I’ve talked about my job once before. It is, truly, a great job and frequently moves me to getting all smooshy and weepy. I’ve had to learn some new skills while working there, which is good too. For instance, not long after starting there I learned how to give lice treatments and then pick lice and nits. Anyone out there done this before? Yeah…its super fun. When I became a shift supervisor I had to learn to be comfortably responsible for all the medication dispensing and logging that happens on my shift. This part of my job causes me considerable angst. I’ll go ahead and say this may  be my least favorite part of my job. Keeping track of and dispensing medicine is stressful business, especially when you are doing it for that many kids. I’ve learned how to check the drug interactions, give breathing treatments, and the best way to put in eye drops. In addition to the medication business, as a supervisor I had to learn how to creatively deal with any kids who are having a hard time on their wings, and even more difficult, I’ve had to learn how to deal with staff.

Recently, I’ve had to prepare and serve meals for the kids and staff as well. And if making ham and cheese sandwiches wasn’t enough to give me a panic attack, then heating sloppy joe mix (in the microwave) and slapping it on some buns certainly was. In fact, the dinner business freaks me out so thoroughly that last weekend, when dinner prep required adding four cups of cheese to alfredo and heating the meal in the ovens…my boss called in our receptionist to do it for me. So I would not lose my sweet little mind. She’s a good boss.

But my most recently learned skill is the ability to tighten braces. See, every shift the supervisors fill out the Supervisor Log, which is basically the run-down of the shift, who did what and any instructions that need to be left for future shifts. Since I only supervise once a week, these logs are priceless. A few weeks ago I was working after having been gone for two weeks. I noticed that the four shift entries leading up to my shift all included this message. DON’T FORGET! HANNAH’S BRACES NEED TO BE TIGHTENED ON SUNDAY!! I read it the first time and took note. I smiled the second time I read it. The third time I started to get suspicious. And the fourth time I read it I realized…the others are on to me. I am forgetful.

Despite having four reminders to tighten Hannah’s braces (and no, that is not really her name) there were no instructions as to how to do it, except “Use the little blue key with a wire at one end”. Got it. So I wrangled the case manager for help, took the blue key and went to ask Hannah how to do it. Surely she would know. It’s her mouth after all. So I asked her and she said “You put the wire in the little hole and you pull down”. How hard? How far? Til when? Will it hurt?

So the case manager and I went to it, both of us confused. We both tried, did exactly what she said, but were not getting anywhere. We pulled down. We pulled forward. We wiggled the wire end of the key and pulled down again. We stopped just short of doing a rain dance and forming a little golden calf out of napkins. Finally, after having spent at least 25 minutes with either my or the case manager’s fingers all in her mouth, I figured it out. You put the wire in the hole, turn the blue stick sideways, and rotate the whole thing backward so that it tightens. Psshhh…Take that crazy little braces! It only took half an hour for two adults and a gaggle of teen girls to outsmart you and your little wire self!

So if I ever find myself needing another job I can put these things on my resume:
Skilled in changing diapers and wiping poop
Excellent nit-picking abilities
Retains something like composure when in charge of dispensing and logging medications, and Band-Aid application
Can tighten braces

I am starting a new job on Monday. I am super excited. What I am not excited about is the fact that they don’t know I am pregnant. I am still wrestling with how/when you tell or if you even do. Yesterday I decided that I needed to grab some work worthy maternity pants (Read: Black, khaki, navy) and attempt to find a top that conceals my ever growing bump. YES I am only ten weeks along. YES I look like I am 5 to 6 months along; thank my son for destroying my abdominal wall.  SO. HELP ME! Should I just stop trying to tent myself and walk onto the scene all, “yeah that is right- my belly button is about to pop…how’dya like my belly shirt!”

When do you tell your employer?

Am I an evil troll for concealing the pregnancy so they would hire me?

Am I an even more EVIL troll for making them pay for maternity leave in less then 8 months?

How do you even cover up a belly?

When I do spring it to them, do I just hand them a baby onesie with a wink?

 HELP ME!!

♥ Jasmine

(Note: I am thinking that this multiple author thing is still a little confusing. I think we will start signing our names to the posts we write.)

Everyday of every week I work at home as Norah’s mom. I do things like change diapers and redirect undesirable behavior and give thousands of hugs and kisses. I am in the baby entertaining business. And who are we kidding…I also do things like watch trashy TV and don’t shower til noon and sometimes stay in my pajamas all day long. Just so I don’t send out the impression that I am some kind of super-human mom.

