Monthly Archives: July 2012

let the job search begin…

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It’s been almost 3 weeks since babydeux was born.  It’s been a fun, exhausting time.  (If anyone has any pointers on how to take a 2 year-old with no self-control and a newborn out in public by oneself, let me know!  Because, err, that isn’t happening any time soon…)  But reality is checking in, my husband is going back to PT work, and I…well…I am on the job lookout once again.

Things are different this time around though.  Here’s my list of things that went wrong during my job search before:

1.  Worrying about disclosing information to a future employer that could jeopardize employment:  

I don’t have to worry about taking maternity time off in the future.  I can go into every job interview knowing that I can essentially be a workhorse for them, and don’t have feel the guilt of disclosing future leaves of absence.  To say this is a relief is an understatement.

2.  Feeling like crap…makes you look like crap.

I don’t look like a whale now that a 7lb bundle of joy has emerged – watermelon-like – out of my body.  I am not going into interviews with the feeling that I look like hell – which as everyone knows – when you feel like you look like hell, you generally do simply because of your demeanor.

3.  Dressing for the part…

The maternity pantsuit I bought for $22 is currently being consigned at a local store for $75 (which I will get half for, if it sells), which makes me glad that it is out of the house.  Why?  Because I felt terrible in it.  The sleeves were too long, the jacket was too big (even on me pregnant), and the pants were too loose.  Putting on the maternity suit didn’t make me feel powerful – it made me feel obese and frumpy.  I didn’t stroll all confident-like into interviews – I slumped like a giant black pile of goo.

Now?  After perusing the local thrift and consignment stores and finding nothing that worked, my husband and I went to Nordstrom Rack to find an interview outfit for me to wear.  For $80 I found a Calvin Klein dark grey sheath dress with matching jacket.  Just putting it on made me feel better than I had in a while.  Zipping into a form-fitting dress, putting on my dress shoes, and doing my hair and make-up were confidence boosters I hadn’t felt in a while, and I went into my first interview post-baby with confidence that I looked the part that I was trying to play.

4.  Desperate no longer…

And finally, the thing that will probably land me my eventual job – the thing that my husband pointed out to me as I stepped back into the car after my interview the other day – I don’t have the air of desperation around me anymore.  Before during my job search, I was getting so desperate and despondent at not being able to find a job, that I was projecting that air to the people around me.  It took a few weeks of adamant non-job searching for me to relax a bit, realize that we still have a fair amount in our e-fund and aren’t going to melt into debt, and find a little zen.  Of course giving birth helped too.  I am back to feeling confident about myself (sans desperation) because I know now that if everything falls through I am physically capable of doing any job, whereas before I was limited by pregnant mobility.  The restaurant I worked at before is hiring and would love to have me back – it’s sort of like having F-you money (thanks Jim Collins!) since I know that I have a fallback if worst comes to worst.

So here I am again, back in the job-searching saddle.

I have emailed all the recruiters that I had met with before and updated my status.  Some have gotten back to me, some haven’t.  One is actively submitting me to every job he has that I’m qualified for – almost all of those are for the same position I did get an interview for while pregnant but didn’t get (same company, multiples of the same type of position) – so I’m hoping to get another shot at that type of contract position.  I did have one interview with a recruiter who liked me and thought I was a good fit for a specific position – she is trying to schedule an interview with that company now – keeping my fingers crossed that they haven’t found someone for that position yet.  I have a phone interview next week and am doing a little prep on how not to mess that up.  I’d like to at least get a chance to sit in with them in person.  There are opportunities out there for me – I just have to find the right one that fate has directed my way (and not mess up that opportunity, of course).

Are things looking up now?  I think so…

rich kids of instagram…

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We’ve been off the grid during this early period of baby-dom.  Carting a big 2-year old everywhere along with a newborn is a task for 2 people – we’ll figure out how to do it solely one day, but how much do you want to bet me that “one day” will coincide with “day that baby decides he can walk, and now we have two walking babies” and everything we learned about how to deal with two babies flies out the window now that both babies are mobile???

Ahh babies.  And I thought a regular job was hard!

Speaking of regular jobs…my husband discovered the Rich Kids of Instagram tumblr…I think it’s safe to say that these kids will never know the feeling of unemployment or not being able to pay bills!  I don’t even know how to comment on these kids…they are doing nothing except living their lives the way they were taught, yet the excess to which they are accustomed to is, well, excessive.

I’ve drank Dom Perignon, but not with the reckless abandon these kids are swilling it.  I’ve been on private yachts – wait, does stepping onto the private yacht of my previous employer count?  Can’t say I’ve ever private jetted off on a vacation before (though I would love to, of course), nor can I say that my hair has ever been as blond as any of those girls.

Also, are there any rich kids of instagram that are not caucasian?

I can’t fault these kids for living their lives “normally”, because to them that is normal.  I can’t fault them for acting like spoiled brats, because you see spoiled brats at every school in every city…you see the “mean girls” who toss their hair as they kick other kids off the playground, you see them treat other kids like they are beneath them.  It’s a fact of growing up – there are popular kids, and there are unpopular ones.  Rich Kids of Instagram just highlight the popular kids who happen to be extremely wealthy.

