Well, I've made the big plunge, and have updated my resume and submitted it for a casual position at the local hospital.
Why casual? Because they don't hire externally for any positions but casual.
I've applied to long-term care (they call it complex care these days). I'll be following the online application up with a resume dropped at human resources for casual in all the other areas of the hospital.
So long as I can get a casual position and start banking seniority, I'll be laughing.
I also need to apply at the prison, because they don't work night shifts there.
I'm feeling a little better about life, keep your fingers crossed that I start working quickly.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
My Dad
Being raised to be an opinionated, independent person by an opinionated father meant that my Dad and I have often had a rocky relationship. Most of my teen years we spent fighting. We spent much of my late twenties, after I moved home to finish my degree fighting. As I've eased into my thirties, settled into a home of my own, and had a daughter, my sometimes strained relationship with my father has grown in leaps and bounds.
Despite our rollercoaster, there are some universal truths about my Dad.
He can build anything. If I need things built that go beyond my excellent shelf building skills, I call my Dad. It's not really a finished product unless he's baptized it in his own blood, but the man can build anything.
He can fix anything. When I was in grade 12, I bought my first car. It was a 12 year old Honda Accord, and like most 12 year old cars, the shelf life on most of the parts had expired. I can't count how many times I would come home and hand my keys over and tell him (never ask) to fix my car. Similarly, when I was wondering what I needed to do to make on of our toilets stop running, Dad told me what parts I needed, but gave me a tip to try before I gutted the tank that helped.
He is brilliant, but incredibly modest. Dad is university educated, but beyond that, he is well read, he keeps up on current events and knows stuff. Despite that, I was raised to know my Mum was brilliant, and Dad never let us kids forget we were above average either - but he always played himself off as a dummy of the family. The man worked super hard in university, and has a degree with a triple major. Whenever he's been called on to do something outside his field of expertise he learns how and is proficient.
He is funny. Dad and Mum both have an awesome sense of humour, and encouraged my brother and I to develop ours. Dad was who I saw Army of Darkness with, and we laughed our asses off. That's just one example. Dad says funny things and does funny stuff to make us all laugh.
He is romantic. Dad probably doesn't realize it because he likes to play up being a redneck, but everything he does, he does to the fullest of his abilities, and that includes romance. He loves my Mum with his entire being, and even though he is too macho to say the words, every year, on the day they met, he gives her a bouquet of roses with another added to the bunch - 1 for every year.
He is caring and his family is his universe. When I was a little girl, we had this game we played. We would walk in opposite directions around the house, and every time we met up, we would hug. It wasn't a game that we would agree needed playing, it was just something that happened every once and while. Dad would start walking around the house, I would walk in the other direction and hugging would happen. That all ended when I become a cranky hormonal teenager. I miss those hugs.
He is an amazing teacher. Whenever there's something I have to do, and I don't know how, I call Dad and ask. He usually can teach me over the phone. I know it drove him crazy when I did that when I lived in Vancouver because he couldn't just come take care of it, but he's taught me a helluva lot of things over the phone. Dad was a teacher by profession for over 30 years. He still has students run over to say hello to him because for all that is a gruff guy, he was a remarkable teacher to them as well.
He can diagnose car problems over the phone. This is tied in with the last one, but deserves its own spot. When I lived in Vancouver, I could call and say 'my car is doing _____' or 'my car is making this noise: ________' and Dad could tell me what was wrong with about 90% accuracy. This was infinitely helpful when going into mechanics. They didn't see a 20-something girl that they could dupe, they saw a confident young woman who said 'There's something wrong with my ______. I think it's the _______. Can you check it?' Dad's knack for understanding my weird car noises and descriptions saved me loads of money.
He adores my daughter. He took her to a railway museum yesterday, and took her on the little ride-on train. He lights up when he sees her, and I've heard him sing to her when he thinks no one else in around. She snuggles with him like she snuggles with no one else. The way he loves her reminds me of the way my Poppa loved me, and I am so grateful for the relationship he is building with her. My Poppa was one of the hugest influences in my young life, and I'm excited to see my Dad stepping into that role with my daughter.
Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you!
Despite our rollercoaster, there are some universal truths about my Dad.
He can build anything. If I need things built that go beyond my excellent shelf building skills, I call my Dad. It's not really a finished product unless he's baptized it in his own blood, but the man can build anything.
He can fix anything. When I was in grade 12, I bought my first car. It was a 12 year old Honda Accord, and like most 12 year old cars, the shelf life on most of the parts had expired. I can't count how many times I would come home and hand my keys over and tell him (never ask) to fix my car. Similarly, when I was wondering what I needed to do to make on of our toilets stop running, Dad told me what parts I needed, but gave me a tip to try before I gutted the tank that helped.
He is brilliant, but incredibly modest. Dad is university educated, but beyond that, he is well read, he keeps up on current events and knows stuff. Despite that, I was raised to know my Mum was brilliant, and Dad never let us kids forget we were above average either - but he always played himself off as a dummy of the family. The man worked super hard in university, and has a degree with a triple major. Whenever he's been called on to do something outside his field of expertise he learns how and is proficient.
He is funny. Dad and Mum both have an awesome sense of humour, and encouraged my brother and I to develop ours. Dad was who I saw Army of Darkness with, and we laughed our asses off. That's just one example. Dad says funny things and does funny stuff to make us all laugh.
He is romantic. Dad probably doesn't realize it because he likes to play up being a redneck, but everything he does, he does to the fullest of his abilities, and that includes romance. He loves my Mum with his entire being, and even though he is too macho to say the words, every year, on the day they met, he gives her a bouquet of roses with another added to the bunch - 1 for every year.
He is caring and his family is his universe. When I was a little girl, we had this game we played. We would walk in opposite directions around the house, and every time we met up, we would hug. It wasn't a game that we would agree needed playing, it was just something that happened every once and while. Dad would start walking around the house, I would walk in the other direction and hugging would happen. That all ended when I become a cranky hormonal teenager. I miss those hugs.
He is an amazing teacher. Whenever there's something I have to do, and I don't know how, I call Dad and ask. He usually can teach me over the phone. I know it drove him crazy when I did that when I lived in Vancouver because he couldn't just come take care of it, but he's taught me a helluva lot of things over the phone. Dad was a teacher by profession for over 30 years. He still has students run over to say hello to him because for all that is a gruff guy, he was a remarkable teacher to them as well.
He can diagnose car problems over the phone. This is tied in with the last one, but deserves its own spot. When I lived in Vancouver, I could call and say 'my car is doing _____' or 'my car is making this noise: ________' and Dad could tell me what was wrong with about 90% accuracy. This was infinitely helpful when going into mechanics. They didn't see a 20-something girl that they could dupe, they saw a confident young woman who said 'There's something wrong with my ______. I think it's the _______. Can you check it?' Dad's knack for understanding my weird car noises and descriptions saved me loads of money.
He adores my daughter. He took her to a railway museum yesterday, and took her on the little ride-on train. He lights up when he sees her, and I've heard him sing to her when he thinks no one else in around. She snuggles with him like she snuggles with no one else. The way he loves her reminds me of the way my Poppa loved me, and I am so grateful for the relationship he is building with her. My Poppa was one of the hugest influences in my young life, and I'm excited to see my Dad stepping into that role with my daughter.
Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you!
Friday, June 19, 2009
I didn't even notice...
A few posts ago was my 400th post. I somehow didn't even notice.
I've been distracted. Beaker has been off work now for a month. It took me a month of nagging at the licensing college to finally get my application assessment approved, so now I'm actually just waiting on my license to come in the mail. My understanding is that there is a new overtime ban at the hospital which should mean plenty of work for me once I am hired as a casual. And then when Beaker gets back to work, I can work more casually.
The no overtime thing sucks though. I was really hoping I could make up the difference in our wages through the effective use of overtime shifts. Bleh. If my understanding is correct though, there's only a 16 dollar difference between our daily wages, so *fingers crossed*.
