Yesterday was horrible.  There was finally a teaching job at my children’s school that showed up on the district website.  I was thrilled to apply, since the earlier openings were for internal candidates only.  After five years of building community, serving as the PTA president, then finally getting my teaching license and completing two long-term sub jobs there this spring I was sure I would at least be interviewed.  But the principal told me they were going to spend two days interviewing candidates who had at least several years of teaching experience and then maybe they would look at the pool of less experienced candidates.  And that I shouldn’t get my hopes up.  I cried probably every hour.  Not for the whole hour, but I was frequently wiping away tears so the kids didn’t notice (but my son Kai (age 9) did) or occasionally breaking into outright sobs.  If the school that knows me the best doesn’t even want to interview me, what chance do I have at other schools?

In the morning I felt much better.  Maybe my superpower is being a morning person.  I should remind myself that no matter how terrible the night is, I always feel better in the morning.  

Let’s back up.  This summer I’m trying to find a full-time teaching job.  And because I can’t find a full-time teaching job I talked my husband Alex into letting me get a dog.  He doesn’t really want the added chaos in our household, or the responsibility, or the dog hair, but he feels sorry for me.  I was so excited I stopped just stalking dogs online and started making calls.  I assumed finding a dog would be easier than finding a full-time teaching job.  I may be wrong.  

I found two dogs that came up on my search filter for “medium/large,” “good with kids” and “within 10 miles” that I liked.  They were both half Great Pyrenees, which is apparently the abominable snowman of dogs, except really chill.  It turns out to get in touch with someone about adopting a dog that is even part Great Pyrenees you have to fill out an application with the Great Pyrenees Rescue Society.  I filled it out feeling really confident that I had answered the questions like a responsible potential dog owner.  I showed Alex the profiles that night of the cute, fluffy, apparently wonderful with kids, dogs I was interested in.  Alex asked, “Are these dogs endangered?  Why do they need a rescue society?”

The next day I got a one sentence email from the Great Pyrenees Rescue Society:

The director of GPRS suggested you contact God’s Dog Rescue.

So I googled God’s Dog Rescue with some trepidation. I wasn’t surprised that it’s a Texas based organization, since Texans mix God with things I wouldn’t necessarily mix Him with.  God’s Dog Rescue does offers dogs for adoption but they are based . . .  in Texas.  But you can pay them money to ship a dog to you elsewhere in the United States (“and even Canada!” cheerfully proclaims the website).  Apparently before they do so you will have a “video call” with the dog to see if you are compatible.  I am not making this up.  

So I emailed the Great Society back:

Hi!  I'm confused.  Does this mean our application was rejected, and that we cannot be considered to even meet Ophelia or Nancy?  

Yes, it turns out we were not “a match” for any of their dogs.  That’s what being referred to God’s Dog Rescue apparently means.  I really wanted to email again and ask specifically what is so terrible about our family that we could not even meet any of their ten dogs who are being fostered in the Portland area and who are apparently looking for homes.  But I didn’t, because I realized that my flood of angry tears was more about not being good enough for the teaching job I wanted.  Still, it was galling to also not be good enough to adopt the dog I wanted.  

Can I just say, when I got a dog as a teenager it was a lot more straightforward?  I wanted a dog, I talked my parents into it, and we got a fox terrier who was being rehomed by a breeder who said she was done having puppies.  “Yes,” my mother said to me recently, “it was easier, but look what kind of dog we got.”  Which is true.  We got a very strange dog who ran nervous paths into our grass in her own version of crop circles and occasionally balked like a donkey when I was taking her on a walk.  She was also infamous for pooping on the papers my father kept on the floor of his office.

Undeterred by past and recent experiences, I kept looking at dogs.  I regularly checked the craigslist pet listings, which are hilarious.  There you can find “cool rats,” “cute kittens,” “elderly pomeranians” and a ”male peacock cichlid” which it turns out is a fish and not a peacock.  On a different site I found a rottweiler advertised as being great with kids.  I decided to ask for more information, which meant filling out another form.  This organization requested the contact information of a non-family member who could serve as a character witness.  This is just like applying for a teaching job, I thought.  Maybe next they’ll ask me to attach my resume.

Later I got a call from a very nice woman who works for this organization which specializes in rottweilers.  She asked me if I had any experience with rottweilers.  “Well, I’ve read Good Dog Carl,” I told her.  There was a pause.  I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or appalled.  She didn’t say that completely disqualified our family, but she did suggest we might be interested in a different breed of dog she was fostering.  Who has just been returned to her care because of behavior issues.  Lovely.    

 Today for a change of pace I tried to talk my husband into buying a different house.  He was good natured about it, but said he really couldn’t see us in the house I showed him.  He’s probably right.  It’s not that much bigger than our current house, and we’d have to turn a craft room into a bedroom and there’s no garage to throw all our crap in. But the idea of moving!  Of changing something!  It was so seductive.  Unfortunately, I made the mistake of asking the selling realtor for the house I liked if there was going to be an open house this weekend, and I will probably never get off his mailing list.  

One nice thing is that there were more jobs to apply for on the PPS website.  Of course I filled them all out thinking bitterly, “What’s the point!  You’re probably going to hire someone you already know who ALSO has several years of experience!”  But I did at least fill them out.  And I had a good conversation with a friend who knows a lot about dogs.  He suggested we look for a pit or a lab because they are "loving and not all that smart."  Apparently an intelligent dog needs a lot of mental stimulation, gets bored easily, and can get into trouble.  This summer I feel like just such a dog who gets bored and can’t stop searching the internet for jobs and dogs and even houses.  

I couldn’t sleep last night so I took out my phone and started searching for teaching jobs in other districts.  I searched in Gladstone, where we have friends, Oregon Trail school district (where is that?), Lake Oswego, and somewhere else that I have now forgotten.  It was the middle of the night.  I didn’t find any other jobs to apply for.  I have however applied for seven PPS jobs this week.  Not that I’m very optimistic, but it feels good to send off applications.  I have so many different versions of my cover letter now that it’s easy to alter them slightly and re-submit.

Today I tried not to obsess about finding new things.  I made it about half a day without checking my email.  I tried to take a sabbath and enjoy things the way they are right now.  I also went for a two mile run which felt good.  I can think about things while I run, but I can’t search on the internet.  

We went to a Pickles game as a family, but because the kids were mostly bored there was not a lot of seeing the game or being together as a family.  Alex played catch with Toby (age 12) and Kai (age 9) and I took Annabeth (age 6) to play at the park nearby.  But it was a beautiful summer night, and at least we got out of the house.  

I did not personally search Zillow for houses today, but my mom and I spent a good half hour texting and dreaming about a house near theirs that turned out to be a foreclosure and completely unavailable.  But I didn’t cry at all when it all came to nothing, which for me feels like a big step. 

Big news!  Someone is actually bringing a dog to our house to meet our family tomorrow night.  These folks are fostering a dog on behalf of an organization and I talked on the phone with a real person who didn’t disqualify me for some reason!  I’m trying to hold this all very loosely.  

Also holding loosely a job in West Linn that I found to apply for today.  I hope I was able to disguise the fact that I know nothing about their district in my application.  There were four very serious essay questions attached.  I decided to use the bullet point approach.  Seriously, who has time to write that many full on essays?  I hope writing the essays dissuades a lot of people from applying.  We shall see.  

It's almost midnight.  Tonight we met an 18 month lab mix named Lucy and it was actually worse than being rejected by the Pyrenees Great Society.  Because . . .  I really liked her and Alex didn’t.  And Kai and Annabeth liked her, but Toby didn’t.  In fact, my stoic, easy going 12 year old cried during our family meeting and said that he wanted a cat and that he felt like his opinion (reading between the lines here, he himself) didn’t matter.  So that was dramatic. 

I went for a long walk with him later and told him I see how hard he works to remain calm and be accommodating with two anxious and dramatic younger siblings.  I told him I love him and was proud of him.  We got to a point where he could concede that our family getting a dog was not designed to ruin his life.  We did some laughing.  Later I let him read these journal entries to explain my dog and job finding process.  He laughed aloud several times.  “Mom,” he said, “You’re funnier when you write!”  “Thank you?” I responded.  

Then Alex and I had a conversation about Lucy and realized we disagreed.  He couldn’t see such a big dog in our house and yard.  The chickens are a problem.  They certainly did not like Lucy.  Which means we’d have to just take her for walks or have her in the house mostly.  Alex thinks a smaller dog wouldn’t bother the chickens as much.  And maybe Annabeth could take a smaller dog on walks.

But I think I like big dogs.  Maybe because I have this dream about a lab type dog who will be good for Kai.  Maybe because my experience of a smaller dog was a neurotic fox terrier; I’m not sure.  

Also, I got a jury summons in the mail today.  I’m supposed to report during the Early Kindergarten Transition program where I’m the parent educator at my kid’s school.  I asked the program director if she’d write me a letter to see if I could get an exemption.  She will, but what if I still have to go?  Maybe I wouldn’t get assigned to a case, but what if I did?  It would leave the program without a parent educator.  Maybe if I don’t get the exemption, they should hire someone else.  

It feels so unfair that the one job someone hired me to do might not happen.  Which is another reason I’m awake crying on and off and not able to fall asleep.  I talked to a friend today, told her some of my job/dog finding stories and she said, “Just because you know Jesus doesn’t mean you aren’t sad.”  So, I’m trying to tell myself it’s ok to feel sad.      

But before I try to stop feeling sad long enough to fall asleep, one more thing:  my package from Old Navy was supposed to arrive on Saturday and I was a good sport about it not coming then because it’s only an estimate after all, but today it not coming felt like a tragedy.      

2 a.m.  Writing instead of sleeping is not really how I want to be spending my nights.  But here I am.  Yesterday morning I woke up having dreamed about Lucy and thinking, “I’d like to take Lucy for a walk.”  Alex did not wake up thinking so fondly about Lucy.  We were at an impasse, and I had to head out the door early for a training.  I emailed the dog foster family and asked if we could have until that night to keep discussing.  They wrote back right away and said if we couldn’t decide right away than Lucy probably wasn’t the right dog for us.  

I held it together during the training but cried all the way home.  Then I cried instead of taking a nap when Alex and the kids were watching a movie. In the afternoon, Alex and I were finally able to sit back down and talk.  He said he’d had a change of heart and now wouldn’t mind adopting Lucy.  He called and texted the foster family.  Nothing.  By the evening I emailed them again.  They wrote back very kindly to say sorry, but Lucy had found a new home.

I’m now adding this to my summer list of things I wanted but didn’t get.  I wanted Lucy perhaps a ridiculous amount, even though I didn’t actually know if Lucy would be a great dog for our family.  I just imagined she would be.  Just like I imagine teaching at my kid’s school would be great.  I don’t actually know that, I just imagine it would be.  Sometimes it seems like a good idea to put my imagination in the driver’s seat.  But right now it just seems to make me cry.  A lot.  

Being at the training made me excited about doing the Parent Educator job and also sad because it feels like another way I’m just faking having a job at my kid’s school.  I love the job description of meeting the families of incoming kindergarteners and introducing them to the school.  But why has no one realized my ability to do that would also make me an excellent classroom teacher?  Sigh.

Oh, my Old Navy package arrived in the mail today, and the clothes are adorable.  One small package for me, one giant mercy from the Lord.  

I had the best of intentions about our IKEA trip today.  

Usually IKEA is a fun place to shop, eat, and play in the kid’s area.  I wanted to go today to get Annabeth and Toby new shelves for their room  After looking for those kallax shelves on Craigslist I decided it was not that much more expensive to buy them new.  I’m trying to get Annabeth and Toby something new to pre-empt jealousy over Kai getting a new bed this week.  Of course, Kai didn’t want to go to IKEA with us because we weren’t getting anything for him.  

But we all got there with a minimum of drama and went over to see if anyone was still short enough to use Smalllllllland.  While Kai and Annabeth were measuring themselves I noticed a sign saying they were at maximum capacity.  “No problem, “ I said, “We can come back in 20 minutes.”  “I’m so sorry,” the woman behind the desk told me, “but socks are now required for all children in Smallllland.”  I checked--everyone in our family was wearing flip flops.  I have to hand it to IKEA, the sock rule is a brilliant way to cut down our the number of children in Smallllland during the summer.  Not being able to use the play area was the first warning sign of impending danger that I ignored.

We looked at shelves.  We found shelves.  We went to the food area where they informed us they were only serving breakfast food for 5 more minutes.  The kids panicked, but were able to obtain waffles with lingonberry syrup.  Unfortunately, Kai got only waffles and by the time he realized he was horribly jealous of Toby’s meal which included potatoes they were no longer serving breakfast.  He knew he needed protein.  I knew he needed protein, but I thought we could go downstairs, pick up the shelves and get to the car where there were protein bars before he melted down.  This was warning sign number 2.

It was a great plan, except for the part where one of the shelves I wanted was sold out and being discontinued.  The nice man told me I should go back up and ask the floor manager if I could buy the sample.  The chance to get a beautiful and now discontinued shelf usually $100 marked down to $29 led me to drag all three of my children back upstairs.  We found the shelf, we found a staff person, my children waited patiently (if you count running around and trying out all the different office chairs patient) while it was decided that we could buy the sample at the sale price.  But by the time we were wheeling our prize and looking for the down elevator, Kai and Annabeth lost their minds.  They started chasing each other around like it was the zombie apocalypse. I asked them several times to stay close to me, but the zombies were (apparently) chasing them and they couldn’t stop.   

