No Doubt Now

You know that the day is off to a good start when the first person you help in the morning looks like she just crawled out of the back seat of her car, oozing cheap whiskey from her pores, missing all of her teeth except for one broken and black one in the front, and her cell phone ringer, which she has to answer despite the fact that you're in the middle of a transaction, is "Sweet Home Alabama".

Good Lord! This can't go on much longer! And it won't.

Between the clients, the doctors and the co-workers, I just can't take any more. I guess once you've made the decision to leave some sort of magical curtain is pulled back to reveal all of the things that you've been sort of denying for so long, or have been blinded to by buying into the mindset of the collective.

"We are the borg." I doubt I have a whole bunch of Star Trek fans as readers, though.

Anyway, on top of my horrible day, I got one more confirmation that I'm doing the right thing. The picture below is living proof of the piss poor care kids get in daycare.



Ok, so accidents happen. I understand that and fully accept that my kid is going to eventually have scratches and bruises. But why didn't I get a phone call to let me know that he'd been injured? Why didn't someone tell me anything about it before I picked him up and walked in to find him all beat to hell?

What happened? Well, according to his accident report (hey, at least I got one this time!) one of his classmates pushed him while they were on the playground and he fell and scraped his face on a piece of mulch.

Must've been one of the biggest, meanest pieces of mulch in the world! I mean, look at him! The scraping and bruising goes from the top of his forehead to mid-cheek, and just barely misses his eyeball!

So we're done with daycare. Done Done Done. I've still got one week of work left, plus an odd Tuesday because no one wants to work the day after Memorial Day, but Wil's mom has already confirmed that she'll keep him for us those days. I just can't send him back there again and feel good about it.

For the record. I wasn't mean to the staff, either. I was actually incredibly calm and collected, once the initial shock wore off. I earned my gold star for the day.

Ok, so nearly 11. I've still got laundry spinning, the boys are sleeping, and it's another day at work tomorrow. But Granny's taking the kiddo to the Public Works fair tomorrow, which means that he'll get to look at all kinds of big trucks, ("Ohhh! Vroom!") and maybe even get to sit behind the wheel of a few of them. That's like Jonas heaven! Hopefully she'll get some pictures for us.

Goodnight, y'all.