"Gigi" is 51 weeks old now. She's really getting the hang of this walking thing. Still no teeth, despite much wailing and gnashing of gums. Some garment-rending will no doubt be part of this process as well.
In the past few weeks, when I'm not chasing her down (or downing a chaser), I am looking at my options for returning to work. We're hoping to go back to Europe, just not quite so far east if we can swing it. My husband would like to continue telecommuting, and we need a compatible time zone for that.
But man oh man. Top three ways to pummel one's self-esteem into the mud: read too much Sylvia Plath while listening to early Tori Amos on a rainy day; stand in your undies before a three-way dressing room mirror; dust off and update your resume after two years in a $h!tty job and one year of extended diaper detail.
(Okay, in all fairness, the first year of that two-year Baltic stint was not so awful. Yes, it was the coldest winter on record since the second world war, but at least my boss had interpersonal skills and realistic, concrete goals I could fulfill.)
I have a strong sense of what I want out of this job hunt, but I just don't know how to get it. I mean, you can't really tell HR, at least not in writing, "I took one for the team, it got me nowhere and nearly destroyed my health; you [insert epithet of choice]s OWE ME BIGTIME. Anyone suggestions about how to phrase that diplomatically, kindly forward to purplescareblog@yahoo.com. In the meantime, I'm going to borrow some of my daughter's Baby Mozart for Big Brains CDs and try my hand at Word's Resume Wizard. Wish me luck!