Until they ran into front of people with a big huge cart and almost caused an accident and I yelled at them and made them come hold my hands and yelled some more.  Then Kai started to cry angry tears because it was Annabeth’s fault for chasing him and he shouldn’t have gotten in trouble.  Yes, she was making him run around.  It was all her fault.  We made it through check out and loading, and I got Kai to the car and started throwing granola bars at him saying, “Eat, eat eat!”

I thought Kai would get some food in his system and become rational, but he didn’t.  By the time we got home, everyone but Toby was in tears (and he was probably crying on the inside in a sardonic pre-teen way).  I gave Alex a briefing on the situation and went to our bedroom.  I fell asleep immediately.    

On the plus side, I got 4,000 steps just walking around IKEA. 

Today I got a form email telling me I didn’t get a teaching job I applied for.  I was sort of pleasantly surprised.  This is the first time anyone has actually bothered to let me know I didn’t get a job!  It makes me feel that I’m not floating out there completely unseen.  Someone noticed that I did at least fill out an application.  

Well, I have made a mortal enemy of a dog adoption agency.  

I contacted them about a dog I don’t remember.  They emailed me and told me the dog was not a good fit for us because blah blah blah, same old, same old.  Then last wednesday they emailed me out of the blue and asked if we wanted to foster a dog with the option to adopt.  They would pay for everything the dog needed, we would take care of the dog for a week, and if we liked it, it was ours.  Alex said at the beginning of this process that he wished there was a way to try out having a dog before we committed.  I told him that wasn’t a thing.  But it turns out it is a thing!  Foster with the option to adopt!

I was excited and told them it was a great opportunity and they assured me the dog loved kids and was all around wonderful.  Alex said, “How much would it cost to adopt the dog?”  I emailed them and didn’t hear back.  Then last night I got a text saying did we want to meet the dog this weekend and I said yes.  It wasn’t until I was texting with them again today and we were arranging a place to meet the dog that I remembered to ask again how much the adoption fee would be.  I received this text:

Puppy adoption fees are $450 which includes vaccines, microchip, wellness exam, rabies and spay.  You can make a payment of $200 and $250 if it helps to split it up.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!  No, splitting it up would not help.  It would still be $450 which is way more than we are willing to spend on buying a dog.  So, then I had to text back that I was really really really really really a thousand times sorry, but we could not meet or foster or even think about this dog again since it was so far out of our price range.  And to be honest, I was not hugely excited about this dog.  I thought it might be a nice dog and that I might come to love it, but I’m not crying over the loss.

I do feel bad about bailing though.  It’s probably an over exaggeration that they are now my mortal enemy, but I’m pretty sure that’s another organization that has crossed us off their list.

Speaking of crossing things off lists, I have a decision to make.  Tonight I saw another job posting for my kid’s school but it’s for a 4th/5th grade job that would only be for the first half of the year.  I feel so differently about this job than I felt about the 4th grade full-time job.  This job makes me feel sad.  I would get to start the year pretending I worked there, set up the classroom, establish a culture and then hand them back to their real teacher in December.  And what good would it do me professionally?  I wouldn’t be able to apply for any full-time teaching jobs that showed up the rest of the summer.  I wouldn’t have insurance.  I probably still wouldn’t be considered for a full-time opening at this school next year because I still wouldn’t have “several years of experience.”

You can tell I’m feeling pretty bitter.  I can’t seem to get over it.  I wasn’t sure I was the best person for the job, but I thought I’d at least be interviewed.  Maybe I would feel better if another school were interested in hiring me, but so far nothing but the endless filling out of applications.  My search engine knows me so well that I only have to type in one letter and it suggests the school districts job listings I visit frequently. 

Friday night I was really pleased with my writing.  But as I was getting ready to go to bed I got sad and angry again.  When I woke up Saturday morning I was still upset.  I had a little time to myself because Alex and Kai were at a baseball tournament and Annabeth and Toby are the kids who sleep in. 

Miserably I said to Jesus, “I don’t suppose you can do anything for me,” but I read some of Romans anyway.  I read the part about the Holy Spirit dwelling in you.  The thought occurred to me that if the Holy Spirit lived inside me, it would forgive my kid’s school for not giving me a job.  It certainly wasn’t what I felt like doing, but it sounded like something the Holy Spirit would do.  

The picture that came with this thought was of a cocoon.  What looked like something dead was being wrapped up in the golden threads of forgiveness.  I could imagine that as I tried to forgive and stop carrying around my bitterness that what felt like death could be transformed into something beautiful.  I could hope that out of the golden wrapped cocoon would eventually emerge new life.   

Tonight I had a chance to practice a little forgiving.  I’ve been so angry lately that every small slight or inconvenience makes me explode like the head of a match.  I received a gift certificate for a massage for my birthday and finally cashed it in.  I was there a few minutes early and expected I could come in and wait, maybe have a drink of water and relax.  Instead I found a locked door in an alley that said, “Door will be opened five minutes before your appointment.”  I waited.  There was no place to sit and nothing to do.  I waited as five minutes before my appointment came and went.  Finally at five minutes after my appointment time someone opened the door, but it wasn’t the masseuse.  There was a class finishing up.  I waited some more.  Finally the masseuse appeared and offered me a drink of water.  I tried to be polite, but was super angry that I had been waiting for twenty minutes.  She then noticed the time and apologized.

But I had an absolutely lovely massage. I think I may have fallen asleep I was so relaxed.  The music was beautiful and I had the space to contemplate profound things.  While I was waiting, I thought to myself several times, “I am definitely NOT tipping this woman who made me wait in that damn alley.”  But, after the massage was over I thought, “I could try forgiving her.  Because she did give me a wonderful massage, and because we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”  So I tipped her.

Tomorrow morning Kai and I are going to see a dog named Chloe. She’s two years old and living in an apartment but her owner wants her to be able to run around more.  She’s healthy and sounds perfect on paper.  Alex is going on a trip, but agreed that if I like this dog we can get her.  

Well, we have a dog.  But it’s not Chloe!  

What a crazy day.  I am writing with a one and a half year old pit mix named Remy lying on the couch next to me.  He is soft to touch and playful and apparently can be trained to not eat the chickens.  Kai and Annabeth love him and fought over who would pick up his poop.  This will probably be the only day that ever happens.  

They were so ridiculously overprotective of Remy that on our drive home they told Toby he absolutely could not have his window rolled down.  Because they were afraid Remy would jump out the window, you see.  I hope this is the only day that ever happens as well.  Toby is sad and feels left out, but he did play tug of war with Remy tonight.  I also walked in on a tummy rub he got sucked into, so I think there might be hope for him as a dog owner. 

We did not get Chloe.  She was too barky and jumpy for Kai’s taste.  I felt bad because the owner clearly had her all packed up a ready to go with us.  Then I was checking craigslist on the rebound and found a dog who needed a home who could meet us at a park tonight.  Remy charmed the kids and we took him home.  And now I’m exhausted, because it feels like having a new baby in the house with the mix of older sibling adoration and jealousy.  So now I’m going to sleep.     

Little did I know that after seeing Remy happily asleep on Kai’s bed and shutting my own door that I would be woken up at midnight by a tearful Kai complaining that Remy kept coming and going and waking him up.  I tried shutting the door to Kai’s room (Remy whined and scratched).  So, I told Kai to go sleep in our bed and I would sleep in his bed with Remy.  Kai was worried, but took himself off.  I fell asleep in Kai’s bed but woke up a little every time Remy adjusted position.  I did like the snuggling though.

Kai came in at 5:30.  5:30!  He was worried about Remy.  We ended up taking Remy for a walk before 6:00.  Remy pulled.  Remy clearly needs some sort of harness or magic spell.  Kai was upset that sleeping with Remy was not what he had hoped, which became anxiety about going to baseball camp.  Which made me worried that I had made a terrible mistake.  Getting a dog!  A big dog!  While my husband is out of town!  A dog that is making my anxious son more anxious!  I started to wonder if we could just give Remy back and say, “Just kidding!  I thought I wanted a dog, but I’d rather have my old life back.”  I felt nauseous all morning.    

Mom came to take Kai to baseball camp.  Then it was my turn to take Toby and Annabeth to VBS.  What to do with Remy?  I could take Remy with us in the car, but I was frankly exhausted of Remy.  I could leave Remy in the house, but who knows what Remy would get into.  I could put Remy in the yard, but what if he ate the chickens (although, at their initial meeting Remy seemed uninterested in eating them)?  I decided to put Remy on the deck and prayed he wouldn’t jump the shortish fence between he and the chickens.  Or find some way of getting out of the yard that I hadn’t thought of.  Worrying, it runs in the family.

I came home and found Remy happily chewing up a baseball he’d found on the porch.  Which is way better than a chicken.  My experience the night before and this morning made me realize we need a dog crate.  If Kai and I don’t sleep we’ll continue to spiral into anxiety, and I will sometimes need to leave the dog at the house by itself without fear of carnage.  By the gracious mercy of the Lord I found a dog crate on Craigslist that I could buy while the kids were at their various morning activities (thank you Craigslist sellers who accept PayPal!).  

By the late afternoon I realized I had slept in my clothes and was still wearing them.  And I smelled.  But I noticed that Remy was sleeping calmly on the floor while all three kids watched a movie.  Possibly the world was not ending.  Possibly, I could take a shower and the dog wouldn’t try to eat a marble and the kids wouldn’t fight about who was stopping the dog from eating the marble.  I took a shower.  Everything was fine.   

And here we are, 9:00 at night, just over 24 hours after becoming dog owners.  Kai is sitting on the floor stroking Remy who is sprawled and chill.  Nothing terrible has happened, except my freaking out.  I have a place to put Remy to sleep tonight, and then I will go to bed, and hopefully sleep uninterrupted until a reasonable hour.    

I’m writing tonight while Toby cuddles with Remy on the green chair.  All the kids seem to have a hard time walking by Remy without stopping for a belly rub or ear scratch.  Kai gets very anxious and over protective of Remy, but is calm when he’s petting him.  When we were out in the yard, Kai was trying to teach Remy to fetch.  Instead Remy chased after the ball and then got distracted.  Kai said, “He just gave up!  I guess he’s got a fixed mindset.”  Somewhere his counselor just felt like smiling, but didn’t know why.

I took Remy with me to Kai’s baseball camp this morning.  There’s plenty of unkempt fields, and I thought it would be fun to try running with Remy.  It turns out when I run all Remy needs to do is walk quickly and we’re at the same pace.  Embarrassing.  It was fun though.  This morning’s outing helped me realize there are some dog supplies I should keep in the car.  Right when we got to baseball camp Remy pooped in the middle of the parking lot. I didn’t have a poop bag with me.  On the way to the bathroom to get paper towels Remy pooped on the sidewalk for good measure.  So, several poop bags would have been helpful.  

After all the running around Remy was panting, but I didn’t have a bowl for water.  I looked around for anything to pour water into, but had to settle for pouring water into my hands and having him lap it up.  It was very messy, but Remy got enough to avoid dehydration.    

Today I wrote letters to principals of two schools where I was applying for jobs.  I heard in a seminar on how to get a job that you should email the principal of a school where you are applying and introduce yourself.  This seemed ridiculously forward to me.  Why would a principal want to receive the same information sent to them in an email that they could read on someone’s application?  Isn’t it annoying and presumptuous?  But today I felt so strongly that I would be a great teacher at these schools that I wrote the principals to tell them so.  Well, I mostly just adapted my cover letter.  It felt good to do something, and I was thrilled to see that I got a quick reply back from one of the principals!  Unfortunately, the email was to let me know she was not going to be the principal of the school next year, so there was no point in my writing to her.  Sigh.  

I’m thinking about applying for a fourth grade job opening in Oregon City.  It’s not all that far away, and it has the advantage of being a teaching job.  Unfortunately, I can’t find much information about them online.  I do know they have an official seal which depicts a covered wagon, a mountain, possibly a herd of bears, and two figures that could have been lifted from a public bathroom sign.  I never subbed in their schools or done more than drive through Oregon City, so . .   I’m not sure I’d have much to say in an interview specific to their district.  

But does that matter?  Should I apply for any teaching job I can possibly imagine driving to five days a week?  I’m also wondering about applying for charter school jobs or Catholic school jobs.  The pay and insurance wouldn’t be as good, and in terms of vision, my heart really is in public schools.  So right now I’m just waiting.  And checking job listings daily.    

Toby’s friend Theresa came over today, which was lovely.  Having a big dog in her family, she was full of helpful dog owning advice.  She’s been visiting family out of state since school was out.  Baseball practice was canceled due to day two of thunderstorms, so I let  everyone watch a movie and took them to dinner at Costco.  We were just at Costco, but we had to go back because Remy’s previous owners told us he’s used to eating “the yellow bag” of Costco dog food. 

I left the kids eating in the food court and went in to procure the dog food.  I breezed past the carts on the way in thinking, “I don’t need a cart--I’m just getting one thing!”  Little did I know that the yellow bags of Costco dog food are 50 pounds each!  I deeply regretted not getting a cart after trying to carry the dog food for one aisle.  Eventually an employee took pity on my and got me a cart.  Then Toby and Theresa helped me get it into the car and eventually the garage.  I really hope it turns out to be the right kind.   