In addition to be a trashy TV watching, jammy wearing, baby entertainer I work two days a week at a local children’s shelter. I have worked there for over three years, and while I’ve had plenty of hard times there and have even had to take some time off because I was just burnt out, I always come back to absolutely loving my job. Truth be told, when I am at work I do essentially the same things I do at home. I wipe boogers. I clean poop, the size and scale of which you don’t even want to know. I read books, help make beds, give baths, serve food, give hugs and kisses and redirect undesirable behavior. There are notable differences, however. The kids at the shelter are there for many reasons, but most often they are victims of some kind of abuse or neglect. Obviously these kids have a whole slew of things to try to understand and deal with, and many times they have no idea where to begin. Working with them can be challenging and frustrating, and sometimes it can be amazingly easy and normal. You just never know what to expect. 

I consider the main objective in my job to be loving these kids in the simplest of ways, and I know plently of my co-workers have a similar attitude. This love may come in the form of a new blanket, it may come in the form of brushing hair or giving hugs. This love may come in the form of firm redirection and quiet encouragement. It comes in countless little ways. It’s a hard job, and sometimes I hate that I have to leave Norah and go to the shelter. Many times I leave irritated and stressed out and think that I would much rather have been at home in my jammies with my Norah. But some days are better. 

Yesterday we took some of our older kids to a local nursing home to read books and play games with the residents there. I had a pretty stinky attitude about it all. I don’t like nursing homes, and I didn’t expect our kids to be too excited about it either. I kept my anxiety to myself, but all the way up to the time we were leaving I was hoping a reason to keep me back from the outing would pop up. I know…totally immature. Nothing popped up so I lumbered into the enormous 15 passenger van with the kids. I sat in the back, keeping my staff eyes on the kids to make sure everyone was behaving. We got to the nursing home and my stress just kept rising. “Eck!” I thought to myself, “I just hope the kids are polite. And if they can’t be polite, I hope they are quiet.” I had sadly little faith in our kids, but I think it was mostly coming out of my own insecurity. I was afraid of being uncomfortable, and afraid the kids would see it, and…I don’t know. But my uncomfortable feelings were not helped by the little old lady in the wheelchair who snapped at me to get out of her way. And then I did the awkward back and forth dance as I tried to figure out which way she wanted me to move.

The girls in our group got settled in to read in the common room, and I took three boys to a men’s unit to play games with the men there. The woman in charge explained that these particular men were very confused, and many of them wanted to escape from the home. Many of them tried, some of them succeeded. Walking through those double doors and seeing the men milling around in the hallway, making our way down to the game room and waiting to get settled; I can pretty much say that was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life. There I was, the acting guardian of three young boys, in a situation where I was completely unsure of myself.

We got into the room, where Sarge was rearranging furniture. The boys looked at him, trying to understand why he was moving furniture with no apparent reason. “Boys!” the activities director chirpped “I guess his wife just always had him moving furniture around the house!” I laughed nervously and pretended to be charmed.  We got the tables set up-two boys playing checkers together and another playing Connect Four with a guy named Albie. I sat in my chair and orchestrated board games. I smiled too much, and fidgeted like I frequently do. One guy kept wheeling himself into the room and insisting that he “had never done that damn game!” pointing to the Connect Four pieces. “I’ve never played that shit! Never played that damn game!” he yelled. The boys pretended not to notice, and finally one of the staff asked him to quit cussing at the kids.

Sarge, who had been sitting quietly for the past ten minutes, suddenly started shaking the chair one of my boys was sitting in. He kept shaking it, and trying to pull it backward. I’m assuming he wanted the boy out of the chair so he could continue rearranging the furniture. The boy just kept playing checkers, politely ignoring his moving chair. Sarge was eventually moved to the other room.

By the time we left, two of my boys were being dominated in Dominoes by a guy wearing mis-matched socks, and Albie was cheating (and beating me) at Connect Four. He and I talked about growing tomatoes and I explained my fruitless radishes to him. He told me I “had a pretty name for a pretty lady”. We said our goodbyes and walked back out of the unit to collect the group of girls who were busy handing out popsicles.

When we piled back into the van, not a single kid complained or made a rude comment. They all chattered about the people they had met and how much fun they had. And I was so proud of them. It was so incredible to see the kids give so selflessly, in a situation that makes alot of people uncomfortable. And to be honest, it was their good attitudes and love that made me see how silly I was being.

I really love my job. It is hard and thankless and sometimes I am pushed to do things I don’t like to do, but man, sometimes it is absolutely incredible.

By: Sadie