Gold Stars

It's official, Girl 2 is allergic to peanuts.

Two weeks ago I gave her a dab of peanut butter* and she quickly broke out in red splotchy hives around her mouth and eye where she touched. We gave her benadryl which cleared it up pretty quick - thank god- (and then took a solid 2 hour nap -also thank god), and the pediatrician referred us to an allergy center for testing.

*I had shown Girl 1 peanut butter jelly time for some reason earlier so pb&j for lunch was sorta a given.

Yesterday was our allergist appointment and she was diagnosed with a peanut allergy (but not tree nuts, so that's a sliver lining). However, to even make it to the appointment, I had to rearrange my work schedule and take sick time. Dr soc was able to make it for most of the appointment but had to leave to go teach his classes while we were waiting to talk allergy action plan. Afterwards she was really clingy (can't say I blame her with her back getting all pricked up) and I couldn't put her down/stop comfort nursing, but I still had to get to work eventually.

So dr soc and I arranged for me to drop her off in his class on my way in. Not ideal, but special circumstances, for a short amount of time, it would be okay. And let's be honest, he's a white male so nothing can really harm him.

As far as we know he hasn't gone viral for being a parent, but the patriarchy is alive and well (thriving even!) so we figure at the very least society gave him another gold star or two for yesterday.

Call Me!

These are the phone numbers that I can rattle off no problem:

• mine
• dr soc
• my parents' house
• work's public line if i think about it for a second  

And:

• my ex fiancé's

And here's why. A friend had left her cell in my pool bag and neither one of us realized it until she and my ex were at work. She couldn't call her fiancé to get it from me because she didn't know his number. (I ended up dropping it off at work-which was not on the way- before I went out of town. ie: I'm a good friend) My ex was astounded she didn't know her fiancé's number, but I came to her defense. Ever since cell phones became the norm no one's really had to memorize a phone number since it's stored in your contact list. After all I didn't know his number off the top of my head.

He was gobsmacked (and pissed). How could I not know his number? After all, he knew my number! (but not the exact date of my birthday) And his phone number was so easy too! It was one number different than the area code and then 2 other numbers! How could his fiancé not know his number!?

Well I once heard you have to repeat something (at least) 21 times before it's committed to memory. Being the mature young 20-something I was at the time to shut him up I started reciting his phone number. Twenty-one times.

me: 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx...
::while following him around the apartment:: After the 10th time or so-
ex: okay, okay, I get it!
me: nope, it's gotta be 21 times before I remember. Great now I've lost count and have to start over.
me:-sigh-: 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx. 513-xxx-xxx....

Yup. But, hey, I learned his phone number. Which came in handy when I drunk texted him the holidays after we broke up.  

Beggars can't be Choosers

I was in the bathroom at work and the person in the stall next to me sighed heavily and made a comment about how nice it would be to have toilet seat covers.
I did not respond because:

1. I don't want to talk when I am in a public restroom.
2. I don't want to hear anyone else's commentary in the bathroom either.   

And my response to the comment wouldn't have been much help. See there are 20 branches in the system I work for, but my branch is one of the smallest and not affluent.  So if I had commented, which I wouldn't have because I don't want to talk or listen to anyone when using the bathroom, I would have said:

You want toilet seat covers? We don't even have a plunger 75% of the time.

Dinner Plans

Dr Soc and I worked out our childcare plans so that baby girl goes to daycare two times a week. The other days of the work week he teaches early in the morning and comes home, then I leave for work and those nights I close the library.

That also means those nights dinner is on him. I've been trying to get into the habit of menu planning and can manage a variety of 30ish minute meals, but on nights I close I don't get home until 8:30. One of the last things I want to do is cook, eat around 9 and then put the baby to bed (she nurses to sleep. I know, I have to wean that eventually).

But cooking with baby and quick meals are isn't his strongest wheelhouse. So most Tuesday nights I get the dinner text. Some variation of "dinner ideas?" and I tell him what I'm craving or not, what he can make from the freezer or where to order from.
This was our exchange from the other night:

But I still wanted it, even after recalling that memory. The only reason we didn't have meatloaf that night was because the grocery store didn't have any. And I was bummed too!

