Ok, Now What?

Let’s talk a little bit about my last couple of weeks.

I essentially ended 2009 with 11 days off of work, not returning to the office from Christmas Eve until January 4. But note that I’m not going to make the mistake of referring to it as vacation time. That’s how it’s logged according to my employer’s HR department, but the use of vacation days certainly doesn’t automatically mean one is enjoying a true vacation.

Trust me; I wasn’t.

The holidays were filled with predictable strife. Stress over the Christmas budget, stress over holiday scheduling with the family and stress over family interactions in general. That’s bound to happen with a family of five, a wife who comes from a perfectly broken family and a few houseguests who crashed for about two-thirds of my time off.

Consider this: The highlight of my year-end break may have been going out with the family on New Year’s Eve to see Alvin and the Chipmunks II: The Squeakquel. Yes, computer-generated rodents singing Beyonce and other bad Top 40 hits provided a breath of fresh air.

It seems like this so-called break might have been a good time for me to air some detailed grievances via the blog, but I couldn’t really do that since my brother-in-law, his girlfriend and their dog were staying in my basement for seven days. That’s where my computer is set up, and since I’m a fucking idiot and fucked up the configuration of my wireless router, I still need to go downstairs any time I wish to go online. Ok, you can blame that one, at least in part, on me.

So it’s not like I’d ever experience a post-holiday hangover. In reality, it should be more like a post-holiday bender. But there’s no rest for the emotionally abused, and I’ve learned that yet again recently.

Over the last six days, the water pipes at my house froze, my three-year-old son contracted Croup (a fairly common and rarely serious respiratory virus that causes swelling of the throat and caused Joey to wake up at 2:00am Wednesday gasping for air, wheezing and trying desperately to scream and cry), and it was all topped off last night when my wife took a tumble in our garage, breaking her ankle.

As much as I hate clichés and hate talking about the weather in just about any context, perhaps it’s true that when it rains, it fucking pours.

Yes, the stress of raising three children, making a decent living, justifying two house payments and helping my wife manage her own business is not enough. I know, “that’s life.” That’s what the assholes say about things like this. But it’s not unreasonable to think that I’m getting at least slightly fucked here. Just when I bought in for arguably a little more than I could afford, I’ve been dealt some seriously shitty cards.

Everything on the periphery is just as jumbled. In the past, work used to be seen as a good break from home, and I’d seem to be heading home not long after my patience at work was wearing entirely thin. But not so recently. Too often I’ve been antisocial at work among a group of like-minded colleagues whom I’d argue are my best friends these days, and upon returning home my fuse with both the wife and kids has been even shorter than usual. In the meantime, of course, interaction with my non-work friends continues to be less frequent than an Illinois victory over Penn State.

But the Illini did sneak past the Lions this week in Champaign, so maybe things can be turned around. However that win came prior to the arrival of the barking Croup cough and the snapping of my wife’s ankle.

I dream of a more simple life and pray (not literally) that this mess is more manageable than it currently seems. If the Illini can pull of a win in East Lansing tomorrow, then maybe I’ll be a believer -- a believer in the fate of both the Orange & Blue and this crazy life that I lead.