Last night Toby had his cartooning class and Annabeth and Kai wanted to play at a nearby park which has a faux hill you can slide down on cardboard.  I thought it would be fun to take Remy.  It was.  Sort of.  I wasn’t bored, that’s for sure.  Remy almost pulled my arm off trying to chase remote controlled cars, sniffed everything three times, and got me into all kinds of conversations I never had before I owned a dog.  

“What kind of a dog is he?” 

“Is it ok if my kid’s pet him?”  

“What size of dogs does he like to play with?”  

“You know, if he pulls a lot, the best thing is to give short, sharp tugs on the leash to get his attention.”  

Being a dog owner in public turns out to be a lot of responsibility.  I have to keep Remy on a short leash when we pass other dogs, keep him from jumping up on people in excitement and make conversation on subjects I know very little.  Some people definitely responded to Remy like he was a big scary dog to steer clear of, others followed me around the park trying to get Remy’s attention so they could pet him.  One woman wanted to show me a picture of a dog she has that looks similar to Remy.  Overall I was sort of overwhelmed by my induction into the world of dog ownership.   

Remy is a very social dog.  Even if he’s thirsty, he won’t stay out in the backyard to drink unless someone is with him.  The moment I come back in the house, he’s done, no matter what.  It’s rather flattering to be more important than basic needs, but it is a little tedious.  I ate my breakfast on the porch this morning because that’s where Remy was happily chewing a bone.  Sure enough, when I was done and took my dishes inside, Remy was done too.  

Last night Kai and I had a fight about Remy.  We were going to Sunday night dinner and Remy needed to go in the crate.  This is because Remy does things like empty out the compost all over the kitchen floor and eat the compostable lining when left alone in the house.  Kai really wanted to be the one to put Remy in the crate, but Remy was not budging.  I had a treat all ready, and took ahold of Remy’s collar and got him in the crate.  Kai was incensed that I had taken over and not let him finish the job.  All the way to dinner in the car he yelled and screamed and told me he hated me.  This kind of thing happens occasionally, so I wasn’t surprised, but it still hurt.  

Eventually he started watching baseball at my parent’s house and ate dinner and calmed down.  Thinking about it now, I realize I had the same reaction as Kai when Alex put Remy in the crate before bed.  Remy was way more obedient with Alex and I felt hurt.  After all the work I’ve done with Remy, why does he respect Alex more than me?  Which is probably what Kai was thinking:  Why does Remy love mommy more than he loves me?  How come I can’t make Remy go in the crate?  

So, getting a dog adds some tricky dynamics, but generally speaking I’m still pretty pleased with having a dog.  I even heard Toby say, “I love you Remy” the other day.  I notice that the kids are all most affectionate and interested in Remy when it’s time for bed.  “Oh, I need to say goodnight to Remy!”  “I need to give Remy one more hug!”  And so on . . . 

Things I have learned about Portland dog-owning culture from taking Remy to the neighborhood dog park:

-It is totally fine to refer to yourself as your dog’s mother or father. I had a conversation with a man where he kept talking about his “boy” at home and I had no idea if he meant a child or a dog.  It turned out he meant his other dog.

-Dogs go to heaven.  Same man, later in the conversation announced that his “girl went to heaven last year.”  This is funny to me because as a kid, my brother and I pestered my parents wanting to know if our gerbils, rats, guinea pigs, etc. were going to heaven.  My mother assured us yes, while our father vehemently told us no.  But this man knows for sure.  Assuming that he was in fact talking about a dog and not a person. 

-It is bad to give up your dog.  Several people asked me about how we got Remy and then questioned me with disapproving looks about why he was being rehomed.  When I told them it was because he chased baby goats at this previous home, they seemed to accept this as an ok reason. 

-Dogs can get something called giardia, which apparently is like stomach flu for dogs. There is a big sign saying you should be careful because your dog can get giardia from going to a dog park and drinking from the communal water dish. I first thought I would take our own water dish for Remy, but then realized there is no way to keep Remy from drinking from a separate water dish or to keep other dogs out of one I brought from home.  So, we’ll just have to risk it, because Remy drinks a LOT of water while running around at the dog park.

-My children are equally entertained as dogs at the dog park.  Kai and Annabeth came along and had a great time meeting all the dogs who came, talking to their owners, and watching the dog park olympics (events include running, chasing, sniffing, and more running).  

Things I’ve heard from the Lord that include dog owning metaphors:

-When it comes to where I am going, I am the dog and God is the person walking me.  On Monday I was reading this in Romans (the Message):

“God does not respond to what we do; we respond to what God does. We’ve finally figured it out. Our lives get in step with God and all others by letting him set the pace, not by proudly or anxiously trying to run the parade.”

This reminded me strongly of teaching Remy to walk on a leash.  Remy would like to run out ahead, tugging on my arm and then suddenly stop to smell things, giving me whiplash.  I’m trying to teach Remy to walk right next to me and keep the leash slack between us.  So far Remy will do this only if I am running to keep up with him. 

It occurs to me that in the matter of finding a job I am not very “in step with God . . .  letting him set the pace.”  Mostly I am running out in front or stopping to sniff, desperately worried that he doesn’t know where we’re going.  For example, this week I keep looking at private, religious and charter schools that have openings and agonizing about whether or not I should apply.  I try to picture myself teaching at these schools, and wondering if it would be worth it to just have a teaching job rather than sub next year.  But none of these are places where I would choose to send my own children ($11,000 a year?!  What is “progressive” education anyway?), so that says something.  And Alex says to me, “You don’t just need a job, you have a calling,” and I try to relax and walk in the rhythm of a slack leash next to the Lord of the universe. 

We survived the Fourth of July with a dog.  Actually, it was easy.  Leading up to the fourth there were lots of Facebook posts about dogs and fireworks.  There were people complaining about the illegal fireworks being set off early and how they made their dogs anxious.  Then there were the people complaining about the people complaining, because the Fourth of July happens every year and everyone should know there will be fireworks and if you make the choice to have a dog you need to be able to take care of it.  Then there were posts about people unfriending those who supported dog rights over fireworks rights, and people unfriending those who unfriended people.  

But Remy was fine.  We had a lovely time at a friend’s house eating, getting caught up and setting off fireworks in their driveway.  We came home at 10pm and Remy was chillin’ in his crate.  I let him out and he lay down to chew a bone in the yard while fireworks exploded all around, lighting up the sky and booming.  I love this dog.  

Alex and Kai left this morning for a baseball tournament in Bend, and I felt quite sad.  I’m not sure why, as this is their last traveling tournament, and we’re all going to the beach together with my folks next week.  But somehow going to Bend felt like their going to the moon.  I had already anticipated feeling at loose ends, so I booked a campsite for Toby, Annabeth and Remy and I for Saturday night at the Roaring River campground, just past Estacada.  

This is the first time I’ll take the kids camping by myself, let alone a dog.  Not that our family has been camping much.  The last time we went two summers ago was not very pleasant.  Kai was worried a majority of the time, no one slept well, and Toby was irate that there were RV’s all around us.  “This isn’t camping,” he yelled, “We’re in a parking lot!”

So, as I looked for a place to camp this time around I tried for something tents only.  But with a bathroom, and where you can bring pets, and Annabeth wanted there to be water.  So I looked online and got completely overwhelmed.  There are a lot of places to camp, and the reservation systems were confusing, so I decided to call a hotline and talk to a real person.  I said, “I’m trying to find a place to camp, but I’m overwhelmed.  Do you just book reservations or can you give me advice about where to camp?”  There was a pause.  “That’s all I do, ma’am,” he said.  Which is the snarkiest you can be while still calling someone “ma’am.”  Although probably trying hard to suppress his laughter the entire call, he did find me a campsite that was a) available, b) tents only, c) pets allowed, d) had a bathroom and e) near a river.  If I could have tipped him, I would have.  

This morning before Alex left he got out the brand new coleman stove he got for Christmas and showed me how to use it.  Now I just have to figure out what meals to cook on it.  And what pans to use.  And what dishes to bring.  And how to pack Remy’s crate.  So, I have some things to do before we leave tomorrow.  

Last night at 10:30pm I was sitting in the Zoomcare exam room wearing borrowed yoga pants and looking at these notes written on the whiteboard under “symptoms”:  

Side pain, slipped on rocks, jumped in river.  

I jumped in the river because Annabeth fell in the river and looked like she was drowning.  She had been splashing happily up to her ankles in cold river water, but then she wanted to walk across some rocks to see a small waterfall.  Remy and I were taking the path around to meet her when suddenly I saw she had fallen in a pool of deeper water. I screamed and screamed and then screamed her name and dropped Remy's leash and ran to the river and jumped in after her.  Somehow I slipped on the rocks when I went in.  I swam towards her.  Finally I got to her and at the same time found I could touch the bottom.  Which is good, because I know nothing about how to rescue someone in water.  

She and I got out of the water.  She told me my nose was bleeding.  I didn’t remember hitting my nose, but I noticed my left side hurt.  Annabeth was wearing a swimsuit so I wrapped her in a towel, but I had gone into the river wearing all of my clothes.  Earlier when I got cold I pulled my sweatpants on over my shorts, so I ended up soaking both layers. And that was all I had packed.  

This became a real problem when we got back to the tent. I climbed in the sleeping bag wearing just my extra sweatshirt, but then could not leave the tent.  I sent the kids out to borrow me a pair of pants and they brought back a very nice woman who brought me a pair of yoga pants she was willing to give me.  “They’re too big for me,” she said graciously, “I’m not even sure why I brought them.”  In the Old Testament, Elijah was fed by ravens.  I was given yoga pants by the woman from campsite 5.  

I realized my side hurt a lot.  I tried to walk Remy and it hurt. I picked something up off the ground and it hurt.  I was loudly moaning and groaning when Toby said to me, “You know, we don’t have to stay and camp for the night if you’re really hurt.  We could break everything down in 15 minutes and go home.”  It hadn’t occurred to me that was an option.  Before we left cell phone range Alex had texted to say he and Kai were probably going to come home that night.  The thought of being able to see Alex and sleep in our comfy bed made the decision.  We stayed to roast marshmallows and then the friendly folks from campsite 5 helped us pack up quickly.  It hurt to drive, but I was so happy to be headed home it was worth it.

When we pulled into our driveway I was sad to not see our other car. That meant we beat Alex and Kai back from Bend.  I started to cry and called my parents and asked them to come over.  Then I looked out the front window and saw the best thing ever:  Kai running up the driveway with his baseball bag.  My parents arrived soon after.  I told them the story and we decided Alex would stay and put the kids to bed and mom would take me to urgent care.  Of course, the appointment wasn’t for another hour, and then there was still a lot of waiting.  But the doctor was incredibly nice and reminded me strongly of Isaac Mizrahi, the Project Runway All Stars judge.  I kept waiting for him to throw in “darling” like, “Have you taken any ibuprofen yet, darling?”  

I finally got the results of the x-ray which revealed I had not punctured a lung or cracked a rib, which was great news since it hurt every time I took a breath.  And the medication is just alternating Tylenol and ibuprofen every three hours and waiting for my body to heal the internal bruising.  By the time mom dropped me off it was after midnight.  It took me a while to get comfortable, but I finally fell asleep.  

Just like Jimmy Fallon, I’m going to write some thank you notes:

To Ibuprofen,

Thank you for making my side not hurt long enough each day so I can function.

To rain at the beach,

Thank you for keeping other people indoors so that we could have the whole place to ourselves.  Watching Remy run around off leash was hysterical.  

To bull kelp,

Thank you for being the best dog toy on the beach.  We got way more mileage out of you than we did the “indestructible” kong that Remy has already chewed apart.  

To the grandparents,

Thank you for playing Exploding Kittens, putting together puzzles, walking kids to and from the beach, and holding the dog on your lap in the car.

To the Good Will in Lincoln City,

Thank you for having some DVDs we could buy when I forgot ours at home.  Having the kids watch movies at the beach is very important.  

We had a lovely time at the beach.  While we were there no one had internet and I enjoyed staring at the waves and running in for salty, freezing embraces.  I didn’t think about teaching jobs while I was there.  But then we came back and I got an email telling me I didn’t get another teaching job I applied for and I totally lost it.  Like a rogue wave, I was blindsided.  I lay down and cried for a while because I still don’t have a job.

Something really good happened to me today:  I sneezed. Twice.  

In the last week every time my body has wanted to sneeze some part of my ribs has said, “No no no, stop, it’s going to hurt too much!” and I’ve sucked the sneeze back in.  Which is a weird feeling.  But today my ribs allowed me to sneeze and it felt so good!

This weekend is the last baseball tournament of the season and Kai is in a hitting slump.  Yesterday he struck out looking three times, which is the worst way to strike out.  He hardly ever experiences such disappointments in his athletic life and he did not take it well.  This morning before the double header he said he was letting down the team, that he would never hit again, that he didn’t want to be in the regular line-up, and finally that he didn’t want to play in the game at all.  Alex did admirable at-home coaching to remind him that even MLB players go through slumps and got him out the door with a nutella bagel.  

I notice I feel similarly to Kai.  I used to believe I was a good teacher who schools would want to hire, but after applying for so many jobs and not even being interviewed I feel I’m in a slump.  It’s hard to keep applying.  I get excited every time I see a new job posting, but part of me starts to sound like Kai this morning:  I’m a pathetic excuse for a teacher, I’ll never get a job, I’ll have to start the next year subbing and I hate subbing.  Alex said to Kai, “You can’t see the future.  You don’t know what’s going to happen.  Players go through slumps, but it just takes one hit and you’ll forget all about it.”  Which is good advice.  Alex is excellent about maintaining hope.  

