Somewhat Improved

I was driving home from work today around 2 p.m., which is about as abnormal as it gets for my work-day. I got a phone call from C's daycare about 20 minutes before that letting me know she was complaining of an earache and crying.

I drove down 7th east with a whirlwind of thoughts running through my head.

I wonder if she has a fever. 
Advil as soon as we get home, and movie-madness-rest-time.
I need to log into my computer ASAP.
I have a meeting in 5 minutes. 
And another call after that. Ugh. 
Hopefully Alex can handle any follow up questions until I can join the conference call. 
I'll have to make sure C is quiet.
What if she cries?
What if Winston starts freaking out...
Maybe I could be muted most of the time? No.
Everyone is just going to have to deal with my noisy shit. 

And then all of those things came to a halt and I thought...being a Mom is really, really hard. Being a working mother is even harder.

It's a double edged sword.

At any moment, there is a sacrifice being made. Either I'm sacrificing time with my daughter, or I'm sacrificing time in my career.




Both are obviously very important. My Little C trumps everything, but I also need that career to support the two of us.

So on my drive to pick up my sick little babe, I'm contemplating all of these things. If only she was feeling better, I could still be working towards a promotion. I could be once step closer to getting that gleaming "Associate" title next to my name. I could be finishing a review meeting for a filing to the Federal Reserve, and I could still lead a call after that from the comfort of my cozy little desk downtown.

But, if I was still there, I wouldn't get to snuggle my beautiful babe. She wouldn't be able to lean into me while I cruise through Excel spreadsheets on my laptop. I wouldn't be able to take her out early to grab some pizza with Mr. Steele. {Pizza heals all wounds, or Mac & Cheese in C's case}



I'm really trying to appreciate these difficult moments for what they are: Moments. Small moments in time where I feel like a fucking psychopath.

Sure, it's hard.
Sure, it makes me feel like my head might explode.
Sure, I want to quit.

But, I won't. Because, I know that I have it in me to finish what I've started.

In the words of Amy Poehler:



So, there you have it.

-Stef

I don't really ride the train much. Except when I'm feeling lazy, or it's cold as shit and I don't want to walk two blocks to City Creek.

But, my co-workers do.

There is a lot of weird shit happening on the train. So much so, that my coworkers and I exchange stories frequently and even get the chance to experience these instances together while going to lunch or picking up a late-night-dinner.



We even joke about how one of us could write a book of short stories cleverly named "TRAIN STORIES". We're a bunch of up-and-coming Henry David Thoreau's, I know.

Anyway, I thought if no once else is going to document this shit, I will.

So, we'll start with one of the first.

I think it must have been my 1st quarter-end with the Firm. Because it was cold, and the heater was running on the train.

Alex and I decided it was a great day for some soup from Kneaders. We walked the two blocks to City Creek, grabbed our grub and saw the train was coming to swoop us back down the street.

We jumped on and sat in our seats. Immediately, a rather fragile looking dark-haired woman started talking to us.

"You don't happen to have a couple of dollars so that I could get a bottle of Aspirin...."

Before the two of us can even acknowledge her or respond, she continues.

"Because I have a fever."
"I've gotta wound on my leg."
"It's infected. I've just got this raging fever, and I've got to get it down!"
"All I need is two dollars to get some Aspirin at the Pharmacy. That's it! Just two dollars!"

I fucking hate this shit. It's not that I feel bad. No, no. It's just so fucking awkward. Normally, I wouldn't give anyone money. Especially if they are begging for it. But we're sitting on the train with our lunch in our hands and this bitch is telling us how she's got a festering wound on her leg, and all I want is for her to stop talking about it.

So I say, "You know what, I just happen to have two bucks. Here you go." Hoping that she'll just take my money and leave us alone so we can eat lunch without catching a Staph infection.

Nope. 

"Thank you so much! You see this wound here on my leg?"

She rips up her pant leg and starts unwrapping the mysteriously wounded leg....shit.

"This thing just won't stop bleeding. But once I get my fever down, they are going to amputate it!"

Holy shit. There is blood.
And it smells. Holy fuck it smells.
The train stops and we roll the fuck out. We don't even say goodbye. We just jump out.

Goodbye. Take my money. Get help.

Alex -  "What just happened??"

Me - "The Zombie Apocalypse was about to start with that bitch's leg, that's what! Good thing she can buy some Aspirin now!"

Good thing there are impatient fucks like me trying to stop people from starting the Zombie Apocalypse.

-Stef

P.S. I'm the luckiest. #reallife