All is quiet

It seems that blogland is taking a little slumber the past few days. Not a lot of activity on the blogs I frequent.

I guess everyone has busy lives.

It's quiet here, too. Not much to say. Not that I ever have much worth writing about. Just the daily routine, ya know?

Work is intolerable, the baby is happy, the husband is, for the most part, absent. Why elaborate?

Wanted: The Father of My Child

It's strange how one day Wil can be so involved in his son's life, and the next, it seems like he couldn't care less.

I know it's mostly irrationality on my part, and I can't expect everyone in the world to be as devoted to parenting as I am. (And that's not to say that I'm super-mom or anything) But there are some days where I wonder if it would break Jonas's heart less to just not have a daddy at all.

Last night, when Wil finally came home from work, after making a detour to Best Buy to check out some Amish Porn that we can't afford anyways, he sat down in the livingroom floor and glued himself to the television. Not even a word of hello to his son. And I sat and watched Jonas try his damndest to get his attention for half an hour. Even the toy hammer to the head got barely a reaction.

Sure, he's young enough now to not remember things like this, but how long will that be an excuse?

I don't know... sometimes it just feels like I'm doing this totally alone.

Is it just something in a man's genetic makeup that makes them think that their only obligation is to put in an 8 hour day on the job?

I haven't discounted the fact that it's probably jealousy that's driving some of these feelings on my part. Sure, I'd love to have a day or two where my only responsibility was to show up at work and then come home and turn into a lump.

And our relatioship is suffering.

In another week and a half it'll be our third wedding anniversary... our sixth year together, and I find that I just don't give a shit one way or the other. There's no nostalgic, fuzzy feeling about it. Just another day, ya know? I can count, on one hand, the number of intimate moments we've shared in the past year. I can't fairly blame that totally on him, but his efforts are minimal, and so are mine. Where'd the spark go? The adventure? The need for one another?

Believe me when I tell you that my life does feel complete. Wil has given me the one and only thing I've longed for, but I never imagined how detached from us he could be. We feel less like a family and more like a mother and son living with some guy who occasionally makes an appearance.

So how do I make it better? How do I get him more involved? Or is it even my responsibility to do so?

Just some rambling thoughts during naptime.

All Alone

This afternoon the boys are out together, visiting with the grandparents and running various errands. God bless my hubby for realizing what I hadn't: I needed a day off.

So what does a Mommy do in her free time? Well, first, she catches up on housework so that she doesn't feel guilty about wasting time. Then she, or at least this Mommy does, gets down to long forgotten projects.

You see, I'm always full of great ideas, but my follow-through is terrible. Hence the reason Jonas's baby book only has four pages in it. I guess it's just because I'm a practical person. If I have a craft sort of thing I could be working on, or a pile of laundry, I'm going to pick the laundry. You have to have clean clothes, but the crafts can wait.

So today, with the laundry done, and the floors swept and the dog's nails trimmed, and the dishes all put away, I sat down to a quilt I started for Steven more than a year ago. My intent was to make one for each of the kids... Steven, Aaron, and of course, my own little terror, the J-man. Then life took over and I was back to work, and the sewing was just a fond memory and a bag of scraps stuffed into a dusty closet corner.

Here's what it looks like now, after a full day's work.



Eventually it'll look like a cat, Steven's favorite critter. Appropriately my little shit-head cat decided to pose herself right in the middle of it. Oh well, at least it shows it's size. This is one monster of a kid's quilt! Had I realized, when I started, that it would turn out this large, I probably would have scaled it down some. I was aiming for more of a "cuddly" blanket, not a full-sized quilt. But I like the way it's turned out so far. And I think Steven will like it too.

As far as the other two kids getting theirs any time before they start college-- it looks pretty bleak.

But anyway, now it's evening. I'm drowing out the silence of an empty house with VH1 Classic. Good schtuff. I'd forgotten how much I used to enjoy music. Lately the only thing in rotation around here are Laurie Berkner and Bear in the Big Blue House. Don't get me wrong, I totally dig both of them, for what they are. But suppose what I'm getting at here is this: I'm finally learning that it's ok for me to have facets of myself that don't include Jonas. It's been a year coming, but I think I finally get it. I can love my son, and still love my time alone. Imagine that.

Ok, before I start getting all stupidly philosophical, I'll wind this thing down.

