I had a feeling that the moment I typed the words “a sweet girl has been hired to take my place, allowing part-time hours for me” on a previous post, that God had his arms wrapped around His stomach, belly laughing at my premature words.
“Oh, silly girl”, I imagined Him thinking, “how many times do I have to tell you that the plans you make only cause me to laugh harder!”
Freedom in the form of grocery shopping, laundry folding and household cleaning were literally inches from my grasp when we found out that a front staff person from John’s office had contracted MONO. We knew what this meant – John would have to check in his own patients at the front window while simultaneously conducting the necessary exam in the waiting room.
(Of course this really did not happen. The mean old HIPPA Police would have carted him off to the HIPPA jail that houses the docs caught violating patient rights and disclosing privileged information. Their punishment includes time served at various insurance companies, stamping DENIED on all claims submitted by law abiding doctors, until either fulfilling their complete sentence or transferring to a mental facility all the while muttering, “I will not pay your claim. I will not pay your claim. I will not pay your claim…”.)
I really enjoy working at John’s office. Since he also happens to be my favorite person to be around, I like hanging out with him all day, even if it does sometime entail him asking me to fetch a cup of coffee - the nerve. My day is rewarding and fun and leaves me with a real sense of accomplishment.
The challenge has been maintaining some sense order at home when long days are spent at the office. At the end of the day, it takes concerted effort to address dirty school uniforms, a disorderly home, school notes and announcements, baseball practices as well as the ever present question, “WHAT AM I GOING TO MAKE FOR SUPPER?!”
(Sorry I had to use my capital letters voice but the all-star parent in me really wants to serve nutritious meals, but unfortunately, sometimes hotdogs and tater tots are the way we have to roll. Martha Stewart is to blame for the high expectations I have for myself and really should be sent to HIPPA jail to stamp DENIED on insurance claims for her crimes against all housewives.)
Working the amount of hours I have over the past two months has instilled a renewed sense of respect for full-time working moms. I am convinced that there will be extra jewels in the crowns these moms will receive in heaven as well as the availability of Martha Stewart to clean their heavenly mansions.
Oh, you know I am only teasing. She will only cook for them.)
In the meantime, and until my part-time hours return, I need to get a system in place. Attention to details and schedules and menus will have to be considered the night before, as well as laying out uniforms and lunches and backpacks for easier morning routines. I need to efficiently and effectively use the amount of hours available during this transitional period in our lives, maybe even utilizing a checklist to monitor my responsibilities.
At least, for now, that’s my plan. Can you hear God laughing?