle as I was putting away their lunch detritus.

“But you’ll come back and I’ll be here,” I said, hugging him nonetheless, never pass up the hugs of a child, just don’t.

“But I will miss you,” he said and hugged me harder.

It’s a conundrum.

But not really.

I’ll show up to work tomorrow and I’ll do a good job.

I will close up the house and make sure the boys have fresh sheets and duvets; I’ll collect all the stuffies and put them in their appropriate spots.

I’ll take out all the trash and compost and recycling and set the blinds just so and secure the house and close up shop.

I’m not sure when I’ll be done, technically six p.m.

But I bet I get out of there faster than that.

I am if nothing, extraordinarily efficient.

I get a lot done and I get it done expediently.

I still have a fairly scandalously open scheduled this weekend.

I may or may not go to the MOMA Friday afternoon with a friend.

Or I may just go to yoga and chill out in the neighborhood.

I do know this.

I’m not going to torture myself for not having it all planned out.

Let myself be flexible for my own self.

See what comes up.

Have some fun.

Be spontaneous.

Get laid.

Did I say that?

Heh.

Not that I have a date.

Yet.

All I know is that I feel better tonight than I have all week.

I feel like I finally did the work and the writing and got clarity on all the stupid fear I allow myself to live in, sometimes without even realizing how much stupidity I am in until I’m out of it.

Grateful for my people and doing the deal.

Grateful beyond words.

Really.

Boring almost.

Except to me.

It feels too soothing to be back comfortable in my skin.

And nice.

Oh.

So.

Fucking nice.

To not be quietly seething in shame around things that I have not said.

I have no secrets.

I have things that need to be said, but I’m not keeping anything to myself.

That’s the big thing, all my people know.

I got a spiritual solution for your desperate aim.

Thank fucking God for that.

Summer time fun.

That’s what I got for this weekend.

Sunshine.

Love.

Joy.

Free, free, free.

Happy, happy, happy.

Joy.

Joy.

Joy.

Like that.

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