rock, paper, scissors

Being back to work is difficult, and not just for me.  It certainly puts a HUGE onus on Tia to take care of Quinn.  She is responsible for him during work hours of course (including getting ready in the morning and travel time, that means she is on duty with Quinn from roughly 8-6) and then she has responsibility for the night shift as well since I have to be somewhat coherent and clear headed to deal with the medications I infuse.  I am therefore generally little to no help after 11 either.  I am sure that it cannot be easy.  There are no scheduled breaks, no real downtime, and no uninterrupted lunches.  Of course, I don’t exactly feel like dancing around after a day at work either, especially when I am still readjusting to it so it is difficult to walk in and want to take full responsibility for him when all you really want is a few minutes of peace to unwind.  In summation: we are both really effing tired.      

All would prove infinitely easier were Quinn to adopt an even semi-regular sleep pattern.   As you can imagine (if you have ever been around a newborn) it isn’t happening as yet.   From what I am told, it might be awhile before it does too (rumor has it 3-6 months).  Of course, by then we will both be working outside of the home, which will create its own obstacles (I foresee a lot of ‘rock, paper, scissors’ matches in the middle of the night).  

The good news is that none of this is unusual.  No matter who you talk to, every parent has been through it and all are happy to regale you with their experience.  It makes you wonder how anyone comes to the decision to do it a second time (or a third for that matter).  Aside from trauma induced amnesia, copious alcohol, straight up prophylactic bursting accidents, or unadulterated sadism, I can’t fathom how it happens.  Certainly with the first child you can disregard the tales, feign utter ignorance, or go forth incredulously believing you will somehow avoid the pratfalls of others, but with the second you have the luxury of your own experience.  One would assume your only response when asked about having another child would be emphatically stating ‘Hell no!”, punching the questioner squarely in the nose, or curling up in a fetal ball bawling loudly like a vet going through PTSD.  That isn’t to say the whole experience is bad, it just isn’t necessarily something I can imagine wanting to go through again.  I am sure there will be a time that I will look back wistfully on these days through the blurry soft-focus Vaseline coated lens of time, but for now I would trade it for a kid that could communicate his wants and needs in manner other than screaming.  

As for work, well that is moving forward in the lurching stop motion fashion of a zombie caught in a strobe light.  I heard today that they called off their ‘on-call’ help at the Park this week because they were told (as was I initially) I was going to be there starting today.  I also heard they are interviewing for my position here tomorrow.  As you can see, communication is a strength.  Hopefully things start coming together soon, because ideally it would be nice to transition over slowly allowing the new person the time and opportunity to learn, ask questions, and feel relatively comfortable before being here by themselves, but honestly as like as not they will just be thrown in the deep end to see if they can swim.  Because, god forbid we think ahead.