WFHWTF: Week, wait what week are we on

I think this is technically: week one version four.

The week started out about as frustrating as it could. Lots of screaming. Ill timed screaming. Unrelenting screaming. Neighbors probably wondering WTF is going on screaming.

Can’t change the diaper fast enough.

Can’t warm the bottle fast enough.

Can’t have the Mylicon and other gas remedies kick in fast enough.

Yeah. And, what’s worse? We had friends come in and help sit for the younger Padawan and as far as they expressed they didn’t experience anything of the sort.

Am I a bad fuckin’ dad?

No seriously? Am I?

I get why my partner can instantly calm them. Fresh milk. Oh, and the last like eight weeks worth of boob bonding. Don’t underestimate the soothing factor that has. I don’t.

But, really, it still doesn’t make me feel any better that a recent college grad and a grandmother can essentially negate the fraternal lack of bond between my youngling and I. No. I harbor zero ill will. Good on them. They broke through for a day were I was struggling. Probably was good for the Padawan too. Or, everyone are good liars about what the day was like. Baby included.

Honestly, the week was a shitshow.

I HATE my new office space.

HATE IT.

There’s not a window to be found. Not even a communal one that I could find. Listen, I went to an award winning, nationally recognized High School in Central Jersey that was nearly devoid of windows. I value the education but the situation sucked ass. The kids there succeed in spite of the situation, mostly through brainwashing that says windows are a distraction. This, this is demoralizing. And I was only there for like four hours moving between our old work space and the new one.

There’s no privacy. None. This isn’t even about the idea of open space compared to partial cubes or whatever. Again, I went to an award winning, nationally recognized High School in Central Jersey that was devoid of actual classrooms. No seriously, there were office cube style partitions between what were referred to as class spaces. These faux walls were movable, maybe 7 feet high and didn’t go all the way to the floor. They didn’t deaden sound so they offered no privacy. In college, I experienced something similar in communal music practice spaces. In my first job I experienced this in sales and marketing where the people sharing the space weren’t even selling or marketing the same stuff and there were no walls. Zero. Nada. You looked at a coworker, or maybe the wall (I was lucky, it was the wall) and hoped to keep your focus. In a later job I experienced it in product management where the people you sat with in a long string of desks might not even be on a remotely related team and were doing there thing with no division between you.

So, even with ALL that experience the new office blows ass. I not only have NO separation at all from my coworkers. but, what’s worse I have none from any of the public spaces within the floor we share. The area is like a hallway between the kitchen and what seems like another public gathering space. People are having lunch a mere few feet away. I hear them talk about, well, let’s just say I don’t want to know about your bowl movement at work when I have to actually experience some of the subtitles at home. And, it gets worse from there. VD. check. lying to clients. check. fucking a coworker in what will surely be a #metoo moment. check. And, for fuck’s sake, I was there like 4 hours at the new workspace.

Oh, so you’re wondering how paragraphs on paragraphs of fuck where I work would be good? Well, I hate the physical space, but I LOVE the company. It’s a temporary space, hopefully the space changes for the better when we migrate again. And, they are providing me with this opportunity again to work from home and experience self-growth, the development of my child and the bonding of the family. It’s why I LOVE working for Euro companies. I’d likely, unfortunately, NEVER, find this stateside. The US HATES its workforce. NY only guarantees like 6 weeks off, which you have to take out of your normal time off bank for anyhow and only under certain circumstances with a culture that negatively judges you for taking them. My counterparts in our successful Euro offices have few of those restrictions and a culture that expects you to take them.

Anyway, trying week. Sucked. Felt like a shitty dad the entire time.

Then, at the end, in the midst of the shit, literally and figuratively. But mostly literally. Sometimes up to 8 diapers during the day were 7 of them were with poop.

But, there were giggles. Lots of giggles. Like, huge, long held, belly laughs that rattled the whole body. For both of us.

And some good tunes to boot that.

First week is what it is for listening. It’s way more for me than it is for them. It’s mostly been classic rock. Mostly British shit from the 60s and early 70s rock. the Beatles, the Who, the Kinks, Cream, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath mixed in with Jefferson Airplane, Mountain, Chicago and whatever else happened to come up. Basically, under duress you go back to your roots. Mine are of CBS-FM and reel-to-reels. This was an enlightenment, if for nothing else, after the fact I’d realized what I’d done.

There was a patch that was solid fuckin singer-songwriter in there of Springsteen, Cohen, Waits, plus CSNY and a few others. It’s significant because it was what brought out a lot of the old , made up songs i’d used on my first Youngling. I’d kicked them around already and the first Padawan was already singing them along with me, like “[padawan] don’t you cry, not today, cuz it’s ok” in three four time… but

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About thedoormouse

I am I. That’s all that i am. my little mousehole in cyberspace of fiction, recipes, sacrasm, op-ed on music, sports, and other notations both grand and tiny: https://thedmouse.wordpress.com/about-thedmouse/
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