I don't know which is worse.

Coming to work sick or staying at home sick when you have a new job. On the one hand, you could wind up with co-workers who are pissed at you for being there because you may get them sick. On the other, you may have co-workers pissed at you for not being there period. Ugh.

So far, I've been going to work and bringing ample amounts of hand sanitizer, coughing into my elbow instead of my hand and being very careful not to touch anyone. Fortunately, the fever only comes at night, so the only period I look stupid in front of is my husband when he comes to visit me and happens to catch me running between the warm safety of our bed, crossing the frozen tundra of our carpet and slamming the door to shiver on the icicle that is our toilet, only to dart back again, shaking for long minutes until warmth seeps back.

Unfortunately, Ragsy's bout with this lasted two weeks (for anyone having contact with him Saturday he had been fever-free for several days by the time we showed up). Given that I don't currently have the benefit of staying home - new employee - or resting much while I'm here - mother of a toddler with a husband who's helpless in the kitchen - I suspect it may take a while longer for this to go away. Dammit. I hate being sick. I have things to do for God's sake. I don't have time for this crap. Not that I'm bitter or anything. Because that would take more energy than I've got.

You not scared?

We've had a great weekend so far. Yesterday was a bit rocky, since we took Ragsy to one of his daycare's sleepovers Friday night for a much-needed parents' night out. He always lets us have it for a day or so afterward and yesterday was no exception. At all. In fact, it was a lot worse than usual. He's never been prone to tantrums, which made his hour-long scream fest all the more disturbing. Normally I'd worry that he was sick, but it was all tantrum this time. Oh, well.

We then went to a Halloween party, which was a lot of fun. Sadly, Ragsy refused to wear his costume and we weren't about to court disaster by attempting to force him - it just wasn't worth it. Plus, I enjoy myself so much dressing up that I'll more than make up for him not wanting to.

Halloween is my favorite holiday of the year, followed closely by Christmas. What could be better than loads of candy and dressing up without the added pressure to give people gifts? The only problem with this year's Halloween party was that I was so frazzled from dealing with Ragsy all day that I didn't have the usual filter on my words. I don't think I was snappish (or if I was, it was entirely Ragsy related and had nothing to do with any other company), but I definitely had problems making sense or participating fully in conversations at some points. You know, you have one ear to the conversation and one to your kid, hoping - just hoping - he doesn't mel down in spectacular fashion, only to have to be carried out screaming. Oh, well. That's what friends are for, right? Not caring if you're not making any sense whatsoever.

Anyway, one of the best parts of the party was watching Ragsy walk up to a friend dressed as Death and trail after him like a shadow, asking over and over if he was scared of pirate ships. He had absolutely no fear, even though I would have been hiding under a table shrieking bloody murder if I were his age - he was just completely fascinated. Our friend picked him up and snarled in his face, but Ragsy asked him again if he was scared of pirate ships. What a weird kid. I like it.

This morning was spent at the zoo. Ragsy had been asking for weeks to go, but we already had plans or he was sick, so it just hasn't happened. So, I kept my promise today and took him out. After we were done seeing all the animals on the perimeter, riding the carousel and looking at the trains, Ragsy got to pick out something from the gift shop and eat some fries. I'm lucky that he's such a cheap date - I had thought it would be like going to a baseball game, but after buying an elephant pincher, an order of fries and some milk, the total was just over $7.00. Sweet.

After he showed off his newest purchase to anyone and everyone who was nice enough to pay the least bit of attention ("Hey, man. Man, I got an elephant. See my elephant, man? It's go [insert elephant sound]."), we got into the car and drove back. He and his dad are still battling out naptime. I might get a jump on our weekday cooking while they're duking it out.

Job.

Okay, I'll make this a quick one. So, here's what's been going on. This weekend, Ragsy got some mysterious plague that had him running around the house like a chicken with his head cut off and a 104 degree fever on Saturday. The fever cooled down and the next day he had been without Tylenol for about 24 hours and was practically bouncing off walls - thus, it seemed safe enough to take him out. We went to the pumpkin patch with friends and out to lunch, then came to our place to carve some pumpkins (which is some of the best fun I've had in a long time) while Ragsy slept. By the time Ragsy woke from his nap, the fever was right back - and almost as high. The next day, he still had a mild fever, so he had to stay home from daycare. But there was a hitch - my new job started Monday. So my husband had to stay home with him. I'm sure that was delightful.

