So, the Easter Break has officially started as of today. You may be able to tell from the title line of this entry, I'm not entirely thrilled.
I don't mind a day off from work, generally. It is as enjoyable to me as the next gal, but I'm at something of a loss for what to do with a whole week off from work. I'm dreading it, some what, because I have a feeling it will foreshadow the summer for me.
One thing I can say, at least in the summer we won't be getting the weather we are going to next week. "Ugh" is the best description for this up coming week's weather: cold, snowy, and windy. You know the weather that New York state gets at the end of January and the beginning of February? Well, guess what's deciding to make a guest apperance during the month of April... yep, that crap. I'm not happy.
At least I didn't pack up all of my cold weather gear. I do have a slight problem, however, with my cold weather clothes. They're starting to get a bit tight on me with my growing belly. The pregnancy is progressing along fine and the baby is showing plenty of attitude. The ultrasound technicians and I were laughing this morning as the baby kept playing peek-a-boo with them. The baby would line up right for a picture and then move so that the picture wouldn't come out right. This didn't happen just once or twice, but for the whole time. So, the ultrasound that would usually take 15 or 20 minutes took closer to 30 - 40 minutes.
Work has been ... well... work. I can understand why people call it a 4 letter word. I can understand that concept very well, and I actually like my job. Days where I have to deal with 17 year olds throwing temper-tantrums, moronic 16 year olds going on 35 with over inflated egos, and having the general entitlement complex of today's teenagers shoved down my throat, I count them as bad days. I know, you're probably thinking that's everyday in a highschool. It may be that way at most schools, but at the one where I work, the kids aren't usually quite this bad.
Sure, they wear their complexes on their sleeves and are a functional minefield of hormone induced insanity, but you don't have to deal with teenage boys attempting to sexually harass you because your pregnant most days. You don't have to deal with the developmentaly disabled children going into a screaming and crying fit of hysterics because they didn't get to go home from school early (including the intentional soiling of themselves). And you don't generally have to deal with angry teenagers insisting that there's something wrong with the fact that they can't ask any adult in the building for X amount of money and recieve it upon demand. Not only are they insisting that there's something wrong with this fact, but that the social failure is on the part of all adults for their poor performance in academics and the general lack of personal responsibility in themselves as well.
Somedays, I really have a hard time restraining the urge to smack these kids in the backs of their heads and demanding that they grow up. Last I checked, 16 - 18 required a higher level of responsiblity and critical thought then the ages of 3 - 5. Where the hell do these kids get off insisting that they're faultless because they were spoiled by their parents, thus they have no reason to be held accountable for their actions? Now, I can understand the developmentally disabled kids having difficulty. Some of the kids I work with funciton at the level of a 3 - 5 year old child, so I can't hold them to the standards that I hold some one in their late teen years. But this whole attitude of "It's not *my* fault, I'm spoiled." is insane.
I have the perfect response for these kids when they give me this attitude:
That's fine. If you can't handle the responsiblity of your age, then I presume your parents are deciding when you get to move out on your own and learn to drive. Will that be happening when you're 35 or 40?
The thing that's really horrible about this entire sentiment is this:
I have an uncle and an aunt both in their late 40s to early 50s, they have the "It's not *my* fault, I'm spoiled." attitude. They've moved into the home of my late 70s - early 80s grandparents (their parents) with the expectation that they will be taken care of by their parents.
Rather disgusting, isn't it? ....
I really can't think of anything plesant to end this with. I'm half tempted to continue ranting about the social decay of the country and directing a bit of fury towards my manipulative and self-centered relatives.
I'm also considering going up stairs to tear the guy in the apartment above a new one for playing his music so loud that it's making the porceline butterflies in the display case by my computer rattle and stomping like he's trying to come through the floor. Perhaps I should just go make myself a cup of tea and do something .. mindless and plesant for a while.