This thin spot has consumed me. My depression and anxiety are remarkably well managed, but I also had just upped my dose right before Beaker was laid off, so that probably helped. I wasn't handling life terribly well before then, so for me to managing well now is a total bonus. I am the kind of worrier that will make myself sick when I don't handle my stress well. The fact that I am not puking my guts out is super awesome. But I am still consumed with how we will continue to pay bills. Thankfully we had a huge tax return come at exactly the right moment. I was reimbursed from my reign travel expenses at exactly the right moment. And Beaker's employment insurance claim started paying almost instantly, which means our mortgage, at least, is covered.
Stupid recession.
I have a level of self-awareness and clarity I don't recall having for a long time. I know that we'll be okay. Beaker's company has always been awesome to him, and so long as I get work within the next month or two, we'll make it through just fine. It's going to be tight, but we'll make it.
As a sidebar to this, it's amazing how crises like loss of income can renew faith. Beaker always has faith that things will turn out alright. If he doesn't, he certainly puts on a remarkable poker face. But family members I never expected to say a word have been super supportive. They have faith that we'll make it through this patch just fine. It's reassuring to know there are so many people on our side.
It has bolstered my own waning faith in ways I can't even imagine.
I've been distracted. Beaker has been off work now for a month. It took me a month of nagging at the licensing college to finally get my application assessment approved, so now I'm actually just waiting on my license to come in the mail. My understanding is that there is a new overtime ban at the hospital which should mean plenty of work for me once I am hired as a casual. And then when Beaker gets back to work, I can work more casually.
The no overtime thing sucks though. I was really hoping I could make up the difference in our wages through the effective use of overtime shifts. Bleh. If my understanding is correct though, there's only a 16 dollar difference between our daily wages, so *fingers crossed*.
This thin spot has consumed me. My depression and anxiety are remarkably well managed, but I also had just upped my dose right before Beaker was laid off, so that probably helped. I wasn't handling life terribly well before then, so for me to managing well now is a total bonus. I am the kind of worrier that will make myself sick when I don't handle my stress well. The fact that I am not puking my guts out is super awesome. But I am still consumed with how we will continue to pay bills. Thankfully we had a huge tax return come at exactly the right moment. I was reimbursed from my reign travel expenses at exactly the right moment. And Beaker's employment insurance claim started paying almost instantly, which means our mortgage, at least, is covered.
Stupid recession.
I have a level of self-awareness and clarity I don't recall having for a long time. I know that we'll be okay. Beaker's company has always been awesome to him, and so long as I get work within the next month or two, we'll make it through just fine. It's going to be tight, but we'll make it.
As a sidebar to this, it's amazing how crises like loss of income can renew faith. Beaker always has faith that things will turn out alright. If he doesn't, he certainly puts on a remarkable poker face. But family members I never expected to say a word have been super supportive. They have faith that we'll make it through this patch just fine. It's reassuring to know there are so many people on our side.
It has bolstered my own waning faith in ways I can't even imagine.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The Viscountess Diaries: War
In February, when we were divested of our thrones and claim to our principality, my viscount told me to return to his lands with him.
I refused. I have lands of my own to tend, a family, and my Love to cherish.
The head of my viscount's troops threatened that if I did not come willingly, I could expect an invasion of my lands and the lands of my friends. That he would lead an army against me, decimate the lands around me, and take me back to my viscount.
And my viscount supported his threats.
I returned home and sounded the warning. The forces around my lands rallied, determined to keep me near them, such is their care for me. We planned endlessly, and spoke to mercenaries from near and far.
And the day drew near. We welcomed the invading force, plied them with good food, and hoped they would leave. Our efforts backfired though, as this was seen as more reason why I should return to my viscount. He himself made the journey to attempt to take me back by force. I despaired. My Love, by my side, swore he would die to keep me and my young daughter safe from the clutches of my viscount.
