The other day the BBDD and I were discussing what my next career will be. Obviously a girl's gotta work, and obviously after this crazy year I have zero interest in doing what I used to do. But I do want to work...and good thing, because apparently the bank account says I have to. How ridiculous is THAT?! So where to begin?
Well, first, my initial foray back into the working-outside-the-home world will be a part-time venture as we await Baby Sister. It would be a bit uncool to take a full-time career-track job and then take another year off. If there is one thing I learned from Bambina it is that the first year with your new baby is gold, especially when the baby you bring home is already 9 months old. That's nine months of mama time to make up for, getting to know each other, experiencing the bonding, attaching and 'claiming' of each other that ties you and your kid together forever. I'm sure other parents have other ways and means and circumstances that are also fantastic, but for me, that is what feels right. So more beans and rice dinners for another year! But totally worth its weight in carb grams.
Which narrows us down to certain paid gigs of the part-time variety. My first idea was a Williams-Sonoma-type place where I could work while Bambina is a school, sell some muffin tins, and see humans again. But then I wondered aloud if I had the maturity to work in a place where someone might ask me for a Dutch Oven. BBDD and I fell out laughing when we pictured me being fired for smiling, saying, "Certainly!," then trapping the customer's head under my work smock. Not an auspicious beginning to a career in retail.*
So what then? I love coffee. How about I pull some coffee in a Peets or Starbucks or something? Only, saying, "I love coffee; I should work there" is a bit like saying, "I love to golf, therefore I absolutely have the skills to run a country club operation." The two don't always go together. And would I be able to avoid telling the lady getting the double-double super whip vanilla caramel macchiatalatto that she should go order a Big Mac because the caloric intake is the same? And what if I finally freaked out and went postal being forced to look at that DAMN TOO-SMALL CONDIMENT TABLE for 5 hours a day? Why do they have these huge stores, all these chairs, and that ONE teeny tiny little cart that 20 people have to crowd around to get some Splenda?! Can we move a table and add another cart? Can we have sugar at the counter? Can we do something besides creating a condiment mosh pit over there?!!! Stop the madness!!!! Hmm...perhaps I'm not ready for that either.
Which brings us to Light Office Activities, as the temp agencies like to call it. Should I answer phones at a doctor's office? What? And be near all those sick people? Hell no! How about at a car wash or something? I've heard, via my friend Rose Royce, that "sometimes the boss don't mind if ya act the fool." That sounds promising. But perhaps something a little more in a suit and tie kind of environment, just to show Bambina that mommies do also wear suits and do Things That Don't Involve Kids. But who would have me? I guess we'll just have to wait and see. But if any of you have any ideas, please feel free to share. I'm sure you all can identify "skills" in me that I can't. You know, besides world-class dutch ovens.
*A practical joke involving flatulence underneath a blanket or cover inspired by the mechanics of the "Dutch Oven".