I go back to part time this week, which means that I don't have to be back to work until Wednesday. You'd think I'd consider this heavenly, but actually I'm full of anxiety about what I'm going to do with all this new free time. I'm so used to the 16 hour day routine that I don't know if I'm going to be able to slow down.

Heh, I guess that's sort of like complaining about having to pay taxes on a million dollar jackpot, isn't it?

Have a good weekend y'all!

Two Milestones,,,ok, three

Jonas has reached two new milestones this week:

Over the weekend he began taking his first wobbly little steps. Of course, I reach for the video camera, only to find that the damn thing picked this particular moment to go on the fritz. Figures!

At first it was just a step or two, bravely letting go of the couch, or the chair, or the dog, or whatever other upright surface he was clinging to. By Sunday evening it was full-fledged walking... across the livingroom, down the hall, into the kitchen sort of walking! How exciting!

He's so proud of himself he walks and giggles with delight at his newfound mode of transportation. Of course, he's had the ability for quite a while, but he's not the bravest of children when it comes to trying new things.

His second milestone is a product of the first... Jonas now has his very first black-eye. While visiting with his Abuela the other day he slipped on the wooden floor and landed eye-first, of course, on the little arm that raises the footrest of the recliner. It could have been a lot worse, I suppose, but I'm glad I wasn't there to witness it.

Here's the proof:



Cute, isn't it?


Ok, as if you guys aren't sick enough of hearing about Jonas: Last night he amazed me with something I had just about given up on. Ever since he was a tiny infant, we've done sign-language with him. Not every word, of course. I don't know THAT MUCH sign language, but we've done the alphabet as we sang, and the signs for cat, dog, bird, eat, drink, more... things like that. He's never once even made an attemt to mimic the hand gestures. We'd pretty much given up.

Last night as I was feeding him dinner he looked up at me with those big blue eyes, smiled, and made the sign for "more"!

It almost seems like he's been saving up all these great tricks to show them off at once. He's trying to talk more, he's walking, he signing... he's becoming a toddler instead of a baby. It's almost like watching a little flower bloom. I'm sure I'll feel this way a thousand more times as he continues to grow up, but for the first time in at least a month, parenthood isn't just a routine. It's these little surprises that keep us going, isn't it?

It sure as hell ain't the poopy diapers and the piles of laundry.

And now, after a 16 hour day, I'm off to fall asleep... or at least try to.

Damn

I've pretty much stayed neutral about the devastation left behind by Katrina. Mostly because acknowledging it hurts and turning a blind eye is always the easier way out.

A friend of mine sent me this today. Now, I've seen pretty much every one of these images on the television or in the newspaper since the hurricane hit, but seeing them all here, it just somehow put it into perspective for me. All I can say is... Damn...

Hurricane Katrina

Good Luck

She never really fit in. At work she was shy, quiet, had a lot of self-doubt. We tolerated her, and all of her little mistakes, but none of us ever really befriended her or really gave her the time of day. I guess that's why we never really knew just how bad things were for her. We didn't really know that her boyfriend treated her so badly, or that she had no friends or family to turn to for help.

I never met him face-to-face, don't know that I needed to. I know his type... controlling, threatening, abusive. She finally had enough. He dropped her off for her shift this morning, and she grabbed a cab to the airport. No baggage, no nothing.

So, now that she's gone, I sort of wish I had taken the time to know her. Lord knows that I couldn't have offered her much in the way of assistance, but maybe just a word of kindness would have been enough to penetrate her lonely little shell. Now she's gone, and I'm one of the few that even knows, or cares.

I hope she makes it to wherever she's going safely, and that she has no regrets.

Ok

So I talked with the daycare owner this afternoon, and I feel a whole lot better about things. She enlightened me on the world of one-year-olds, and how their day was run, and (amazingly) for the first time in nearly two weeks, I got a written report for him today. Not a whole lot of info, but it did tell me how he ate and what and when. And what activities they did during the day. I had to laugh at it though.

"We went outside this morning, and we lissoned to some music." Direct quote. I guess you don't have to be a superbrain to care for one year olds, but "Lissoned"??!! Give me a break. If that's any indication of the level of education in schools down here, I'm homeschooling!

And I felt stupid the other day for not being able to spell Ventriculochordectomy. :)

The rest of my day went about the same as usual... my boss shorted me 30 hours on my paycheck. 30 hours! WTF? I could understand a slight miscalculation, but dude, an entire week?

