Where Are We Now: A Life Update

I bet you thought that after months and months (okay, years) of listening to me prattle on and on about the horrors of unemployment and my husband's seemingly never-ending search for a job, that my 'radio silence' must mean that we moved forward. WRONG! C'mon, guys! Have you read any of my previous posts? Ever? Well, if you had you would know that--as one of my best friend's always says--if we didn't have bad luck, we would have no luck at all. Now, even for all in realist like myself, our life has taken a turn even I didn't expect as I never thought that being unemployed 4 times in just over 5 years could ever be trumped and yet trumped it was by something far more insidious and, frankly, way beyond our comprehension. Our son, the boy who never got sick got diagnosed with leukemia. Before everyone gets crazy, this post will not devolve into a pseudo-Caring Bridge update as those are far too painful to write. Instead, on Day 64 of hospitalization (no, he cannot come home between treatments), I give you one of the most interesting facts about living at the hospital that I discovered.

Interesting Fact: Check any thought of privacy at the door--Seriously. You certainly don't come here to rest regardless of your diagnosis and, frankly, the worse the diagnosis, the faster the door to your room becomes a revolving one.We have a hem-onc (hematology/oncology) team, an infectious disease team, the dermatology team, the ophthalmic team, nurses, lab techs and housekeeping, not to mention the social worker, the bone marrow transplant team and their social worker, their special nurse, the nutritionist, the teacher, the tutor and the physical therapist. All coming in and out of the room and various times throughout the day, most times without any warning or even so much as a knock on the door and remember, a hospital is 24/7 so don't get any designs on actually sleeping because these teams know no time restrictions. Have I mentioned the bathroom door doesn't have a lock on it? In and out, in and out, all day and night long. If your diagnosis doesn't make you crazy, this just might. I know it is definitely doing a number on me.

So keep following along for these pithy little updates as I blog to try to recapture some of the sanity I lose on a daily basis during our hospital life.

Back in the Saddle

Hey! I'm back! I must admit that I have intentionally refrained from blogging these past few months because I basically did not want to bore you to tears as our life is the same--only worse, though I never thought that that could be possible. My husband is still unemployed (it will be a year come Halloween...talk about scary!) and we are still circling the drain trying to figure out how to get him noticed by potential employers and to finally end this seemingly never-ending journey of joblessness. Which brings me to why I am back to blogging today. I read an online article from a reputable source with one of those catchy "Top Something or Other" ways to improve your chances of being noticed and getting hired. Never one to turn down the chance to find a better way to help my husband in his search, I figured I might learn something new. Wrong! Oh, so wrong. Instead, I spent the better part of ten minutes venting to my poor dog, Phoebe, who had done nothing more than walk over to me to find out why I was making such a fuss. So, for your reading pleasure (and for an attempt at a cathartic vent on my part), I give you the author's top three things my husband and all those in quest of that elusive job should be doing to 'get noticed.'

1. Make contact by telephone. OMG I LOVE this one. Hey, author, have you checked out the new online system of applying for a job? Are you aware that things have changed dramatically since 1972 when you looked in the newspaper for job listings and actually called a real person to apply? There are no phone numbers to call anymore on job listings, heck, you are lucky...and I mean you hit pay dirt...if there is even an email contact anymore. Most of the gazzilion listings I have come across in recent weeks offer only the online application--with lovely little red asterisks near those items you cannot skip (hmm, what day did I graduate high school???) nor can you move forward if you do not answer. Since I am aware that at least one of my bosses has died, I am certain that the same is probably true for husband as he is so much older than I am (wink, wink). So much for providing those phone numbers.

2. Utilize social media. Honestly? This is a new, hot tip from the author? My husband and I must really be 'cutting edge' thinkers to have been over-dosing on Linkedin, Twitter, Facebook and my myriad blogs in order to get him noticed and to best leverage any networking opportunities all these months.

3. Leave an electronic calling card behind. Okay, so this is definitely my personal favorite and it simply underscores just how out of touch the author is with the subject of her article. At first, I thought that the author meant to leave this USB, chock full of your personal information and yet another copy of you resume after your interview--which I find curious enough given that I cannot imagine any interviewer bothering to look at this USB in the first place. Add that to the fact that the information is redundant as you have already submitted a resume online (probably) already, handed one to an administrative person and handed one to the interviewer. BUT, no, I was mistaken. After re-reading the passage, I discovered that the author meant that you should go to a company of your choosing where you would like to work and leave this little gift to be passed along to the hiring manger. Oh sure! This is practical. I am certain approximately less than 1% of those USB's make it any further than the circular file each and every day.

Yes, I am ranting and it may seem funny, but it is anything but to me. I am trying desperately to help my husband find a job...not a hand out, but a place to work where he can start to feel like his old self again. I honestly don't know what the issue is and why he has not found something yet as he has literally tried everything (and then did that again and again). The author of this article is just so simplistic, so simply out of touch with the reality of the unemployed--her topic, whether chosen or assigned is irrelevant--that it bugs me, really gets under my skin. I would have loved to have read some interesting ideas about making a candidate stand out form the crowd. That would have been useful. I suppose, in the long run, reading this article was useful for me as it gave me a laugh and I could really use more of those these days. The worst part though is that the author got paid and all I got was the laugh.

Holy Golf Balls!

