Today was one of those super challenging days. Last night, Darina called to say that she was taking her husband to the airport today to return to Iraq and that she needed the day off. It was really short notice, but I understand that she didn't realize the gravity of her feelings until the time of reckoning was upon her. So, I asked both Rylee and Sabrina but both were working; which is crappy because usually they are both off on Tuesdays. (well, every day for preggers Rylee) So, I reluctantly told Darina that I needed backup care, which meant that she'd find another caregiver in their system with an available infant slot for Taylor. I have never used backup care, and was super nervous about having to take Taylor to some woman's home for the day whom I'd never met. Granted, she was certified and regulated by the same people as Darina; but I had never met her. I got her contact information from Darina when I got a call about work. Apparently, they were going to schedule another bartender with me on Thursday and Friday at noon. Great, another uncomfortable conversation to have tomorrow at work. I don't mind having someone there with me from 12-2 when they were possibly needed; but I know there is no need for 2 of us from 2-4 and I surely didn't work and pay my dues to be cut early and lose money during the holiday season. Needless to say, today was not looking good.
I woke up, and we made our way to the house of the sitter for the day. Good first impression of her, and Taylor barely said goodbye to me as she played with the other two little girls that were there.
At work, I was reassured that I wouldn't be the one to leave early, if there was leaving early to be done, and I began the day feeling much better. It was busy, for sure, but a good and smooth pace ensued and before I knew it happy hour was upon us. As I knew it would, we slowed quite a bit at around 2 and I got to thinking about Thursday with a touch of dread.
Around this time, a keg blew and I was running long on a dessert. I went to check on the dessert to find it sitting in the window, ticket laid under it waiting to be taken. I lost it a bit, because the food runner was right there filling up the condiments. She thought it had been taken care of. I went to change the keg while she scooped ice cream to take the dessert to the guest at the bar. As I changed the keg, I tapped it incorrectly and beer went all over me. My face, hair, neck and chest were covered in beer. It had sprayed in my eyes so I couldn't open them for a second and so I stood there, laughing at myself and dripping beer all over the cooler.
I gathered myself together, wiped off the beer and made my way back to the bar. The guest happily indulged and the food runner told me that the server that was supposed to take the dessert said that I should be able to run my own food. I smirked and thought about what I was going to say to her when she came to get her next drink. Technically, I am not supposed to leave the bar. Also, don't say you are going to do something, and then not do it or not tell anyone you didn't do it. The only person who really suffers is the guest. And the guest is my business, and that's not alright with me. She screwed with my business and my money.
So, when she came to get her next drink, as I was making it I said calmly, quietly but sternly that because of her, my guest's experience had suffered and that I didn't appreciate her laziness and smug attitude about knowing my job so well. She played dumb, of course. When she walked into the kitchen (directly behind the bar) I heard her yelling. Servers began to come out, wide-eyed, and looking at me. Some came over and laughed, asking me what she'd done and why she was yelling about being dimed out to me. I guess she was asking who told me that she'd done that. After her tirade, she went to cry and I didn't feel bad.
Rarely, if ever, have I made someone cry (other than Dana, as an evil older sister when I was much younger) and not felt awful. This time, she had made her own bed. I wasn't insulting to her as a person, nor was I mean in the way that I let her know I wasn't happy with her behavior. If she didn't want to be called out on not doing her job, she should have done her job. Either way, it was a very trying day and I was definitely ready to leave when my time to leave came.
I picked up Taylor, who had refused to nap but was in good spirits nonetheless, and we headed home. She'd done well, and really enjoyed the girls and the puppy.
In the car, I decided it was sushi tonight, mostly because I was so emotionally and mentally drained. As I pulled upto the sushi place by our house, I glanced in the backseat to decide if she could handle a restaurant or if take-out was a better option. She was totally out, mouth hanging open and almost snoring. Take out it was. I ordered quickly, happy that the entire place was one big window and I was parked right in front, and asked them to bring it to the car so I could wait with her.
My sushi and mongolian chicken was great, and it was odd to eat it and have Taylor upstairs snoozing away. I went up to her room at six, so I could wake her up. I entered quietly, and went over to the bed. I started to take her boots off (I'd left them on for fear of waking her earlier) and this stirred her. She seemed definitely not happy about being woken up, and was trying really hard to open her eyes, but they didn't seem to want to cooperate. Poor, exhausted baby.
Eventually, her mind won out over her eyes and she climbed into my arms to cuddle.
That was when it started. She was beyond cranky. Downstairs, I tried to offer her some dinner and she threw the biggest tantrum I've ever seen her throw shouting about wanting "nack!nack" (snack) when she saw the bag of marshmallow candies that grammy had sent. She was literally walking around the house cry/yelling. It was strange, like an angry snarl that sometimes turned into a yelling about something or a throwing of oneself onto the floor or some real actual crying. This lasted for the next hour, and no answer I offered was right. I set her food and drink on the coffee table for her to nibble on if she so chose, and went about wrapping presents. She was distraught. Throwing herself at my feet, and angrily crying at me, she gave her best attempt. I remained calm, and explained that I understood how she felt, but she didn't want comfort either.
Poor thing.
Eventually, I won by offering yogurt and we sat on the couch while I fed it to her. Occasionally, she'd get up and walk around crying for a minute. But, eventually, she'd come back for more sudu. After the sudu, we cuddled for awhile. Finally, it was late enough for a bath and upstairs we went. Seeming to be in better spirits, she puttered around while I drew her bath. All went well, until I had to cut her nails after the bath. She fought and fought, but I won (mostly). It's no professional manicure, but at least her nails aren't talons anymore. She relaxed quickly with her bobble (bottle), and attempted no protest when I placed her in her crib and told her "night night".
It feels like today was definitely a challenge in assertiveness, and going with the flow...two things I'm not great at; but getting much better with each day. I feel like if today had happened a year or two ago, I wouldn't have handled it so well. I'd probably be crying in frustration right now, feeling self-pitying and victimized. Instead, I feel a fight in me that I never knew I had. Yeah, that's right. I'm bad. Be scared, very scared.
Tomorrow is a new day...tomorrow is a new day!
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