Storytime

The other day at work "the walmart baby" story/movie came up in conversation and my coworkers, who are 21 and 23, were genuinely confused. How was this story even possible? Was it true? (no, but the movie was based on a work of fiction) How did she give birth at walmart? How come security or the camera's catch her at night? How was she able to even hide in the store in the first place? I've seen the movie but it had been a while, so I called upon my trusty sidekick the internets to fill in the the holes in my memory (that's how I found out it was based on a book). 

coworker 1: How was she able to hide in the first place? 

me: on accident at first. She's in the bathroom at closing time and when she comes out the staff has all left. After that first night she repeats the process and keeps a running tab of what she owes walmart for using.

coworker 1: Why didn't they check the bathrooms?

me: I don't know those logistics. I'm just telling you the plot. 

coworker 2: Why didn't security find her? Or at least a camera?

me: I don't know, they must not have needed security or cameras after closing.

both: Closing time? When did walmart close?

me: The movie came out in 2000. I saw it in the theater the summer I graduated high school.

coworker 1: I was...maybe 9 in 2000.

coworker 2: I think I was in 6th grade in 2000.

me::sigh:: Oh you dear children, back in my day in 2000, this was possible. Believe it or not, in 2000, not all walmarts were 24 hours.

both: GASP!

Weird

Today a patron walked into my work today and asked me if I worked there. When I asked how I could help them, they said they had 2 things. The first one was that they had found a (used) disposable razor on the curb outside and wanted to know where they could throw it away.

OK, a little weird. And eww. I offered the book I was holding as a sort of temporary table where they placed it. Why they didn't just leave it there on the curb I don't know, but fine, whatever.
The second thing was another thing they had found outside. In their had they had a blue napkin with a...wait for it...

A dead bird.  

I was in great shape and it wasn't even cold yet (which they knew because they kept touching it), so they wondering if we had a children's program that would have any use for it.

My response: "For a dead bird? NO."
OMFG. NO. 

That has to be the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me at work. When you work at the public library, some element of weirdness just comes with the job. But this... this...this was just weird. And I have seen some weird sh*t!  

Math is Hard

At least 1992 Teen Talk Barbie thought so. (Apparently the actual saying is "math class is tough!" But "math is hard!" is funnier and Barbie has a pink convertible and a dream home, so, yeah, I'm going to make fun of her a little bit) Now my math skills can get rusty like anything else if you use them, but in general math is something I "get" and isn't an impossible task.

Unless. It involves the 1990's.
I will explain.

We were going through the materials at work that hadn't circulated in 2+ years. Some stuff was just not on the shelf, some were outdated and some were just plain terrible books that should have never been printed in the first place.

One of the books that circulated in some time was the book Kids, Computers, and Homework. It was the last copy in the entire system, but it was also one of those outdated materials I was referring to earlier. Even with it's awesome graphics I couldn't see a reason to keep it in circulation.

me: When was that published?
coworker: 1995. There probably isn't any relative information in this thing.
me: 1995? ~I quickly do the math~ Yeah, that was nearly 10 years ago. There might have been a few changes in computers in that time.  
coworker: Ten? You mean 20 years ago...
me: ::pause:: ~quickly do the math again~ Shit! You're right. What the hell?! How are the 90s not 10 years ago? Because I remember the 90s and I swear that was only 10 years ago.
coworker:  I don't know, I remember them too.
me: I seriously don't understand how someone born in 1992 can legally drink. Math is hard when it comes to the 90s.

Going Postal

We don't have a peephole at the back door at work. So whenever someone knocks we ask "who is it?" so not to open the door to a mass murderer or super creepster. While this method is not completely flawless, it works for the most part. (and there's always the option of looking out the window as a fail safe)
Anyway, when the mailman delivers the mail every morning, he knocks on the back door and answers the "who goes there?" question with a cheerful "mailman!" Because I love getting mail* and that the mailman is cheerful, I like to match his enthusiasm with a "yay! and/or thank you!" when I'm the one who opens the door.