Last night, my son had a lacrosse game. Nothing new there except that once we were at the field, we received a weather notification about a severe thunderstorm heading our way. Again, living where we do, this was not extraordinary news either. For the past 7 years (as of today), I have grappled with why people would choose to live here for many reasons, none the least of which is the extreme weather. Trust me, as soon as people discover I am from NY--my accent, it seems, gives me away every time--they cannot wait to bombard me with the reasons why they could never live in such a 'big, bad city.' But, I digress. So, we are at the field and my son is playing one heck of a game, when we hear a few rumbles of thunder. Long story short, the game gets called (did you know that goals made in such a game are not counted toward a player's stats? WTH) and we head for our cars. I am heading toward home with my son and daughter, while my husband has our other two boys in his car, when a few drops of water start falling on my newly washed car.  As if that is not bad enough for this neurotic car owner, the very next moment we hear what sounds like gun shots but in reality are golf ball sized hail cracking against my windshield and bouncing off my hood. Not only could I not see two feet in front of the car, but my daughter was having a panic attack in the back seat, my son was doing an amazing job of trying to calm her down and I was trying to hold myself together knowing that my not-yet-year old car was definitely getting damaged by this hail on steroids. Yes, I was also terrified that we are on the road during this crazy storm. I have never experienced anything like it before--the noise was deafening inside the car and there was no escaping it, no shelter at all. Being the fanatic about my car as I am (wash it more than once a week, no eating or drinking in it, clean the windows more than once a day...yep, a tad crazy), I was heartbroken to assess the damage this morning.

So, why the earlier digression about people not being able to understand how people could stand to live in NY? Because for me, living here is so much harder than anything I have ever had to deal with back home. Sure, it wasn't all rainbows and good times back there either but golf ball sized hail? Nope! The 'best' part is that the giant hail falls in the summer! Don't even get me started on the winter woes, the impossible road construction, the never ending building of housing developments (all looking exactly the same)--my list is endless.

As I sit here waiting for the refrigerator repairmen to arrive to fix our ice maker (on the 1.5 year old referring, mind you) along with waiting for the roofing contractor to choose a color for our new roof (courtesy a previous storm), I now need to add calling the insurance agent to my 'to do' list for the damage to our cars. Let's not forget helping my husband find that ever-elusive job.

Maybe I handled the storm all wrong last night.  Perhaps I should have jumped out of the car hoping to be knocked on the head by a piece of hail and maybe then I could have woken up to have all this craziness be just a dream (okay, a nightmare). That would be lovely.

It Just Keeps On Going and Going...

Basically, I am not having fun and before you start thinking that I am in charge of my own destiny and that I should be making my own fun, stop right there.  I can prove that these thoughts are mistaken as I would so not be choosing 'this life' if I were the master of my destiny. Oh, not in the least. Please don't get me wrong, I have amazing children (at least I think so most of the time), a good husband and the fluffy dog I always dreamed of having when I was a child. I am grateful for them each and every day. I have the most selfless and wonderful parents, too. So what's the problem? Life has been handing us lemons for the past 5 years and I have dutifully been making lemonade out of them, however, the lemons won't stop coming and all this lemonade is giving me a sour stomach. My husband calls me his biggest cheerleader but I have been cheering for him to land a job (one that sticks instead of ends 6 or 10 or 12 months later) for so long now, that my pom poms have lost their fluff and luster. I have grown weary of the search and the rejection and all the ego bolstering I need to do because no matter how difficult this is for me, I know it is infinitely more difficult for him. I am mentally exhausted from 'dancing as fast as I can' so as to keep the children's lives happy, busy and fun--a 'faux-normal' so that they do not spend too much time stressed about our seemingly never-ending unemployment. Most importantly, I am beyond sick and tired of saying 'no' to them because we cannot afford to do things.  I feel especially guilty that their childhood has been plagued by our lack of finances and that their memories are colored by this year after year.  

Adding insult to injury and speaking to kicking someone when she is down, we have had no hot water since last night as it seems we have an issue with our newer water heater.  I have been up all night ruminating about the cost of getting it fixed but even more so, agonizing over what we will do if a part needs to be ordered and we will not have hot water for a few days. Could it be worse?  Of course, but it certainly could be a hell of a lot better, too.  Trust me, unless you are a Polar Plunge devotee, an ice cold shower in the morning does nothing to chill an angry mood. 

The Resume

I debated for a long time about how I wanted to start this post given that despite this being my own personal forum, I still vacillate between the sharing my true thoughts and providing a more watered-down and socially palatable version of my truth.  Since by now (if you have been following along), everyone is well aware of our situation dealing with long-term unemployment--and the fact that I am not in a particular good mood today--I figured I would put my filter aside and tell it like it is for me today.  Unemployment stinks and dealing with it over the course of months and years is truly unbearable.  It permeates each and everything I do each day. While I want to believe that there is more to life than money,  it is important and necessary and not only for the big things like keeping a roof over our heads, but also for the small things, the things others take for granted like getting frozen yogurt for the children or going to the movies or, dare I say it, taking a vacation (a thing we have not done since 2006).  Finding a job is so all-encompassing that we live, eat, sleep (I don't but my husband and the children do) and breathe job search. All day, every day.  So, I have come up with the top three reasons why my husband needs to find a job sooner rather than later...

1. If he asks me to edit his resume one more time, I will most definitely scream.  Not one of those little girly screams, mind you, but a full on, blood curdling scream, the likes of which horror movies are made of.  Talk about 're-arranging the chairs on the deck of the Titanic.' How many different revisions can one make on a single resume?  I think we are on #255,  but I might be off. It could be higher.  Do I know what is missing from his resume that he is not getting interviews?  Nope, because trust me, if I did, I would have added it already in revision #2.

2. My children need to feel 'normal' again meaning that they need a dad who goes out to work in the morning and comes home at night and complains about how hard he is working and what he had for lunch and all those good things.  They need to know where they are going to be living and that we can plan to do something fun in the near future and that they do not have to hear we need to 'wait until Daddy gets a job' anymore (because if I say that phrase again, I will scream the same scream I described in #1).

3. Selfishly speaking,  I. Am. Done. I am exhausted from cheerleading and revising that resume.  I have had enough 'transition-speak' to last an entire lifetime and well into the after-life. Networking?  Don't even get me started on that topic because my husband has networked with more people than a politician and still here we sit unemployed.  I don't honestly know how to try harder or what to do differently or what we are doing wrong.  What I do know is that it has gone on for far too long and it has taken my sense of humor and my patience along with it.

