Full-time working mom

I am telling you, this working full-time bit has put a serious damper on my life, obviously to include the little time I have left to blog.

First, let me say how much I LOVE my job. I am back at work with nurses and doctors I have known and loved for years, in a place where I know I fit in. And, after three and a half years of working with people who are constantly swinging up and down the needing-Bipolar-meds curve, I have come to realize how very important it is to work with people who are sane and normal, whatever sane and normal means to you. (Putting a note on the bathroom door asking people to please leave the door open when not in use, because Char gets confused and waits for long periods of time for the nobody in the bathroom to open the door and come out? Normal. And fun. Having to send a co-worker to the ER because she's threatening to commit suicide and has barricaded herself in the supply closet? Not normal. Or fun.)

So, I never dread going to work, like I did in Vancouver. BUT, instead of working part-time, I am back to working full-time, 40-hours-a-week, four 10-hour shifts per week. Which leaves me exactly one day in the week to do all the laundry, cleaning, and entertaining of my child. After two weeks of this schedule, all I can say is that we're all still adjusting. And I am so unbelievably tired of getting up at 6 a.m. EVERY SINGLE DAY, whether because of my alarm clock OR my child who seems to crave fewer and fewer hours of sleep these days, I could just...pour myself another cup of coffee.

And now, I need to go get the house ready (as in, kitty fur balls vacuumed off the carpet, beds made, toys picked up) because my sister Michelle, whom I haven't seen in ages, is coming down to visit today. Which means I'm headed back to the coffee pot to re-fuel, and Zoey is well on her way to watching her third episode of Olivia. Which should make both of us happy.