The next morning saw troops readying for battle. I tried to talk sense into my viscount one last time, tried to promise him that I would ever be at his beck and call, but from the distance provided by allowing me to stay at my own home. I reminded him that it was a sin before the eyes of God to keep two wives, and that his own lovely lady wife would not appreciate another woman in his house. But he would not waver in his determination to take me home again.
I fear I nearly gnawed my fingers down to bone, I watched with such frightened anticipation.
And then, lo, before me, a line of my brothers and sisters. A line of my friends formed. And it was a sight to behold. The force from my small shire outnumbered the force mustered by my viscount three to one.
I held my breath, uncertain of the prowess of the small force my viscount led. Despite their ferocity, our sheer numbers defeated them.
I was free. For now.
I refused. I have lands of my own to tend, a family, and my Love to cherish.
The head of my viscount's troops threatened that if I did not come willingly, I could expect an invasion of my lands and the lands of my friends. That he would lead an army against me, decimate the lands around me, and take me back to my viscount.
And my viscount supported his threats.
I returned home and sounded the warning. The forces around my lands rallied, determined to keep me near them, such is their care for me. We planned endlessly, and spoke to mercenaries from near and far.
And the day drew near. We welcomed the invading force, plied them with good food, and hoped they would leave. Our efforts backfired though, as this was seen as more reason why I should return to my viscount. He himself made the journey to attempt to take me back by force. I despaired. My Love, by my side, swore he would die to keep me and my young daughter safe from the clutches of my viscount.
The next morning saw troops readying for battle. I tried to talk sense into my viscount one last time, tried to promise him that I would ever be at his beck and call, but from the distance provided by allowing me to stay at my own home. I reminded him that it was a sin before the eyes of God to keep two wives, and that his own lovely lady wife would not appreciate another woman in his house. But he would not waver in his determination to take me home again.
I fear I nearly gnawed my fingers down to bone, I watched with such frightened anticipation.
And then, lo, before me, a line of my brothers and sisters. A line of my friends formed. And it was a sight to behold. The force from my small shire outnumbered the force mustered by my viscount three to one.
I held my breath, uncertain of the prowess of the small force my viscount led. Despite their ferocity, our sheer numbers defeated them.
I was free. For now.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Blocked
I don't know what to write about these days. I know I need to because I function better when I get the debris out of my head, but I just don't know where to start.
Random Trivia:
• my child is 3'2" tall now. She is taller than most kids her age, and taller than most of the kids on her soccer team.
• she loves the slide on her playset
• she thinks the word 'bum' is wildly funny. So is 'poot', 'fart' and 'stinky'.
Random Trivia:
• my child is 3'2" tall now. She is taller than most kids her age, and taller than most of the kids on her soccer team.
• she loves the slide on her playset
• she thinks the word 'bum' is wildly funny. So is 'poot', 'fart' and 'stinky'.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Update
I keep wanting to write but I can't. I'm a bit stressed at the moment.
Beaker was laid off last wednesday. He'd come home for days off on tuesday and on wednesday, his site manager called to let him know that everyone on the contract was laid off. We have some money set aside in what we like to call a 'retirement fund'. Hopefully it can remain there.
Punkin started soccer today. She loved it.
The final hurdle of my nursing license is about to be crossed: they needed my transcripts. Once they have them, my license app will be mailed and I will hopefully be licensed by mid-June. There's lots of work for nurses, so if we have to, Beaker can Mr. Mom for a bit. I don't like the idea one bit, as I will be making signifigantly less than him, but you do what you have to.
So forgive me if I don't feel like writing. It's taking most of what I have in me to not melt into a panic attack right now.
Beaker was laid off last wednesday. He'd come home for days off on tuesday and on wednesday, his site manager called to let him know that everyone on the contract was laid off. We have some money set aside in what we like to call a 'retirement fund'. Hopefully it can remain there.
Punkin started soccer today. She loved it.
