Sick Squeaker

The squeaker had a fever last night. It wasn't terribly high -- about 102 degrees. But he was listless and sad-looking. I asked him if he wanted to color, play with playdough, or eat some pizza, and he replied, "Night night, please." I snuggled with him, but he was too uncomfortable to fall asleep. And then he wanted his papa. Once he had papa, the squeaker wouldn't come back to me, which made me sad and delighted at the same time (it's so important for papa to be wanted, too, but what happened to mama-as-comforter?!?). This morning he was feverish again, and I was sad to leave him. He told his papa he wanted both Lilac AND his gecko, and clutching them both seemed to help a little.

But the squeaker is one reason that even while I fret about losing my very nice DC-area salary, I am very excited about either working part time or staying home. The former is more appealing because I doubt we could make ends meet on my teacher-husband's salary, but in either case, I'll be leaving behind this job, where flexibility is limited. More time with the squeaker can't possibly be a bad thing.

This morning I sent a thank you e-mail to all the people who interviewed me. I felt a little silly sending it after so many days have passed, but I figured that it couldn't hurt. I think snail mail would have been more professional, but I decided that time mattered more than polish. And I received a response that indicated they haven't made an offer yet because they are working out the details, and that I should hear very soon. So that was much more encouraging than I had anticipated.

One thing is for sure: this spring will be a season of many changes.

Cold Cold Cold

My office is freezing cold. What happened to the toasty warm weather? We slept with the window open a bit last night, and around 3 am, I awoke shivering. The squeaker was snuggled next to me, so when I stirred, he stirred, too. I pulled the covers up only to have him say suddenly and loudly, "I DON'T WANT IT!!", while he vigorously kicked the blankets off. Brrr. This co-sleeping kid's options are to snuggle under the covers with mama or sleep in his own bed, where he can arrange the blankets any way he'd like.

No word on the job yet. Every time I check the mail, I dread finding a rejection letter. I just have this bad feeling.

But maybe that's not a bad thing. If it doesn't pan out, I'll be a stay-at-home mom in just about 6 weeks. And then I'll have nothing but squeaker stories for my blog. No boring stories about the office. No dull job hunting tales. Just the squeaker and Lilac and his dinosaurs and hyenas and so on. It sounds dreadful and delightful at the same time.

Job and Hyena Hunting

Yesterday I had an odd second interview for that part time job. It was only 15 minutes, and it was more like friendly banter than an interrogation. They asked very few questions of me, and I never felt like I had an oportunity to make my case for why I wanted the job.

I can't decide if that's a very good sign or a very bad sign. But I can't say that I got great vibes during the interview. I think they liked me, but I didn't get the sense that they were eager to hire me. So I'm kind of thinking that they have someone else in mind. I know that 4 candidates were given a second interview. We'll see.

In the evening, the squeaker wanted to pretend that he and I were lions, and we had to crawl around the house growling into the dark shadows at the sneaky hyenas hiding there. I don't know why he enjoys this so much. But apparently when he woke up this morning to find only his papa there (his papa stayed home sick today), he asked, "Where's mama lion?" I have a weird kid.

Where's Uncle T?

This week, we picked up the squeaker's beloved uncle from his college digs and went to nearby IKEA to play with the kids' toys. Then we stopped at the grocery store to load up on necessities, such as Froot Loops and Nesquik. On the way back to his uncle's house, he said, "Where's Uncle T?"

This is a game he plays sometimes with regard to himself; he'll hide somewhere, and then this little disembodied voice will say, "Have you seen the squeaker? Where's the squeaker?" Obligingly, we'll then look behind curtains and under beds while he giggles like mad in his relatively obvious hiding place. So anyway, we decided to play along.

"Oh, no!" I said, "Did we leave Uncle T at the grocery store?"

"Nooo," replied the squeaker.

"Did we leave him at IKEA?" asked his papa.

"Nooo," said the squeaker.

"Where could he be?!?" I asked.

"At the zoo?" wondered the squeaker.

"I don't know! Maybe. What do you think? Could he be at the zoo?" I replied, amused at his creativity.

"Let's go see!" exclaimed the squeaker triumphantly.

Mama and Papa: O
Squeaker: 2

Killer Emu

This morning the squeaker clung to me and cried, "mama! mama!" when I tried to get up for work. It was very sad. But I had that job interview yesterday, and it seemed to go well, so maybe a part time job -- and more time with the squeaker -- is in the cards. We shall see. The pay cut would be tremendous, but I liked the job description and the hours.

The squeaker had a good Easter. He ate a lot of chocolate, and he hunted for eggs in his grandparents' backyard. He thinks that Thumper brought him an Easter basket. I don't think he believes that ALL rabbits are "Thumpers," but I'm not sure why he has assigned that name to the Easter bunny. Of course, it's a little hard to argue with him about the REAL name of an imaginary bunny rabbit, so Thumper it is.

