Damn, We're A Regular Family

I've resisted as long as I could to avoid being pigeonholed as a "provider" and "breadwinner". I've always been happy being the part-timer, the slacker who likes his three days off a week, and knows what his children is up to. Alas, those days are coming to a close because my backup auditor has acquired the job that she has applied for in the seafood department, and I'll be one backup auditor short of a 48 hour work week. She works two days for me, therefore extending it into a 48 hour job. Thing is, about a year ago, I had discovered that this job, at best, was a 40 hour a week job, because once the workload is done, there really isn't much else to do.

So with her departing, it looks like I will have to go to 40 hours a week, which I haven't done for a consistent period of time since... well... Never. I have worked a few 40 hours before in a span of a week.

I hated it.

See it's not so much that I'm lazy, or unproductive. Truth of it is, I really need to believe in what I'm doing, otherwise it's incredibly hard for me to be motivated in it. I have worked part-time while going to school full-time, and put on a play or directed a movie all at the same time. That busy work I don't mind at all. But work? It's just not the same.

But I have to admit, I am damn lucky to have my job. It's not glorifying, it's a position that induces hate waves from people. People tend to slide verbal jabs at me from time to time, but since I'm a sinister man, I tend to jab them right back by hinting generally at their imcompetence. It's a little odd that my job consists of shooting (fine, scanning) 1500 or above barcodes everyday to ensure that the price is correct. The bonus part of the job is that I get to play with stickers, have complete freedom, shop at my own leisure, and have the absolute luxury of saying, "I'm sorry, I don't work in this department so I don't know," almost everywhere I go. I also get to pick my own hours, and my boss is on pretty good terms with me. And best of all, I get to keep photos of my babies in my cart. To remind me why I have to work 40 hours a week.

For my wife, it's good and bad news in a way. On one hand, she gets to work 10 hours less because somebody has to watch the babies. On the other hand, she has to watch the babies more. Now I know, a good number of mothers out there are jive-talking me, saying that anyone should be so lucky to have to watch babies more. And I agree. Sometimes that is a good thing. Having personal time, however, can be a good thing. Nevermind that, it is a necessary thing. It's just that when you go to work, customers don't throw tantrums. They don't collapse on the floor and yell at the top of their lungs because they're bored. Hey, the diapers, the feeding, the changing - all that is fine. The fussing and the temper tantrums are what makes the difference between a good day and a day that doesn't end fast enough. There are days when I come home from work with a bounce in my step, and half an hour later, it's like I got trampled by oxen. Alex has already turned 2 when it comes to his developmental social skills. Everything is his. His Toys, His Time, His Way.

But like my wife said, everyone's age appropriate. And I suppose at my age, I really shouldn't be freaking out over 40 hours a week.

But I am.

I mean, when will I find the time to see my wonderful babies?