I would love to conclude by saying that I am hopeful things will change soon, but since I decided to 'tell it like it is' today, doing so would be a lie.  At this point, the snapshot of my life finds me frustrated, agitated and cranky and the only cure for my ills is for my husband to be employed.  How I wish there was a prescription for that.

The Joke Is On Me

April Fools!  I honestly don't get the fun of trying to trick someone into believing something or pulling some other type of prank on this day.  I suppose it might stem from my Type A+ personality that craves control and hates being surprised because that means I would need to be out of control for a moment. Of course in recent years, my distaste for today stems more logically from my distaste for April 6th, which we affectionately refer to in our family as the day of the Boston Debacle.  For those new to this blog, the Reader's Digest version of the events leading up to that day go something like this--husband out of work for two years, gets job allowing us to move back to the east coast (my dream), put house on the market, drive to Boston to have our children test into schools and to look at houses, return home and on April 6th (which just happened to be Good Friday that year) get a call from my husband saying that due to corporate restructuring, he was let go--again.  The grand total of time he had worked for the company was 5 weeks.  Yes, 5 weeks, and, yes, I am still bitter.

I would love to say that the Boston Debacle marked the end of our seemingly never ending bout of unemployment, but I can't which is why I have not been blogging. We have been through two more jobs since then and are currently in the same position we were three years ago--unemployed-- which is the same position we were in two years prior to that.  So what's the deal?  What have we done wrong that we has landed in this uncomfortable and frustrating position so many times?  Lack of effort?  I certainly don't think that is the case as we have networked ourselves to a point where people don't want to talk to us anymore.  We should place our own ad to the tune of  'currently seeking networking friends who will help us land meetings with elusive hiring managers.' Maybe my husband's resume is the issue.  That said, it is in its 569th revision but perhaps that just isn't enough these days.  Lets face it, we cannot change his age, education or background, but since we are willing to work with just about any opportunity that arises including underemployment to relocating, I was hoping that he would be perceived as a 'steal' to anyone who might consider hiring him.

So, there you have it, the reason why I am have off the grid with this blog is because I really have nothing new to say.  Hopefully soon, I will be back to sharing and sometimes even making you laugh, but for now, I have lost my mojo and my sense of humor, too. Apparently, the biggest April Fool's joke is on me.

Hello, Anybody There?

I have not written a post since last month and I have to admit that I probably would not be writing one today except that I am out of control cranky and I need to do something with the the 'stuff' in my head or I swear my brain will explode like an over-filled balloon.  If truth be known, I have refrained from writing because I seem to be caught in the unenviable position of loving the writing process to help me put things in perspective and not wanting those things in print because there simply is no good perspective to put them in anyway.  Basically, I just want to run away from myself but try as I might to escape, no matter where I run, I keep showing up, just like a bad penny.  I cannot seem to find a way to turn my brain off even for a few minutes.  I am like a computer with too many tabs open, working overtime trying not to crash.

The long and the short of it is that I am beyond being able to manage this seemingly endless job search any more.  I feel like a two-year old stomping her foot and having the worst tantrum ever (in the existence of life itself).  In the almost 7 years we have lived here, we have been unemployed 4 times and I am sick of it--exhausted from the worry, tired of having to plaster a smile on my face so as to not make the children any more anxious than they are, wiped out from the financial stress but most of all, confused and frustrated as to why we spend month upon month with no interviews in sight.  I know I have regaled you with my husband's networking prowess and his never ending optimism before.  He feels that 'you just don't know who someone you meet might know' and how a job might come from something so simple as a casual introduction.  At this moment in time, I think we have as much chance of winning the Powerball as we do an interview being scheduled--neither is happening.

Optimism was never my strong suit as I am much more of a realist.  I tell it like it is--often to my family's chagrin.  While I don't know what tomorrow will bring...uncharacteristically leaving room for a little optimism there,  I do know that today I could just scream.  Perhaps I will as I have heard it might be even more cathartic than writing--though much less socially acceptable I would think.

So. Freaking. Done!

The last two weeks have not been peachy so I suppose it is not unreasonable for me to be in a bad (understatement!) mood today, but my new 'job' has thrown me over the edge.  I am aggravated, frustrated and emotionally drained from this job and I have not even started it yet. So, dear readers, I give you the top three reasons why if my husband's lack of a job does not land me in an asylum, trying to start my own job definitely will.  Here they are (or no particular order)...

1.   The manual--this is the first job I have ever held that is exclusively online, which is exactly what I wanted, however, what I did not bargain for was the fact that I needed to learn how to navigate the system totally on my own, armed only with their 25 page 'how to get started' manual.  I am pretty computer savvy and heaven knows I am not afraid of words on a page but, holy heck, grab my bottle of Excedrin, this is a labor intensive endeavor.  Adding insult to injury, there are more rules to which the tutors need to adhere than Sr. Mary Richards had about our uniforms in high school...and she was in-tense!  I am afraid that if I ever do this get this program up and running, I will be incarcerated for answering a student's question directly, rather than referring the student 'to the appropriate reference material.'

2.  The email system--I love email.  I think the ability to communicate without bothering a person on the phone is a blessing.  That said, the system only works if the recipient has access, time or the desire to answer in a timely manner, otherwise, waiting for a response is torture.  Adding insult to injury, because this is a completely computer run endeavor, there is no phone number to call for immediate gratification.  Might sound weird, but it is true.

3.  The lack of viable practice material--Sure it is great to have a sample whiteboard (my means of communicating with my students) with lots of fun buttons and colors on it but, with no way to run through a few sample lessons, how am I supposed to know what to do?  Might be nice to be able to get a trial run in before I go live (especially with all the rules and regulations for my responses).