Anyway, work is ok. It's a new place, so I'm still getting used to it. The place is really built to house hourly employees, so it's a far, far more restrictive place than I'm accustomed to. Fortunately, many of the restrictions (particularly those precisely outlining my breaks, lunch and when I'm supposed to show up and leave) do not apply to me. The job is hard to describe - I don't think even they quite know what I'm supposed to be doing, so I just start telling people what I'm going to do and do it and they seem to like it.

My brain is kind of scattered now, so I'm probably not as coherent as usual. After learning about Social Security Disability Insurance and other portions of Medicare and Medigap all day, I think I need to do something else besides sit in front of a computer, though it's tempting to just sit here all night. Still, if I'm going to feel at all good about myself, I need to work out and finish removing the wallpaper glue from my bathroom. Sounds fun, doesn't it? But not nearly as fun as last night's adventures snaking the drain in my shower. Ick - that was like pulling a big black loogie out of a pipe. I could live another lifetime without ever wanting to do that again.

Time to stop watching the news.

I'm not normally the type of person who promotes putting her head in the sand. I'm also a born skeptic; however, every time I read or watch the news, my blood pressure inches up just that much more. The more I watch, the more it's starting the look like Washington is Nero and the world is burning. I am lucky to have a job to go to on Monday, even if I'm not especially jazzed about it. I guess I should just focus on that. I've got something to go to, something that will keep us paying the bills, even if my husband's job is axed. A lot of people, and the numbers are increasing daily it seems, can't say the same.

As I expected, the insurance industry is being scrutinized next. I imagine healthcare will follow shortly since they're so closely linked. It makes sense. Both insurance and healthcare should be scrutinized. What terrible systems. Ridiculously expensive, extraordinarily cumbersome, designed not to help anyone but the company providing the service.

Anyway, this morning was good. Ragsy woke up happy and didn't scream or whine at all. I don't know if it had anything to do with the talk I had with him last night or not, but he was much better. He tends to respond really well to me telling him what's going on, so I just held him on my lap and told him that I loved him very much and that he'd always be special to me, and that I had more than enough love to go around for both him and his dad. And if he ever felt like he needed me to hold him or just listen to tell me, that I'd always have time for him.

I wish I'd been so explicit sooner - I keep forgetting how literal he is. I mean, I kept telling him I love him, kept giving him all the extra hugs and kisses, but I often forget that, even though he picks up on emotional undercurrents, he doesn't just know what I mean like an adult would. This is the same person that jumps up and down in front of the car before getting in if I tell him to hop in. I'm sure it's not over, but this is the first morning in a week or two that hasn't involved a tantrum when daddy comes near. It was such a pleasure!

Oh, well. Off I go. I'm a glutton for punishment - I'm watching the presidential address while reading the news online. I think I'll turn it off now and finish ripping the wallpaper from my guest bath. Even though I'm incredibly sore from working on it for three hours last night, that's bound to be more enjoyable than listening to this crap.

Bummed.

I've been a little bummed out for the last few days. A lot of it has to do with the state of our country. Some of it has to do with the elections coming up - frankly, I'm sick of thinking about it, hearing about it, talking about it. I'll do all of those anyway, but it will be a huge relief to make a decision and just move on instead of discussing it. Some of my depression has to do with sleeplessness. The night waking may be over, but our son has been getting up at 5 or 6 a.m. Still another aspect is the conflict between my husband and son. I'm feeling very selfish, but I'm freaking tired of making the two feel better. I'd kind of like to lock them in a room together and go on vacation.

At first I suspected that my seizure had a lot to do with Ragsy's behavior, but he was acting like that beforehand, though the seizure certainly amplified things. Still, I'd like it if he and my husband would both go sit in time out until this oedipus complex passed. I'm not at all pleased being the object of a territory battle.

Oh, well. Just like always, one day we'll wake up tense and expecting a battle and we'll get grins and sweetness instead. Toddlers would be great at guerilla warfare. Or as politicians. They're great at the bait and switch and probably just as knowledgeable about ethics.

Places toothbrushes were never meant to be.

This post is brought to you by the letter R and the number 2 and 1/2. If you haven't guessed, this is about my son. So...

Last night, after I managed to coerce him into the tub and was thoroughly soaked by a dancing kid, Ragsy got out and dried off and tip toed to the sink to brush (he's recently had a thing with walking on his tip toes, but that's beside the point, just like his habit of adding "boing" to the end of most sentences and phrases). Anyway, my son typically brushes his teeth naked on his step in front of the sink, dancing gleefully in front of the mirror. Last night was no different. Humming to himself and doing the Ragsy two-step or stomp-and-bob or whatever you'd like to call it, he brushed merrily and relatively thoroughly. I turned away to pull the slip mat off the bottom of the bathtub and turned back.

