of diaper bags and briefcases
La dra. had today off from work, and took The Pumpkin to storytime by herself this morning. Some moms asked where I was, and confided that they were glad to know that sometimes I needed a break, too. [Who, me? SuperSAHD? Heh.]
[Some other moms took the opportunity of my absence to finally introduce themselves to the parent of the adorable little girl they’ve been watching, trying to play with their kids, for weeks on end—as long, of course, as that parent wasn’t the male one. Me, bitter? Nah. C’mon, I’ve been a SAHD for going on 22 months now—complaining about that is so “month 6.” Call it, uh, resigned frustration, or maybe frustrated resignation. “I didn’t wanna meet them anyway! Nyah nyah nyah!” (See my comment on this post of Motherhood Uncensored’s for more on this.) Whatever....]
But where was I, you ask?
Over a hundred miles from home, at a job interview.
Yes, you read that right. And before you start freaking out: no, we’re not moving; yes, the job’s based in Bako but overseen elsewhere; and no, I didn’t single you out as the one person I wasn’t going to tell about this beforehand. Nobody knew. Hell, la dra. didn’t even know I had found the listing and applied until she answered the phone last week when they called to schedule the interview (luckily she already had this day off). I just didn’t want to tell her until I got an interview (if I got an interview), and I didn’t wanna tell anybody else ‘til it was over.
And so, the interview. I think it went fine. It’s a position that’s come up a few times in the last few years, one I’ve been watching for when I do my customary bi-monthly web-search of the virtually non-existent local non-classroom education/youth issues/diversity/social justice/non-profit job scene. And yes, it’s a job that fits at that “intersection of education, diversity, and social justice” I’m so often babbling about. And after not having a paying, outside-the-home “job” in three years [feel free to refresh your memory re: my birthday-induced career-trajectory-angst post here], yes, it’s actually something that I think I would like to do, something that I think I’d be good at.
And now, reality and anxiety and all that jazz set it. Never mind that I just had the interview this morning (and that I think I was the first person they were talking to), and that they still have to do a second round of interviews. Now that the idea of going back to work is an actual, real-life possibility, I’m freaking out. Well, just a tad.
First, let me just be honest and say that yes, part of me applied (and kept it on the down-low) because of the subtle, steady pressure of friends, relatives and loved ones asking things like, so when are you going to go back to work? Part of me wanted to be able to show that yes, I’m still employable, that yes, I still have skills that people want, and yes, I really can find paying work in my field of expertise and interest that matters, and no, I’m not just sitting around twiddling my thumbs [I’m teaching my daughter to twiddle her thumbs, actually] and letting my expensive education rot.
But the bulk of it really is that I’d like to do this job, I’d like to do this work. But here’s the thing. I’ve been at home with The Pumpkin, who’s fast approaching 2 years of age (!), since her birth, and it’s been an amazing journey. I know that I’ve been lucky to be able to be home with her during these formative months, and I thank mi esposa querida for that. But now, I’m calling the local Community Connection for Child Care for referrals and checking into daycare hours and prices, and I’m freaking out a little here.
The job I’ve applied for has what my interviewers called “nontraditional hours.” Meaning, besides a full day’s work, I will have to work at least one night a week, if not more, and the day job entails much driving across the county, travel to that unnamed place where I got interviewed at least every other week, plus travel to conferences and stuff across the state. Those kinds of things, big events, obviously get planned way ahead, but the weekly nighttime things, well, let me tell you how my interviewer put it: I’d like to say that you’d always have at least a week’s notice, but I’d be lying.
Yeah. Combine that with la dra.’s shifting-every-week schedule and home-by-7:30 workdays, and of course the fact that we still haven’t left The Pumpkin with a non-grandparental sitter and now we’re contemplating not only having to juggle daycare and a sitter (who we’d somehow have to find too) in the in-between time in order to work both our schedules, but now I’m thinking about things like how and what will my babygirl eat every day for possibly lunch and dinner without her parents and of course [being the sleep paranoiac dad that I am] how will she take a nap at daycare and how do they even do naptime at daycare and what if she doesn’t sleep and no one will put her back to sleep if she wakes up too early from a nap like I do and—
You get the picture. And I haven’t even been offered a second interview yet, let alone the job. And so, I’m left wondering, do I take a second interview, and then, if I’m offered the job, then what? Is this something we can do, really? Can we work this, schedule-wise? Is this not the right job because of the variable schedule? One daycare I called is over $500 a month [yeah, I know, people in real cities like Boston or NYC or whatever, stop laughing and just shut it, okay?], so with all the driving [GAS!] the job requires plus that plus taxes, is it worth it? But, having watched the job scene here over the last 3 years and knowing what’s (not) out here, if I get the offer and don’t take it, am I basically saying that I’m gonna remain a SAHD till we move outta here, whenever the hell that is? [Not that there’s anything wrong with that, and actually there’s a lot good with that, but again, we’re back to the whole “when are you gonna go back to work and stop wasting your education” subtext thing—if I was a woman, we’d be smack-dab in Linda Hirschman/Judith Warner/mommy-wars territory.]
And so, in short, that’s what I did today. How was your day?
Wish me luck. I think. Whatever that means.
Wednesday, August 9, 2006