Am I really just that old that this approach to starting a job seems so frustrating and upsetting?  Trust me, the last thing I want or need is to have my hand held, but I feel as though I am totally flying blind and it is disconcerting.  I would love to share my concerns with the project manager and perhaps discuss options on how I can get started, but apparently he does not share my love of email nor he does not want to deal with me today.  Honestly, I don't want to deal with me today either.  I read an inspirational quote this morning that said 'always choose to be postive' and I will do just that.  I am positive that this is not working for me today.  I am so freaking done!

Write or Wrong

I am a magazine junkie, an addict in the true sense of the word.  I have many subscriptions in addition to 'needing' to purchase at least one or two magazines when food shopping or on a trip to Walgreens.  My addiction to fashion magazines started when I was around five years old and my grandpa put my first copy of Glamour magazine in my hot little hands.  He was a commercial photographer and he had just finished a project with Conde Nast, the magazine's publisher.  It was love at first sight and all the subsequent titles that have been added over the years have fulfilled some kind of need from style issues to a longing for celebrity information to my love of houses and interior design.  While my first love is the fashion magazine and I eschew the real tabloids (is anything at all  true in the STAR?), I have been known to poke around in such banal reads such as First and AllYou.  That said, last night I read an article in one such magazine that I annoyed me so much I actually wrote a letter to the editor which is something I have never done before.

The article was about...drum roll, please...finding a job online and while the article included a nice variety of potential positions from which to choose, I feel the writer was missing a major element to her discussion, namely facts or, shall I say, accurate facts.  Now, anyone who has read even a few of my posts knows that I know a little something about unemployment and trying to find a job.  To say that I have become a pseudo-job coach to my husband over the past five years is probably not understating a fact and my ability to navigate and query on job sites is somewhat legendary in these parts (OK, that might be a slight overstatement of the facts but not much) so to read an article stating facts that I could so quickly dispute was really frustrating.  The author claimed to have gotten the information straight off the same job sites I search daily but let me tell you, I would love to be looking through her eyes instead of mine as her salaries were far higher and her list of required experience far shorter for the same types of jobs to which i am applying.  I don't know if her information was outdated or guesstimated but it certainly is not the reality I see when checking the job boards.

So, how did an article like this make it through the editing and fat-checking process and into the magazine in the first place?  Is fact-checking at that magazine merely on the honor system?  The editor asks if the information is true, the writer says yes and BAM, the article gets published?  I hope not, but clearly something fell through the cracks this time.  I will say that it probably bothers me more than the typical reader because I am so embroiled in the whole job search process and have truly become sickened by it so seeing misinformation spread like this is upsetting.  I suppose it bugs me so much because the article makes it all seem so easy but that is not the experience we are having at all.  If I did not know how hard we were trying, reading the article in its simplistic form with its erroneous information would make me feel like such a loser.  How could we not get a job if doing so is as easy as the author states it to be?

While I can only assume this writer set out to write a nice, simple piece with some helpful job search suggestions, making no guarantees about finding a job after reading her article, I wish she would have checked her facts and accuracy or at least talked to me as I would have set her straight had she asked.

Little Things

For the past few weeks, a few of the bloggers I follow have been featuring posts describing 10 or 20 things about themselves, so I have decided to follow suit since imitation is supposed to be the sincerest form of flattery, is it not? So, I give you...

5 Things About Me That You Probably Don't Know, Care About or Hope to Remember (in no particular order)

1.  I never, ever wanted children, ever--It took me almost 8 years of marriage before I would even consider it and then when I finally felt ready, I had a breakdown and told my husband I could not go through with it. He was totally supportive of my feelings but, the joke was on me as I was already pregnant.

2.  Once I had my baby, I wanted 10.  I was so smitten that when we had our second child, I told my husband that I wanted another as our baby was being bought over to the warming table in the delivery room. We have 4 children, but I would definitely have had 5 had we started sooner and if my husband did not want to have me committed for saying so.

3.  At one point during my college years, I really wanted to be a psychologist.  The irony here is that not only did I not become one, but I got recruited on campus to be a buyer for a major department store, landed a position in the male dominated field of electronics and could have seriously used some therapy by the time my tenure there had ended.

4.  I once needed to be escorted to my car after work by a couple of riot police, complete with shields, during a race riot. See #3. Just one of the many reasons why therapy might have been required for my retail experience, but alas, merely one of them.

5.  Our wedding reception was held at Tavern on the Green in NYC, but I did not want it to be.  I really wanted it to be at Maxwell's Plum, the long since closed, poor sister of Tavern on the Green, but in my estimation, the far superior choice for the type of wedding that I had wanted.  Begs the question why was it not held at Maxwell's, no? Because 38 days before my wedding, but after the invitations had been mailed...and when my fiancé was flying to a business meeting and was unreachable...I received a call at work saying that the new chef at Maxwell's refused to do weddings. Yup, you read that correctly.  My assistant grabbed my purse and keys after he heard me screaming on the phone so that I would not drive into the city and do something I might later regret.  Long sorry short, the reception was moved to Tavern on the Green and while it was beautiful, I did have to completely change my vision to accommodate that chef and it irks me to this day.

I could go on, but I suppose if I get some positive from feedback from this post, I will need some material for a Part Two of my list.  Questions and comments are always welcome!

2015

I had wanted to start off the new year in a better emotional state, but since we are starting this year with the same unemployment stress and financial difficulties as last year (and the year before that and the year before that...see the trend?  note the sarcasm?), I grabbed the bull by the horns, took control and made the only change that was there for the taking.  Yes, folks, I changed the template on my blog.  Now I know what you are thinking.  Radical, right?  How could I possibly have the guts to change the lovely, striped rosy background...my controlling personality love the rigidity of those stripes... to this orange hued, swirly mass of squiggles.  Well, the decision did not come easily for me.  No, I ruminated and pondered the idea for a whole three minutes, conferring with my daughter about this massive change in my life.  I must have perused at least ten different templates contemplating deep questions such as do I really want birds flying across the page or will the raindrops on the window motif be overly depressing for my readers?  Heavy stuff, this blog design.  Is making this change reflective of bigger changes that I would love to see happen during 2015? Heck, yeah!