After grocery shopping I went over to see half an hour of Kai’s second game of the day.  So, I happened to be there to see the hit that broke his slump.  He grounded out in his first at bat and I could see his shoulders drooping as he headed towards the plate for his next at bat.  But then he hit a triple, scored two runs, and was absolutely exultant.  All his practicing, all his talent, all his doggedness to keep swinging the bat got him through to the promised land, where he continued to get hits and help his team win 19-18.  I cried when he hit the triple.  I was praying he would get a hit, because I hated to see him so depressed about being in a slump.  

Then I cried all the way home in the car and said to Jesus, “Don’t you care that I’m in a slump and that I’m really sad?” 

To celebrate one week since she almost drowned, today Annabeth hosted a lemonade stand.  She’s not remembering this anniversary, but I certainly am.  My ribs still feel sore, but I can cut down on the meds at least.  

The desire to make lemonade began at Costco when she begged me to buy her a box of lemons.  I declined.  Then at the food co-op, what did they have a lot of?  Beautiful yellow lemons!  This is significant because though the food co-op often has an abundance of fruit, most often it is going bad while you watch.  There was a pallet of cherries, for instance, but every bag was full of spotted, soggy cherries.  And there were boxes upon boxes of apricots, all nestled in their own mold.  It was so sad!  The food co-op has been a huge help to us financially, but some days it’s just depressing to wade through the rotting produce to find something good.

So today Annabeth and I squeezed all ten lemons and it made a big pitcher of lemonade.  She asked if she could have a lemonade stand.  I really didn’t want to.  I wanted to take a nap on the couch.  We negotiated.  I lay down for a half hour while our sugar syrup cooled to room temperature (that’s how you get the sugar to dissolve in the lemonade!  Thank you, internet.).  

She was adamant that she did not want to put up a table in front of our house, so we went down to the corner with the ironing board, a stool, and a sign that said:  Lemonade 25 cents.  I thought she’d be bored in ten minutes and we could pack up and go home, but I forgot that the other half of her genetic make-up is extroverted people-person.  She SOLD that lemonade.  She started calling out: “Lemonade!  One cup for 25 cents!” at anyone she could see.  And at passing cars.  And even when she couldn’t see anybody.  She’d keep yelling until people turned and looked at her.  Someone came over who was waiting for the bus.  Someone stopped who was on a bike.  Someone went into the convenience store to get change so he could buy some lemonade.  Lots of people smiled and told her to “keep the change,” so she ended up making $7.38 and was very pleased with herself.     

In other news, we all went to see Kai play baseball this morning, since it was the last day of the last tournament.  He is no longer in a slump.  I got to see him catch, pitch, hit, tag out a base runner, and generally have a wonderful time.  His team won the first game in exciting fashion, and then Toby and Annabeth and I went home.  They lost the next game to the first seed team, which is actually merciful because if they won this tournament they would have been expected to play in Boise next weekend.  Boise!  Way too far away, in my opinion.  Now begins trying to shift Kai into soccer mode for the fall.    

I had an amazing conversation with my dad tonight.  He asked me at church this morning if he could talk to me for “three minutes” when we were at their house for dinner.  He’s so specific and detail oriented that way.  He took me to his workshop and told me that on Easter when Pastor Joel had asked us to take a rock to symbolize something we were hoping for he thought of me getting a job.  “I didn’t bother to take a rock,” he said, “because I’m 100% certain that you will get a job.  Maybe this week, maybe next month, or maybe you’ll sub and then someone will hire you, but you will get a job.”  I started to cry.  It’s very nice to hear from someone who loves me that they are 100% certain I will get a job.  

Then he showed me the “TOBY” leaded glass sign that he had fixed.  “This shouldn’t just be in your kitchen,” he said, “this should be in Toby’s room when he has one of his own.  When you get a job, your mom and I will co-sign with you and help you get a house with four bedrooms.”  More tears.  Then (there’s more!) he showed me some beautiful leaded flowers he finished and told me I was welcome to give them as gifts if I wanted.  I love giving gifts!

Then (there’s still more!) he and I sat on the porch and talked.  There was a lovely cool breeze on a hot summer night, and Remy lay on the ground next to us, Dad casually reaching down to pet him.  He told me about his teaching jobs, starting at the beginning.  Some parts of his memory are hard for him to access because of his fall off the ladder back in 2000, but hearing these memories of his teaching life was like finding treasures hidden in a field. 

Now, you may think this is just a proud father talking, but remember that this is the same man who doesn’t believe animals go to heaven.  If he can tell a tearful five year old that she will definitely NOT see Chocolate the guinea pig in the sweet hereafter, he probably won’t sugar coat things for a forty year old.  

It’s Alex and my 16th anniversary today!  We celebrated by totally forgetting it was our anniversary.  We went out for a date to see the new Spiderman movie on Wednesday and my mom handed us a card on the way out the door.  “What’s this?” I asked.  “An anniversary card,” she said, “I thought this was your anniversary celebration date.”  Alex and I looked at each other like riiiiiiiiiiiight.  

In our defense, we celebrated our 15th anniversary by going away for a night and having my parents watch the kids, but my father had a seizure and had to go to the hospital in the middle of the night and my mom couldn’t get ahold of us and it was pretty traumatic even though he turned out to be fine.  So, celebrating 16 just slipped our minds, but the Spiderman movie turned out to be pretty good.  And we listened to the song “Tightrope” from The Greatest Showman soundtrack and Alex said it reminded him of our life and I cried a little.  

Some people long for a life that is simple and planned

Tied with a ribbon

Some people won't sail the sea 'cause they're safer on land

To follow what's written

But I'd follow you to the great unknown

Off to a world we call our own

Hand in my hand and we promised to never let go

We're walking the tightrope

High in the sky

We can see the whole world down below

We're walking the tightrope

Never sure, never know how far we could fall

But it's all an adventure

That comes with a breathtaking view

Walking the tightrope

with you.

This definitely feels like a season of walking into the great unknown, and I feel so grateful to be holding onto Alex’s hand.

Things that went well this week:

-I finally started running again.  I also am taking less painkillers, but my chest still feels sore when I wake up in the morning.  

-The EKT parent meetings started this week and are really fun.  Did I mention my jury duty got completely canceled?  Not just deferred, totally canceled!!  I remember being very worried about that . . .  Hosting the parent meeting is a great job because I have a big food budget and I really like spending it.  And eating the food.  There are lots of great give-aways for Kindergarten parents, so I feel like Santa Clause.  

-Even though I woke up early, I took some naps.

-I’m re-reading Crazy China Girlfriend, because the first time through I heard it on audiobook.  Now I can read the footnotes!  

-Kai made it through a week of soccer camp and had a good time.

-I applied for more jobs.  Including a private school job that is on the other side of the river.  Sigh. 

-Toby found a Dungeons & Dragons game at the Mt. Scott Community Center to join on Thursday afternoons.  

Things that were not so great:

-I had to talk to a lot of people during the EKT about not having a job for next year.

-I applied for a job where the Associate Principal was my grad school professor and who wrote one of my letters of recommendation.  But then it turns out she is leaving that position and will have nothing to do with the hiring process.  Ha ha--of course!  

This morning is beautiful.  Sunshine and it’s not too hot yet. It turns out Sunday mornings are the best time to let Remy off-leash at Harney Park.  Most mornings there is already at least one dog running around before I get there, but Sundays . . .  nobody.  He’ll get too far away from me, and then gallop back at top speed when I call him.  Sometimes I feel like we got a horse instead of dog.  I do like watching him run.  

Yesterday morning at this time Kai was having a huge tantrum because we were attempting to reign in some of the excessive screen time we’ve allowed since we got the Switch this week.  Kai has an interesting relationship with video time.  I think screen time is part of how he regulates his emotional state, but of course, that means a LOT of video to keep him in a good mood.  This drives Alex nuts.  He does better with the structure of screen time we had during the school year.  

However, after an emotionally taxing morning we had a lovely afternoon.  Annabeth and Kai put together a lemonade stand with brownies this time and they both sat outside and called to people to come buy their wares.  They made $13 to split and were very pleased.  At the end of the evening all three kids were bouncing on the trampoline together and ended up sitting down on the trampoline to chat until 9:30 when we finally called them in for tooth brushing.  Alex and I even got to watch part of a movie together.  Next time things are totally horrible I’m going to try to remember that the day could still end well.  

Today was another day that ended really well but took a long time getting there.  Instead of church we went to a march to show support for immigrants and refugees.  I find it’s one thing to have a strong conviction, and another to make your children show up to an event where there are boring speakers before they even get to the walking part.  At least there were lots of booths giving away free things.  So, our support for immigrants and refugees mostly consisted of walking Remy around a park, getting promotional sunglasses and water bottles, walking a few blocks, and then going to the Mercado for lunch.  

I spent a lot of emotional energy getting Kai through the time at the “march” and Annabeth was grouchy at the Mercado.  Then I went with Toby to his piano lesson while Alex supervised the younger two reprising their lemonade and brownie stand.  And while Alex was in the house getting supplies, some guys pulled up in a car, asked for the rest of the pan of brownies and then drove off without paying.  Kai and Annabeth were pretty devastated.  Lots of tears and vowing never to sell anything on the corner again.  I feel sad too.  It’s one thing to know there’s evil in the world, and another to have mean people make your kids cry.  I’m hoping for a very Jean Valjean style redemption, where the theft of these baked goods from my trusting children ultimately leads to some sort of soul searching and redemption.  

So, basically I was exhausted and took a nap in the afternoon.  I was still tired at Sunday night dinner with my folks, and it was hot.  It’s hard to have energy and feel hopeful when it’s hot, in my opinion.  But then we came back to our house, turned on the a/c, and played a really satisfying game of Dungeons & Dragons.  Recently there’s been a lot of arguing when we’ve tried to play, but tonight everyone worked together, defeated some wizards, retrieved some spell stones, and are talking with excitement about playing tomorrow.

If the Amazon smiley face could smirk, it would.  They got me to sign back up for prime.  Truth be told, I love prime, but they finally canceled my student rate and I vowed not to pay full price.  Until I wanted to order a hammock to take on our camping trip and the only way to get it here before we leave is to sign back up for prime. 

Oh sure, I could have paid $40.34 to have it shipped in time, but that would be silly when I could sign up for prime for $12.  And that’s how they got me.  Oh, and I’m also getting what promises to be indestructible dog toy for Remy.

The worst part of today was hearing back from the private school I applied to that they had already filled the Kindergarten teaching position.  “Then why is it still listed on your website?” I wanted to scream.  The best part of today was having dinner with friends.  Talking with friends who are incensed on your behalf that no one will even interview you for a teaching job is good for the soul. 

Our family camping trip was lovely.  Remind me to never take kids camping by myself again.  It worked so much better with two grown-ups.  The Panther Creek campground is right on the Pacific Crest Trail and next to a less roaring river than last time.  Annabeth barely got her toes wet, which was fine with me.  The boys ran across logs bridges spanning the river and threw rocks and had a great time.  My favorite part was the moment I woke up from a nap in our tent and heard Toby and Kai talking together in the hammock.  They were teasing each other, but in a relaxed jovial way.  That kind of quality time together seems to rarely happen at home.  We did manage to lose luggage off the top of the van, and Remy threw up grass on Kai’s feet on the way home, but overall it was amazing and I would go again.  

Today I drove Toby and two friends to camp.  I volunteered because after dropping them off I would have a two hour drive home by myself.  Key words: “by myself.”  Doing the whole drive there and back was tiring, but the time where all I did was drive and sing along to “The Greatest Showman” soundtrack was worth it.  I just drove.  And worked to believe that I am a person who has a calling and not a person who can’t find a job.  I also noticed how many trees there are.  And that’s just along the freeway!  So many trees.  Even in our fallen world there’s an incredible amount of beauty, and I am grateful.  

In light of thinking of myself as a person who has a calling I’ve been broadening my job search area.  Maybe God is inviting us to move somewhere else?  I’m applying for a charter school job in Hillsboro and a Beaverton school district job.  And let me tell you, the Beaverton application is no joke. There are eight essay questions with a 1,000 word limit each.  If I’m going to do all this writing, I really hope someone reads it.  

Actually, the Beaverton application questions were 1,000 characters each.  Big difference.  So I ended up having to be way more concise than I thought.  The good news is that there were two more jobs in Beaverton to apply for this week, which makes me feel like I’m really getting my money’s worth out of answering their essay questions. 

We’ve survived the week without Toby.  Annabeth and Kai did not kill each other, but it was touch and go at times.  I hope he’s had a wonderful time at camp doing paint ball and generally being a pre-teen.  

I just baked a beautiful loaf of bread.  The kind of bread I want to take pictures of and post on social media.  It smells good too, and I can hear the crackling song of the bread.  

I haven’t been inspired to write much this week, probably because I was busy filling out job applications (10 this week!) and watching online video trainings so that I can be a sub with PPS next fall.  Which I really, really don’t want to do, but need to at least keep current.  I finished my last week as the parent educator at the EKT, which went well.  The staff kept telling me what a great job I did, but it felt a bit hollow.  I’m happy to be appreciated doing this job, but wish I could be appreciated enough to get a teaching job!  