I did get it straightened out, though, and he cut me a check on the spot for the remainder. So all's well that ends well, as they say.

Wil brought me a rose to work today. It's only the third time in six years that he's bought flowers for me. Don't know how or when or why the romance bug crawled up his ass, but it was sweet, and exactly what I needed.

Right now he's sitting on the floor holding a sleeping baby and eating chinese leftovers in his boxers. Maybe that's too much info, but I was just marveling how life becomes so comfortable sometimes. I really do have it good... even when it seems rough.

Ok, that's it. I'm done before I start getting all silly and mushy. Nothing profound here, as usual.

Baby Bootcamp

I've been having some issues with daycare lately, adn I'm not really sure how to rectify the situation.

Jonas is being transitioned into the one-year-old class. That, I have no problem with. Afterall, he's a year old, right? My problem is with the lack of communication. I have not even met his teacher yet, nor has she left me any sort of notes as to how he's doing there.

In the baby room, I'd get a report every day of how he ate, how he slept, etc. When you leave your child in someone else's care for 11 hours a day, you sort of need that information. So I go home at night unsure of the last time he's eaten, or how well he's eaten all day, and that's important to me.

This morning things came to a head when I dropped him off. He didn't sleep well last night, as in went to bed around 11 and was up and at 'em at about 3. Of course, he tuckered out around 5:30, and was still sleeping when I arrived at school. The teacher that's there in the morning curtly told me that he wasn't allowed to sleep in the one-year-old class, that they took their naps between 11 and 2, and that I needed to wake him up and put him in a high-chair so that he could eat.

I told her that he had had a bad night and really needed the rest. This didn't sit well with her, and ultimately, Jonas woke up and a spent 30 minutes tearfully trying to get him to eat something for fear that they fed him on the same rigid schedule, and if he didn't eat now, he may not eat again until lunch.

I'm not stupid enough to think that part of my problem is that I'm an incredibly over-protective mother, but I also can't help but think that a one year old child can't be expected to adhere to any sort of structured schedule.

Is there some sort of magical switch that, at 12 months, activates a child's routine? Sure, some structure in his day is good for him, but if the child is tired, he should sleep, right? And if he's hungry, he shouldn't be made to wait until some pre-set time to get food.

And like I said, maybe if I'd been given some sort of syllabus, or introduction to his new room I could make some adjustments in his home routine to help with the transition, but I really have no clue what's going on since his teacher doesn't arrive until I'm already waist-deep in dogs at work, and she's gone when I pick him up. I don't even know her name.

It's so frustrating!

So I'm going to try to get to daycare this afternoon before the owner leaves. Maybe if I have a conversation with her I can at least feel a little better about what's going on. But right now I'm so upset I'm considering pulling him and just letting him stay with his abuela. She may spoil him rotten, but at least I know his basic needs are being fulfilled with her.

All I know is this: I can't continue to leave him somewhere that makes me cry all the way to work.

Strange Day

Working full-time again has me completely drained. It's hard, after putting in 12 hour days, to be energetic on your day off. All you really want to do is sit back and veg, maybe read a book, watch a little tv, something mind-numbing. That was my plan for today... drop Jonas off at Abuela's for a few hours, stop by the store to pick up some necessities, then come home and do absolutely nothing for a little while.

So Wil called his parents, asked if they wanted to visit with the munchkin for a while today. They enthusiastically agreed, and we arranged for me to drop him off around 11:30.

I pulled into their driveway at 11:45, Jonas sleeping soundly in his carseat. I extracted the sleeping child without waking him, trudged to the door, and knocked.

And waited...

And waited...

And knocked again...

And waited...

And waited...

And rang the doorbell...

And waited...

And waited...

And then put the sleeping child back in the carseat, and drove around the block a few times, thinking that maybe they had needed to run a quick errand or something. When they didn't return, I called Wil's cell to ask him to give them a call, but, of course, he didn't answer, so I left him a slightly angry message, and then drove around some more, waiting for him to call me back. He never did.

So, caught in the quandry of having a sleeping child with me, I knew that I couldn't go do any shopping, and if I drove all the way back home, there was no way in hell that I was going to go out again, I resigned myself to the fact that I was NOT going to get a day to myself, and called Heidi.

