I Don’t Like Mondays

It’s Monday. It’s definitely a Monday.

Work’s killing me. I am a manager of some sort in a big company of another sort. I look after a team of analysts and project managers, and our job is to install high-tech systems. And we sell to difficult and demanding customers across North America, mostly in the United States.

Today, like too many days, has had me running in one direction to another all day long. Crisis management without the management part. I can’t even breath between meetings or calls or urgent issues that need my attention. I’m fried. And the week’s just started.

So what the hell am I going to do once Peach the Poop-Maker arrives?

To put it mildly I’m not exactly prepared to be a father. Heck, I’m not even prepared to deal with my own life let alone the needs of a baby. I’ve been blissfully in my own little world looking after my own little concerns and feeding my own little habits. Now suddenly I’m supposed to look after a big-eyed screaming space alien that’s unable to roll over, let alone wipe up after itself?

I feel a baby-induced panic attack coming on. One that’s going to last a couple of decades.

All I know is that I can’t continue in this job the way things are once baby Peach arrives. It’s not fair to her or Peach to come home grumpy and feeling like I’ve been beat with an elephant. Something’s got to change.

Sure I can take paternity leave, but it doesn’t make much sense as her benefits package is better than mine, and I’d rather she take the time off while the Peach is young. I’m going to have to win a lottery or something if I want a year off too.

On a different note, she told me something surprising – she’s lost weight. She’s dropped from 186 lbs a couple days ago to 182 lbs today. Wonder what that’s all about?