Disappointments...

It can be difficult, at times, to manage one's disappointments in a way that is neither self-indulgent nor abusive of others' goodwill... I have a particularly difficult time not acting like a petulant child who has been denied a treat when I find myself disappointed, and it just makes life that much more unpleasant when I do so. I found out this week that I had been overly confident of my ability to win the coveted and much-needed job offer from the City... instead, I was notified that I had been placed on the wait list for up to twelve months, and might have a slight chance that they would call me back at some time during the ensuing year. My hopes had been so desperately and passionately pinned to that job that it was crushing to read the email and realize I am still so many steps away from reaching my goals.

There were so many things I had hoped would come along with that job, and not just the usual ones related to career, professional development, intellectual challenges, and so on. I also wanted some perks-- things like being able to buy Ethan more than one pair of closed-toe shoes, or a windbreaker that fits, or hold-on-let-me-catch-my-breath maybe even take him someplace nice like the zoo, or camping, or (gasp!) the ocean.

There are moments when I feel overwhelmed by how much we pay out in regular bills and owe in student loans and how little we bring in, and in those moments my future stretches out in front of me so bleak, so full of struggle that I feel like breaking down in tears. I want more for my son than this life of eking out an existence and praying to make rent each month. Then there are those times when I see how much more we have than so many millions of other families, and I want to stop my whinging and complaining and just relish the simple joys of a healthy child with a functional body and mind...

I want to learn acceptance, and serenity, and gratitude... I want to be happy for what I have without accepting less than what we deserve and need... I want to keep striving for more without being constantly barraged with feelings of unhappiness and dissatisfaction from not having reached a goal within a certain time frame... perhaps I need a life coach of some sort, someone who can help me restrain my yearnings a bit and help me become more content and less aware of the feeling of "not" having/being/doing...

Time for a soul search.

Interview...

The City posted an opening for an HR Analyst in August. They received 500 applications. They culled those down to 100, then invited the lucky group to test in September. They then chipped that number down to 24, set up two teams of interviewers, and conducted all of the interviews today. I was lucky enough to be part of that group! I think it went well, but then I'm not the best judge of interview success... time will tell- they said I should hear back within the next 10 days or so.

Fingers crossed!!

I'm back!

After a long hiatus while I worked on my Masters Degree this past year, I am happy to announce that I'm back on blog patrol. Oh, and I've finished my MBA with Human Resource Management specialization, too. :)

It's good to be writing again... and even better that fall is finally here and the scent of October is in the air. This year we will be taking Ethan trick-or-treating with some friends on Halloween night (a Wednesday), and the weekend before Joel & I will be going to an event in San Francisco, hosted by Opel. I still haven't decided on my outfit, but can't wait to figure out what our costumes will be... will it involve my newest acquisition, the most adorable hair-couture I've ever seen?

Time shall tell...

Corporate Accounting, or "Hell."

This class is killing my self esteem. I used to think I was pretty bright, but now I have doubts. I've managed to maintain a 4.0 in all of my graduate courses since March 2011, but this one is going to make or break me. I think, in fact, that it will be the one to change my GPA. I've felt challenged before, and I've even felt clueless, but never this boneheaded. I just can't seem to wrap my brain around the financial principles and accounting figures, the endless calculations and formulas that make no logical sense to me. I am more comfortable with the theories, dialogue, analysis and research than with these numbers that dance around along the edges of my understanding. I need help. Big time.

Nightmare about death.

I had the most horrible, vivid, graphic nightmare early this morning that is still on my mind. Every time I think about it I get upset again and even start crying... I'll write more about it later, but for now just now that it ended with my husband and child (and I think, myself) being murdered. I looked up some information today online to help process this a bit and found a website with some interesting insights (from http://dreamhawk.com/dream-dictionary/death/):

"Death of child: Dreaming that your child dies can have several meanings. In some dreams a parent, much to their horror dreams of killing their child; or as one dreamer said, “I saw him jump off a bridge to his death.” This occurred at a time when her young son was making his first moves toward independence, and it was a difficult thing for the mother to face – the loss of her son. So it can easily be shown as the death of ones child in a dream. Another women describes it differently as follows:

‘I am standing outside a supermarket with heavy bags wearing my Mac, though the sun is warm. My daughter and two friends are playing music and everyone stops to listen. I start to write a song for them, but they pack up and go on a bus whilst I am still writing. I am left alone at the bus stop with my heavy burden of shopping, feeling incredibly unwanted.’ Mrs F

Mrs F was dreaming about her young daughter leaving her, and she has to grieve it, almost like a death.

This can mean a lot of other things than your actual child dying. For instance a man told me a dream that worried him enormously about walking with his wife and his young son fell down a hole and was apparently dead. But in fact he had had a terrible row with his wife that day, and it was showing the child as what they had created between them. In fact the dream child recovered as did their marriage.

Your child dying can also be a warning that your inner child is dying. We each carry some awful memories from childhood that are shown in our dreams as our child. So it is worth taking hold of your apparently dead child – nothing can actually die in our dreams – and hold it and tell it you love it. Watch any feelings that emerge as you do this and any tears you shed. See what you understand from what you feel.