Anyway, the mailman is at the very least amused by my reaction and always smiles. One day after our typical exchange, my boss asked me why I did that. I don't really remember the why and how it all started, but I figured I would keep it up. That way, if the postman happened to go postal and started taking people out, my hopes are that he'll remember that "nice girl from the library who was always happy to see him," and thus spare me. My boss thought that was stupid, but she's going to feel mighty foolish if my plan works.

*Just fun mail though. Junk, bills, and tree wasting catalogs I will forgo. But stuff like cards, packages, coupons and glossy magazines I love getting. And we get a ton of fun mail at work.

Surprise!

When I worked retail I had to write down my schedule from week to week. If I needed time off for anything, a haircut, a weekend trip, getting married, etc, I had to ask off for it way in advance or try to schedule around my haphazard work life since there was always a chance I would be scheduled to make minimum wage and get berated by my boss. It made it pretty hard to plan much in advance, but that's just the crappy way being in retail is.

But the same time I started grad school I also got my two library jobs. My schedule became super busy, but between the two jobs hours and set class times, my schedule became fairly regular. Even my weekends were on a regular, rotating schedule (every other weekend). So even though my schedule was busy, it was fairly easy to keep track of.

For me at least.

Ever since I started graduate school I've had a class on Monday nights. The time changes here and there, but since August 2012, my Monday night is either class or working. So for all intents and purposes the past year and a half, Monday nights, I'm busy. Yet every time my husband suggests something for Monday night, and I tell him I can't (due to me being in class), he is always surprised. Sigh.

Ridiculousness

I'm at work when my co-worker (male, and maybe old enough to be my grandpa) tells me "dear, I think you have a rip in the back of your pants." I had no idea and of course I can't see it, so I'm comically looking over my shoulder turning in circles trying to look at my ass. I asked Nelson where the rip was, but then he said with some embarrassment "well, it's in a spot I don't really want to point it out..."

Upon hearing this, I know I need to go to the bathroom to look. And sure enough, my jeans have thinned so much along the seam there's a noticeable bare patch from ass to lady-parts. Cue the giggling. Fortunately for me, I'm only working a half day, and even more fortunately I'm wearing full coverage underwear. But this doesn't solve the immediate problem of there being a rip in my pants.

Now, the whole time I'm spinning in circles our other coworker could see us on the security camera in the back all he can do is laugh. I'm the MacGyver of our staff so if anyone is going to fix this problem it's going to be me. Plus we are talking about my pants, and the only one who should be taking care of those types of problems is me (or my husband) anyway. While I don't want to put tape on the outside of my pants, I figure I can put some inside just to keep the rip from getting bigger in the next 2 hours.

But then, I couldn't find any duct tape. We had packing tape, sealing tape, book tape, masking tape, double-sided tape, scotch tape and some tacky glue, but no duct tape. I decided that the sealing tape was the next best option since the width of the tape was bigger than the rip, thus I would have to use less of it. I go back to the ladies room, place the necessary amount of tape to keep the rip in place and head back to the workroom. But suddenly I have a different problem: the tape crinkles as I walk. And honestly, I'm not sure which one is worse!

At least I can sit for most of my 2 hours left, so it's really not going to be that bad, just funny. I text my husband about how silly this day has been, and his response is: "at least you are taking it in stride." Which made me realize we would be making a lot of walking/my pants puns. But I figured the whole situation was ridiculous enough, so if a rip, some tape and a couple of bad puns was as bad as it was going to get, it would be fine. But I was wrong, because then the tape starts itching.

At that point I just gave into the complete ridiculousness of the situation and giggled the rest of my shift. Sitting down. 

Face Palm

I was at the desk at work when story time let out, and a mom approached the desk. She and her family had just move to the area and wanted to know what she needed to get a library card. I informed her that I would need a photo id and proof that she lives in the county, so a lease, a piece of mail, etc. She didn't have anything with their Charlotte address on her at that moment, so I couldn't get her a card. She was quite understanding and said she would bring in something next time she came in, no big deal.

Her son though (who was about 4), was really, really hoping to check out a book. So when his mom told him they couldn't today because she didn't have the paper they needed, he was very upset. Because his reaction?