While I might be making fun of my decision to change my background this afternoon, the choice to do so stems from a feeling of inertia I am experiencing in other aspects of my life.  Last year was filled with some nice highs, but the lows we experienced were significant and threw us back into the unemployed masses with all the stress and worries we used to have, compounded by our needing to 'buck up' and deal with  the issue all over again.  So while other people might be looking at 2015 as a blank slate, I am still seeing the same old writing on the wall (or blog) that I saw last year and the previous year, etc. and seemingly ad infinitum for us (at the very least, it feels that way).

So, here we go again, another year, more challenges and, hopefully, more highs than lows.  If nothing else, my blog got a face lift and maybe that bright and cheery citrus color will equate to a brighter and more cheery tone to my writing with happier news to share. It should be noted that I did not choose the lemon motif for the blog design as I have already had more than enough of those in my life. This year, I would like to take my life off repeat and add a little swirly craziness to it for a welcome change.

Symbols

I originally started this blog on a lark.  My husband pressured me because he thinks that I write well and so he thought that this might be fun for me and it is,  but more than just being fun, my blog has become sort of an online form of therapy for me (and these days, I need it).  It is cathartic for me, having people read the blogs and make comments about them is great, but the opportunity to void my mind of some 'mental noise' of which I seem to have an abundance, is welcomed.  The blog I had planned to write today stemmed from an incident in which woman in a store asked me if I had grandchildren.  Briefly, the gist of the post was going to be centered around that fact that while chronologically (had I started having children earlier in my marriage), I am old enough to be a grandma, the word 'grandma' does not necessarily evoke feelings of youthful exuberance to me and basically makes me feel cranky, annoyed and in need of a serious make-over.  That said, a comment made this morning by my husband so far superseded the granny dig that I decided to write about it instead.  Take a moment and get some coffee or a cold drink, I think this might be a long post.

I feel the need to interject a disclaimer before I get started because at face value, the comment was so banal that it probably would not have even registered as an issue for most people.  Additionally, I am passionate about everything, both positively and negatively, so things usually get to me more than they do the average person.  Living with revolving unemployment (it has become like a boomerang, we get rid of it, but it keeps coming back) and underemployment over the past almost five years has truly not been a walk in the park by any means.  The situation works on your psyche over time, it erodes your self-esteem, heaps on the self-doubt and makes you question your self-worth.  Long-term and repeated unemployment necessitates 'doing whatever it takes' to land the next job from attending endless networking meetings and events to revamping your resume a hundred times so that it is tailored to each and every job to which you apply.  Basically, you need to act like a marionette, dancing along to whatever change the headhunter or HR person pulling your strings wants you to do next.  Then, this morning, my husband informed me that he had been speaking to an HR person last night (at his networking function du jour), and she had mentioned he would need to shave his beard because he would probably not get hired where we live if he were to have one.  Seriously?

Frankly, I am so not okay with that for so many reasons, none the least of which is the beard itself as even I realize that he can grow it back.  For me, it is what the beard represents about which I take issue.  What I resent is that this is yet another string being pulled, another ridiculous and inane step that this man needs to take in order to have a chance at a job. Let me preface this by saying that his beard is not of the 'John Lennon during the Let It Be phase' nor does he resemble anyone from Duck Dynasty.  I am angry that he needs to alter his appearance as if by doing so, he will somehow become a more qualified candidate for underemployment at a particular company.

If effort to find another job--again and again and again--could morph into a real job with a salary, then my husband should be a CEO by now.  He has raised the job search bar so high he is even harnessing his search efforts and giving back to the community by volunteering his time as the head of a networking group at our church.  He certainly never expected anyone to hand him a job, he has put in an incredible amount of time over the past years trying to secure a stable position in an unstable economy.

So, yes, I know I need to 'put on my big girl panties' and deal with the loss of his beard--for the record, that I love-- because he will continue to do whatever it takes (and I will continue to be ticked off about it our lack of choice in the process)to land a job.  Let's face it, desperation is not sexy, but apparently,  it does seem to need to be clean-shaven where we live.

Jinxed

I had a revelation this morning while putting away the laundry. Before I tell you what it was, however, you will need a little back story to completely understand the excitement about it.  When we purchased our house, the realtor told us that the original owner had been a newly engaged man who was buying the house for his soon-to-be wife.  He had had the carpet removed on the main level and had replaced it with beautiful inlaid wood flooring with a pretty inlaid medallion in the center of the great room.  Additionally, he had had the carpeted stairs replaced with hardwood and if that was not enough to impress his fiancee, he had a medallion installed of two intertwined hearts just outside the master bedroom on the upper landing. Clearly, this guy was a romantic, however, his fiancee was not impressed as she dumped him just before the wedding.  While I have no idea as to the complexity of their issues nor am I suggesting that some inlaid flooring had anything to do with the couple's demise (if so, wow, the girl must have really loved carpet, huh?), as I mentioned I did have a revelation as I stepped on those hearts this morning.  Basically, I have come to the conclusion that my house is jinxed.  Yup, bad juju abounds here.

Allow me to explain my theory.  Not only did Romeo get jilted, but he could not wait to unload his precious 'gift' on the first buyer who came along, a house flipper who knew less about home renovations than I do about rocket science.  When the flipper decided to sell, in we walked all stressed out and frantic that one, we had to move to a place that would not have fallen on my top 200 list of places to live if I sat down to think about them and two, we had about 20 minutes to make a decision about a house before we needed to return home to deal with the move.  Long story short, ever since we moved in we have faced a years' long series of unfortunate events including but not limited to four bouts of long-term unemployment, me testifying for the prosecution in a criminal trial (don't ask), the complete loss of water in our house as a result of some sludge issue in our pipes (which happened the very first weekend after we moved in), and not one, but two major water leaks resulting in replacing not one, but two ceilings.  I could go on but I would bore you and I am already depressed enough as it is these days.