So do I think it’s right that these kids can act like that, can jet off to St. Tropez at a moments notice, can fly their helicopters when they are too hungover to drive…do I think it’s ok that they think they are better than the rest of the world?  Of course not.  But I can’t blame them.  That’s what they were taught to do.

How do you unteach the horrible teachings of parents?

What do you think about the Rich Kids of Instagram?  Do you find it as horrific as the rest of America does?  Do you blame the kids, or the parents?

hello baby

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The baby is here.  He arrived this morning, courtesy of 5 hours of labor without an epidural.

Don’t ask me how or why I didn’t get the drugs…well, the “why” is because by the time I got to the hospital I was 8 cm dilated and in the “transition” phase of labor – aka the really fucking awful part.  I guess I figured that since I was already doing the awful part, I’d just continue.  Using a midwife upped the chance that I’d give birth “naturally”, simply because that’s what they’re good at doing – guiding women through childbirth.  There was a small white lie involved – where they told me that I could get the epidural but I was so far along that I would probably have the baby by the time the epidural took effect…wasn’t totally the case but I did have him within 2 hours of arriving at the hospital.

The best part of doing it au natural sans drugs?  Deciding that this shit was bananas and if I wasn’t going to go with an epidural, I was going to be that lady in the hospital that yelled – really, really yelled.  If I really was going to go against what I had pretty much decided beforehand – after all, I had an epidural with our first and it was loooovely – I was going to do it dramatically.  If you knew me IRL, you’d know that only in extreme cases do I decide to be dramatic; usually I am the antithesis.  If there was an extreme case that called for drama, childbirth is it.

My poor husband – for the second time – got home at 2am after a 12 hour shift only to find his wife in labor.  For the next 5 hours he manfully pushed my back, held my hand, and supported my weight when the only thing I wanted to do was to hang off of his neck and pull down as hard as I could.  I watched him wrangle our 2-year old with one arm while holding the newborn in his other arm – and now he’s off to take care of our eldest while I cozy up with ice cream, tv, and a tiny newborn that grunts like a little piglet.  I forgot how cute the newborn grunts are.

I feel like i’m in the eye of the hurricane now.  I passed through the intensity of childbirth and am looking at the future chaos in the distance – what with raising two rambunctious boys.  I know it’s coming and it makes me shake my head, take a deep breath, and wait for it to overtake me.  Right now though, I’m in a quiet place, literally and figuratively.  The little grunting man next to me is still asleep, and I am alone with my thoughts, my laptop, and room service.

I think I’ll order some ice cream now.

Thanks for all those that passed good wishes along during my journey through the last six months of chaos.  Thanks for the kind words during the pregnancy.  I’m looking forward to what the future holds, and of seeing what kind of little men our boys turn out to be.  Thanks to those that have cheered us on.

39.5 weeks, Albertsons, and a cry-fest over a tv show. yeah i’m pregnant.

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I’m so pregnant.  I gave birth at 37 weeks last time, and as people who have been there know, when your first comes early, you automatically think your second will too.

NOT THE CASE.

I’m a balloon ready to pop.  This has definitely been the worst – physically – part of pregnancy yet.  I’m a whale, I have no clothes that fit that don’t have holes in them, I refuse to buy more because this baby could come out tomorrow (please let it be tomorrow!), and I am physically ill.  I am having false labor contractions constantly (for 3-4 hour chunks twice a day), I’m dilated 5 cm, and I’m not in active labor.  I cannot run after my son (I waddle and scream his name when he doesn’t listen), and I’m becoming such a short tempered mom that letting him watch a show on the computer (we don’t have a tv avail) is preferable than screaming his head off over things he doesn’t understand because he’s two.  The worst was the feeling that I had food poisoning – which I didn’t – because hey!  Getting nauseous at the end is normal.  Add that to the fact that my eyesight is shot – something about pressure, etc – and I can’t see anything without seeing two or three of them (like the worst drunk eyesight ever, but without booze), I can’t drive because I have to close one eye to see the lines on the road correctly…everything gives me vertigo.

Wow that was a rant.  See, I told you I was in a crummy mood!  I really did mean to start this post off about how I watched Morgan Spurlock’s 30 Days – the Min Wage edition – after I did the post the other day about living on minimum wage - and ended up crying in the corner while my son watched Thomas the Tank Engine for the 9 millionth time (which is what happens when I’m in a horrible vertigo-induced mood).

Have you watched it?  (30 days, not Thomas)  If not, and if you don’t want spoilers, don’t read on.

A couple parts really resonated with me.

First part:

There was this part in the show when they go to the grocery store  and get to the checkout counter, only to find that they are short cash.  They have to rummage through what they have and put some things back, while the person at the checkout line waits patiently, silently judging, but not really because he’s on camera.  But what happens when people aren’t on camera?

