The New Terrible Two

Saying "no" at work is not part of my nature. I tend to be the creative, enthusiastic type who, when asked to generate an idea or share an opinion is perfectly willing to do so. I tend to share food, share a smile, share humorous stories, and so on.

However, after being told by my boss that I needed to "step up" my game and share more, I'm feeling resentful and cranky.

I ripped all of the photos and technology tips that I'd posted on my office door down. I packed up ALL of the the silverware, coffee, salad dressings, apples, candy, and flavored water that I'd purchased for the office.

I'm boxing up my collection of ed tech books (that I keep on my office shelves to lend out). They go home with me today as does the groovy paper I'd stocked the supply room with.

The walls are bare. When asked about my ideas for projects during this morning's one on one meeting with my Dean I firmly (ok, feebly) stated, "I'm no longer interested in those projects."

And I feel miserable.

In fact, I found myself walking through the halls of the Theater building practicing my "NO" like a two-year-old.

Self talk, "Stay firm, sister!"

"I'm as proud of what we don't do as I am of what we do." -- Steve Jobs

The Black Mold on My Shiny New Job

My "dream job" has turned into a disturbing, bad dream.

Several of my co-workers are covered with skin irritations and open sores. Our eyes burn and sometimes people go home with crusty, "mucous-covered" eyelashes. Migraine headaches. Coughing and wheezing.

Since I started this job six months ago, the suggestion of a "sick building" has been a constant topic of conversation, especially after a long weekend when people start to feel better (once they have spent some time on the outside).

Yesterday a mechanical closet near our office suite was quarantined by maintenance personnel after it was found to have walls covered in black mold. Ceiling tiles, upon removal and inspection, also show evidence of insect infestation and pervasive mold.

The institution could move us to another area, perhaps, but to date there has been no official communication about the topic. My boss seems blind-sided by this and other serious situations.

I have ideas about the mold, team-building, the workplace bully, office communication, marketing, student advisement, technology, and more.

But nobody seems to listen.

Hidden from Sight

If there was a "recurring theme" to Mr. WestBerryWorkingDad's last business trip (the period of time while he was away) it would be "on fire." The theme for this trip, I would have to say, is "hidden."

My cell phone went missing, somewhere in the house. I searched for it for six or seven days and then finally ordered a new one.

The boys hid dirty dishes under the cellar stairs, instead of washing them. They also hid some around the kitchen garbage on the floor. Or course, I found those. My eyes were immediately drawn to the pile, as I walked into the room...with the company that had just arrived.

My friend Diana is rediscovering her (our) home town. She continues to marvel at the wonderful restaurants that we visit together and the "hidden stories" of amazing people who came from the area. She wonders why these places and faces were always hidden to her.

Diana has introduced me to some wonderful "discoveries" as well. Last night she gave me some sheep's milk feta cheese imported from Israel. DEEELISH!

This week at gymnastics I made a new friend. This is significant because I have been praying for a long time that I would find another Christian mom to socialize with.

Diana and "Mrs. W" - two formerly hidden treasures.


I will go before you and make the rough places smooth; I will shatter the doors of bronze and cut through their iron bars. 3"I will give you the treasures of darkness And hidden wealth of secret places, So that you may know that it is I, The LORD, the God of Israel, who calls you by your name. Isiah 45: 2-3

A Whole New Low

Last night I hit a whole new low.

After leaving work late, forgetting that I needed to pick the boys up from the sitters and learning that I had missed a visit from my Godmother by ten minutes, I dropped W off at home to get ready for football and headed off to the chiropractor.

It was an EXCELLENT adjustment. Our chiropractor, a personal friend, is also a football mom. Last season her son was badly injured during a game. He had surgery and then sat out of all sports for several months. Still, he was choosing to play again this year.

When I picked W up from practice he was definitely "HANGRY," complaining that he KNEW he had a concussion because he could feel his brain jiggle.

At home the "first day back to college" student had passed out on the side porch. I had to steop over his body to go inside.

The 8 year old was SCREAMING. When I examined his foot I found toe that was swollen to twice its size, purple and striped. I feared infection.

The 17-year old agreed to do chores, while informing me that the team trainer had diagnosed him with a sprained shoulder-rotator cup-something.

Standing water in the basement. I found boxes of photos and books covered in a thick, green mold.

I took a bottle of wine and a glass up to bed with me. Turned on Food Network and then Mr. WestBerryWorkingDad called.

"The house sold today!" he reported.

I repeated/mumbled. "The house...closed...sold..today...yay."

"Can I call you back tomorrow?" I asked. Seriously. I couldn't drum up even an ounce of excitement.

This morning, however, I'm elated.