He facepalms!
And then big fat sloppy tears start rolling from his eyes and he is inconsolable. I know I shouldn't have, but I  jut had to bite my lip to stop giggling at the kid's reaction.

Not a Puppy

Scene: Wee-hours of the workday morning, my coworker opens the last delivery bin.
M: No!!!  No!!!!
me (from across the room): Now, Marissa, you can't yell at the books, they aren't a puppy. Scolding won't do anything.
M: --snort-- You look, you'll see.
--I look, and see a bunch of books on disc that we don't have room for on our shelves--
me: NO!!!!

Good Things

Good news!
I accepted a full time library position yesterday! Full time! With vacation and sick time! And benefits! I finally, finally have a grown up job! (I may have jumped up and down while giggling and clapped my hands like a seal after accepting, so acting like a grown up, not so much. But that doesn't make my job any less grown up, just the person who has it now. Suckers!)  

And in other good, but sad to me news, I found a new family for Bailey. Someone my sister works with is going to adopt my girl and Bailey's new family is super super excited. So even though my heart is breaking over losing her, I am happy that she'll be happy and that her new family is happy to have her. It's the best possible outcome for such a sucky (for me) situation.

So. Good things. Yeah. Good things.

Teachable Moment

I can get annoyed like anyone else. And like most people, there are things that annoy me more so than others. Like: college students and people who think music is the end all be all are two things that annoy me easily. So the other day when a college student felt the need to enlighten me about his music preference superiority, my annoyance tolerance was shot to hell from the second the kid opens his mouth.

student: I would like to donate a book to you guys that I have because you don't have it.
me: Well we have a policy actually of not accepting book donations. But someone at the center desk over there can tell you who to talk to about collection development.
student: It's a biography. You guys have several other books on this subject, several copies of a few of them, but you don't have this particular one. This one is really important and you guys should have it.

I was only slightly annoyed that he didn't listen to me, but that's pretty much what happens all the time with the college students I see at work, so I wasn't going to get all bent out of shape over this. He was more offend that I didn't want his book than I was by him not listening. But then he kept talking and tried to explain to me why we needed to have this book

student: It's a biography on Duke Ellington. Like the most important jazz musician of all time. You guys really need this book, and I want to to give it to you because it's so important. Music is life, you know? It's my passion, the most important thing.

So here's where I went from slightly annoyed to completely annoyed. Because as we all know, I have heard, dealt with, and left the music is my passion and most important thing ever dude. I probably heard those words verbatim or close enough before. And music? Not the most important thing ever. I was in choir and marching band, I used to know how to read music and I definitely think music classes should remain in schools, but "having a passion" for music is a far cry from "making a living" off this nonsense. While I know there are professional musicians who do make a living from music, and I respect the time and talent it takes to get to that tier, it's still not the most important thing ever. And besides, just because you think something is the most important thing, doesn't make the rest of the world agree with you. And you certainly shouldn't be foisting your opinions on me or anyone for that matter. (Impartiality is part of being a librarian, and the ability to providing equal access to all sides of something. (OK, well a public library, I guess if I worked in a special library I could be a lot more judicious in what kind of access people get to particular subjects))

I know this student had no idea what he stepped into with that comment or that my particular background with another "music is my passion" would annoy the crap out of me. But I still wanted him to just go away and to take his opinions with him. But I realized I could make this a teachable moment and said:

me: Well, I think unicorns are important. And we don't have a lot of books on those here either.
student: Uh....but this is Duke Ellington. You know who he is right? That this is important!?
me: I've heard of him. Now, the center desk over there can tell you who to discuss collection development with. Have a good day.

OK, not the best teachable moment and the kid probably thinks I'm a kook. But at least it was a little snarky. I count that as a win.

Name Dropping

I'm not being anti-woman's-lib-hear-me-purr-I-need-a-man, but there are times when dropping the word "husband" is the easiest and most efficient way to stop someone from flirting with me.