On the Fourth of July, I found myself at Albertson’s at 9pm, using the remaining WIC check that expired on the 5th.  There I was, puttering around in a giant maternity dress, checking the ounces on containers to make sure I was within the correct ounce measurement, shopping with WIC amongst people with 36 packs of beer off to parties.  When I got to the checkout line, I saw that they had closed all lanes except for the self-checkout – which I couldn’t utilize with WIC.  So I asked the lady in charge of the self-checkout what I could do, and she turned her head to her manager on the other side of the room, points at me, and screams, “HEY ION!  THIS LADY HAS A WIC CHECK SHE’S TRYING TO USE!”  Slowly, everyone’s head swiveled to look at me – me the gigantically pregnant lady holding a WIC check and some eggs, on the fourth of july.  I either wanted to melt into the floor or collapse laughing, because seriously!  She *could* had screamed louder if she tried.

Second Part:

Morgan’s fiancé, Alex, breaks down when they find the secondhand place that gives out free furniture to people in need.  She is crying because what they are doing is so good, so wonderful, and they are benefiting from it.  Morgan is excited because there are ladies who made pies and pastry for the people in need.  And here I am, crying in the corner of my house.

Because I know what she’s feeling.  I know what it’s like to not have furniture, I know even what it’s like for them to have furniture but not have it.  We have furniture, just not with us.  We are living with one pot, one spatula, 3 bowls, 3 spoons, 3 forks, 1 paring knife, 1 air bed (for our son), some comforters, and a card table and 3 shitty chairs.  We’ve been living with these items for the past 2 months.  We’ve gotten used to it.  It doesn’t phase us anymore, nor does sleeping on the ground phase us anymore.  It’s just what we’re doing right now.

But I can tell you that when my SIL lent us her rocking chair so I can have something to sit in to nurse the baby whenever he comes out (now please!  Please!), it was like heaven.  This old rocking chair with a dusty cushion and worn handles was like angels sang from the heavens and rained pixie dust onto me.  I’m so not kidding.  I’m sitting in it now.  The three of us fight over it.  It’s magical.

So I understood what Alex was crying about.  I also understood Morgan’s excitement when he saw the ladies with the pastries (!!!) that was free.  Our credit union has free cookies and coffee.  You can damn well be sure that i’m walking in every time my husband gets a paycheck, depositing it inside the branch, and getting some cookies and coffee on the way out.

It’s amazing the small things that we all take for granted.  A bed to sleep in.  A chair to sit in.  A cookie to eat.  The absence of shame when grocery shopping.

These are the things I want to give back when this is all over.  I want to make cookies so that people who haven’t been able to afford to buy one, can eat one.  I want to make sure that weary people have a place to sit down that isn’t the hard floor.  I want to make sure that people have a bed to sleep in – or at least an air mattress or a comforter.  I want to make sure that food is available to those that are struggling.

I don’t know how to do this.  I don’t know how to help in the way I want to, but I know that I will somehow.  When this is all said and done, when we have money to spare again, you can be damn well sure that I will want to help somehow.

In the meantime, I’ll be focusing on trying to induce labor.  Come on baby!  Time to move!

How much does a job cost?

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My husband recently took a job to bring in some extra income while we wait (and wait and wait and wait…) for this baby to arrive, for our opportunity to move into our house, and for his “real” job to start.  As I looked at our Mint.com account for the last month, there were a few large purchases that stood out – and that all were associated with obtaining and maintaining this new job.  They surprised me, to be honest, as I forgot how much a new job can cost.

Jeans (both pairs of his jeans were too holey to wear to work) – $48.85

Cobbler (to fix his work shoes) – $20

Goodwill (to buy shoes for the interview as we had just taken his only pair to the cobbler) – $17.83

Dress Shirt – $23.95

Liquor Permit – $27.36

Food Handler’s Permit – $10

Total:  $148

He also drives 20 miles roundtrip about 4 times a week, so our gas costs have been pretty high as well.  Regardless though, it is obvious that the benefits of working outweigh the amount he paid to obtain/maintain the job.  

However, what if he spent all that money only to not get the job?

The big problem that a lot of people (me included…) have is that we invest money into getting a job, only to fail at finding viable employment.  There are a lot of costs associated with job searching – including new clothes, parking, paper to print out resumes, and of course time.

This time around, I spent $25 on job searching.  This cost was minimized because my husband dropped me off at various interviews, making the cost of parking almost nonexistent (there was one time we had to pay).  I bought a maternity dress suit at a consignment store and goodwill.  I used the library and the free printing they have there to print out copies of my resume.  So in reality, the costs associated with searching for a job was minimal – but I still can’t help but feel that it was money and time wasted since nothing came of it.

If I had spent as much money as my husband spent on job searching – only to fail – I would have been pretty upset!

Luckily, we were pretty sure that my husband would get the job he applied for, and therefore didn’t feel like any of those costs were a waste.  Also, many of those costs were incurred to maintain the job standards, so that has to be taken into account as well.

How much have you spent on a job search…and did you get it?  Or how much does it cost to maintain your current job?