She met me, and the sleeping one at our favorite coffee shop. Of course, I knew that I was really playing my odds with transferring Jonas from the carseat again without waking him. He woke up the minute I laid him in his stroller. So our coffee sipping adult time turned into romper-room at the uppity coffeehouse instead.

Actually, he behaved as well as can be expected for a bored one-year-old. Since I didn't plan on having him with me, I hadn't packed any of his toys.

So we drank coffee, and kept J-man from destroying the place and finally, around 2:30, Wil finally called me back and told me that his parents had been home the whole time, and that I could drop Jonas off whenever I wanted. Ugly words ensued. If they were home, why the fuck didn't they answer the door?!

If this were the first time this had happened, maybe I wouldn't be so peeved, but this is the second time. The first time, it was on a workday, and it left me in a difficult situation. It's not easy to find backup childcare at the butt-crack of dawn! And it's not like I didn't give them ample time to answer the door. For God's sake, they don't live in a mansion or anything. And even if they didn't hear me knock, they certainly couldn't have missed the doorbell.

Ugh.

So Jonas and I came back home, and had a fairly decent afternoon together, despite the fact that I'm tired, and not a very entertaining Mommy today. We put together a new toy that Granny bought him, and he had a great time figuring out all of the things it does.

Now, finally, at almost 6:30, he's napping. Usually I wouldn't let him fall asleep this late, knowing that now he won't go to bed at a decent hour, but I NEED the break. Besides, tonight he's going to be Daddy's problem. I think I'll let him pull his share for once.

I know it's not fair of me to be angry at him because of his parents, but all the same, I can't seem to help it. Call me immature.

The sad part is, I've probably lost my Thursday workday babysitter over this, since we all know how well a Spanish grandmother can hold a grudge. Hey, I didn't mean to hurt any feelings by not bringing him over after Wil called, it was just too late in the day for me to get anything accomplished and therefore useless for me to do so.

So I guess that makes me immature, and selfish, since I'm only thinking of my own inconvenience and not their desire to spend time with their grandson.

Whatever, I'm too tired to even stew over it.

Happy Birthday!

It's my little sister's birthday. She's not so little anymore, but she'll always remain my little sis. Funny how time has a way of moving along so stealthily.

I'm a total dweeb when it comes to gift selection, so I took the loser's way out and sent her an amazon gift certificate. I can't imagine that anything I actually purchased would have been useful, or even cool.

So, if you're reading, little sis, know that I love you, and that I'm thinking about you today.

Love,
Big Sis

Barbecue!

Jonas typically refuses meat, but leave it to Daddy Dave to create something that even Mr. Picky couldn't turn down.

This ain't delivery, bitch!

A little known fact about me: I HATE pizza. I think it's one of the most disgusting cmbinations of ingredients known to man. However, my darling Wil loves it, and so occasionally I'll bend and we'll order.

With a wild hair up my ass yesterday, I decided that maybe what I hate about pizza could be rectified if I made it myself. You see, all of the ingredients of pizza are fine, it's just that when put together, and then consumed, the consistency is somewhat like eating a ball of hot, gooey snot. All that doughey, tasteless bread, smothered in sauce and grease. Ugh.

So I started out from scratch, made a basil and garlic crust, layered with organic sauce, freshly grated cheese, and, because it's Wil's little indulgence, pepperoni and tomatoes. I only ate a small bite of the pizza, but it was a marked improvement over the delivery crap.


For myself, a stromboli, filled with mushrooms, broccoli, tomato and cheese. Now THAT was some good eatin'!




Today, we're going to Daddy Dave's for Memphis style ribs. Yum!

Hulk

1999-2005

The name really never did fit you.

This is not a great(or even good)picture, but all the good ones, when he was healthy and robust, reside in a photo album and not in a digital format.

Call the Judge!

Just when you thought life had thrown you the last curve-ball for a while...

I got my month-overdue annual review at work today. Basically I was told that I'm sloppy, lazy, often tardy or absent, and that I exercise poor judgement. Yet, out of all that, they couldn't give me a single specific incident in which I was any of those things.

I was stunned. I mean, sure, I've lost a lot of the passion for my job that once existed, but I've also had a chronically ill child this entire year, and I've had to perform a huge juggling act just to work at all, so yes, I've missed more work than usual... about 5 days to be exact.