This week I started praying, “I’m ready for a new adventure.”  I’m trying to remember that I’m a person with a calling, and not a person who can’t find a job.  Applying for jobs on the west side has made me think about what it would be like if we moved.  Honestly, I feel sort of excited about the prospect, but then I think about how much the kids would be disrupted if they had to start over at new schools.  But then I think about Abram and Sarai and the invitation to just go.  We came here and it felt like the end of the world to Toby, but it’s turned out well.  Better than well.  I think we can trust God to be good wherever he invites us.  

On the flip-side, I don’t want to go somewhere else because I’m angry.  Angry that I can’t get a job in the neighborhood or in the districts I thought would hire me.  I want to go if it’s an invitation to something new.  Alex emailed Becky Pippert, an evangelist he admires, and asked her if she needed a lieutenant.  I wonder if something will happen there.  Alex said it would be unfair for him to send one email and find a new job when I’ve been waiting, but I’d be happy to just have something happen.

Before I started grad school I went to a friend’s house for an overnight retreat.  He was living over in Beaverton in the house where he grew up.  His parents had moved out of the main house and into an addition they built.  Their dream was to live their with their kids and eventually their grandkids, which were so far nonexistent.  The house backed right up on a park, and it was beautiful.  I enjoyed my brief stay where I had breakfast at the kitchen table and a picnic in the park, and on my way home I started to think, “I really like that house.” 

It became something of an obsession.  I started imagining which bedroom would be for which kids (the room with all the bookshelves, definitely for Toby) and wondering what could possibly be my rationale for 1) asking our family to move and 2) asking this other family to rent or sell us the house.  Eventually I couldn’t think of any reasons and decided it was a stupid idea.  But now that I’m expanding my search to the west side, the dream of this house is suddenly creeping into my consciousness again.  

Saturday morning I woke up and my feet hurt.  Not localized pain, just a general soreness stretching up into my lower legs that said clearly:  “You have been wearing flip flops every day this summer and they do not have enough arch support!”  I thought about my footwear options.  I remembered that a few summers ago I gave away my chacos because I never wore them.  They felt so clunky that I always chose my flip flops instead.  But now I desperately wanted them back!  

Saturday we all drove up to the camp to pick up Toby, then headed on to Seattle to stay with Carrie and Prince and their kids.  I wore my flip flops and felt every twig and rock painfully along the paths while Toby showed us around his cabin, mess hall, paintball arena, etc.  When we got to Seattle, Carrie told me there was a half off sale at the local Value Village that day.  This was funny, because the last two times we’ve visited have been holiday weekends and there have been sales.  But this was just the first weekend in August, nothing special.  We joked that they planned it because they knew I was coming.  Anyway, I thought maybe I’d find sandals with more arch support there, but no luck.  However, Carrie and I got to talking about sandals, and she told me she needed a new pair of chacos because hers were falling apart.  I ended up trying hers on to check sizing on a pair I was looking at online, and she said I could have them.  So Saturday night I was miraculously wearing a pair of chacos around their house, my feet feeling happy and well supported.  

If only everything could work out as easily as the sandal situation, I said to Jesus.  If only I could find exactly what I need as soon as I realize I need it.  I’m thinking specifically of jobs here.  Sunday night I cried myself to sleep because I saw on Facebook that someone in my cohort has a full time job for the upcoming school year.  I was so jealous.  

Then Monday while we were all at the aquarium, I got a call from a Beaverton number.  It was the Hillsboro charter school I applied to asking me to come in for an interview!  It actually happened:  someone read my resume and decided they liked me enough on paper to meet me in person.  I stared out across the Seattle waterfront after I hung up the phone and marveled.  Finally, on August 5, 2019, an interview.  It’s scheduled for this Wednesday, which is nice because it gives us tomorrow to relax and unpack.  

Today I had my interview.  A big answer to prayer was that I actually slept through the night (until 5:30).  The night before I had been tossing and turning, unable to turn off my brain from thinking about potential interview questions and what stories I should tell.  

This morning I woke up, took Remy for a run, and my folks watched the kids while I drove AN HOUR to the interview.  This job would be a serious commute.  I got there early, and strolled around the church where the school is co-housed.  They’ve brought in a portable rock climbing wall and some lovely wooden benches as well as planted a garden.  

I thought the interview went well.  The questions were really broad, so I was able to talk about my strengths that I thought fit with their expeditionary learning philosophy.  I enjoyed the principal and teacher who interviewed me.  My favorite part was that while I was waiting beforehand I heard them laughing uproariously about something through an open window.  People who laugh together are people I would like to work with.  

I was feeling really good about myself until the end when the principal said, “Our timeline for making a decision will be about a week, and you should know that due to the budget cuts across the state this is a very competitive field.”  Of course, I already know it’s super competitive, but at least I got an interview!  

On the drive home I said, “Siri, play music,” because sometimes I enjoy what comes up randomly.  The first song that came on was “Everything is Awesome” from the Lego movie.  As soon as it ended the Urbana 15 soundtrack came on with the exhortation, “Surrender your heart to Jesus!”  It was the song I’ve listened to frequently during all my subbing and job looking:  “Wherever you want me to go I’ll go / Whatever you want me to do I’ll do / Whatever you want me to say I’ll say / I’ll do anything that pleases you.”  I took these two together as the word of the Lord:  Everything is awesome because I am awesome, and look, I got you an interview.  Also, you should surrender your heart and all it’s desires to me.  

I baked a loaf of bread this morning and brought some with butter and jelly to my interview.  I used it as my introduction:  “I like to build community by bringing food.”  The principal and teacher each ate a slice during the interview.  On the drive home just before I got on the freeway I stopped right by a man holding a sign asking for help.  I was really hoping the light would stay green, and I wouldn’t have to deal with what to give him, but I was the first car on red, right next to the man.  I looked around the car, but I didn’t have our usual care packages.  So I handed him a piece of my homemade bread slathered in butter and jelly out the window of the car and he said it looked good.  We both smiled at one another, and then the light turned green.  

Last night at 9:30 pm I got a call for sub jobs from the robot calling system.  What?!  This morning I got another call, so out of curiosity I logged onto the subbing website:  no jobs available.  What?!  I’m getting prank called by the subbing robot?  Just opening the website made me remember how much I hate subbing.  

Remy bit Kai this morning, first thing.  Kai was crying and I was trying to take Remy out for a walk and I felt terrible the whole time.  I cried a bunch during the walk and felt like our world was falling apart even though 1) Remy was play biting and didn’t break the skin 2) Kai was fine 2 minutes later and 3) This has happened before when Remy forgot he was playing with a kid and not another dog.  Later this morning I noticed Kai goes over to the dog and picks out eye boogers, sticks his fingers under his jowls, or does some other intrusive grooming approximately every 5 minutes.  So I think Kai and Remy are actually even.

If my life was a choose your own adventure I would totally be flipping ahead to find out what happens.  What happens if I am offered the job in Hillsboro and I take it?  Flip, flip, flip.  Would I love it or would the commute kill me?  What happens I am not offered or don’t accept the Hillsboro job?  Flip, flip, flip.  Do I have to spend another year subbing?  Will something amazing happen at the last minute?  

These questions just keep circling round and round for me.  I can imagine the Hillsboro job being perfect and the commute being manageable, but I am also famous for imagining things to be better than they actually turn out to be.  When we were first looking for houses in Portland there were several houses I kept trying to talk Alex into that were not right for our family:  too small, right on a busy street, didn’t have a foundation, etc.  It was hard for me to accept the truth about them because I only saw them through the lens of my imagination.  And ultimately there was a house that both Alex and I loved that was perfect for us.  

Meanwhile I keep applying for jobs.  There’s no lack of jobs, but it feels like I’m just going through the motions.  I used to read up on the school or at least find it on the map, and now I just see that it’s an elementary school job, change my cover letter a little and press “submit.”  

Last night I got a personal rejection email from the principal of the charter school in Hillsboro.  She described my personality as “boisterous” which is not a word I think of to describe myself.  The email was very nice.  I read it several times and then I cried.  And cried.  Even though I prayed that God would keep the job from being offered to me if it wasn’t a good fit, I still cried.  

Later Alex and I prayed.  I said:  “I have exhausted everything I thought would help me find a job: personal connections, experience in schools, success in grad school, being a good writer, and now I need you to do your thing.  I’ll go wherever you want me to go and do whatever you want me to do, but I’m so sad that you haven’t given me a full time job for the fall.  I thought you loved me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”  I give that sentence exclamation marks because it felt like it was ripped out of my chest.  I’m never going to be an atheist, but my big struggle is definitely to believe in the goodness of God when things are shitty.  

I’ve cried a lot in the last week.  Some of it I chalk up to PMS, but I’m also crying because now it’s almost the end of August.  All my friends who work in schools are going back to work this week, and here I am still applying for jobs. I’ve applied for some strange ones:  a .4 Health & Wellness teacher job, a temporary first grade position at a school district just south of Portland that I’ve never heard of before, and at a charter school in Estacada which is a mix of in person and on-line.  You’d think things would at least move quickly this week as schools try to hire people before students show up.  

Today Annabeth and I went to pick blueberries.  It was arranged for free through the food co-op, and we had to be done by 3.  I was exhausted after church so I took a nap, and we didn’t get there until 2:20.  I tasted the berries as we picked and I was pretty unimpressed.  Some were tasty, but lots were soggy--clearly the dregs of the blueberry season.  But, Annabeth was having fun, and she filled a yogurt container while I filled a pitcher.  Then I got stung by a bee as I reached into a blueberry bush and dropped my pitcher, spilling about half on the ground.  I tried scooping some back in, but they turned to mush.  Disgusted, I decided to look up the address of another blueberry farm I went to in previous years with a friend of mine.  I got ahold of the owner by phone, who told me he still had blueberries in the freezer I could buy, so Annabeth and I drove ten minutes to a different blueberry farm. 

We didn’t just show up, buy the berries and leave, oh no.  The owner gave us a tour of the 85 year old bushes, others that were the favorite of his late wife, and bushes producing tiny berries which are the only ones of their kind in the state of Oregon.  There were still berries on the bushes and he let us sample them.  These berries were firm and tart and incredibly delicious.  Annabeth was charming, and the owner kept pouring berries into her eager hands.  He told us a story about how he used to give a visiting preacher from Bend 5 lbs. of blueberries to eat on the drive home every Sunday, but they were gone by the time he got home and his wife never got to eat any of them.  He also told me how climate change is a huge hoax, which was less charming.  

So, in summary, I do not have a job, but I do have possibly the world’s most delicious blueberries in a cardboard box in my freezer. 

Yesterday afternoon I took Annabeth shoe shopping, to cheer both of us up.  It didn’t work.  If Dante had taken her instead, he would definitely have updated his circles of hell.  She was tired and crabby.  I was tired and emotionally raw from waiting to hear back about an interview I had on Monday.  There were lots of sparkly, light up Sketchers shoes and she loved them all.  Until she tried them on.  

Then the 3’s were too tight, the 5’s were too loose, and the 4’s were perfect  . . .  except that her heel didn’t feel right.  In EVERY pair of shoes she tried on!  We tried on every sparkly light up pink or purple shoe in the store and she ended up hating them all.  She was even more tired and crabby than when we started.  I was trying to be calm and comforting, but it came out more like how a zombie would try to be calm and comforting:  “Mooooooooaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnn,” “Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh,” “Doooooooooooooooon’t wooooooooooooorry, there are plenty of shoes in the world and we can always try on more somewhere else, but dear God, not today.”  

We eventually left the store, both of us in tears, with no new sparkly light up pair of shoes to show for all our hard work.  Then a few hours later, a friend of mine texted me:  “What size shoe does Annabeth wear?”  “4” I wrote back, because I think that is the perfect size for her despite the heel drama.  “I have a brand new pair of shoes that are size 4, do you think she would like them?”  I showed the picture of the shoes to Annabeth and she nodded her approval (which kind of shocked me).  My friend even was so gracious as to drop off the shoes last night and Annabeth tried them on.  At first she said they were better without socks, then that they were too tight, but then that she wanted to try them out.  So we took Remy for a walk around the block and she danced and pranced the whole way crowing about her new shoes.  Unbelievable.  

So, the Lord of the Universe has been really good with shoes lately.  It’s clear he is without question the Lord Who Is Able to find me and my daughter the shoes that we really want, right when we need them (see Chacos story).  And yet, I still don’t have a job. 

And the way in which I do not have a job is particularly heart breaking.  On Sunday night, I applied for a job which said it was temporary and for grades “1,2,3.”  Sounded weird, but I applied anyway, because right now I apply for anything and everything.  Monday morning at 8:30 I got a phone call from the principal of the school saying they were moving quickly and wanted to interview me that day.  I went in at 1 and had what I felt was a gloriously positive interview.  The principal and teachers were smiling, laughing, giving me lots of positive feedback.  And the job!  It turns out it’s to teach first grade all year with the possibility of being hired back the following year if the numbers stay the same.  A full year job with a salary and benefits and with the possibility of it being a long term job, and it came up suddenly AND they seemed to like me!  I was sure, totally sure, this was what I’d been waiting for, what the Lord of the Universe had prepared just for me, after all this painful waiting.  They told me they would make their decision on Tuesday.     

