Babies Have It Made

We leave tomorrow morning for Denver, for Wedding #3. I've been at my brother's since Sunday night visiting him, my sister-in-law and my little niece, who's almost 8 months old. I'm having a great time, but there's something that my niece (who I have described in previous posts as sarcastic and ironic) has brought to my attention: babies have awesome sh*t.

No really, they do. All their toys do, like, a bagillion different things (yes, I just used the word bagillion and 'like' in the same sentence; your welcome valley girls). Their toys move, sing, light up, and all the while, they're teaching you something. Are you kidding me? Put my chemistry lesson in a song and have it sung to me by a dancing, multicolored, light up elephant and I dare you to bet against me in a periodic table stand-off. Usually, my homework gets pushed to the last minute because I'm distracted by something with lots of lights and sounds (read: the television) so I don't see why something even more fabulously distracting wouldn't be a brilliant idea. Heck, it works for babies...

And when did everything in the adult world become so boring? Since I've grown up, everything has a "sleek" and "modern" feel. Well maybe I don't want "sleek" or "modern", maybe I want a phone that's bulky and bright yellow with pink and purple buttons. I guarantee I wouldn't lose it near as often. An elegant chandelier? How about a vivid and vibrant airplane mobile above the dining room table? And screw the silent, stainless steel kitchen appliances, how about a little music every time the refrigerator fills my glass with ice or water, or a fluorescent green stove with blue burners? Ones that change from blue to red to yellow depending on how hot they are. You know, color coded so people like me who, for some reason, completely ignore the fact that just because the burner is off it doesn't mean it's not still hot. Safety first, I always say.

And don't even get me started on clothing. I was wondering through Gap Kids today (which is ridiculously expensive by the way, I wonder how they sleep at night) and I couldn't help wishing I was still 2 feet tall. There was a little snowsuit with footies and mittens attached to the hands and feet, (attached!) with a fuzzy hoody and a built-in face-mask/windbreaker. Why don't they make those for adults? No not snowsuits with mittens and snow boots sold separately, the all-in-one deal, like they did back in the good ol' days when I was apparently...4.

And transportation? I'm even willing to temporarily chill the eff' out about the snail's pace my jet pack is coming along if someone will just answer my question of why the hell don't I have my own stroller? If I could find an adult size one I'm sure my friends and I wouldn't mind trading off with it. How incredibly awesome would it be to get pushed around the grocery store, attempting to cause as much destruction in the cereal isle as humanly possible with absolutely no consequences because, hey, you're in a stroller, you don't know any better. And if you were somewhere that takes forever to get your shopping done (like Wallmart or Costco, where they only have four cash registers open), you could cuddle up with your super-soft blanky and stuffed zebra and take a little nap. Thirsty? Hungry? Fear not, I'm sure any kind of satisfaction is but an arm's length (or a loud warning squeal) away. There are so many pockets and useful gadgets on those things I have no idea why I ever spent my money on luggage in the first place. My suitcase doesn't even have a cup holder.

This trip so far has been eye-opening. I need to get me some cool-ass baby sh*t, except for, you know, adults or something.

 

Three Weddings And A Baby

It's roadtrip time again!

Because of my boyfriend's insane schedule (he's a baseball coach for the university during the school year, then coach's legion during the summer) we have about 3 weeks before September to see some friends and family. So we're cramming it all into 8 days.

One wedding in Bozeman, Montana last night, another this evening in Belgrade, Montana, travel to Ogden, Utah to see my brother, his wife and my niece for 3 days, then Denver, Colorado for another wedding, then back to good ol' Billings, Montana for a little recuperation.

I'm always excited to see what goes wrong on a roadtrip, for some reason I always think that's part of the fun. And weddings are just awesome so...yeah let's get this party started.

Lesson 10: I'm A Big Kid Now

I got my ass chewed out at work today.

Not just chewed out, but completely shredded. Now I've been in situations where I've had a boss yell at me, critique me, and sometimes flat out demoralize me, but today was different. I was completely unprepared for it, and to put it bluntly, it pissed me the hell off.

Now before you go off reading with a horrible taste in your mouth, know this; I do appreciate my boss's directness. She doesn't sugarcoat, and while I'm sure she's never even heard of a "compliment sandwich", I think those kind of people make the best supervisors. I'll summarize, but this is it. Quotes are authentic, and I promise you, there is no exaggeration.

Boss: "We need to talk."
Me: "Okay, what about?"
Boss: "I have some concerns."

Point 1: "You are inappropriate in your comments with staff. It is apparent you have no filter, and it leads me to believe you also have no filter when associating with clients."

Point 2: "You are completely unprofessional in your attire. You dress yourself in a manner that leads others to assume you don't know what you're doing."

Point 3: "You're lack of knowledge about the DSM-IV and the (guidelines for residential treatment) is astounding. After your internship here and your orientation I would've thought you would be more versed by now."

Point 4: "You are clearly unable to build any kind of rapport with the clients. I have serious doubts about whether or not I can even put you in the schools in the fall. I think you need to go home and do some soul searching and figure out if you are even capable of being in this field."