And the only incident of poor judgement that I can recall is that I continue to show up there day after day.

Whatever.

It's not a big deal, really. It's not like I was handed my pink-slip or anything, but it really irks me to be told that I am all of these things when, on a daily basis, I'm praised for being one of the hardest workers. Talk about contradictions.

Goodnight, Sweetheart

I euthanized Hulk yesterday. It was beyond time, honestly. I always swore that I would never make my animals suffer through any major illness, but Hulkie was such a trooper, we really couldn't tell when the suffering began. It wasn't until the night before last, when he tried to jump up on the counter, and missed, that we knew it was time. We've always teased that he was half-kangaroo, often leaping from ground to top of fridge gracefully.

Dr. Carraway was so gentle and loving towards him. Before actually doing the deed, she held him a few minutes, kissed him, stroked his little head. I held him as he died. It was gentle and quick, and, although I swore that I wouldn't, I cried. He was a good cat.

I spent a little time last night looking for a picture of him to place here, but I don't seem to have a single one on the computer. Once I find one, I'll properly memorialize him, I suppose. For now, I guess I'll just focus on getting over this four-pound gap in our house.

Best Friends

Jonas and Kelli adore each other.

So much for those big mean pit bulls, eh?

Kelli is my Dad's dog. She's a pit bull mix that was found at a campground on New Year's Day, skinny, pregnant, and being chased by a pack of stray dogs. Dad ran off the other dogs, fed her a bowl of gumbo and sent her on her way. The next morning he woke up to find her sleeping in a folding chair right in front of the door, so he brought her home.

She's a wonderful dog. Gentle, intelligent, tolerant of Jonas's clumsy tugs and pokes. She even lets him play with her favorite toys. Jonas delights in climbing all over her, and she loves the affection.

Her only negative trait is her perpetual happy tail. Occasionally she gets excited and whips you in the leg. It'll leave a welt for hours. Jonas happens to be just tail high, so we have to be extra careful about it.

Hopefully these two will grow up to form one of those bonds that books are written about. Only maybe, without the tragic ending. :)

Just wanted to share a picture with y'all.

Falling

There's autumn in the wind today.

For the first time in more than 60 days, it's not in the 90's. The wind is blowing from the east, mottling the sky with grey. Beautiful weather, were it not threatening rain.

I'm out of place here in Florida. I'm not a summer girl. I'm not a beach girl. I crave cool winds, autumnal reds and ochres. Give me a gentle fire, a cozy sweater, and a warm cup of coffee. That's me.

Better yet, give me a crisp evening and an old wooden porch swing, creaking from it's tired chains. Yes. That is me, there, wrapped in grandma's hand-made afghan, painted toes peeking out from beneath.

I don't want to be here anymore. Not in Florida. I want to go home.

Fifteen years it's been since I've felt like I've belonged anywhere. Fifteen long years of feigning happiness in this sticky heat that so many idolize. There's no life here, just soggy acceptance of the state of things.

We're not buying a new house. We're staying put. Not because this is were we want to be, but because there's nowhere we want to be here. So why go out and spend $300,000 on somewhere else to be unhappy?

But we can't leave, either. Can't just pick up and go. Where would we go?

I wouldn't mind going back to Tennessee. Not to Memphis, but maybe up near Kingsport, Knoxville, somewhere beautiful like that. Or maybe to North Carolina, somewhere outside of Raleigh. I spent a few months there once, it was magnificent. But what I want, and the reality of things seem to clash.

I've never been one to pull the race card, but now that I have a child to think about, it's hard not to. Where else in the world is an interracial family as accepted as it is here? Sure, my son is whiter than white, but what happens the first time people lay eyes on his daddy? Let's face it, we don't live in the enlightened world that we all like to think that we do. There's still racism out there. Fierce racism, and I don't want my son ostracised for his heritage.

Wil put it to me this way: "The white people hate me because they see me as black, the black people hate me because I'm not a "brother", so where do I fit in?

He's right, unfortunately. And I'd never really thought about it like that. Sure, there are a lot of people in a lot of places that ARE accepting, and who see past color and culture to the person behind the skin. But there are so many more who don't, can't, and won't.

So I guess that we'll stay, and I'll learn to be content. But for today, just for today, with the cool breeze blowing in from the ocean, I can pretend that I'm somewhere else.