The rest of Monday I was ecstatic. Tuesday morning I was hopeful, getting ready for the phone to ring at any moment.  At lunchtime my stomach started to feel sick and I was having diarrhea.  By the evening I was sobbing and felt like I had the stomach flu.  No call, no email, no communication from the school I thought for sure would hire me.  Wednesday, I tried to remain hopeful that no news is good news.  I called the school in the afternoon and the secretary had me leave a voicemail for the principal.  He hasn’t called me back.

I feel like I’m ending the summer in exactly the way I started: broken hearted because I didn’t get a job I was sure I was perfect for.  But hey, Annabeth and I do have great shoes.  

SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED since I just wrote.  I got up early to write the last entry.  By 8am the principal called me back to tell me they hired someone else for the job.  I did a fair amount of sobbing, but then I had another interview that afternoon!  This one for a long-term sub job at a charter school that works with homeschoolers and is partially online.  

That interview was wacky.  They explained I would be teaching two mornings a week through google classroom (as in, sitting in my pajamas at the dining room table teaching kindergarten and first graders by talking into a camera) and two days on site teaching “enrichment activities.”  “You’ll be teaching beginning Spanish,” they told me.  “Ummmm, you know I don’t speak Spanish, right?” I cut in.  “Oh, don’t worry, we have a beginner’s curriculum,” was their response.  

So going into the weekend I was trying to wrap my head around what my life would be like if I got that job.  I talked with a friend of mine about the possibility that Jesus was inviting me to rest as my kid’s went back to school.  I tried to reframe the lack of a job as personal care from the Lord of the Universe.  Then Saturday morning I got a call for ANOTHER interview, this one for a kindergarten job in Wilsonville.  Truth be told, I wasn’t sure where Wilsonville was, but I pretended to when talking to the school principal.  

That interview was this morning.  Turns out Wilsonville is about half an hour southwest.  Closer than the Hillsboro job, but it still feels like a long way from home.  I felt the interview went ok.  The interview panel was much less effusive than the last, but then the effusive people didn’t offer me a job, so I don’t know what to think.  Here’s the thing though, if I get this job (they said they’d call me tomorrow, which I’m really trying to believe) they’ll want me to show up and teach Kindergarten the next day.  So, I am excited and terrified.  

And then . . . I got ANOTHER call for an interview this afternoon!  This is for a half time Health & Wellness teaching job at a very close school in North Clackamas.  I applied for this job several weeks ago, when I thought I might get a .4 job in the same position at a school where the principal likes me.  Half time and .4 could be almost full time, I reasoned.  But the .4 job went to someone else before I could even apply.  

The bottom line is my imagination is getting whiplash.  I completely imagined myself getting the first grade job last week and then my world fell apart when I didn’t.  Then I tried to talk myself into being happy with a long-term sub job teaching online and ridiculously, Spanish.  This morning I planned what I would do with Kindergartners on Wednesday (when they started school today!) if I got that job, and now I’m trying to wrap my head around why I wanted to teach Health & Wellness.  

This is a roller coaster, and I would really really really really really like to know what I’m going to be doing for the upcoming school year.  Anytime now.

Kai and Annabeth start school on Wednesday, but Toby has an extra day of summer because he is now a seventh grader and the first day of middle school is just for 6th graders.  The last week and today in particular have been agonizing in terms of parenting.  The kids are bored, totally sick of one another, but are nervous about school starting.  This results in lots of nastiness, tears, and extra video time.  One.  More.  Day.      

When I told my neighbor Andrea about shoe shopping with Annabeth and how nothing fit and then our friends came over that night with the perfect shoes, she said she thought it was a parable.  If so, then I’m still in the part where nothing fits and I’m in tears.  And really, I think I’ve been there all summer.  

This morning I got a very nice voicemail from the principal of the school in Wilsonville saying that I was a strong candidate but that they were looking for “something specific” and they were hiring someone who had whatever that was.  Even though I wasn’t sure driving to Wilsonville and teaching Kindergarten starting tomorrow was a good fit for me, I am still mourning the loss of that dream.  I planned to call my newly formed Kindergarten class “The Adventurers” and talk to them about how an adventure can make you excited but also uncomfortable.  And I was going to bring in this cool tent in the shape of a castle for our reading corner.  I was going to read them, “School’s First Day of School.”  I had plans.  I can’t help it.

Then I had to pull myself together and go to another interview this afternoon, this time for a .5 Health & Wellness teaching job.  This school is super close and I subbed there twice last spring.  I thought the interview went well, but at the end I asked if there was room to write curriculum and collaborate with teachers, and basically found out they would just want me to teach the curriculum as written to meet the health standards.  

I think the principal knew I wasn’t that excited about it.  She asked me: “Where do you see yourself in education?” and I told her as a classroom teacher and she nodded.  She said she would decide by the end of the week, but that I should let her know if I got another job before then.  It’s nice of her to think I could be offered a classroom teaching job this week.  I would really like that.  

So, just like Annabeth and her shoes, none of these jobs seem to fit me.  Also, I have not been offered any of them, including the bizarre long-term sub job at the charter school for homeschoolers.    

Tomorrow Annabeth and Kai start school, which is wonderful, because I can rest.  I am absolutely exhausted from interviewing and being disappointed, while parenting.  Along with it though will inevitably come the sorrow that the school year has started and I do not have a job.  

Today Kai and Annabeth went to school and I took Remy to the 1,000 acre dog park.  On the drive there he put his nose down confidingly on my leg and I scratched his ears.  I like having a dog.  We both ran around the dog park before it got incredibly hot.  The high today for the first day of school was 96, which is unfortunate since the kid’s school is basically a concrete oven.  

On the trail back I stopped to eat a blackberry.  Usually I only pick blackberries for baked goods, but I paused to sample this one.  It was delicious!  I thought of how strawberries were ripe in June and we went to pick them on Sauvie Island.  Then the raspberries in our yard were ripe, and you could always count on finding some for your cereal in the morning.  Blueberries are clearly at the end of their season right now, as I learned when Annabeth and I went picking last weekend.  But now blackberries are ripe.  

The last of the summer fruit, they seem to need every drop of sunshine to turn themselves from hard red seeds into juicy black jewels.  So I ate a lot of blackberries this morning and I hoped that even though I seem to have missed out on the strawberry jobs, the raspberry jobs, and even the blueberry jobs, that there might be a blackberry job out there still, ripening on the vine, close to perfection.  

Yesterday morning I got a call back from the principal of the school where I interviewed for the Health & Wellness job.  I was dreading hearing from her because I was pretty sure I didn’t want to actually take the job, but also felt that it would be stupid not to take a job that would be regular half time work and count towards that ellusive “years of experience” I’m apparently missing.  

So, she called and told me she was hiring someone else for the Health & Wellness job, but that she liked me a lot and wondered if I’d be interested in doing a maternity leave sub this fall.  YES!!  Yes, I would.  I thanked her for helping me realize my passion was for classroom teaching and for giving me an opportunity.  She said she’d call me.  So, the best of all possible worlds really, short of having an actual job.  

I felt so relieved!  My stomach, which had previously been too full of worry to eat, was open for business.  I floated out the door to volunteer at our food co-op, and even though my job was bagging up cream cheese for two hours, I was full of joy.  

But, since there’s no fixed time for that job, I’m still applying for jobs I see online.  Also, two teachers at my kid’s school asked me about maternity leave subbing, but neither job would start until January.  One is for P.E. and the other is ESL.  I feel incredibly flattered to be asked, but you’ll notice neither of those jobs is classroom teaching (and apparently I’d need at ESL endorsement). 

In addition to these options, I also applied for a job at Toby’s middle school teaching Language Arts.  I saw this job earlier, but a parent just told me it’s still unfilled.  I’m not even sure I could teach full-time at a middle school given my elementary endorsement, but I looked at my teaching license and it says PK-12, so I’m giving it a shot.  

A few weeks ago I texted one of my references to ask if she’d gotten any forms to fill out for me lately, but she said she hadn’t.  Then yesterday she texted me while I was bagging up cream cheese and said, “Your best job is still out there.  Don’t give up.”  I thanked her profusely for her encouragement.  I’ll take that as a word from the Lord.  

It’s strange that the kids started school mid-week and now we have a three day weekend.  We don’t have anything special planned except trying to finish our D & D adventure.  We’re close to facing the final boss in the tomb, I think.  We’ve all acquired some special abilities that I hope will be helpful.  Toby and Kai have some extra dexterity and strength, and Annabeth can walk on walls and the ceiling.  If I have to resort to challenging the boss to a game of marked cards, we’re in trouble.  

Today I took Remy to hang out while Toby has his sword fighting class a half hour away.  Remy and I went for a 20 minute run and then lay down in some wet grass to cool off. I peeked into the gym and got to see Toby doing legit sword fighting, with a fencing mask and steel sword.  It’s hard to tell how he looks because of the mask, but I hope hacking away at opponents is making him happy.  

This weekend nothing happened.  I filled out applications at the end of last week, but no one called me to set up an interview.  I was so relieved on Friday when I got the phone call from the principal, but somehow the happiness leaked out of me.  Now having a potential maternity sub job sometime this fall feels unsatisfying.  Who knows when it would start, and what if the teacher decides she doesn’t want me to sub for her?  And what will I do when that job is over?  I’m still mourning the loss of the full time jobs I interviewed for.  I’m mourning the certainty of working a whole year and the salary and the overall feeling of being wanted.

I’m set off by lots of little things:  reading the letter from Kai’s teacher describing “his dream job” at Whitman, which was coincidentally a dream job of mine; seeing Facebook pictures of kid’s starting school and posing with their smiling teachers; packing up the castle tent that I dreamed of using in my kindergarten classroom.  In between tears and moping, there were lots of good things about the 3-day weekend.  We did lots of house cleaning today, and finished our D & D campaign.  And tomorrow I can take another stab at resting instead of mourning.   

Alex told me this season reminds him of when I had a miscarriage, and I think he’s right.  After Kai was born, but before I got pregnant with Annabeth I had a miscarriage.  An early miscarriage, and not as traumatic as many women I knew experienced, but it was still death.  

That baby with supposed to be due in May, right around Alex and my birthdays, which I was excited about.  In the weeks and months after the miscarriage I had a difficult relationship with time.  I wanted to be pregnant, but I wasn’t, and therefore I felt that any time I spent not being pregnant was a waste.  It was hard to live day to day because I was *supposed* to be pregnant and I was *supposed* have a new baby in May.

This is similar to how I think about a teaching job:  I was *supposed* to get a job over the summer so I would have time to prepare before the new school year started.  I was *supposed* to at least have a job by the time my kids started school.  Everyday I don’t have a job feels like a waste of time.  Which is why I run errands, putter around the house, lie on the couch watching Castle, and still feel miserable when I pick the kids up from school.  

Yesterday I think I experienced another parable.  I needed to reset my PPS password because it was expiring.  I didn’t know passwords went bad, but it was clearly a hoop I needed to jump through so I looked up my old password.  What I had written down didn’t work.  One of my security questions was:  “Who was your kindergarten teacher?”  I answered:  “Mrs. Jaffey.”  Wrong.  I tried “Mrs. Jaffe,” “Ms. Jaffey” and just “Jaffee” but the system told me it was going to lock me out if I tried another wrong guess.  So I had to call tech support on the phone.  Cue ominous music.

Toby was home yesterday morning with his first bad cold of the season, so he was lying on the couch while I was on hold with tech support.  I put the hold music on speaker and started hearing sporadic updates:  “There are [pause] 3 customers ahead of you” and “There are [pause] 2 customers ahead of you.”  “Mom,” said Toby, “the numbers are going back up.”  He was right!  Over the course of half an hour while we both listened, the robot messages counted up and down between 1 and 4.  I’d think I’d be next in line, and then clearly I was last again.  

It was maddening, and I started yelling at the phone:  “Why are you skipping me!  I’m clearly in line!”  Toby looked at me totally deapan and said:  “Maybe it’s because you don’t have enough teaching experience.”  I turned to him, mouth open, almost on the verge of tears.  “Too soon?” he asked.  And then I realized how hysterically funny his joke was and started laughing.  Toby has clearly been paying attention to what’s going on with me this summer.   

Eventually the phone rang and I eagerly took it off speaker.  “Hello?” I said.  “Hello,” said a different robotic voice, “I’m sorry, but there is a problem with our hold system and your call cannot be answered.  Please call back at a different time.”  Well, I knew there was something wrong with your hold system, but why couldn’t you have told me that half an hour ago!  I fumed.  I paced.  I felt all the familiar emotions from this summer of being passed over, forgotten, and not communicated with.  And then, about 10 minutes later I called back, spoke immediately to a very helpful tech supporter who reset my password for me in about a minute.

Over.  Done.  The frustration felt like ancient history.

So, just to recap:  The kingdom of God is like shoe shopping with Annabeth and the kingdom of God is also like waiting on hold with tech support.  A period of complete frustration can be followed by a ridiculously easy fix.  So, I applied for 6 jobs that were posted just yesterday.  Where will I be in the parable?    

Today was Annabeth’s kid party.  It was scheduled for 2pm, but by 7am she was awake and in her new birthday dress and shoes.  Waiting was not easy.  This was also Kai’s first soccer game of the season.  By 7am he was worrying about playing midfielder, and whether or not his coach would put him in the second game.  It was full on anxiety like we haven’t seen in awhile.   Toby still has a cough.  I woke up at 4am and heard him singing and coughing.  When I asked him about it later he said, “What else was I going to do?  I was bored.”   