Boss: Okay?
Me: Yup.
Boss: Okay.

Wow. Am I on American Idol and did Simon Cowell just tell me my singing voice could be used as a biological weapon in a third world country? No? Are you positive...because I'm pretty sure every egg I had in my employment basket was just crushed by the weight of my future hopes and dreams. See, there are basically four aspects of my job: working well in a team setting, professionalism, knowledge of mental illness and addiction, and building rapport with clients. I not only just miserably failed in each and every category, but I also left no remaining categories untouched for me to think I have at least done something right in my time there.

What confused me even more, is that fact that during my 10 week internship, counselors asked me daily if I was hired yet. My internship supervisor was the one that pointed out this job, stating I would be fantastic at it. Furthurmore, I've never, ever, even gotten so much as a talking to in previous jobs. Typically, I'm commended as one the best, hardest working employees they have. In graduate school, I've maintained a 4.0 GPA while working full-time night shifts. It seemed odd to me that within 1 1/2 weeks of being hired (at the same place I've been interning at) that all of a sudden I would let all of my professionalism, appropriateness and work ethic go completely out the window.

Nonetheless, she is my boss, and if she feels I'm lacking I need to take care of it.
So I went back to the main treatment campus and checked out some videos on the guidelines of treatment. Seven hours worth. Think I don't know my sh*t? I sure as hell will by tomorrow. Then I cried in the car, dried my eyes, and headed back to her office 30 minutes later. Let's do this.

I caught her on her way to her car:
Me: Hey! Can I talk you a second?
Boss: Um, sure.
Me: No, not here. In your office.

That's right, I had some stuff to say damnit and I'm not doing it out in a parking lot. Professionalism, what? Point - Marlee

Me: "First of all, if there has been any comment that has been made, I deeply apologize for it. Never at any time while I have been here have I even remotely thought I was being out of line. I guarantee you I have never over-shared anything about myself with a client, and I pride myself on that. Can you give me an example of what was said?"
Boss: "Well it's just hearsay from staff."
Me: "Have I ever said anything inappropriate to you?"
Boss: "No."
Me: "Well then I'm sorry, but I can't recall saying anything inappropriate to anyone else either. I really need to know what it is so I can fix it."
-Skip to the point, basically I had told a staff member I thought I had been pregnant once, but I wasn't, but I was glad my boyfriend reacted excitedly rather than upset. However, that particular comment was said after a pregnant woman (in a group of five other pregnant women) asked if I planned on ever having kids. I replied with, "Maybe someday. I thought I was once, but I wasn't. I'm glad my boyfriend was excited about it though!"

I apologized and explained maybe this comment was out of line, but it was after working hours, and I was probably just trying to fit in. 90% of the conversations in our office are about being pregnant, raising kids, giving birth. I figured I'd never be able to say anything as inappropriate as an employee describing her sister's C-section in extreme detail, so I said the one thing I thought I remotely had in common with these women. Plus, hey, they asked.
Boss: That's understandable.
Me: "Second of all, if there is anything I have worn or done that has been deemed unprofessional, I need to know what it is. This is the first time this has ever been mentioned to me during the 10 weeks I've been here, or at any job, for that matter. I don't have the money right now to go out and buy a brand new wardrobe, so I've been trying to make what I have work. I have also been basing what I wear on how I see other people dress in the office, so if my perception is off, or there is a specific article of clothing that is out of line, I need to know about it."
Boss: "Actually I think you dress really nice."
Me: "But you said earlier that I dress unprofessional..."
Boss: "Well, maybe your top."


(I was wearing a sweater with a tank top underneath. You could see roughly a 4-inch triangle of cotton fabric underneath the sweater, and the top 1/4 inch of the tank top was lace."
Me: "Is it too low cut?"
Boss: "No, not at all. I guess the top of it is kind of lacy?"
(Update: on the day she let me go, the other woman in the office was wearing an complete lace tank top layered under a lace sweater. Hmm...)
Me: "Nothing lacy. I can work with that. Third of all, I do know the DSM-IV. I know that book front to back, inside and out, cover to cover. I know every illness in there, where to look them up, and how to diagnose using the criteria. I don't know the codes off the top of my head yet, but I will learn them. I am not familiar with the (state treatment guidelines) because I was never oriented or trained on them.  Today was the first time I have heard of them. I have asked some employees and they mentioned something about some videos in the library. I've checked them all out and plan on spending tomorrow watching all of them.
Boss: "Absolutely. That's very proactive of you."
Me: "And lastly, I apologize if for some reason it appears that I am struggling to build rapport with these kids. In my job at the hospital, I am one of the best for building rapport. Other staff members here have praised my interview skills with the kids. Each evaluation has given me great feedback, and I've put that feedback into practice the next time.
Boss: "Well you were described as very scattered..."
Me: "Can you define 'scattered'?"
Boss: "Flipping from page to page of the assessment instead of following it exactly as it is written."
Me: "I don't understand. The counselor you had be observing did it that way."
Boss: "Who did you observe?"
Me: "Pocahontas (fake name)."
Boss: "Oh, shoot, that makes sense. Pocahontas has ADHD. She's very scattered. You were clearly taught a very disorganized way of doing things. I'll have you observe Mary Poppins later this week."
Me: "Thank you, I think that would be very useful."
Boss: "Well I'm glad you came back, this has shown a level of maturity I look for. I've never had anyone come back after I talk to them. They usually just avoid me the rest of the week."
Me: "Well I want to make sure I address whatever needs fixed immediately so neither one of us are wasting our time. See you tomorrow?"
Boss. "Yup. Okay."

