When to leave the job?

So this is mostly about my upcoming baby girl, but there is a component about me. I mean, it's me typing this stuff right, so don't I get some me time in here? I know, I know, it'll all change once she comes - I know so let me have the time while I can and stop preaching about it.

I can't wait to meet her. I think she's teasing me all the time. She's moving around in Angie's belly all smug, just knowing that we want to see her. I know we have to wait. I know she's too little yet, just 2lbs, I know I have to be patient. I'm just excited to see her. The word of the blog could be excited, but nope, this one's about me. About me preparing my life for a new life. If I'm not right, it makes things difficult to make other things right - so there, there's my justification.

I want to know when it's right to leave a job. I struggle with where I'm clocking in every day. I have a good job - a job that I believe in doing - a job that has an honorable mission - a job that compensates me well - that has excellent benefits. My problem is the handling of assets and by assets I mean me - the worker, the boots on the ground, the one who provides the product that the agency was created to produce. I have a problem with how we are managed.

I, you see, am not a manager. I do not have all the information that they have when they make their manager decisions. I am not in the room when all the thoughts and considerations are made regarding the use of said resources (me). I do not know what is going on. I am only privy to the outcome.

I work at a job that must respond to accidents and so, we worker bees sit down every so often and pick weeks where you will be responsible for responding. We have many other things to do when we are not responding, so there's plenty of work to go around. It is understood that when you are on your week it is expected you will go wherever necessary - fine. You put your other cases on the back burner while you're on your week. Nothing old gets done only new cases are added. The trouble is when decisions are made that require you to respond when you are outside of your defined week, thereby affecting the schedule and everyone in the schedule.

My issue here isn't getting something when I'm not expected to get it, it is the bigger picture. They made a decision that they believe affects only one person when in fact it affects many people. It is thought that pulling the 'Joe string' affects only Joe, but in fact it affects 3 others. The way I look at it is this: we have a problem - getting assigned work outside defined parameters and we have a solution - keep to the schedule.

I don't know how, though, to communicate the solution to managers who don't agree that there's a problem in the first place. I don't know how to make them see that there is a problem to be solved. There's the usual 'old timers' in the office who say that it's always been this way. I don't agree that an old problem equates to no problem. I think an old problem equates to lack of foresight, understanding, and cooperation. Call me totally silly, but I think it's time for something to change.

I'm not quitting. I'm too responsible to do something so rash, but I am not happy. I worked too hard, sacrificed too much of my life to allow myself to end up like the old timers - jaded and narrow-minded. I refuse to ever say 'it is what it is' and go on. I want more out of my life. I believe if there's a better way, for anything, then why would you ever be content not living that better way? Why would I ever expect anything but the better way? Why would you ever expect anything less than the better way? I refuse to settle. I refuse to become wrinkled and crusty at a job that I hate.

News flash people - you bring your work home with you, everyday - mentally, psychologically, emotionally - everyday. It doesn't matter if you work as a door greeter, teaching other people's kids, or a doctor, or lawyer - you're going to take whatever happened in your day home with you to the one's that you so dearly love. I'm afraid of what working here will do to me. I'm afraid that working here will  change me at home. I don't want to be this angry person, this frustrated person. I love my wife too much. I love my unborn little perfect girl too much. I love me too much. I'm not quitting, but I'm not happy and I don't know how to fix it. I have a problem, but no solution.

The word of the day is: Excited

I am so excited to meet our baby girl. I feel like everyday is the December 23rd - so close yet so far away. I'm just wanting to rush through the day so I can hurry up and go to bed, so it'll at least be Christmas Eve. I wake up in a rush, like when you spring upright from the mattress, just hoping to get to finally open a present and not one of those presents you suspect is cloths or books, but one of the r/c car-shaped presents. I wake up everyday just hoping that finally get to open that early present and then realize that it's still 3 months away! It's maddening.

I think one of the better things we've ever done as a couple is to get rid of the tv in the bedroom. We go to bed every night and we talk. We mostly talk about whatever, say 85% nothing and 15% substance, but we talk. I'll lean over and put my head on her belly or rub her belly or we'll watch her belly for movement. I think our dog Wally wants to meet her too. He's been putting his head on her belly a lot lately - something that he rarely did before. I think he's excited too.

The father to be

I started this blog because I am going to be a father. I once saw my fatherhood as a distant inevitability, something that would just one day happen like a beard or wrinkles. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like when my wife, my gorgeous wife, would walk out of the bathroom with the ept in her hand and look at me with a smile, but with eyes of terror.

We've been married for 9 years now. We went to high school together and dated for a couple weeks once, although she says it was nothing. I can still remember seeing her in the hallway of our small, rural Missouri school. I can still see her in her basketball uniform. I can still see her long hair. I can still see her cute butt. I loved that butt and I still do. I remember her dating a buddy of mine, after me of course, for a few years. I remember wanting to be with her again. And there she stood in our home, 15 years later, the home we earned together, the home we struggled for years to achieve - and there she was walking out of the master bathroom. The light from the bathroom put her face in a shadow as she walked toward me. She was happy to see the plus on the ept, I have no doubt, but she was uneasy. I can't blame her, so was I.

I wanted to start this blog because I think all the time. Angie calls it my hamster wheel. I am often kept up thinking about stuff, nothing specific except my project truck that's costing way too much money or our house that we paid way too much for or our family (Angie's family) that we don't see enough or my work or Angie's work or the squeaky bed or the attic fan that's too loud and will surely break before long or the trees on the property that need pruning and will certainly come though a window someday or ghosts or my dad or her dad or my career or lack of fashion sense. It's everything, but surely it is more nothing than everything.

My intention is to write about my thoughts. My thoughts usually center on our little baby that's growing inside Angie's belly. There she, yea it's a she and I couldn't be happier, is swimming inside her mom's belly. She's so close and I can't see her. I can't touch her. It's torture. She's not even born and the torture has begun.