Time is passing way, way too fast for me these days. I swear, its like I blink and a week goes by.
I’ve neglected my blog, I know. We had some crappy things happening and some scary, stressful situations and I just couldn’t find the energy to put it all into words that didn’t make me want to slap myself.
In August the kids went back to school, which meant I was kid free from 8:30-3:00 every day. Which was awesome. Except that my back was too messed up to go back to work with Jason… and, well, it’s really quiet being home alone all day. Now, I love me some alone time, but I was feeling discontent. Bored. Restless. Especially being in a lot of pain all the time, I started feeling really really bleak. Sleeping a lot. Avoiding all of the things I normally love. Snapping at everyone, crying over silly things. Oh, Hi Depression. You nasty bitch.
And then, the company Jason had been working with lost its bank contract. Just like that, work dried up. We knew that day would come, but we had hoped it would be much, much later when we were better prepared for it. Still, thanks to my husband’s sweet sweet financial skills, we knew we would be OK for awhile. But, see, I’m a worrier. My mind immediately takes me to the worst places it can, visions of my children begging for handouts in the WalMart parking lot dancing in my head. Not being able to pay our mortgage. All the things we’ve worked so hard for being ripped apart, just like that. Because I had been spending a lot of time reading horrible news stories about honest, hardworking people losing everything because of Depression 2.0 I felt like statistically we had to be one of those stories as well. Every time I talked to anyone they were telling me how so and so was out of work and that this person or that had lost their job. So, I was scared. Living with a thin edge of panic, always just threatening to erupt and take over. And I probably don’t have to tell you that two unemployed highly stressed out people home alone together all day is not a great equation for a calm, peaceful atmosphere.
And here’s the thing: For the last 8 years, I’ve pretty much been a housewife. A housewife who sometimes went out and worked, and who did odd jobs on the side,who has no formal education (yet, working on it!) and not many marketable skills. (I know, I know, I’m being hypercritical. I’m a good mom and I don’t regret being home with my children all these years. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But the facts are these: If something happened to my husband there is no way I would be able to support my kids. I might just make it, but barely. That is not a good feeling.)
So, I started thinking about getting a job. Which is really scary for me, because I don’t have the greatest track record with jobs. Don’t get me wrong… I’m a hard worker. If I’m interested and engaged, I’ll work my ass off, cheerfully. I can hyper focus like nobody’s business. (I once had three jobs at the same time as a cook, a maid and a receptionist. And I ended up quitting the office job because I would literally start crying on the drive to work thinking about how I would just have to sit there for 8-fucking-hours. HATED that job.) I don’t do well with the whole 9-5, regulated break times and staring at the office clock all day thing. And when I really thought about going to work as a cashier or customer service or something, well, a little bit of my soul would wither and die. I am just not a people person. (Nothing against cashiers… ya’ll are great. I enjoy chatting with you about all that fabric I’m purchasing or what the hell I do with a Kholrabi. Also, I have noticed that a lot of you have really awesome nails and I admire that.) Some may say I’m a picky spoiled brat but I prefer the term “creative and individualistic with an almost clinical lack of attention span”.
So, I sent out some resumes. I went on some interviews. As this went on longer I started feeling more desperate and even applied for a couple of call center jobs. I got call backs, but nothing I was remotely interested in. And to be honest? I almost felt like maybe I didn’t deserve a good job that I like. Like, maybe I was supposed to do something I hate for several years before I could feel confident or entitled to something better.
Then a couple weeks ago I saw a post on craigslist for a baker. It sounded awesome and I love baking. Especially bread… it was something I really took to in culinary school. But I’ve certainly never done it professionally. On a whim, I sent in a resume, figuring I probably wouldn’t hear from them but it couldn’t hurt to try.
They called me within an hour.
They asked me to come in for an interview and bring some of my breads. I had a few days to perfect a few loaves that wouldn’t completely embarrass me in front of the executive chef of a very high end restaurant here in my area. I pulled out my old culinary school textbooks, gathered my recipes and baked my ass off. To my surprise, it all came back to me. Making bread is really not that hard, but it is a healthy mix of science and art. I had made a starter a while ago with the intention of making some good artisinal sourdough and I put that little beast to good use.
The day of my interview I was pretty much a wreck. (Ok, several days before.) I forced myself to go, brought in my meager loaves with the full expectation of being laughed out of the kitchen. I nearly didn’t go. I kept thinking I was a total fraud, that I had no business wasting their time.
Turns out I make pretty good bread. Good enough to warrant a tasting session in the kitchen.
As I spoke with the chef and the manager I felt more and more confident and more and more excited. I love food. I love coming up with new recipes and the concrete satisfaction of finally producing something that is so good you can’t even really believe you made it. I had gone to culinary school when Ozzie was a toddler and I was pregnant with Ivy, a year long program with a very good teacher that taught me the fundamentals and gave me a taste of kitchen life… and I loved it. But it is also very intimidating. Kitchens are high stress, sometimes very tough places to work in, where you really have to be able to adapt quickly and be willing to do just about anything they ask you to. The hours can be long and physically demanding and the pay is not that great. With two young babies and the self esteem of a slug, I just couldn’t see it happening for me, and I figured if nothing else I would use my schooling later in life. (I have a dream of a really good tea room, with handmade pastry and breads. Someday…)
So I did my tasting. I showed up in the morning and baked four different breads (one of which was an embarrassingly overworked focaccia, eek!) and although I was nervous almost to the point of immobilization beforehand, I felt relaxed almost immediately. I was having FUN. Everybody was nice and helpful and I got to get a good glimpse of what working life might be like in this kitchen. Then and there, I knew I REALLY REALLY wanted this job.
And, to make a very long story short, I got it. I’m the new bread baker for a restaurant.
I started working this week. I would be lying if I said it’s been immediately smooth sailing. I’ve also come to realize just how little I really know about baking… but I did it. I’ve burned the hell out of my arms, cut myself with a knife and had to completely scrap a few batches. But each day, I’ve made less mistakes than the day before and my bread is getting better and better. Best of all? I have two products that have to be made daily and complete creative control over whatever else I want to do. Artisan flours, excellent ovens, fresh herbs and a mixer that I love so much I want to curl up and take a nap in it. I’ve learned about portioning, managing proofing and baking times and washes and poolish’s and biga’s, oh my! I’ve been getting up at 3:45 everyday and working and then coming home and practicing and reading reading reading. I’ve been scaling recipes up and down and have been kneading so much dough I may actually have muscles in my arms.
I’m exhausted. And still a little nervous. And excited. And really happy. Every now and then, I have to pinch myself. (And talk myself out of the idea that this must be some kind of elaborate joke.) I’m doing my best everyday to prove them right in their decision to hire me and so far, its working.
And if that wasn’t enough, Jason’s business has picked back up. He’s back to being busy everyday, all day. (Which, no matter what he says, is the way he likes to be!)
I know its not going to be easy. But I think I may have found the job I was looking for, without even knowing it! So, thank you Universe. You rock.
We celebrated Ivy’s 6th birthday last Saturday with a unicorn party. It was very pink and girly and she had a blast! And I was reminded that my house is much too small for entertaining.