And then I burned the building to the ground.

Okay I made that last part up, but if I were reading someone else's "ass-chewin" story and they ended it like that I would feel a little better. I still feel a bit off-kilter, I mean the woman told me I need to do some soul-searching to figure out if I can even make it in this field. That's a bit harsh. Plu,s when I did ask for details, she seemed to be grasping at straws. If I'm failing in my job I want specifics, not generalizations.

And while I'm still liable to break down into tears any second now, the point is this: I defended myself for what I thought needed defending, I asked for specific feedback instead of settling with generalizations, and I found a way to measurably improve the skills I was lacking in. I still feel like crap, (I'm sure no one ever feels good after someone tells them their completely inadequate) but hey, life goes on. I'm a bit scarred, and for the most part I won't be disclosing anything related to myself to any staff member for a good, long time. They can just think of me as some nomad or drifter with a counseling license for all I'm concerned.

Please tell me someone out there has been through something like this? Preferably someone who did burn the building down?

Am I Normal?

It's happening again.

Recently I had to get a new car (it's a long story) but I don't like it. It rides too smooth and turns with ease. I miss my old Plymouth Duster with no front brakes, a broken speedometer and a leaky roof. I want it back. I feel like it was an extension of myself, something that had been to hell and back and still survived. I named my new car Karen. She is a sleek and shiny '02 Ford Taurus with no dings or dents. She hasn't been through any hardships. She also yells at me to put my seat belt on or when the keys are still in the ignition. I'm a big girl Karen, I don't need your help.

We don't get along. Naggy, bitchy Karen. I miss April and her crooked headlights.

I've also started a new job in the last 2 weeks. The job itself is fantastic, I'm already falling in love with the kids I work with. Adolescent drug addicts tend to get a bad rap, and I'm their confidante as well as their advocate. One teacher I met on the first day said, "Hello! So how do you like working with the druggies?" "Oh I'm sorry," I replied, "I don't know any druggies. Did you mean students?" Burning bridges? I don't care; the kids deserve better.

I see so much of myself in these kids. Their backgrounds, their struggles, their suffering. I see my 14 year old self fighting tooth and nail for some dignity or proof that I am worthy of something. For a chance to be myself. For anything.

But in the last two weeks I've changed. I have a shiny new car, a name-tag, and professional clothes that I wear to an 8-5 job. I'm now a productive member of society. I belong to the group of statistics that labels me a "success" as opposed to my childhood label of "high risk". I've been stamped, categorized, and approved. Domesticated. Like a caged animal.

It's my worst nightmare; people looking down on me with white coats and smiling faces, "There we go, now isn't that easier?" They stare at me like a child. "See how nice we are when you stop fighting? Just follow the rules and life will be easy. Trust us, we know what's best for you." They've fixed me. They hand me a blue ribbon with a smiley face and the words "First Prize: Submissive and Obedient".

I hate it. I yearn for the day when I could run away from home. Hitchhike my way to another city, feel the wind run through my fingers, the rain in my hair and just be alone. Funny how running away when you're an adult is more difficult than when you were a child. Responsibility, rather than authority, ties you down.

In all honesty, I ache for a chance to get out. For a chance to feel like myself again. To feel any sense of adventure and defiance in order to convince myself both characteristics haven't completely deserted me. I feel like a sell-out. Trapped. Condemned to a life of order because the logical side of my brain has convinced the wild side that a life on the road would be less desirable.

But I still want it.

I see the black pavement laid out before me each day on my way to work, and the urge to just keep driving is always there. It doesn' matter where to, I just want to drive. To leave. To feel like I am still in control. To feel like I am still free.

Maybe I'm weird.

The only thing holding me here is my boyfriend. While he doesn't understand, he is still supportive. When I said I was going to Italy, his first question was, "When?" instead of "What? Why?" He knows my need to run is overwhelming, but he doesn't question it. He is also aware of my deep seated fear of being tied down, which is why he has stood by me when others pressure us to get married or buy a house. He is the only thing I have never had the urge to run from.

The view out my window only shows house after house, with neatly trimmed hedges and large cottonwoods strategically planted 50 feet apart. Kids play, dogs bark, old men water their lawns. It is peaceful.

Am I such a horrible person not to want this? Not to yearn for the day when I push a stroller up the sidewalk while comfortably jogging to a familiar mix of songs on my IPod? Or to save my money for a new camera or Rosetta Stone instead of hair treatments and shoes? To excitedly look forward to the day when I am backpacking around a live volcano instead of planning family BBQ's around one of my children's birthdays?

Am I being selfish? I don't feel unappreciative of what I have, but am I acting like it?