Ragsy, finished brushing his teeth, was still dancing and singing while merrily brushing between his butt cheeks. "Scrub, scrub scrub," he sang, "Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere, clean up, clean up." It was priceless.

I replaced the toothbrush with a cup and asked my husband to make sure his hands stayed away from his butt and left the room because I was laughing so hard I had to sit down. I also don't want to encourage him to keep scrubbing his butt with a toothbrush, though if you think about it, it's doubtless more thorough a job than can be done with a washrag.

I'm trying really hard not to wonder what else he's been scrubbing or how many times his toothbrush has been a little too close to his butt. I'd like to think this is the first time, but I usually clean up the bathroom while he brushes because he's fairly self-sufficient in toothbrushing. Thank goodness we have an extra toothbrush lying around.

Stupid human tricks.

I did something incredibly dumb yesterday. But funny, or funny to me.

A few minutes before my interview, I was slapping on some makeup so I wouldn't look so tired. I was casting about for a decent lip gloss and realized I hadn't yet used the new one I got recently at Target. It was a lip-plumping gloss. I don't really have thin lips, but I liked the shade, so I got it anyway. I didn't really pay attention to the announcement on the label that it caused a "pleasant tingling sensation." Heck, I thought, Burt's Bees causes a little tingle and I love that stuff. So I slicked on some gloss, gave my hair another shake and got ready to leave. Then the burning started.

Holy hell. Ow, ow, ow. I found myself wondering why the heck my lips were burning as if they were on fire and raced around the house wiping madly at my lips with tissue after tissue, then rinsing and wiping again. The burning died down for the most part, so I thought I'd take care of the rest of it with some lip balm. So I put some on and got ready to leave. But wait! The burning had resumed. And worse than before. Holy freaking cow! I grabbed the lip balm I had put on. Oh, no! It was Burt's Bees medicated lip balm. Noooooo!!!

By now my lips were, well, plump. I felt like Jessica Rabbit with the gigantic red lips. I wiped again and again and again, rinsed and looked in the mirror. Well, at least I didn't need lip stick or gloss anymore. My lips were swollen and red, though not quite bee-stung, thank goodness. The funny thing about it is that through the whole process, I was running around, cackling like a witch. The whole situation was just so stupidly funny and so very typical. Trust me to injure myself while putting on my makeup.

I'm only lucky I didn't lose part of a finger this time and wasn't genius enough to decide to rinse it off with lemon juice and salt scrub or fiberglass.

Object of my affection.

The last time I was anyone's obsession, I was tempted to call the police. Unfortunately I don't think that'd work with a two and a half year old kid. My son has become very territorial with me, pushing away my husband when he wants to talk to me and other children, defiantly declaring, "No! Leave me! My mommy!"

The whole situation is generally more stressful than anything else. For one thing, it's put my husband into a funk because he feels rejected. For another, it's put my son into a funk because a) my husband is upset around him and he picks up on that and b) I get tense around him because he drives away anyone else I might talk to and I never know when he's going to explode. My son has also regressed in certain areas, whimpering "Mama, mama," instead of speaking coherently and telling me what he wants when he's frustrated.

I'm trying not to encourage it, whipping out the daddy PR and trying hard not to respond to the incessant whining, except to say, "I'm sorry. I don't understand you. Perhaps you could tell me what you want without whining?" Also, I'm trying to back up whatever my husband says and at the same time give my son extra kisses and hugs. Still, both Ragsy and my husband are on short fuses. My husband isn't mean or anything, but apt to give less warning prior to discipline, making things even worse. So to avoid it, he goes away. Leaving me alone and resentful with an equally irritated toddler. Then I have to soothe ruffled feathers after on both sides.

It's frustrating for me, but I'm trying to keep it in perspective: it can't feel good to be constantly rejected by your own kid. It also can't feel good to have someone get mad at you easily and discipline you with very little opportunity to fix what you're doing that's at issue. Regardless, I'm seeing it mostly from my perspective and I'm going quickly insane. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.

Problems you never thought you'd have.

I'll try to make this sound not so whiny, because in this declining economy this is a problem lots of people would want to have. So, I've accepted a job offer, right? It's in the back of beyond, 10 minutes further away than my previous commute, which is just the opposite of what I wanted to do. But yesterday I accepted - the money is good, the drive is, eh, not so bad and the people tolerable.

Today I got a request for an interview. It's for a job at the hospital right across the street from Ragsy's daycare. Probably less money than the sticks job, but with someone I've worked with before and like. I think I have a really good chance. But I've already accepted an offer. But this company is only 10 minutes from home and I still haven't signed anything. But I've accepted an offer. But I can walk to Ragsy's daycare and see him if I wanted to during work. I could have lunch at home if I wanted.

