It’s Complicated


So Rhonda’s ex is unable to take care of the children during what is usually his time, at least for this week if not longer, due to some health problems.  Naturally this is the ONE weekend wherein I accepted some on-call shifts, resulting in a five-day death-march through the land of the night shift, so sleep deprivation was already my chosen lifestyle for the duration.

Since Rhonda can’t afford to take any more time off from work, ditto myself, we’re just having to patch together what arrangements we can for tomorrow and the next day.  Since naturally this is ALSO the Monday that I happen to have a job interview, it’s become a complicated affair with a cast of many players.  Ordinarily I’d just come home and sleep and wake up and get the youngest from the babysitter and then meet the bus for the older one, but instead I’ll be dashing off to the interview, a friend’s teenager will meet the bus, and I’ll grab the youngest on my way home.  Then I’ll pay off the teen, craft a delicious meal of take-n-bake pizza or similar, shovel the exhausted spawnlets into bed (since they will have been dropped off at the sitter’s at 530am by Rhonda on her way to work), and attempt to nap before leaving for work at 10pm.  Rhonda will arrive home at 830pm, shovel herself into bed (for our hour and a half of together time, probably spent talking about the events of the day and whining about not seeing one another since very early Saturday morning), and the cycle begins anew for Tuesday minus the teen and the dashing around to interviews.

I expect that by Thursday, when I get off work for the week, I will be gibbering, hysterical, and thoroughly unpleasant (I know, different from usual in what way?).  I will communicate in grunts, whistles, and clicking noises, and prod people into doing what I want via pointed stick.

But the night shift differential at the oncall place is twice what I expected, and we can really use the extra scratch, and it will all be over with in a few days.  Right?  Right?


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