But, Alex took Kai to soccer and he ended up having a good time.  I got to clean the house sufficiently *and* do party prep with Annabeth that she was excited about (assigning guests charm bracelets and blowing up pink balloons).  Toby had the energy to play D&D with his friend.  At the end of the day I was exhausted.  “Can we just have birthday cake and popcorn for dinner?” I texted Alex.  

Annabeth and Kai fought over who was going to eat the fondant kitty ears on her birthday cake. Clearly it was going to be Annabeth, because it was her birthday cake, but he was still super grouchy about it and called her a “big jerk.”  His birthday party is a week from today.  We’ll see how generous he’s feeling with *his* cake then.   Annabeth and Kai are farther apart in age that Toby and Kai, but right now they are approximately the same height, weight and shoe size, and they fight like the world is only big enough for one of them.

This year Annabeth wanted a horse themed party.  Kai wanted a party with squirt guns, water balloons, and a slip and slide.  When Annabeth asked if she could also have a water fight at her birthday, Kai yelled: “NOOOOOOOO, that’s what I’m doing for my party!”  That shows you how competitive they are--they even fight over water.  

There ended up being water at Annabeth’s birthday party though--it rained.  Girls were bouncing on the trampoline when it started to drizzle.  We managed to get through the pinata before it started really coming down.  It felt like the first day of Fall.  I put on pajama pants and a bathrobe later and enjoyed feeling cozy.  September birthday parties in Portland can either be blazing hot or pouring down rain, you just never know.

Important post-script to what I wrote about Annabeth and Kai:  Tonight after her family party, Annabeth and Kai played really nicely together.  Kai asked if he could help her set up the pieces for her new fairy house (shock #1).  She delightedly said yes (shock #2)!  They worked together, they said please and thank you, it was like a Bernstein Bears story.  It was so miraculous, I wish I’d prayed for it to happen.  

Last night was like Dicken’s "Christmas Carol" except, instead of ghosts, I was visited by children and a dog.  At midnight, Remy woke me up with growling and barking.  He raced into the living room and I followed him, cautiously.  Once there he decided whatever he smelled/heard wasn’t an intruder, but that it was a good time to go outside and pee.  After that I couldn’t go back to sleep.  But, I actually had a great prayer time and wrote my own psalm:

Oh Lord, you know how my heart has been put through the wringer.

I’m tired of rejection, of always being the bridesmaid, but never the bride.

I’ve cried for months and months.  

My tears could turn a desert into a flower garden.  

Unleash the goodness you have for me.

I’m ready to do your will wherever and whenever.  

But please act quickly. 

I’ve been waiting so long.  

At 3:00 Annabeth woke me up because *she* needed to pee.  She wakes me up so I can walk with her to the bathroom.  And then wait and walk her back to bed.  I’m sure this won’t last her whole life.  I don’t think I fell back asleep.  At 4:30 Kai came in because his sleep was being hampered by excessive snot.  I told him he could snuggle in bed with me because Alex is traveling. Of course, Remy had already staked out the other side of the bed because he noticed the alpha male was absent at the beginning of the night.  

Remy and Kai jostled for position and I ended up with Remy at my feet and Kai’s legs across me.  Shockingly, I did fall back asleep, but then I woke up because I had a bad dream that someone was breaking into our house.  And THEN the smoke detector started beeping.  Luckily it didn’t wake up kids or dog, but I couldn’t sleep.  Changing the battery would require a ladder, and I was not up to getting it from the garage.  

The morning finally arrived and I felt like a zombie.  I called mom and asked her to drive the kids to school so I could stay in my pajamas and go straight back to bed.  Remy and I had a lovely day dozing on the couch listening to audio books.  Later we went for a long walk.  

The next night was completly uneventful, which was merciful, because I was well rested for interview #6.  This one was for a fifth grade position.  My other interviews have been for younger grades, so I was thinking hard about which stories to tell.  I got to the school on time, and was told the interview process was running late.  No problem, I have a book on my phone.  While I was waiting, someone came into the office behind me and said, “Hi Mae!”

There was Jenny, a woman from my grad school cohort, who I hadn’t seen since a baby shower in June.  I suppose it’s not shocking to see someone you know when you know lots of people who are applying for teaching jobs, but I was still pretty surprised.  And, you know, it was awkward.  She asked if I wanted to go out for lunch after the interviews. I said yes.  So, we both had our interviews and then went out to lunch.  Which was still sort of awkward, considering that mostly we talked about how we’ve been applying for all the same jobs. 

Plus, Jenny always made it clear she wanted to teach older elementary kids, but I think she pictures me as a syrupy sweet teacher of arts and crafts for kindergarteners.  “Fifth grade?  Really?” she asked me. I think she feels she should have dibs on all jobs over third grade. 

Now I’m waiting to hear back about this job.  This roller coaster feels sooooooo familiar:

Step 1:  Bored while waiting for someone to call to set up an interview.

Step 2:  Receive a call for an interview and feel elated!

Step 3:  Begin worrying about intervew.

Step 4:  Interview actually occurs, followed by tremendous relief.

Step 5:  Anxiety about when they will let me know the results of the interview.

Step 6:  If no job is offered, repeat.

The principal said at the end of the interview, “We’ll let you know soon.”  There was an emphasis on soon.  Which makes sense, because apparently this class has been without a teacher since the beginning of the school year.  I thought soon might be Saturday.  It wasn’t.  Now I think soon might be Monday?

On Friday I did my first sub job of the year, which turned out to be in Annabeth’s classroom.  At the beginning of the day a student said to me cheerfully, “I remember you from last year!  Do you remember me?”  “Yes!” I lied enthusiastically.  “You said I was totally out of control!” he responded, still cheerfully.  I didn’t know what to say.  But it didn’t take more than 15 minutes for me to remember him very well.  

“Totally out of control” actually described many students in the class, but with the help of several saintly grown ups, I came through it without too much yelling.  I think I only really lost my cool once.  Over lunch people asked about my job process and assured me I would find something, which was kind.  I still cried that night though because I was tired, and waiting to hear about the fifth grade job, and because everyone is so certain that I’ll get a job when it’s not them being rejected over and over.  

In other weekend news, we celebrated Kai’s kid party on Saturday.  Mercifully, the 60 degree and rainy weather held off until today.  Yesterday was sunny and 75, perfect for water baloons, squirt guns and the slip-n-slide that I got at the “End of Summer--70% off everything” sale at Fred Meyers.  Kai was worried about his soccer game, and about how his party would go.  He said his knee hurt.  He wanted to make sure he had enough turns on the slip-n-slide.  He couldn’t find anything to eat for breakfast.  But he played well in the soccer game, and had fun at the party, and was happily exhausted by the end.    

Soon was not Monday.  Jenny texted me:  “Have you heard anything?  Did you get the job?”  Turns out neither of us got the job.  This morning I called the office and asked politely if the position had been filled.  The woman on the phone stumbled through a “yes, but good luck in your continued job search” speech.  I really hate it when principals tell you they’ll let you know “soon” but it turns out they only mean “if you got the job.”  I wish they remembered the rest of us who didn’t get the job have feelings too.  

Today is my parent’s fiftieth wedding anniversary.  They went away to the beach for two days to celebrate.  While they were gone, I decorated their house with flowers, pictures from their wedding and a banner that says, “We Still Do.”  Remy whined outside the entire time.  Alex and I were talking about what we’ll do on our fiftieth.  Maybe take the space shuttle to the moon for dinner or teleport to Italy for gelato.    

These last two days have been hard.  I feel like my heart is packed inside cement.  I applied for another job today, but it felt completely pointless.  Annabeth’s teacher wants me to sub for her class again on Tuesday and several other dates.  My cooperating teacher from last fall texted me to ask if I was subbing.  I thought about responding:  “I hope not,” but instead I said, “I am.”  She wrote back:  “Awesome!!!” which was pretty heartless.  To me putting subbing dates on the calendar feels like dying.  

This weekend was rough.  On top of feeling sad about not getting called for any interviews, when a job I applied for just closed (this one school had THREE job openings!), Kai had a meltdown about soccer on Saturday.  Last fall he played with older kids because he has a September birthday and there was a friend whose team he wanted to be on.  

This year he was placed on a team of 5th and 6th graders, and there’s 20 of them.  They all practice together and then are split up into two teams for weekend games.  Kai was nervous at the beginning, but the league organized said he couldn’t play on a younger team.  Alex tried to help him tough it out, but he frequently complained his knee hurts.  “But your knee didn’t bother you while you were using the slip-n-slide at the birthday,” I pointed out.  “That’s because I was having FUN!” he explained.  

That’s the crux of the matter, he’s not having fun.  This lack of fun resulted in him locking himself in the bathroom on Saturday morning and declaring that he would not, absolutely, under no circumstances play in the soccer jamboree that day.  I unlocked the bathroom using a paperclip and sat in there trying to reason with him until he and I were both in tears.  Alex and I texted the coach to say he wasn’t coming and then slipped into our personal versions of despair.  Graciously realizing I needed a break, Alex let me take Toby to swordfighting.  I cried while I sat in the car and tried to read for fun.  

We got through the rest of the day.  Toby was the dungeon master for a D & D game, which took up a good chunk of the afternoon.  I tried not to think about Kai’s team taking their group picture without him.  After the kids went to bed we watched Riff Trax with “The Last Jedi” to try to “kick sadness in the butt,” as Alex put it.  We did some laughing.

Now it’s Sunday night.  Kai says he’s open to trying soccer again if he can play with the other fourth graders.  We can try begging the league to bump him down.  I feel a little better knowing he’s not resolved against soccer as an entire sport.  I think maybe I could take some sub jobs this week.  On Tuesday I have another date subbing for Annabeth’s class.  Tell you the truth, when I said “yes” I was hoping I would have a job by then, and I could cancel.  No such luck.    

One good thing that happened this weekend was our at home church service.  Access was not meeting, and we were encouraged to go to another church.  Alex and I were too emotionally drained to contemplate taking the kids to another church, so we decided to stay in and do our own thing.  Alex polled the kids on their favorite worship songs, and he and Toby figured out playing them on the guitar and piano.  We took turns praying for each other.  Kai asked God to give me a teaching job.  Alex prayed for Kai’s knee to feel better.  Toby prayed for Alex to not get sad as the weather gets gray and rainy.  Global warming was the subject of Toby’s prayer request, which surprised me.  Ananbeth wanted to pray for Remy.  

We talked about the story of Elijah defeating the prophets of Baal, collapsing in exhaustion, and then hearing the still small voice of God.  I very much enjoyed church while sitting on the couch wearing my bathrobe, drinking tea, with Remy contemplatively gnawing on a bone at my feet.

I made spaghetti for dinner tonight.  Toby asked me if there was any sauce, and when I showed him the marinara with ground pork he hugged me.  A spontaneous show of affection from my almost teenaged son is a special moment, even when it’s inspired by food.

After dinner I took Toby shopping for new clothes.  Usually I get him clothes at thrift stores or look for hand-me-downs, but he keeps growing, and he hardly had any long pants that fit, so I thought a trip to Old Navy was in order.  Also, Toby doesn’t pay very much attention to his physical body, so I keep looking for ways to spiff him up a little.  

We remind him to shower, use acne medicine, change his clothes, apply deodorant, that kind of thing.  He told me he only wanted to wear sweatpants, but at Old Navy I encouraged him to try on khakis and jeans.  Miraculously, he found some that he liked and were comfortable!  Seeing him in nicely fitting jeans and a long sleeved baseball T made me tear up a little.  Toby scowled at me in the dressing room mirror and said, “Mom, you’re enjoying this WAY too much!”, so I tried to tone down my enthusiasm.      

This week, I tried working.  I subbed for Annabeth’s class on Tuesday, and even though it was still fairly bananas, I did not feel depressed.  Teaching, I think, is good for my soul.  At least better than staying at home, walking the dog, running errands, trying to nap, and crying.  So, flushed with success, I picked up a second grade job for today at a school in North Clackamas where I had never subbed before.  

The first five staff people I met in the building all warned me about the class I was subbing for.  They used a variety of expressions:  challenging, difficult, defiant, hard to control.  The teacher in her sub plans said, “This class has some *interesting* behaviors . . .”  But, if their goal was to lower my expectations so much that I appreciated any good thing that happened, it totally worked.  The morning meeting went well, students used manipulatives during math effectively, and they all started singing along when I read “Over in the Meadow,” which was charming.  Sure, there were some students who hardly did any work, but no one was rude to me or tried to leave the classroom, which I find makes a big difference.

Then I got a text from Jenny during my lunch break that she got an interview for a fourth grade job in PPS at a school where she worked before.  It’s totally her dream job.  I texted her “Hooray!!!!!” and a confetti emoji even though I, of course, had applied for this job as well.  I do feel happy for her and hope they hire her.  I’m just not enjoying having a front row seat to her triumph while I become an object of pity.  It hurts my pride to be one of the last ones from my grad school cohort offered a full time job.  

Alex got a call this week from the soccer league saying Kai got transferred to a soccer team made up of third and fourth graders.  We were excited, but there didn’t seem like a good time to tell Kai.  He’s been complaining about his legs hurting this week even without playing soccer.  So much so that Tuesday morning he stayed home from school because he was so anxious we couldn’t get him out the door.  Wednesday he went to school but came home and lay right down on the couch and moaned and groaned.