The final hurdle of my nursing license is about to be crossed: they needed my transcripts. Once they have them, my license app will be mailed and I will hopefully be licensed by mid-June. There's lots of work for nurses, so if we have to, Beaker can Mr. Mom for a bit. I don't like the idea one bit, as I will be making signifigantly less than him, but you do what you have to.
So forgive me if I don't feel like writing. It's taking most of what I have in me to not melt into a panic attack right now.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Time Flies: A Mommy Post
3 years ago, I was learning what it meant to be pregnant. I wished I could throw up, but Beaker and I headed to Edmonton for the weekend to get maternity clothes (because we didn't know when we'd get back), and I was allowed to pick my first mother's day gift - a beautiful enameled tin jewelry box. I have memories as a little girl, sitting on my Mom and Dad's bed, gazing in wonder at my mom's jewelry box as she went through it, looking for the one necklace she thought she wanted to wear. A jewelry box symbolized motherhood to me, in that moment, more than swollen boobs, nausea or my disappearing waistline.
2 years ago, I cradled my daughter in my arms, sobbing, as Beaker gave me the news that he'd been laid off due to the winding down of the contract in Alberta earlier than we'd anticipated. We had next to no savings, and I felt like the world was crashing down on me. That not only was I a failure, I was failing my child. The day after Mother's day, Beaker was told he was no longer on notice for lay-off, but I started packing our house, and getting rid of garbage, and sorting through our belongings so that we would be prepared to get the house on the market as soon as possible. My Mother's Day gift was that 3 month reprieve on the lay-off, and an opportunity to move back to Hometown, where we would always be able to provide for our daughter.
1 year ago, my mother gave me a mother's day gift because Beaker was at work and Punkin is not old enough to conceive of mother's day on her own. But the sweet smell of her clean skin and sloppy 16 month old kisses were gift enough.
This year, Beaker is again away. Punkin is still not old enough to understand mother's day, and tomorrow I am having my parents for dinner. Because this year, more than any other, I am so grateful to my mother that there is no gift I can think of to compensate for everything she has done for me. Punkin, with her crazy antics, hysterically funny temper tantrums and funny personality is all I need to see that despite my fears, I am a good mother. That validation is all the gift I need. (Okay, sloppy 28 month old kisses are also nice.)
And I was raised by a good mother too. (And a good dad too, but father's day isn't until next month.)
The greatest gift I have ever been given is my family - my parents, my husband and my daughter. That's probably enough for a million mother's days. But I'm not actually going to tell them that because I actually like getting presents sometimes.
2 years ago, I cradled my daughter in my arms, sobbing, as Beaker gave me the news that he'd been laid off due to the winding down of the contract in Alberta earlier than we'd anticipated. We had next to no savings, and I felt like the world was crashing down on me. That not only was I a failure, I was failing my child. The day after Mother's day, Beaker was told he was no longer on notice for lay-off, but I started packing our house, and getting rid of garbage, and sorting through our belongings so that we would be prepared to get the house on the market as soon as possible. My Mother's Day gift was that 3 month reprieve on the lay-off, and an opportunity to move back to Hometown, where we would always be able to provide for our daughter.
1 year ago, my mother gave me a mother's day gift because Beaker was at work and Punkin is not old enough to conceive of mother's day on her own. But the sweet smell of her clean skin and sloppy 16 month old kisses were gift enough.
This year, Beaker is again away. Punkin is still not old enough to understand mother's day, and tomorrow I am having my parents for dinner. Because this year, more than any other, I am so grateful to my mother that there is no gift I can think of to compensate for everything she has done for me. Punkin, with her crazy antics, hysterically funny temper tantrums and funny personality is all I need to see that despite my fears, I am a good mother. That validation is all the gift I need. (Okay, sloppy 28 month old kisses are also nice.)
And I was raised by a good mother too. (And a good dad too, but father's day isn't until next month.)
The greatest gift I have ever been given is my family - my parents, my husband and my daughter. That's probably enough for a million mother's days. But I'm not actually going to tell them that because I actually like getting presents sometimes.
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