So, there you have it. i am in dire need of an exorcist or my local 'bad juju remover' ASAP.  The moral of this story...and this is really important so listen up...before you get engaged, think long and hard about the commitment, because if you reconsider your decision, you could ruin the lives of a lot more people than just your ex-fiance(e).

Thanks-istmas

I used to be an electronics buyer for a retailer back in Brooklyn, NY, who was one of the first to run 'Christmas in July' sales many years ago in an effort to increase sales during our traditionally slow summer season.  It was a weird but effective sales strategy and it was kind of fun to help design Christmas ads and decorate the stores while wondering whether or not it was going to be a good weekend to head to the beach.  It was a moment in time, but the real fun happened post-Thanksgiving with the 'official' start of the Christmas season being Black Friday.  My mom and I could not wait to head to the malls the day after we had stuffed ourselves into a food coma to start our holiday shopping.  The anticipation was heightened only by our knowing that this was when we would be able to take advantage of the best sales and feel the excitement of season from the moment we caught sight of the decor adorning the malls and the individual store windows.  I loved that time of year.

Flash forward to the present when the reality is that we actually do start seeing Christmas decor in the stores in July.  Okay, so perhaps that is a slight exaggeration, but it is not unusual to see Christmas in the stores come September alongside Halloween and Thanksgiving and for me it begs the question as to why?  What is the rush? Why have the seasons now become more like #summerfallwinter as opposed to what they used to be, true, distinct seasons when we could enjoy the harvest and the beautiful foliage without having to look past Christmas lights in the process.  I know that given where we live, an argument could be made for installing outdoor lights and decor sooner rather than later so as to capitalize on the slightly warmer weather.  Trust me, as a person who has attempted to drive stakes into already frozen earth to secure our ever-popular Christmas lawn ornaments, I get it, but seeing the lights burning brightly in all there green and red splendor before Veteran's Day saddens me on some level.

The retailers are the biggest culprits in the race to Christmas.  I have already received a mailer and an email plus seen more than one reference on my Instagram feed to the amazing sale next week at a major retailer in which the entire store will be 50% off.  It is called something like the 'Pre-Black Friday Sale.' But, I thought Black Friday was supposed to be the start of the big sales, not some random day a week prior to Thanksgiving.  What the heck?  Where is the sense of anticipation?  Again, it saddens me on some level.

Please don't even get me started on the fact that the stores are now opening on Thanksgiving to start the Black Friday rush even earlier. While I am not a person opposed to shopping on Thanksgiving...I think that once the meal is eaten, the dishes are done and the husband is snoozing in from of the TV, I am all in for a round of shopping...I miss the sense of excitement and wonderment that the building of anticipation about the season made all the sweeter.

This is, of course, merely one woman's opinion, but I hate the thought that the last two weeks before Christmas are going to be filled with post-Christmas/pre-New Year's/Valentine's Day sales. Happy Thanks-istmas everyone!

Being Good is Bad

A few weeks ago I took my children to the dentist and parked my new car in the then empty lot in a small strip mall parking area where the dentist is located.  When their check-ups were complete, we ambled out to find a small SUV butt up against my bumper.  Did I mention it was a new car?  I thought so,  but it bears repeating.  Given that there was a large logo on the side of the car and that that logo matched the one above another store in the mall, I quickly deduced that the driver of the car must be in the store.  Pretty smart, eh?  I pulled my car up a few inches to see if there was any damage because my plan was to let it go if there was none, no harm/no foul.  However, when I saw the scratches and the dent in my bumper, I decided to head on in to see if I could discuss the issue with the driver.  To be honest, given the lows we have been experiencing of late, I was not agitated by the damage but more resigned to the fact that something else had gone awry and I would need to get it fixed.  Rather than drone on about the minutia of finding the driver, I will cut to the chase.  The man walked out of the store and immediately became belligerent, cursing and yelling at me, and calling me some very unsavory names...all in front of my youngest, who took it as his cue to jump in the car.  Even he sensed that this was not going to go well.  This man then accused me of doing the damage 'a week ago' and then attempting to blame him for it.  He continued to yell obscenities at me and then...here is the best part...when I said I was going to call the police, he dared me and then hit me in the arm.  Yup, this out of control man hit me in the arm!  Truly frightened by this erratic and seemingly crazy behavior, I sought help and called the police.  Long story made very short, the police came and he continued to hurl invectives at me, all while telling the police that I was a 'crazy b****.  One of the police officers asked if I wanted to file assault charges and I foolishly said no.  Ah, hindsight is indeed 20/20.

Fast forward to last night, when I received a call from his insurance company stating that...wait for it...they had spoken to the driver and he not only denied hitting my car, but he said that I had hit him instead, therefore, they would not be paying for the damage to my car.  A few things jump out at you after reading that sentence, no?  For instance, you mean to tell me that their 'investigation' consisted of asking the guy if he did the damage???  Honestly?  I wonder how many times the insurance company pays out on damage claims.  They just ask, accept the answer and move on?  The gentleman from the insurance company did not question this driver as to how I could have hit his car if I was not driving my car at the time and was, in fact, in the dentist office?  Nah.  Why bother to truly investigate the claim?  Hey, the guy said he did not do it, right?

So, a couple of personal observations from this experience.  First, I should have put aside my fear about charging him with assault and I definitely should have done so.  He put my children in jeopardy and he certainly 'terrorized' me and touched me.  Yes, as the policewoman pointed out, even a hit in the arm is assault. Second, shame on him for truly being all the things he called me and more.  He could not even keep his anger under control when speaking to the police.  Third, three words. Anger management classes.  Get some help.  There are more things swirling through my head as relates to this incident but the last thing I want to comment on is the insurance company and their lack of due diligence.  It was insulting to receive a call like that after having gone through the stress of dealing with this driver.  I had to call the police on this guy and their investigation of the claim is based solely on the fact this guy said he did not do it.