The most exciting incident over the weekend was that the squeaker got bitten by an emu. We took him to the petting farm near our house to see the animals. He fed some goats and rode the horse. He also tried to feed the emu some grass. The emu was resting near the fence, looking relaxed and not so hungry so as to chew on nearby fingers. But when the squeaker held out his grass, the emu snapped it up, and caught his fingers along with it. The squeaker looked horrified for a moment and then wailed. His papa comforted him, and then he bravely wiped his tears away and faced the emu once more, for a gentle (and quick) little pat. I am afraid to say that in his moment of distress, I was laughing so hard that I had to walk away. It's lucky that papa was there.

Peeps Pie

Yes, peeps, those strange little sugar covered marshmallows that show up everywhere months before Easter, and that harden if you let them sit in your Easter basket for too long.

Now you can make them into a tasty pie. Eww.

Where is the recipe for Cadbury Cream Egg pie? That sounds a bit more palatable to me.

Here's more about peeps, from Just Born to Peep-O-Nauts.

(Photo by NPR's Howard Yoon)

And Now for Something Completely Different

I finally met with management about my work-at-home/part time request. I had figured that the maximum number of days that I'd make that long commute was three days, so I asked for a 4-day work week, with one work-at-home day. Though my immediate manager was very negative about it when I first proposed it a few weeks ago, today was the day they delivered their "official" decision.

The approved my 4-day work week, but denied my work-at-home day. Unfortunately, the work-at-home day was the more important part of the arrangement. I'd rather work full time with two days at home than part time with one day at home, but only the latter is permitted by office policy. And it seems that being permitted doesn't mean that it's granted upon request, since my request was denied.

So their decision falls short of what I really need. I have a job interview next week for a position that would be much closer to home -- and part time! I would have to take a very large pay cut, but I don't mind that if it means more time with the squeaker. Plus, the job would be mostly legal writing and research, which I would prefer to all of this client interaction. So maybe a new door will open for me, since this one is closing.

It's funny - I thought I would be disappointed or even upset, but I'm not. I have not felt terribly valued here, and I feel that I am about to step into freedom. It may take some creativity to ensure that freedom doesn’t mean poverty, but I think I am ready for the challenge.

Cat Poo in it!!

I've tried to discourage the squeaker from playing in the sandbox at the neighborhood playground because the outdoor cats who live in the area use it as a litter box. Besides the "ick" factor, I am wary of the parasite that some cats carry that causes toxoplasmosis since I am hoping to have another baby on the near future. This illness is mild is most adults, but can lead to severe defects and even death in babies.

When the poor squeaker heads towards the sandbox, I gently steer him in another direction, telling him that the sandbox has cat poop in it.

So just now I get this call from my husband (who is on spring break!) and the squeaker. They are at the playground. My husband tells me that upon their arrival at the playground, the squeaker made a beeline for the sandbox, where he promptly threw handfuls of sand in the air and gleefully shouted, "Cat poo in it! Cat poo in it!" And indeed, I could hear his shouts through the phone.

Mama: 0
Squeaker: 1

Houses

I heard this report yesterday about "green" housing on NPR. Apparently, these houses are so energy efficient that the electric meter runs backwards on sunny days -- because the homeowner is selling power to the power company.

The house walls are constructed of foam, so it is nearly airtight. You finish the interior walls with normal sheetrock, so it doesn't look any different from any other house from the inside, and I think the outside is covered with normal exterior materials sich as cedar or vinyl siding. And when it is time to demolish the house, it is 100% recyclable.

That sounds great, but even the thought of an airtight house made of foam makes me want to open a window to get some fresh air!! The house may be "green" in that it is good for the environment, but I wonder if anyone has evaluated its impact on human health.

Anyway, things are going smoothly for us. No closing date on the new house yet, so I am not sure when we'll be moving. No luck on the job search so far.

Ever since I stayed home with the squeaker on Monday, he's been proposing that I stay home again. He'll hug me and say, "Stay home with you today, mama, please?" It makes me feel very sad to leave him. Of course, I may be unemployed in another 6 weeks or so if my job doesn't approve the part-time-work-with-one-day-at-home arrangement, so maybe he'll get his wish.

More Squeakerisms

Mama: I love you.

Squeaker: I love you, too, baby.

On Monday, I stayed home with the squeaker because he was sick. Tuesday morning, the squeaker said: "Mama, stay home with you today, please?"

And on Tuesday, the squeaker was at the mall with his grandma when they spotted the Easter Bunny -- with whom the squeaker wanted to have his picture taken. When I got home, he came running over with the picture, shouting "Thumper! Thumper!"

I think maybe we've watched the "Bambi II" trailer a little too often.