Well, that's a new one

Today, after spending the morning with his son while I worked, Wil told me that Jonas was "like a Beef Jerky Gummy Bear."

That's definitely a new one. Perhaps accurate in some ways, but how does one come up with such a description. I've known parents to call their children strange nicknames. I'm guilty of it myself. Right now he'll answer to "Doodlebug" or "Munchkin" faster than he will his name... but Beef Jerky Gummy Bear?! My god, we're going to scar this kid for life.

It's been a pretty damn good day. While I worked this morning Wil set out to impress me. I came home to a sparkling clean kitchen (down to the crevices in the highchair and the inside of the microwave) and a clean, happy, and well-fed son. He even did the floors! God bless him!

After I got home and changed, we went and had a late lunch at Olive Garden. Gotta love that Soup, Salad and Breadsticks deal! Jonas ate an entire bowl of minestrone, and a good portion of dad's pasta.

We were planning on going up to the bike shop to look at different children's seats. We want to start using our bikes more (if we can get through the spiderwebs they're encased in) once the weather cools off a bit, and Jonas is old enough now to safely ride on the back. Wil seems to think that one of the little buggys (not sure what they're really called) is a safer option than a seat, but I don't know how I feel about dragging my son behind me where cars may not see him. If he's firmly planted just behind me, I think I'll feel more secure. Anyway, by the time we got to the shop, they were closed for the day. Oh well. Another time, maybe.

So, since we didn't go bike shopping, we stopped by Best Buy and visited with some of our old friends.

Mary's pregnant. About 15 weeks pregnant. I'm excited for her, but also scared to death. She's got serious kidney problems, and she's already showing signs of complications. I have a feeling that the next several months are going to be tough for her, involving bedrest, and lots of testing and stuff. She's already prepared for a premature birth since there's no way in hell she'll be able to carry to full-term without dying. But she's in good hands. She's got a great doctor, a loving family, and friends that'll do anything to help out. Still, it was hard being there, watching her pretend that everything is just wonderful, yet seeing the fear beneath that facade. I'm no good at helping people through tough situations. I'm just not. It's like all the words just escape me and I turn into a bumbling idiot. When you don't have any control over the situation, how do you tell someone that it's going to be ok?

Anyway, we visited with Mary and a couple of other folks, and then came home.

It's strange how you can get all nostalgic for a place and a time. I miss the days when I worked there. Not necessarily the job, but the people. We were like one big family. We worked together, ate together, drank together, partied together, and many of us took a dip in the old gene pool, if you know what I mean. Hell, I got a husband out of the deal. :)

For a moment or two, it was like old times again. Time changes people, friendships fade, but standing there in appliances, toeing the familiar scuffs in the tile and watching people come and go, it was as if we had been transported back four years.

And to be honest, if they offered me the same pay I was making now, I'd probably go back there.

Anyway, it's getting past my bedtime, and there's a little Beef Jerky Gummy Bear that's looking all snuggly and all I want to do at this moment is curl myself around his little sleeping body and call it a day.

Tomorrow we take the in-laws shopping. Dear Lord, save me!

Don't worry, I'll get it

I hate Thursdays. I don't know what causes it, but every Thursday my co-workers turn into turnips incapable of lifting a finger. If this were just an occasional thing, I think I could deal with it. We all have lazy days where we don't feel like doing anything, right? But why every Thursday?

Maybe it's just my own perception and bad attitude. Thursdays are supposed to be my day off, but now that I'm working full-time again, they're now my long days. I'm there at 7, I leave after 7. Ugh. Maybe I'm just grumpy because I don't want to be there, but come on...

Pop Quiz:

1. A client walks in the door. You:
a. Stand there and drink your coffee and pretend you don't see them.
b. Pretend to be busy doing something else.
c. Greet them with a smile and help them.

2. The phone is ringing. You:
a. Stand there and drink your coffee and pretend you don't hear it.
b. Pretend to be busy with something else and let it ring.
c. Pick the damn thing up and help the client.

3. There's a two foot stack of files to be pulled. You:
a. Stand there drinking your coffee, in my way, and pretend you don't see them.
b. Pretend to be busy doing something else more pressing, like checking your e-mail.
c. Grab a few and head for the shelves.

Apparently the answer is a.

Sometimes I wonder why I continue to care so much about my job when it seems like no one else gives a shit.