While I don't know any more of this driver's character than what he showed me himself that day, I am sure of one thing.  Despite his wild show of anger, he is one lucky guy.  I,  on the other hand, now have a damaged car and a damaged view of justice to boot.

I Don't Want To!

I hate change.  Though I must admit that I used to be a card carrying member of the Lover Of Change Club, that card received a ritualistic burning once the changes in my life became fast and furious, out of my control, and none too pleasant.  One of my best friends, a true hater of change herself, could never understand why I so openly embraced the opportunity to try something new or to purge the house of things I no longer needed or wanted.  Every single piece of her life, each trinket or souvenir, means so much to her.  It is almost as if, should she get rid of something collecting dust, her memory of that item or time in her life would vanish leaving her feeling empty.  There was once an opportunity for her to move to a larger home with the storage that she craved but lacked, but though she did consider it--for about 30 seconds--she ended up staying where she was because the thought of packing and leaving the house in which her son had grown up, paralyzed her.

My metamorphosis from loving change to hating it was a slow one, an almost imperceptible wearing away starting from from the time of my husband's first round of unemployment, through the second, third and now (come tomorrow) fourth time and my son heading off to college.  Nothing pleads 'no more change' quite like your first born leaving the nest.  Ouch! For all the positives for them, watching as my children move out of our house and on to their own lives is not all fun and games for me.  We are about 7 weeks into his freshman year and I am still waiting for him to pack up and come home, so that we can return to what I once knew was normal.

Tomorrow, Halloween, I will be facing yet another change, one my youngest brought to light when he was feeling sad the other day.  When I asked why he was feeling down, he told me that he was concerned about Halloween because my oldest used to orchestrate a big candy trade and this year just wouldn't be the same without it. I don't know how my oldest did it because he stopped actually trick or treating a few years ago, but he would tag along walking our dog. But, when we returned home,  he could take two random pieces of candy and parlay them into a bag full during this candy trade.  Talk about skill.  In reality, he took candy from his siblings that they did not like and then traded it back to them for stuff he liked.  They never knew what hit them.  I still don't understand how it always worked in his favor beyond the fact that he is one persuasive guy and could make them think that the candy they disliked was actually the best of the loot.

So, yes, children grow up, people lose jobs...OK, can this be the last time for a good long while, please?...but at least one thing remains a constant.  Crazy college kids...my son informed me that he wore a gorilla costume to lacrosse practice last night.  Doesn't everyone?

Happy Halloween!

Back in the Game

As we move closer to October 31st, I am becoming increasingly more bitter as the previous post outlines.I have been searching for a part-time job of late, but I must admit to being cranky about that as well.  We all have certain expectations of where we might be at a particular time in our lives and this was definitely not part of my plan while I still had a child in lower school.  I am also so exhausted and jaded from the almost five year long quest to help my husband find a job, that the last thing (and I mean the very last thing) that I want to be doing right now is looking for a position for myself.  That said, in doing so I have encountered certain problems that I would like to share with my readers. Here are but a few of the things hampering my search (I even took the time to come up with a title for them.  Nice, huh?)

                  5 Ways to Know You Have Not Searched for a Job in a Really Really Long Time

1.  Applications are now online.  No paper applications?  No attaching a physical resume?  Computers?  It is a whole new world for this job seeker.

2.  Most recent experience exceeds oldest's child' age (and for me that would be 18 years)

3.  Not one but two previous employers have since closed up shop and an additional one switched from being a college to being a university.  Crazy times, try not putting in a phone number/address on an asterisked entry on an online job application and see how far you get. (For those of you who have never attempted to do so, you will not move forward to the next page.  Game over)

4.  Near impossible to come up with two or three professional references as a result of #3 or death of potential reference.

5.  Stating your college/grad school graduation date elicits fear in your heart as a little simple addition and whamo, everyone knows you are not 29 years old anymore.

I could go on and on but, honestly, it is Monday and that is bad enough, so why belabor the point.  The bottom line is that if I could only find an employer who would throw a blind eye to my quasi-ancient experience and age, lack of professional references through no fault of my own, and could accommodate my desire to work online/remotely/virtually (or whatever the 'nom du jour' for telecommuting is these days), I would be golden.  But, if an online application could be developed to accommodate those attempting to return to the work force after a protracted number of years without the benefit of three living professional references and not loving the idea of stating her graduation date (I will provide the copy of the degree if we can allow the graduation date to be the elephant in the room), that would be even better.

Isn't It Ironic?

I got 'the call' a little while ago.  This is a call that no matter how many times I receive it (and so far, I have gotten it three times prior to today in almost 5 years), I will never be ready to accept it.  Yes, loyal readers, I am sure you can surmise by now that I received a call from my husband telling me that, come October 31st, he will be out of a job again, due to budget cuts.  The first time he called me to relay the 'happy' news, it was a glorious, sunny day...a Tuesday, if you must know...with the most beautifu, deep blue sky.  I must admit I had been having a great day as well until I was blind-sided by the terrible news.  Interestingly, there seems to be a causal relationship between the weather and this type of call for us as each subsequent time my husband relayed the end of yet another term of employment, the day was bright and sunny and today is no different.

There is, however, a big difference in my reactions.  The first time I was completely shocked and terrified but yet I possessed a strange and unusual optimism that perhaps he could find a new job quickly and we would rebound, possibly even with a better job.  Ha! Twenty-months later (!!!), when he landed this fabulous position in exactly the place I wanted to be living, I figured we had paid our dues and we were being rewarded for our diligence and faith. Then, on that exquisite day in April, when I got the call saying that after only 5 weeks of employment, we were again without a job (and that our hope of moving back home had been shot to hell as well), I was less optimistic that this whole finding a new job thing was going to work in our favor. Flash  forward nine months to the next position with a very solid company and I thought we had survived the worst time of our lives.  Wrong! Apparently, the worst time was yet to come as eight months later...surprise...the holidays are coming and we are unemployed yet again. Clearly, the powers that be are not finished with us as 5 months later, the new position has now led us to crash and burn yet again...on a beautiful, sunny day, that had been going pretty well for me until 'the call'...just before the holidays.

