Yeah. Not enough time in my world for all of that.
So let's just say:
He was here. It was nice. He left. We cried. It sucked.
Single moms of the world: how do you juggle work with grocery shopping and cooking and baseball season and track meets and sleepovers at multiple houses and rain and mom I need to bake something round for pi day tomorrow? Oh, and taxes. Which, bye bye, danger pay, because it turns out the government gets it all back in the end. And don't forget a looming pack out, which means visas and plane tickets and finding a place to stay during home leave and...
I'm so far past the end of my rope, there's no end in sight.
So I was sitting with my friend S the other day. S just happens to be the regional global employment advisor for the whole of the middle east, which means she is about as brilliant as they come and I want to be just like her when I grow up. She was helping me rewrite my resume, because if I want to apply for my current job once I get to Moscow, I need to have a resume on USAJobs, and this is no small task. For example: take everything you know about writing resumes, write it all down on a piece of paper, crumple it up into a ball, set it on fire, and then do the opposite of whatever you wrote down. That, my friends, is USAJobs in a nutshell. The goal, in the end, is to have the longest damned resume on the planet, with key words and important-sounding verbs scattered across all 27 pages of resume goodness. And that is what S was helping me do: write a novel about myself. (Well, non-fiction, novel length, technically speaking. I guess they frown on totally made up stuff...).
There we were, looking at this gigantic behemoth of a resume, she scribbling furiously and me eating bacon and eggs because I couldn't remember if I'd eaten breakfast that morning, when suddenly she slammed her pen down, looked at me over the top of her glasses and said, "damn woman, you do all of this and raise four kids while your husband is in Baghdad? You're a superhero! They're not going to survive without you in that office!"
I paused, midway through bacon slice #3, and contemplated this thought. I realized that A.) if she thought that, it meant my resume was finally complete, a bloated and overwrought masterpiece, and B.) I love this friend of mine, S, even if she is a teensy bit wrong about me.
So, hey. Busy. That's me. But also? I'm a freaking superhero, people! The regional global employment advisor said it herself, so you know it's true.
(Also? I wonder if superhero is a workable search term for USAJobs.)