Time Marches On
Seven months makes a difference. Husband’s job situation is no longer terminal. Old, dying job has been replaced with much livelier but lower paying employment. Kiddo’s school behavior seems to no longer be an issue, but who knows, parent/teacher conference next month could prove to be a slap in the face.
Assuming that horse breeding experience does not qualify one to work in a library turns out to be logical thinking. The silence that followed my application was unsurprising. However, where one sliding door closes, another opens.
Today, I am nearing six months into my studies to be a medical transcriptionist. Faint aura of scam and scandal are to be ingnored. The industry and school are legit. Certainly won’t get rich with this, but benefits abound. I’ll join the ranks of the telecommuters, be able to work in jammies, and not have a nervous breakdown when Kiddo has to miss school for yet another illness. Better still, I will rule at Scrabble with my medical dictionary.
Among the new parental challenges are health concerns for the Kiddo, who decided at 8-1/2, to become asthmatic. Then two months later, she developed nasty little headaches that apparently belong under the migraine umbrella. All we need now is H1N1. Tempted to go medieval and festoon the house with garlic and crosses. Given Kiddo’s propensity for sticking fingers and hands in her mouth, it ought to be equally effective.
