Tag Archives: jobs

I Once Had an Awkward Moment, Just to See What it Was Like

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dos equis guy

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Have you ever asked your kids this question?

When my boys were little, I would ask the question and get cute, dream-big answers such as; “an astronaut”, “a fireman”, “Tim Lincecum” (um – without the weed?), “rich”, “anything that does not require college” (there goes that whole ‘rich’ idea).

But when my boys reached a certain age, it became ‘uncool’ to answer this question and my inquiry into their future plans was met with blank stares, I don’t knows, or scary answers meant to silence me from asking the question ever again such as “the garbage man” or “a guy who mutters to himself”. It worked.  I quit asking.

But, last weekend, as we were driving around in the car,  Pre-teen,out of the clear blue sky (which is where he likes to draw ideas from) exclaimed,

“Being an ice cream tester would be a cool job”

And that was when I had one of those brilliant Mom moments aimed at tapping into the illusive psyche of my Pre-teen and Teen.  Ok, well it may have been my only instance of brilliance to date. Be that as it may, I quickly jumped into pre-teen’s musings.

“Really?  What other jobs do you think would be really cool?”

And without hesitation, Teen and Pre-Teen, in complete and full agreement with one another (thus the 8th Wonder of the World was established), fired off for me a list of their ideal and sought after cool jobs (and various accompanying colorful comments).  As follows and in the order they were given to me:

Video Game Tester

Super-Model Photographer (“Now there is a job you wouldn’t mind working over-time!”)

Sports Announcer

Body Guard for an Actor (“Someone cool and funny – like Johnny Depp”. I sense some possible perks for Mom here.)

Secret Service

Bouncer (“’Cause, you know, you get to be all buff and stuff”)

Any type of Professional Athlete except Curling (unmovable they were on this point of specification)

Olympic Athlete

Monster Truck Driver

Architect

Gun Designer (what can I say; we live in the country…)

Scientist for Black Cat Fireworks (not placing a whole lot of value on protruding body parts)

Car Tester (I didn’t have the heart to break it to them, crash test dummies pretty much have that job all sewn up)

And lastly, of course what all kid must want…or maybe it is just mine,

The Actor in “The most interesting man in the world” Dos Equis Commercials

And here, was the end of Teen and Pre-teen’s list of future aspirations.  Really, though, where else does one go from there?

Surely, as a Mom,  I am so proud.

And in some cases, possibly a little sorry I asked.

The Chaos of a Newly Working Mom

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Today, it would be nice if I was doing something like this:

Santa Cruz, CAOr maybe even this:

pig chillinBut, in all likelihood,  my day will probably look more like this:

messyhouse2

In September, I began the task of looking for a job outside my home.  It turned out to be a much more arduous process (and at times embarrassing – Bag Lady Goes a Job Hunting) than I had anticipated.  But at long last, in December I was offered a full time position (someone finally took pity on me) and officially changed my status from WAHM (work at home Mom) to WOHM (work outside the home Mom).

I expected a transition time, what I got was chaos.

Head over to ParentSociety.com where today, I share the whole messy story and what I plan to do about it!

Go Here: The Chaos of a Newly Working Mom

Bag Lady Gets a Job

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BagLadyB

I got a job.  Surprising, I know, what with the catastrophe that was my first interview  (Bag Lady Goes a Job Hunting).

Nevertheless, I started a new job this week.  My new position has a  wide variety of duties and responsibilities.

Well, just take today, for example.

Today I was required to…

…get my hair done with a fork.

…submit to arrest by a policeman and a king for spilling glitter.

…assist in the construction of a school for baby animals made entirely out of magnets (which was ultimately shunned by the moody giraffe baby).

…go to the doctor to find out I had two broken legs (both curable) and needed numerous shots (some painful) and a band aide.

…dress in zebra print and blue satin in preparation to get married.

…laugh hysterically at lunch with my friends at the clearly undeniably funny phrase “peanut butter and jelly.”

…have my nails done with plastic fruit.

I am thinking droopy stockings and a little bit (or say, maybe a lot) of cat hair stuck to my clothes will go virtually unnoticed in my current work situation.

Because, yeah, my job is just cool like that.

Why I Can Never Be a Big-Boobed Hoochie Mama

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hoochie mama

I have recently been in the unenviable position of seeking employment. Honestly, in this economy it’s a bit of a futile trek uphill.  It doesn’t help that in my job life I have jumped all over the map. However, at this phase in my life I can pretty much rule out a few occupations:

A Vampire – I mean, Bella makes it look pretty cool but seriously, how great could it be having to drink animal blood for an eternity?

A Doctor – apparently you need some kind of special license for that job or something.

And after my experience last week, A Big-Boobed Hoochie Mama is now permanently off the list (and I am just sick over the lost tips wages).

How could such an admirable career goal be dashed with one experience?  Well, let me explain.

Last week, I had an appointment with the dermatologist to have a little, itty bitty, teeny tiny cyst removed – a cyst that was trying hard to mind its own business but made the doctor nervous nonetheless.  Apparently, the whole idea of someone coming near me with a knife freaks me out (Thank you Nightmare on Elm Street) because the closer to the appointment it got the more nervous I became – to the point where I could not sleep the night before and was a bundle of jittery goop by the time I arrived at the office on “the day.”  However, the Doctor assured me once the numbing agents were in place, I wouldn’t feel a thing and it would be no big deal. Low and behold, he was right – that numbing stuff is the bomb!  So I settled down and prepared for an easy experience feeling proud of my Spartan Woman level of bravery.

But then I began to hear something– snip, snip, snip, snip.

Doc:  “I know you can hear the ‘snipping’ but don’t let your imagination run away with you.”

Um, too late.

It was pretty much a quick toboggan ride downhill from there.

Me: “Doc, you should know, I feel kinda sick at the moment.”

That statement was instantly followed by cold sweats, light headedness, the urge to hurl, and the involuntary desire to pass out – which I would have done had I not already been lying down with my feet now so very attractively hiked up in the air and the AC cranked down to Arctic proportions. Right then and there I knew I had pretty much blown my whole “I am woman hear me roar” status so I tried to concentrate on preserving what dignity I had left. And then finally, after an eternity, the ordeal was over.  Ok, it only took, like, 10 minutes, but it felt as if I had watched Dr. Zhivago…twice.

Later, as I lay on the recovery table of shame, the Doctor came in the room to check on me.

Doc:  “How do you feel?”

Me:  “Fine” (I lied, no sense in enhancing  my newly acquired wimp status).

Doc:  “Hey, look at the bright side…”

What, there is a bright side?  I’m not as big a wimp as it seems?  I won’t be trying to live down my behavior for the rest of our doctor/patient relationship?  I really am the Spartan Woman I momentarily believed myself to be??

Doc:  “…At least you didn’t puke on my shoes.”

Yeah, ok, I guess I will take what I can get.

But, clearly, the boob job required for me to ever acquire the rack needed for Big-Boobed Hoochie Mama employment is unequivocally off the table.

There goes that “special skill.”

Today I go back to the Doctor get my stitches out.  I hope Doc chooses his shoes accordingly.