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Friday, February 18, 2011

Don’t Bring Your Child To Work Day

Unless It's a REAL day (i.e., a typical boring one).

See, I've always sort of impressed upon my kids that mommy works hard at a difficult job all day long in order to provide for them.

In short, they thought I worked in a coal mine. Or something as terrible.

All was well. Mommy was the hero, venturing out into the unknown to sacrifice and suffer for the benefit of her offspring.

I managed to F that up in the course of about 90 minutes.


Mommy Needs Vodka The Shining All Work and no Play Makes Jack a Dull Boy
My orgasmically thrilling cubicle with a hint of The Shining thrown in.
(c) 2011 Mommy Needs Vodka
  
Last night I asked Simon why he’s been mad at mommy for like 3 months. Mommy wants to help her sweetie pie, I told him. I finally got it out of him: “I don’t want you to go to work anymore.”

By “work” he means, work outside the home. (As opposed to being a SAHM which would exponentially be far more work, IMO). Since we have not won Powerball, I kinda have no choice at the moment. I’m a Corporate Monkey.

Like most parents, I want more and better for my offspring. Just as my grandmother didn’t want her kids to have to clean offices for a living, I don’t want my kids to be stuck in Cubeville for the rest of their lives with other Info Tech robotic geeks doing Sudoko puzzles and collecting Star Trek figurines that are loving displayed in their cubes under blinding fluorescent lighting. (I would rather be cleaning offices, actually.)

Not that there’s anything wrong with pursuing your dream if that is your dream. But for a lot of people it’s a nightmare. And if it’s not—God help me if one of my children winds up in a place that’s basically Bellevue Hospital with lots of PCs, a petty boxed-in world with organizational fiefdoms and random RIFs. Hopefully I won’t get Dooced for saying so, I’m merely calling a spade a spade.

Well, here is where I have failed BIG TIME: I brought my kids to my workplace on an annual pre-Christmas “fun day” for the kids where Santa comes in, the place is decorated, each kid gets a balloon, cookies, candy, their own sack of treats, and games.

It’s like liquid Vicodin for little sugar addicts!

(c) MNV

Crazy as it sounds, some creativity is occasionally expressed at this place. One department goes all out and transforms their area into something between Neverland and a Thomas Kincaid village. The gifts are empty boxes wrapped to form a cube wall.


(c) MNV


Which is pretty damn cool.



(c) MNV


Really, it is about as awesome as you can get for an office space.
But we ARE talking about one day out of 365. And a 2 hour party of an 8-hour day.
(c) MNV


The final nail in the coffin (or trump card, however one views it) was the remote control train set that one of the support reps set up behind a glass wall between 2 cubes. The boys were so enamored of it, they had to be physically removed so other kids could play with it.


(c) MNV


Of course, all this was in another part of the building, not in the section where I work.

I brought them to my boring cube (see first photo), but by then it was too late.
They’d seen the remote control train.
They looked at me accusingly.
They think that mommy dumps them off at daycare to go to a big party at work every day.
When Simon asked me at night to sing to him, it was always “Santa Clause is coming To Town,” and he made me change the words to “Santa Clause is coming To Mommy’s Work.” Seriously.
They’re pissed that I don’t bring them to The Party every day.
Ever since, they deeply resent each day I am gone “again” at “The Party.”

I must make a course correction.


More fascinating BS:

10 Steps To Becoming a Mommy Martyr

Damage Control After Accidental Indoctrination
 

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