Of course this could be a ‘mother’s’ dream in which your terror of losing your child is dreamt. A woman ones told me a dream in which her daughter was murdered. As we helped the woman explore her dream – not interpret it – she burst out into enormous sobs, crying that her daughter was leaving home and she was terrified of losing her. The girl was never murdered.

So ask yourself what your fears are about.

But our dream child can represent many things, and it is useful to realise that any person, object or scene in a dream is not a symbol – it is not dead thing that has to be interpreted - it is a living part of you and can only be understood by relating to it. So in this way I have found that a child can represent whatever our strongest feelings about them are. It can represent your marriage or partnership because it is what you have created between you. In that case the death of the child can depict something like an awful argument that feels as if the marriage has died.

A child and its death can also show you how you have killed out the growing or adventurous side of you; or if you see your child as vulnerable and needing protection, it could show you the death of that part of your feelings.

So you need to ask yourself what your dream child depicts as a living part of you."
Copyright © 1999-2010 Tony Crisp | All rights reserved

Daycare Reimbursement!!

I finally figured out how this FSA thing works... which means more money back in my pocket! The Flexible Spending Account is an optional benefit offered through our new Human Resources contractor. Basically, money is deducted pre-taxes from my paycheck, thus reducing my annual pay--and the amount I get taxed-- by a significant amount. I can deduct up to $5,000 per year for childcare expenses, which is easy to do when I'm paying $120 per week. [BTW: That is an extremely reasonable rate, and Janet is a wonderful carer, so I'm very happy with Ethan in her home.] Anyhow, for a bit there I was getting a reduced paycheck *and* was unable to access the funds being set aside for daycare, which I still had to pay... I was basically paying double daycare for the past month. Ouch! This week, I was able to get all of the correct forms filled out, with the help of my husband and Miss Janet, and submitted them to the benefit claims department on Monday. On Wednesday, I was notified that they had already processed my claim and were transferring it to my bank account via direct deposit. How awesome (and fast!) is that?

Now I can use the money to either (a) get my car's smog check and registration taken care of, or (b) put together with another $200 to pay for tickets to Burning Man. Hmm....

Firsts... and not.

To start, I'll give you a "not" first-- I got yet another Thanks-but-no-thanks letter from SCOE regarding my application to become a program assistant/secretary. Yes, you read that right-- apparently, I'm not even qualified to do the job I'm doing now as an administrative assistant. Is this why I'm paying for those student loans??

On another note, we reached a First of sorts with Ethan this week. Very early Friday morning, I woke up to the sound of a click or knock of some sort, and looked over with my groggy, 4 a.m. is way too early for this stuff, eyes to see a light on in our hallway. A light that wasn't on a mere four hours earlier, when I went to bed. I shoved Joel and said "What the is happening?!?" and pointed at the light like it was a five-legged alien about to do some serious abduction maneuvers. He went into the hallway and found Ethan had gone into the bathroom to go potty, turned on the light, and handled his business. Wow! I was impressed, despite my sleepiness. Then he saw me and said "Mom, hold me!" and I realized my night was just beginning.

We went to lay down together in the living room, where he wanted to watch TV. I said no and we started to go to sleep when he said "My tummy hurts." I asked him if he was hungry and he said yes, so I got some crackers. I know, I know, not the best response, but sometimes you do what you gotta do. Anyway, he calmed down and I took him back to his room to lay down with his crackers. Not half an hour later, just as I had fallen deeply into my "Please God let my alarm not go off any minute" sleep phase, I woke to hear panicked cries and coughing coming from his room. The first thing that ran through my mind was that he was choking or gagging on his crackers. I ran in there and found him making spitting sounds, so I thought at first that he had spit out whatever he was choking on. Then I turned on the hallway light to see better-- and realized he had been throwing up. All over his favorite/only embroidered "Turkish" style pillow and his bed. My poor thing! I've never seen him do that before!

He was so scared by the very act of having vomited that he kept crying and half-screaming for help for several minutes. He kept saying "Mom, I was coughing and then I was spitting and it was all on my blanket" and so on... poor thing. It must be so frightening to have your body just rebel like that. Anyway... we cleaned him up and basically stayed up with him. Three and a little hours later, he seemed much better, so Joel took him to daycare. Whoops. She called me by 10:30 saying he had thrown up again-- and it was a lot. A ton. A huge amount. Poor things, all of them! I left work to take him home and take care of him, and all seemed to be going well until this evening. He'd finally taken in some crackers and juice, and then walked back to go potty when-- again-- the keening cries rang out from the bathroom. I ran down to find him standing on the potty, wailing, and when I got there, it happened-- projectile vomit, which I proceeded to catch like it was liquid gold. What the?!?

My poor boy... He threw up everything he'd just eaten/drank, and was miserable the whole time. I feel so bad for him! He's never thrown up before, so this is all new to me... a friend suggested ginger-peach tea, so I'm going to shop for it tomorrow. I just feel so helpless about it all. I wish I could give him medicine to make it all better! :(