Blast. I think I'm going to talk to them Monday, explain that I have an offer and ask what they think their timeline is to decide. This is insane. I want this job, if only for its closeness and the known quantity of the person working there. I want it because my son is right there and I can be there in minutes if he needs me and I don't have to go through God knows how many schedule acrobatics and permutations to make sure I spend enough time with him while meeting my obligations at work. I won't have to feel guilty not leaving until 8 in the morning and staying at work until 5.

Who knows? Maybe they won't be able to support even the salary I made at my previous job. Then I won't have to worry about deciding. But I'd be shooting myself in the foot if I didn't at least talk to them. There. Take that.

Winners and losers.

I'm going to argue some semantics. It bothers me that so many advertisements and so much TV footage is speculating over who won/lost or will win/will lose various debates. I find it irritating, mostly because a debate is essentially a congenial argument where both parties do their homework and one person is judged not the winner or loser, but the more knowledgable or better speaker. I guess that's the same thing, isn't it? But I'm all about precision with words, especially based on the blatant lying and more insidious fudging going on on both sides of these debates.

Now for my own predictions. I think that during tonight's debate, Sarah Palin will prove herself the less qualified candidate academically and as a speaker - she doesn't seem to think well on her feet or know enough about the office and the policy to answer questions correctly. But at the same time, sometimes listening to Joe Biden speak makes me want to crawl into a corner and hide. He knows his stuff, but he's a coarse, boorish person sometimes and occasionally says some ridiculously stupid things.

So there.

And in other news (because you care, right??), I accepted the job. My gut reaction is trepidation. I went on a walk last night and made my cough worse, but I wanted to think about why I was feeling the way I was feeling because I've always found that my gut reactions are better predictors of my success at a job than any amount of logic (or money). So I thought about it and came to the conclusion that I like the people there well enough, but none of them truly clicked with me the same way the people who hired me at my former employer did. Also, I've been holding on to the hope - unconscious or otherwise - that they'd come crawling back to me. I need to move on. They're still screwed, but that's now their problem, not mine. Yet another reason I was reluctant was that another recruiter had found a company this side of the state line and wanted to send me on interviews next week. I thought about it and, given that that company is a financial company and may be Wachovia, I asked myself if it was really a good idea to toss my lot in with a company like that given the current state of the economy. I came back with a big, fat no.

So I thought about what I'd like to do about all the above and came up with the following: you don't immediately click with everyone, but that doesn't mean that you won't later or that you won't work well together. They're nice, professional people and my gut reactions to people are usually accurate. So, one bonus. I'd also be doing something where I can see my products and services directly benefiting people much less fortunate than I am. This is also a good move career-wise, as the other job would be just writing while this will be writing, marketing planning, product planning, development and packaging and deployment. Plus, if I hate it, I can go back to writing. But I'll give it a year, see what happens. Ta-dah!

Celebrate with a snootful.

Of snot, that is. My job offer came through yesterday. A little less than I was hoping, but significantly more than I was earning before. I'm still considering, but I'll probably take it despite the location. The fact that they offer flex time, potential to telecommute once I've been there a few months and two yearly reviews to start with generous raises on decent reviews sort of sealed the deal. Plus benefits are a couple hundred cheaper than at my previous employer and about $500 cheaper than what we're paying through my husband's.

I had hoped to celebrate, at least a little, but a raw throat, stuffy nose and fever made that less than appealing. Add to that a toddler who took almost two hours to put to sleep, my own difficulties sleeping (up until 2 a.m.), then being woken at 5:30 and I'm feeling pretty rotten. But there's a bright side: I can still take a nap. A very long nap. And I don't have to provide an answer until tomorrow or the next day. And my throat is less raw than it was last night, which was what kept me up in the first place, so dozing off won't be as difficult as yesterday.

The downsides? Well, this seemed to originate with Ragsy, but if it didn't, he's next. Which means that the business lunches I had planned for Thursday and Friday will need to be rescheduled for next week, which could be problematic for my offer if I'm extended a different one at a different company on this side of the metro area for more money. But, Ragsy needs his mom when he's sick and I won't begrudge him that if it comes to it. Given that he instantly popped up when I went into his room this morning to comfort him and started jabbering at me, there's a good possibility he was just ready to get up and (hopefully) not sick. Or he'll wait. Those are famous last words, aren't they?

I thought he'd be born in time for me to be able to go on FMLA or short-term disability, but he was born four days too early for that. He's never been good at waiting.