Tick tock

Thursday

The husband: We should put our hospital bags in the car today, just in case.
Me: Good plan. Can you put one of the Harry Potter movies in your bag, please?
The husband: Which one?
Me: Ummmm….4.
The husband: Ok. I’m also going to bring Adam’s Rib.
Me: Ooo ok!
The husband: Should we bring anything else to watch?
Me: No, I think that will do it.
The husband: Do you want Modern Family?
Me: Sure, since you mention it.
The husband. ORRR…do you want me to bring the Ken Burns baseball documentary? That’s a good one.
Me: <silence>
The husband: Modern Family it is. Just thought you’d like options.

Friday

The husband: We made it through session, just like you wanted to! Now you can have the baby!
Me: Trust me, I’m trying to. That’s what the Hot Tamales are for.

Saturday

The husband: Have you had any contractions today?
Me: No.
The husband: Did you notice that I have stopped asking you every half hour?
Me: Yes.
The husband: That’s my new tactic. I thought maybe asking too often was keeping her in there, so I stopped asking but apparently she doesn’t care. So now I’m going to start asking you all the time again.
Me: Goody.
The husband: Does she need me to give her another pep talk about getting born?
Me: I think she thinks you’re joking around when you talk to her.
The husband: Should I yell at her instead?
Me: I might take you up on that. Let’s give her until dinner time.

The little oyster isn’t due until Wednesday but I really would like to have her arrive sooner than that. To be fair, I can’t decide if I’m more excited to have her or to have feet that no longer resemble loaves of bread with toes. The swelling really is getting uncomfortable.

Based on my last o.b. appointment, we know the little oyster is moving in the right direction but there’s always the slight chance she’ll stop moving in that direction and things will stall. Fortunately, my o.b. will only let me go 1 week past the oyster’s due date before inducing–I hear a lot of doctors wait up to 10 days–so October 3 could very well be her birthday. I would struggle mentally with still being pregnant in October but I don’t think it will come to that. She’s a stubborn little thing, but I don’t think she’s cruel.

In the meantime, I’m trying to figure out the logistics of that classic labor-inducer, The Long Walk (what did you think I was going to say?). “To speed labor along, take a long walk. The movement and the gravity can assist the process,” says every website ever. This advice must be aimed at women whose feet still fit into human shoes and whose ankles still bend.

I haven’t been up for a Long Walk since about 33 weeks, and that’s not the time to encourage labor. Besides, how far is a Long Walk? I’m supposed to be resting and preparing for “physical exertion of Olympic proportions” says the Mayo Clinic. I understand the need for continued movement and good diet until the bitter end and beyond (enter grapefruit and arugula salad), but right now I pack a water bottle and a sweatband to walk to the bathroom from the couch. The thought of leashing the dog and walking down our six steps and into the great outdoors appeals about as much as being 40 weeks pregnant. Oh. Right.

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Failure is a relative term. So is ‘overqualified.’

Failure is a relative term. In space, failure to launch is yes, a problem. In marriage, failure to communicate can be, too. On the other hand, in baseball, failure to hit the ball half the time is a phenomenal batting average and a place in the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

Today I baked muffins in our wee oven. The proportions I used yielded 12 muffins and in a fit of optimism, I repositioned the tiny racks and set two pans in the oven at the same time. Four minutes into the 12 minute cycle, the distinct aroma of char wafted my way and I found the lower six muffins innocuously baking away while the top six fought desperately against the top of the oven. Didn’t realize the little bastards would rise so far.

So are today’s pumpkin muffins a failure? Ha. Not if this was baseball.

This morning I had another phone interview with A Certain Organization and felt that it was going very well until the lady told me, probably meaning it as a compliment, that it sounds like I’m overqualified for the job. As my stomach fell out of my butt in complete dejection, I did my best to prove to her throughout the rest of the interview why that’s not at all the case. They asked me to send writing samples, which is good, but the salary they mentioned is a full 10k under the lowest end of the range I had given for my own salary requirements, which is not good.

I still want this job. Not because I want a job, but because I want this job. It would be great work and I would learn a ton and be able to contribute right off the bat. What does overqualified even mean? You think I’ll be bored and start looking for another job soon? That’s unlikely. Smart people are never bored and if you offered me a job and paid in off-brand groceries I’d take it because I am SICK AND TIRED OF LOOKING FOR A NEW JOB. Also, I hate everyone!!!

Ok that last part isn’t true but I felt like it naturally followed the first declaration.

Like Phil Dunphy says, the art of the sale is what you leave out. Hereafter, my new stock cover letter to send when applying for jobs, complete with new buzzwords and a brevity not seen before. The key follows but will not be provided to potential employers. What they assume can’t hurt me and I’m sick of this circus.

Dear Sir or Madam,

I went to Georgetown* and have recently returned to DC from Johns Hopkins* and am seeking a way* to continue my communications career* in a cutting-edge organization* like yours*. I am capable*, learn quickly*, and am available immediately*. I have Hill experience* and a record of great follow-up* and look forward to hearing from you soon*.

Sincerely*,
Redwhiteandnew

* over the weekend
* where I parked to meet friends for breakfast in Baltimore
* the cover letters I have sent in the last six months could paper Buckingham Palace
* if you don’t hire me I’ll rip you to shreds on my blog
* staffed by assholes and morons galore, like all the other real jobs out here, I find
* or not yours, I don’t really care, I’m losing my will to live
* but not overqualified
* no, I don’t know how to write HTML, someone will have to show me
* read: unemployed as of Friday
* two guided tours plus I bought a hot dog from a street vendor there
* I already have your home address and voting record; fear my follow-up
* or you can expect to be blogged about
* not!