It's not that I'm being flirted with all the time, but it happens on enough occasions that I notice. It usually comes from the graduate students at the academic library more than anything. Everyone's class (freshman, sophomore, masters, PhD, faculty etc) is listed so I know what level in school you are as soon as I scan your ID. So when a guy starts making a bit more conversation than the interaction requires, I can tell that he's testing out the waters trying to gauge my availability.  Sometimes a flash from my left hand is enough to deter someone, but if that doesn't work, working the word "my husband" into the conversation does.

When you think about it though, it doesn't surprise me (or my husband) all that much, when you consider the type of patron who uses the academic library. Academics tend to use the academic library (with the exception of my husband who barely used the library his 7 years in grad school), and doesn't a librarian (in training) sort of seem like the epitome of academic? Also now that I think about it, I may get hit on more at the library than I ever did as a bartender. But whatever, that's not really the point.  Though I bet people hear college professor husband and librarian wife, it does sound pretty matchy.

Decipher

student: So, like, my, like, can, um you, like, um, wait.
me (totally confused): Ok...
student: Ok, like, my teacher, like um someone, like, told like me you can um like, um order a like book, like like and um like um someone, like like um they'll like send it some-um-where like um here and like you I mean me can like, pick it, like up here like? Um, yeah
--15 seconds pass while I stare at him even more confused--
me: I have no idea what you just asked me.
student: oh, oh ok, like,
me: Ok, if you are asking if you can request a book or material online, the answer is yes. And if the material is available someone from our staff will pull it for you and we'll put it on our hold shelf for you to pick up. At least, that's what I think you were asking?
student: Yes! And like, where um do you pick it up? Like, right here? This desk? 
me: Yes, right here.
student: Oh my god, that is like so awesome! I'm going to go um request like so much right now. Thanks!
--walks away smiling ear to ear--
me: God help us.  

People

When I was in college a roommate asked my how stayed so skinny. I made a crack about being bulimic, serious concern washed over her face and I made a note to self: bulimia jokes not funny yet.

Last weekend at my library job:

coworker: You're eating another cookie? How are you so thin?
me: I throw it up later.
coworker: Hahaha!
me: Yes! I found people who think bulimia is funny! I found my people!

No Help

college kid: Can you help me find something?
me: I can try. What are you looking for?
ck: Well, I'm not sure exactly what is it, my teacher said something about it. It may be a book or a movie.
me: Is this a course reserve maybe?
ck: Maybe? Do they have anything on reserve?
me: I'll check, who's your teacher?
ck: Uh, crap, I don't know their name.
me: That's ok. We can try to find it another way. What's the title of what you're looking for?
ck: Um, I don't really know.
me: Author?
ck: Um, no.
me: A keyword? Anything?
ck: Um, not really.
me: Yeah, I can't help you.

Vocab

We have laptops for people (students, staff and faculty) to check out for 24 hours at my academic library. Awesome right? Well not always, because sometimes all we have left are the older, slower computers and college kids can be so incredibly whiny.

A freshman turns in an older slower laptop, but before he turns it in he first asks if we have any macs. You have to wait 4 hours between laptop check ins and outs, so even if we did have any macs in he wouldn't have been able to have it at the moment anyway.  Instead of understanding the rules and just leaving it at that, he wanted to make it clear to me that macs are a far superior computer. So he says: Mac's aren't slow. Dells are though. This dell was abysmally slow.

I just shrugged my shoulders and said: Oh well.
But what I wanted to say was: Look at you using your SAT words like a big boy!

Proud

So. Like I said in my last post, I'm in grad school and I'm busy.  But the work isn't hard, it's just time consuming. I don't have tests, just lots of projects.  The most recent one I just turned in was 2 short videos of me talking and demonstrating how to use a database for one of my classes. My husband was asking about them, and as I started to explain them, I realized it would be easier to just show them to him. So without any hesitation I pulled them up and he watched my presentations.

And I realized after he viewed them that I would have never done that with my design work. I was never really that proud of my work in general, and certainly never proud enough of my work to show it to anyone, let alone to anyone I love.  And while these two five minute presentations aren't exactly the same thing as a quarter long project, there I was, perfectly comfortable showing my work to the one of the people that I love most in to world.

I'm proud of my work. I've found what I want to do. I'm really happy I'm there.