I was helping Chris edit a “thank you for the interview” email this morning. It’s very difficult to say the same thing over and over without feeling redundant and/or insincere. In this case, I was feeling both. The person in question left Chris feeling that the job was actually his, and had promised to email him regarding the finer details, i.e. salary or hourly, costs of health insurance plans, etc. That was nearly a week ago, and nothing. The other person he interviewed with for the same job, who was readily available before, suddenly isn’t responding to email or phone calls. Never a good sign. Have I mentioned my feelings about this company before?
I was trying to come up with another way to say “look forward” that doesn’t change the tone of what’s being said, i.e. “I look forward to continuing our discussion about the finer details of the position.” If you say, “I am eager to continue our discussion,” the tone changes. But if you use “look forward” here, then how do you wrap up the email? I typically use “I look forward to hearing from you,” but if I’ve used it already within the same paragraph, it becomes repetitive. I’ve spent far too much time considering things like this lately.
I don’t know if The Powers That Be are quibbling over money, are torn between Chris and another applicant, or have decided against him altogether. Regardless, there is no reason not to answer an email that simply requested an email address. I loathe inconsiderate people. To go back to my original point, though, it’s difficult to turn out these thank you notes which have to say the right things and only the right things, and with a certain level of eloquence, when what you’re really thinking is, “GET OFF YOUR ASS AND GIVE US AN AN ANSWER ALREADY!” Ahem.
So it’s back to stress. I know from previous experience with this company that the wheels move very slowly there. I suppose the good news is that the delay doesn’t necessarily mean it’s over, but it definitely isn’t fun. I’m tired of watching Chris go through this. I’m tired of going through it, myself. I just want an answer. Why is that too much to ask?
Chris is at a friend’s house, painting. Walls, not canvas. For money. He’s done it several times for various friends now. He’s detail-oriented and always does a good job. It goes more smoothly each time, as he learns from the previous job’s experience. It certainly isn’t what he would prefer to be doing, but any money is a good thing. We need it.
In the meantime, Avery is going through an obvious growth spurt. She’s eating far more than normal and if I focus hard enough, I feel like I can see her stretching out. Her legs seem longer, her torso leaner. Her mind is amazing, too. I said something last night to Braeden about looking at something from my angle. Avery heard the word “angle” and fixated on it. She kept repeating it, which is her way of demanding a definition. Have you ever tried to explain the word “angle” to an almost 22 month old? At some point I heard Chris say, “45 degrees” and I burst out laughing. She’s bright, but I think the concept of degrees is a bit of a reach at this point. “Angle” is complex enough.
Regardless, she’s fun. I try to talk to her as if I believe she understands everything I say. I am better about doing this now than I ever was with Braeden. More practice, I guess. I still find myself getting cranky on the days Chris isn’t here. No matter how good I’ve gotten about talking to her, she still only talks back to the degree that she’s able. I’m used to constant conversation with someone. Trying to create conversation with a toddler is work. I will add here that if you happen to already be at your maximum stress level, it won’t help you maintain patience through eight hours of activity with a toddler.
The activity thing is another source of stress. I know many parents who seem to be highly skilled about filling their child’s hours with stimulating, educational activity. I will go on record and admit that if I could pull that off even once a day I would feel like a superhero. I read to her. We watch “Sesame Street.” We watch “Caillou,” a show I like because the characters, while animated, have normal bodies. On the other hand, the parents are freakishly patient, no matter what. Personally, I think they’re on something. Or maybe it’s because it’s a Canadian show. I sing to her. She plays with her dolls. She plays with Mega Blocks. We go outside and I push her on the swing and try not to think about losing the house. I always think about it while I’m outside, for whatever reason. I cuddle her, and row her, both in her “boat” and on my lap. I try to get her to focus on something long enough to switch/sort/fold the laundry, or maybe load and unload the dishwasher. I still haven’t built the counting book that is supposed to get her to associate numbers with actual groupings, rather than just to recite numbers by memory. I haven’t created a color book, either. We read books with colors in them, but she definitely hasn’t memorized them. She calls all colors “blue” most days. She loves to color and paint… clearly the Daddy gene rising to the surface. I don’t worry about what future advice to give her about dreams. I can already sense she won’t listen. Her nature is already fully in evidence. She is headstrong and energetic… the perfect balance to Braeden’s laid back, calm demeanor.
My head is full, but clearly spinning. Another post lacking in focus. Sorry about that.