Let’s do a quick recap of my previous employment, shall we?
- Waitressing. Family restaurant that served a copious amount of gravy-drenched deep-fried meat-products. I had to wear orthopedic shoes, thick pantyhose and a ruffly dress with attached overalls. That’s what I said. Overalls. Pay: $2.13/hour plus tips.
- Theater: Got to see Evita 16 times for free. Worked in customer service.
- Temp work: Handing out free Frappuccino bars in downtown Portland, Oregon, which should make people like you. But it was Portland, so I mostly got lectured about the evils of Starbucks. Hi, I’m a 21-year-old temp. Stop yelling at me.
- First real job: Data entry at a large corporation known for their fancy athletic shoes.
- Next job: I worked in marketing at a winery. Frankly, it was awesome. I only gave it up for one of the few things in the world that could be better: Moving to a beach town in Australia where my main job was to lie in a hammock all day. Eventually, foreign countries kick you out unless you’re a citizen.
- Next job: Receptionist at an architecture firm. Phhht. Off to grad school.
- Admin for a literacy program. Highly emotionally fulfilling. Highly, stupidly broke.
- Marketing for medical devices. (See below, re: gray cubicle.)
It’s an odd variety, I suppose, though somehow the last 12 years sort of blend into one gigantic cubicle. The winery was a nice office, but other than the 3 years there (and the 1 year traveling), I can’t say I was in love with any of the jobs in any sort of this-is-my calling kind of way. Okay, I loathed (loathe) corporate environments, what with their freezers packed with Lean Cuisines, fake coffee creamer flavors and frigid conference room tables. Most office environments make me want to weep.
I do believe we all have callings, and that is not mine. I suppose I also believe that life isn’t deigned to be ultimately fulfilling all the time. Sometimes we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be and that place happens to suck. I do acknowledge, with gratitude, that even the most dreadful jobs did serve a purpose, in retrospect.
But I’ve spent the majority of my career so far feeling like I’m wearing the wrong sized shoes. No conventional job option really felt right to me until I met the world of freelancing. And while I was trying stuff on and gathering what would eventually become fuel for starting my own business, the topic of work felt woeful for about a decade. “What am I meant to be doing” hung like a rain cloud over most jobs. Even at the winery—a very cool job—I didn’t feel a “this is MY CAREER!” kind of feeling. I think, at 33, I may finally be onto something.
Right now, I’m doing freelance writing and some design work for businesses. I have an office at home, and sometimes I sit there and sometimes I go out. I’ve been doing this for over a year and a half now, and I’m pretty sure leaping into this life was the best move I’ve made yet. And now, just as I’m getting settled, here comes a baby. That’s amazing and exciting and lovely, and it means I’m going to have to re-shuffle things, and I’m not quite sure how. Frankly, I’m a little afraid that I’ll get so wrapped up in loving the new kid that I’ll wake up one day and realize that the career I’ve worked so hard to create out of nothing will have withered on the window sill. A crispy, neglected houseplant. (Digression: I have officially killed my orchid. This does not bode well.)
Right now, my husband and I are planning to give life a try without childcare for the first while and see how it goes. The good news is that we both have flexible, ever-changing schedules. The bad news is that they’re largely unpredictable, which makes a consistent childcare arrangement tough. We’ve each claimed a day we’ll be out of the house. We split the rest. Sometimes we’ll both be home at the same time, but working, and can tag-team taking care of the baby. I hope that starting out with a fairly casual arrangement with one another won’t cause trouble. And I guess we won’t know until we get there.
Balancing work and family life is, of course, and ancient, common issue. There are SO many perfectly valid ways to arrange work life and the raising of children. There are options. We’ll figure it out. Hopefully with some sort of happy-medium compromise that, er, allows us to have a PERFECT balance where we don’t miss out on anything. Realistic, right?
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