So, by now you should be wondering what this blog is all about beyond me just venting about our lot in life.  Sadly, I must say that right now, the post is what it is.  I am frustrated and angry, tired of trying to be optimistic when we are trapped in a seemingly never-ending cycle of get job--lose job--spend months searching for new job--get 'the call'--start all over again.  Even as I re-read this post, our story sounds positively unbelievable.  If I saw a movie with this plot, I would hate it because it seems unreal, almost comedic.  Too bad it is not.  Too bad it is our life.

Once bitten, twice shy.  Four times bitten, bitter in perpetuity.

Baloney

It has been exactly one week since we dropped my oldest son at college and I have some observations that I would like to share with you.  Please note that the following are in no particular order.

1. It stinks!  No, really.  I was told over and over again that I would get used to it, maybe even learn to enjoy having to buy less food, do less laundry and focus more on my other children.  Hooey!  News flash, my food bill this week was the same as last week, I am a complete laundry fanatic so less is definitely not more in my book and as for the other children?  I have had multiple friends tell me that I am the only person they know who has four children, but who treats them each as though they were only children.  They always get plenty of attention, trust me.

2.  Time may be my friend ( a lovely acquaintance told me that once),  but while I have come to accept this new normal, I will never, ever like it.

3.  College life disrupts the familial dynamic.  For instance, 'college boy' and I have a very close relationship but, apparently, it is not as close as I had thought when we are on the phone.  All of a sudden, my chatty son, with whom I have engaged in sparkling conversation while in high school, has now become a monosyllabic wonder.  He does call me per our 'communication plan' that everyone told me we needed to have before he left ('give him some control,' 'don't overwhelm him with having to call home all the time'...yeah yeah yeah), but it is like pulling teeth to get him to communicate during the calls.  I am seeing a pattern, however, that I think is part of his master plan.  He calls thus fulfilling his end of the deal, he talks about what he wants to, I ask a question, he suddenly becomes too busy to continue the conversation and hangs up. I did get a couple of calls about doing the wash this morning that were quite interactive, however.  Yay!

4.  No matter how many books I read on the subject nor how many internet articles I digested, nothing could have prepared me for how abruptly I went from knowing so much about my son and his life to (a mere one week later) him having a life of his own.  Some days I simply cannot get my brain around that.  He is off at school making friends I have not yet met, taking classes I know little about and seeing and doing things about which I had no input.  Some might say that this was seventeen years in the making but to me, it seems like only yesterday he had my neck in a vice grip during music class when the instructor took out a puppet to show the class. Yup, terrified of the puppet.  Surely he was scared for life.

This is certainly a learning experience for us both, but I know he got the better end of the deal.  He is off starting his own independent life with new experiences, challenges and rewards.  While I am here in our old life, only without him as a part of our day to day, missing him like crazy and hoping that he remembers to continue to call home for more than just advice about his laundry.

Disoriented

I must admit that I have been debating as to whether or not to write this post for a few days for reasons ranging from this being a very sensitive topic for me to not really wanting to put my 'feelings out there' because it is a topic so close to my heart.  I also know that while there is a wide range of emotions possible concerning this topic, at least in my neck of the woods, I am somewhat of a lone wolf.  All that said, I have been receiving such encouragement from friends to blog about this that I decided to tell it like it is.  Before proceeding, please remember that just because we may not share the same viewpoint on this topic, dear readers, we are each entitled to that viewpoint or feeling.  Remember what your mom told you about if you don't have anything nice to say...okay?

We dropped my oldest off at college yesterday morning and I am taking it hard, very, very hard.  I feel such a profound sense of loss in our home and a weird, almost other-wordly, anxiety.  I think my husband said it best when he reminded me that all the other events we had done with our children included adding to our family.  This is the first time that we are subtracting from it and it is painful.  I had worked myself up into a beautiful frenzy all last week in anticipation of the big departure.  I did not miss 'one last' with my son (even though I tried to keep my mind from going there, my other children never missed an opportunity to remind me) from the last meal I would prepare for him as a transitional child--not a higher schooler anymore/not yet in college--to the last walk he took with Phoebe, our dog, and everything in between.  We all know how obsessive I can be, right?  Well, I found out I had new talents in that area as well.  Yay me!  I have spoken to quite a few of my friends who dropped their boys off a week earlier and who are still having trouble going into their sons' rooms or falling apart at random times during the day.  I can only imagine how long it will take me to even be close to having a day without tears.

The issue is not that he will be unhappy or that I am worried about him at college (okay, maybe a little).  The issue is all mine, the loss of his childhood, the feeling of having run out of time.  He is there having the time of his life, the start of his independence with new friends, perhaps a girlfriend, interesting classes and activities.  The sky is the limit.  I am here in the same home we shared grappling with memories and feeling selfish about wanting to share the next chapter of his life as I have done every chapter before.  It is a new feeling and one that I am not comfortable with as yet.  One friend told me that she cried for two weeks straight after dropping her daughter off at college while another told me that it took her sister an entire year to become totally comfortable with dropping her son off at school.  One of my oldest friends ended up in therapy as a result of her boys leaving a year apart.  The empty nest is a prickly place sometimes.  Thank heaven I still have three more little birds in mine.  My youngest knows that where ever he goes to college, we are going with him!  he had better choose a great school in an even greater climate.

I just got off the phone with my freshman and he sounds very good, a little off kilter,  but that is to be expected during this transitional time.  Growing up is hard on everyone, perhaps on this mom most of all.