Time to make the donuts
I have managed to get myself a job. I applied for exactly one position and got it (this has happened to me before). Either I'm really as good at this museum thing as I say I am in interviews, or I'm really lucky. I could also have good timing, be in a small field, or be really good at fooling people. Actually, the part about good timing is true -- I sent the company a blind letter just a few weeks before they were going to advertise for an exhibit developer (that's what I do, in case you aren't keeping track).
The job seems pretty awesome, which is convenient since there aren't many exhibition firms in Boulder. The work, the firm's clients, and the general feeling in the office all seem to be are right up my alley. They agreed to a half-time schedule, which is all I feel I can do right now because I'm not ready to give up being with my children more than that -- they're only three, after all.
My job joy is tempered by the now-constant anxiety of finding childcare. Enough childcare. Quality childcare. Childcare that doesn't have me paying four different parties to care for my kids for the 20 hours a week I'll be working. They're at a great preschool, and I don't want to lose that element of their lives -- they've been through enough change in the past few months. Plus we all like the atomosphere and the teachers there. But, the school is mornings only; I can't leave them all day. So, trying to supplement this preschool with other options to equal enough coverage is a giant logic problem. If M+O are in school until noon, and sitter A is only available on Tuesdays, and the oncoming train is approaching at 70 miles an hour, what color are the girls' lunch boxes? There are way too many options on the table, yet none is good enough to embrace, and none is awful enough to reject. There is no easy answer, at least not until the new school year begins and I start them at a new preschool where they can stay all day...on second thought, maybe I don't have good timing.
M+O don't get it, of course. The last time they saw me go to work was early August, practically a decade ago in preschooler time. They say, "mommy is going to go to work like daddy" and cheer "yay!" Then later O said, "I think no. I don't like it when you go to work." M added, "if you go to work, can I have juice?"
By the way, in one of those "oh sh*t" moments, I realized the millisecond it was too late that I had sent my future boss an e-mail with this blog address in the signature. I am sure he has better things to do than read about the antics of our family. But just in case, you won't find any major complaining about The Job on this blog. For that, you'll have to pick up the phone.
The job seems pretty awesome, which is convenient since there aren't many exhibition firms in Boulder. The work, the firm's clients, and the general feeling in the office all seem to be are right up my alley. They agreed to a half-time schedule, which is all I feel I can do right now because I'm not ready to give up being with my children more than that -- they're only three, after all.
My job joy is tempered by the now-constant anxiety of finding childcare. Enough childcare. Quality childcare. Childcare that doesn't have me paying four different parties to care for my kids for the 20 hours a week I'll be working. They're at a great preschool, and I don't want to lose that element of their lives -- they've been through enough change in the past few months. Plus we all like the atomosphere and the teachers there. But, the school is mornings only; I can't leave them all day. So, trying to supplement this preschool with other options to equal enough coverage is a giant logic problem. If M+O are in school until noon, and sitter A is only available on Tuesdays, and the oncoming train is approaching at 70 miles an hour, what color are the girls' lunch boxes? There are way too many options on the table, yet none is good enough to embrace, and none is awful enough to reject. There is no easy answer, at least not until the new school year begins and I start them at a new preschool where they can stay all day...on second thought, maybe I don't have good timing.
M+O don't get it, of course. The last time they saw me go to work was early August, practically a decade ago in preschooler time. They say, "mommy is going to go to work like daddy" and cheer "yay!" Then later O said, "I think no. I don't like it when you go to work." M added, "if you go to work, can I have juice?"
By the way, in one of those "oh sh*t" moments, I realized the millisecond it was too late that I had sent my future boss an e-mail with this blog address in the signature. I am sure he has better things to do than read about the antics of our family. But just in case, you won't find any major complaining about The Job on this blog. For that, you'll have to pick up the phone.
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