He also said his stomach hurts (but was also hungry) and complained he was having trouble breathing.  This is all different symptoms of anxiety, and the worst he’s had in awhile.  

This morning while he was having cereal and worrying about feeling sick at school, Alex and I trepidatiously told him the soccer team news and waited for an explosion.  Instead, he seemed excited.  Kai went to his first soccer practice tonight and said, “That was SO fun!”  And then he hobbled to the shower to wash off the mud.

These words on the screen tonight are my altar, the stones I’m stacking up to commemorate the dead coming back to life.  Saturday I buried my dreams of Kai playing soccer with tears and groans.  Tonight they were resurrected.  Thank you, Jesus.  

I had a vivid dream last night:  I was at Whitcomb, the school where I interviewed for the half-time Health & Wellness job and the principal said she wanted me to sub for a maternity leave this fall.  In my dream lots of people were lining up to fill out forms and trying to talk to the principal.  I overheard someone say, “We’re only doing paper applications because we already know who we want to hire and we don’t want to waste time with interviews.”  

At last a man held up a sign with my name on it and proclaimed:  “This is our pick!” and I ran into his arms and he hugged me.  Then he told me I would get a fresh loaf of bread each day for working there.  I looked around and the scene had morphed into a bakery.   

My subconscious wants to think about this job, apparently.  I’ve been avoiding thinking about it, and also writing about it.  A week or so ago I emailed the principal at Whitcomb and asked about the maternity leave sub job.  She wrote back within minutes (even though it was 8pm) and said:  “Since it is for the rest of the year I will need to post it.  As soon as it is posted I will send you the link!”  I was excited to hear about the length of the job, but when she said it would have to be advertised to the ravenous crowd of job seekers, I felt sick to my stomach.  Last time I was interviewing with other candidates for the Health & Wellness job, I’m sure there are more and better qualified candidates for elementary teaching jobs.

Then I got a call about an interview for another maternity leave sub job, this one to teach fourth grade in Gladstone from December through March.  We have friends whose kids who go to this school and they emailed the principal about me.  When I had this interview date on the calendar, I realized the principal at Whitcomb had never told me when her sub job started!  Sure, it goes through the end of the school year, but what if it doesn’t start until March!  Maybe I could do the Gladstone job first?  I emailed the principal and asked for clarification.  This time I waited six days to hear from her.  It was, shall we say, frustrating.  I hoped she was taking a long time because she was getting the job posted, and then would send me a link.

During the wait I kept busy by subbing for Annabeth’s class two consecutive days.  I went into the job with a cold, and when it was over I had very little voice.  I’ve decided that subbing for this particular class is like steering a ship on the ocean.  I’m in charge of keeping the main group of kids on course, and if a few of them jump off the boat, it’s got to be someone else’s job to throw them life preservers, and set off in dinghys to retrieve them.  When they come back I invite them to be part of what we’re doing, as many times as is necessary.  With this mindset, I didn’t go crazy, and I didn’t obsess about the principal not emailing me back.   

Then she did email be back on Tuesday afternoon:  “Mae, it would be for the rest of the year.”  That was the entire contents of the message.  I felt like ripping out my hair and screaming, “You already told me that a WEEK ago!”  I was too tired to email her back, and it felt pointless.  Mom suggested I call the school office, because “they will definitely know.  School secretaries know more than the principal.”  

Wednesday morning I took the day off.  I took Remy for a long walk/run in the cold sunshine.  Then I gritted my teeth and called the school office.  Two different secretaries were pleasant and told me the sub job would start November 4th at the latest.  You never know, the baby might come early.  I was both exhilarated and frustrated.  What an amazing job!  November through the rest of the school year means I would start teaching and not have to give the class back!  Then, that’s just a few weeks from now, why hasn’t the principal posted the job so I can find out for sure if I’m doing this amazing job?!?!?!?!    

I don’t know what’s going to happen.  But in my dream, I was so happy.  It doesn’t all need to come true, after all, I can bake my own fresh bread.

Last night I was exhausted.  I came home from Sunday night dinner early with the kids, let them start video time, and went to bed.  I didn’t even sleep right away, I just lay there listening to “The Great British Baking Show.”  Eventually I dozed off.  Alex came home and had the kids brush their teeth.  I rallied around 9:30 to get up and load the dishwasher.

I tell myself I shouldn’t be tired since I’m not working full time.  And then I tell myself it’s probably good I don’t have a full time job because I probably couldn’t handle it.  But the truth is, waiting is tiring.  Parenting is tiring.  This weekend there was never really a break.  And I told myself it didn’t matter, that there would be a break later, but there never was.  There was always someone who needed me to listen to them, play with them, always a meal to cook or something to clean.    

Alex and I had a date on Saturday night at a pizza place which reminded me of 80’s pizza places from my childhood.  Even the cloudy plastic cups for RC from the soda fountain were authentic.  We played pinball and a Sherlock Holmes game we brought.  At the end of the evening when we pulled back into the driveway I brought up the subject of a house mom had found on Zillow.  It’s in the neighborhood, has 5 bedrooms and 4 (why?!?!) bathrooms.  But hardly any yard.  Alex scrolled through the pictures and said, “I feel meh.”  Which made me sad.  Not because I really want to move to a house where we couldn’t have the chickens or Remy roaming around, but because it’s another no.  Another possibility to cross off the list.  And because we don’t know what we’re doing.  Are we staying here and doubling down, or will we go somewhere else?    

Today I had my first group interview, which I didn’t even know was a thing.  It was for a fourth grade long term sub job in Gladstone, which is one town with its own school district and one elementary for 800 students.  I vaguely remember having a group interview for a residence life job in college, but there they wanted to see us collaborate as a team. 

In this interview, they just had us sit across a table from them and take turns answering questions.  So I would answer a question, and then listen while the other two women answered the question, and vice versa.  They took turns with who got to answer the questions first. 

The two other candidates were older women who had lots of teaching experience.  One had taught elementary for 20 years, then taught university classes, then retired.  “So this must be an awkward experience for you,” said the principal.  “I haven’t had an interview in a long time,” she affirmed.  Whereas for me, this was interview number 7 since the beginning of August.  Actually, I think my recent interview experience worked to my advantage.  I gave clear, concise answers, and I told stories and made them laugh.  The other two tended to ramble, and were very serious.  

I don’t think they’ll offer me this job, though.  The retired teacher was clearly known in the building, and is currently subbing there for a teacher who had surgery.  Why wouldn’t they pick her?  I’m not even sure why they bothered having a formal interview process.  If I knew I would have the long-term kindergarten sub job, I wouldn’t mind, but of course, I DON’T know.    

Well, this week I had one of my worst subbing days ever, and I did not get the Gladstone job.  Thursday I went to a North Clackamas elementary because the principal called and asked me to pick up three days of subbing.  I was so flattered!  I really like this school and this principal.  So Thursday I showed up at the school and learned that the fourth grade class I was teaching has been without their regular teacher for several weeks, and they have not been doing well with their long term sub.  Oh, and the SPED teacher was gone for the day too.  The principal said I could call the office if I needed help.  I should have just run out the door at that point.

I’ve subbed for this kind of class before, but it’s been awhile.  From the very beginning students did not give me their attention and were generally rude to me and each other.  

Me: Fourth graders--stop, look, and listen.

(still lots of noise)

Me:  Fourth graders, this is an attention getting signal!  When you hear it your job is to stop what you are doing, turn your body so you can look at me, and stop talking so you can listen to my instructions.  

Student:  Can we still breathe?

Other student:  Do you think she wants us to not breathe?  

(more talking and snickering)   

And that’s pretty much how it went the whole day.  I asked for their attention, I waited, I re-explained the expectations, repeat to infinity.  In addition, students switched seats and their name tags to sit next to their friends then got ratted out.  Girls formed rival gangs at recess which had to be broken up the principal.  One boy told me he had never been asked to walk in a line and sure wasn’t going to start today.  When I got the last student on the bus I started to cry.  Some teachers came over and were supportive.  They said I shouldn’t feel bad, that I was a great teacher, but that the class was really hard.  Later the other fourth grade teachers came to the room and told me they had very nice classes and would love for me to sub for them sometime.  

I came home and pondered the fact that the principal had signed me up for two more days teaching this class later in the month.  I really really really really didn’t want to teach this class again.  Ever.  But would it burn my bridges with the school to cancel?  

That night I checked the job listings and found the job at Whitcomb had finally been listed!  FINALLY!!  And the fine print said the job would start October 21, which was coincidentally one of the days I was supposed to sub.  I applied for the job, and emailed the principal to say, “So sorry to have to cancel my other subbing dates for fourth grade, but I anticipate starting a long term sub job that week.”  And even if my hopes are dashed and I don’t get that job, I will definitely not be drowning my sorrows by teaching those fourth graders again.  

Friday morning I got a phone call from the Gladstone principal saying, “We’ve decided to move another candidate forward.”  This is an interesting euphemism I’ve heard frequently, and it never makes me feel less rejected.  The principal also suggested I get on their sub list so that they can get to know me better and see if I’m a “good fit” for their school.  Really makes me wonder why they bothered interviewing me in the first place.  Maybe they needed a disposable someone they didn’t know to interview with the woman who was already teaching there to satisfy due diligence.

Do I sound angry?  I am.  I’m angry at the Gladstone principal and several other principals who didn’t hire me AND didn’t get in touch with me when they said they would.  I’m also angry at the principal for signing me up for three subbing days without telling me anything about the class.  

Oh, and I’m angry at the person on OfferUp who lectured me today about why I should take $5 for the dog toy I was selling that cost $32 new.  

But I did make potato leek soup for dinner, and as I cut into the purple potatoes that Alex grew in our garden, I was shocked by the beautiful color.  The dull dirty exterior revealed a crisp royal purple with rings like a tree trunk.  Every slice was like cracking open a geode.  The soup tasted pretty good too.  My work life stinks, but there is still beauty in the world.  

I’ve decided to pretend I’m going to be working full time soon.  Towards this end I’m doing lots of fun things this week.  Also, after last week’s subbing debacle, I feel I’ve earned some time off.  On Monday, mom and I went to our favorite thrift store for a half off sale.  Today she and I took Remy to doggy Disneyland, otherwise known as the 1,000 acre dog park.  We walked along trails while Remy raced ahead then back to see where we were.  He was going so fast it looked like his back legs were flapping.  Pitbulls are not super graceful runners, but he makes up for it with adorable enthusiasm.  Mt. Hood was visible, and the leaves on the trees were turning fall colors.  We chatted and strolled and watched Remy swim in cold river water.  We also found a surprising treasure:  an art installation by Maya Lin listing all the animals Lewis and Clark wrote about in their journals.  Not sure if she originally intended for her work to be on display in a dog park.

Last time I went to the 1,000 acre dog park I ate end of season blackberries and thought about finding a blackberry job.  I took a picture of the delicious fruit and set it as the lockscreen on my phone.  Lately I’ve felt bitter when I see it though, because there are no more blackberries, and I still don’t have a job.  But I’ve been looking around to find things that are more beautiful now than they were over the summer, and I noticed the sunflowers in our front yard.  

In August they were starved for water, and there were only a few flowers.  I had every intention of watering them regularly, but forgot.  Now there is plenty of rain, but it’s not cold enough to frost, so the sunflowers are flourishing.  There are numerous bright gold flowers edged in brown, and many small green knobs of future promise along the stalks.  So I took a picture of the sunflowers and they have replaced the blackberries as my lockscreen.    

Yesterday I started to get nervous.  Yesterday was the day three of the long-term sub jobs closed for applications.  Would I get a call?  When?  At what point should I totally give up hope on getting any of these jobs?

Luckily, I was distracted most of the day by subbing for the librarian at Whitman.  Mom came and helped me check out the books to kids.  It was pretty great.  But then past 10 all the kids were in bed and Alex was traveling for work and I was lying in bed in the dark and I started to cry.  I imagined not hearing anything from the schools I applied to.  I imagined being told by Whitcomb that they found someone they liked better than me.  I spiraled down pretty fast.  Luckily, I was able to call and talk to Alex which calmed me down.  

This morning I got a call from the secretary at Whitcomb.  She called while I was walking Remy around the park outside Toby’s middle school.  I was so nervous, I’d already been walking him for 40 minutes, but I couldn’t face going home and waiting for the phone to ring.  The secretary said I was being considered for the job, but that the teacher needed to go on maternity leave and would I sub next week for the class.  I said yes, and then hung up the phone to decide how I felt.  Still pretty nervous.  The secretary said I was “one of the candidates they were considering” and that “the principal was finding out if I needed to be reinterviewed or if they could use my first interview.”  So, it’s nice to be called to be the immediate sub, but it’s no guarantee that I’ll actually get the long-term sub job.  

Alex says I have the inside track by subbing for the class next week, and that once they see me teach they will definitely want to hire me.  I don’t see the positives however, instead I imagine how terrible it would feel to teach for a few days and then find out they hired someone else.  

But they didn’t hire someone else.  They hired me.  ME!  For a full time job with a salary and benefits.  And I love this class.  They are exactly the kids I want to be teaching, just 6 minutes from our house.  It feels like adoption--I didn’t start the year with this class, but they are mine now, for the whole rest of the year.