I learned how to wire electrical outlets this weekend. Not a skill I ever thought I would have, but one I have mastered none the less. Precipitating the learning thereof was two rather horribly emotional days dealing with the messiness of marriage and job loss.

I am starting a daycare. Never thought I would start one, at least not in my home. I go back and forth between feeling like I am giving up my home and my life, and thinking that this is an awesome opportunity for me, and our family. I do worry about Kati being able to have her "own" things. Kids will be sleeping in her room, playing with her toys, eating in her highchair, taking over her house. I never wanted that for my child. I never really wanted an in home business for myself either. All of that said, I think this is what God wants me to do. Of course.

Starting a daycare is A LOT of work. Forms, TB tests, health assessments, classes, CPR, more forms, building new furniture, installing safety equipment..... you get the idea. I have been putting in 7-8 hours a day figuring out how to get everything ready. It has sucked!

I have been feeling alone. If one more person asks me how Keith's job hunt is going I think I am going to sock them in the jaw. Until recently (aka horribly emotional weekend) Keith did not tell me ANYTHING about how job stuff was going. I wanted to know how everything was going, but knowing how painful everything has been for him I have been ignoring it. We have since dealt with this extreme lack of communication and are moving on.

At CHF I am being replaced, of my own choosing. They have chosen the person, and I know who it is, but have the higher ups informed me? No. It would be too much to ask for them to let me know who I should start training to replace me in July. Did they grant my request of 4-6 weeks of training? No. Have they done ANYTHING that I have asked them? Yes. They did hire the person I recommended for the job. Good enough I guess. I am feeling so incredibly disconnected. I desperately want to give into the bitterness about them laying Keith off. I want to yell and the higher ups, scream at the pastors, and tell everyone how awful they have treated us. But I am still the nursery director. I have kids to care for, parents to please, payroll to turn in, and staff to manage. Not only did they NOT grant our request for an increase in Keith's hours, they laid him off. Not only did they lay him off, but they did not pay unemployment insureance (no help from Uncle Sam for us). Not only did they not pay unemployment, but they didn't keep Keith on as a consultant as per the unwritten agreement when he left. Not only did they not keep him on to consult, but they hired an outside firm for HALF of his previous salary for a SIX MONTH term. (SO a year would be the equivalent of his old salary.) GRRRRR!

Note: Bitterness is coming through loud and clear here. Yes I am complaining. Yes I hurt. No I am not going to apologize for feeling this way.

Since all of that has happened with Keith's job I have had a lot of trouble staying motivated in mine. I feel betrayed by my co-workers, not to mention my pastors. If it was just a job I wouldn't mind so much. But it was our church. The people that are supposed to be examples of Christ to the world have done this to us. It feels like I have been stabbed in the back. By someone I love. I don't care about my position anymore. I just don't. Every Sunday I put on my happy face and welcome 40 little kids into the nursery, but I honestly don't care anymore. My hurt and bitterness have taken all of my enthusiasm. I don't care if my girls don't show up. I don't care if my budget is smashed all to hell. I don't care. I want to be home, with my little girl, and three others, loving them, and making money. I am tempted to leave early. I don't want to be there anymore.

VBS is coming up, and I am suddenly in charge of childcare for twenty students for five days. I did not want to do it and I was not asked. I was told. And I was told I should volunteer rather than be paid. Yeah, right. And now, I am supposed to plan lessons and activities for all of these kids. Provide staff to teach them. Have I mentioned that I don't care anymore.

Ok, I will stop ranting now. I am depressing myself. Getting back to the Horribly Emotional Weekend. Because I was feeling the pressure of all of the above, I lost it on my sweet husband, who held me, and let me cry and did all of the things a husband is supposed to do. He is great that way. However, when I did this I knew that he would be hurt, and I HATE doing that to him. But it needed said. I felt alone, and I felt like I was sacrificing more, doing more, working harder. Not that I actually was, but there was no sharing of burdens, so how was I to know that he was doing every bit and more than I was? I shared. He held and soothed. Next evening: He cried and shared. I held and soothed. It worked. Following day. I learned how to wire outlets for the basement. We will move down there. We have finished wiring stuff. Now we can sheetrock. I will have a suite of rooms to escape to at the end of the day. Somewhere where the kids can't be. I like this thought! I will wire outlets, hang sheetrock, mud and tape. Heck, I will even plumb the bathroom if I have to! I will have a place that I can go so I know I haven't given up my house. My home. And we will survive.