Life stuff

Do you remember I told you about a job opportunity for Husband which was causing us to agonise a little? Great job, great career move, wrong side of the Atlantic, was the gist of it. The end of the story goes like this.

We went to check it out one long week-end in January. By that stage, we'd pretty much decided it was for us. Though not where we wanted to end up, it had great potential to be a good stepping stone, giving Husband the opportunity to do all the things he needs to do, to polish up a nice bright shiny cv for a future trans-Atlantic hop.

The week-end itself was pretty bad. Two flights in each direction, so that's already a pretty tiring day at the beginning and end. Rainy and grey, in a state known for its sunny weather. 9-yo got ill, and so I stayed with him in the hotel, while he threw up 15 times in the course of a morning (yes, I was counting). I knew it was bad, because normally when he is ill, he is a trooper. If I ask him how he is feeling, he manages a weak "fine", or "ok", but on this occasion, he called me over to the bedside a few times to tell me "I feel very terrible", unasked.

Husband got the same bug, but managed to soldier on through the arranged schedule, since he wasn't actually vomiting (sorry, too much information, I know). At one point, I left the two of them in a double bed, Husband fully clothed, clasping the duvet around him, and saying in a shivery voice how cold he was, while on the other side, 9-yo had flung off all covers, stripped off his pyjama top, and was red in the face and burning up. 12-yo was with our friends (as you can imagine, the whole thing had developed some logistical challenges by this stage), and I took 5-yo, who had been cooped up in the hotel room with me, her sick brother and Spongebob Squarepants all day, to the hotel pool for a swim. It was an outdoor pool, but it had stopped raining. Or so I thought. As soon as we'd got into the water, the rain started again. It was chilly, our towels were getting wet in the rain, it was grey and miserable, I still feel really self-conscious in a swimsuit, and 5-yo was playing a game that I didn't really understand, but it seemed to involve her bossing me about a lot. I think it would be fair to say it was a low point, but it's at moments like this that you have to love kids.

"Isn't this relaxing?" said 5-yo, sitting on the side of the pool, kicking her feet in the water, and surveying the scene in a somewhat regal manner.

"We're so lucky to have the pool to ourselves. I don't know why more people aren't here. It's just... so... relaxing."

So the week-end wasn't great, but we decided we wouldn't let that colour our thoughts about the job and the option of moving. However, a tactful reporting of events (you never know quite how anonymous your blog is...) would be that the content of the job, and the terms and conditions which accompanied it, had changed considerably between the time when it was first offered to Husband, and the time of our visit. Nothing had been in writing, but that wasn't really the issue. It's just too complicated for a blog post, as these things often are, but suffice to say it was all rather an exhausting, frustrating and demoralising experience. Yes, I think that sums it up (and if you want to read the rant between the lines, feel free to do so).

Here's the thing, though. When it all fell through, apart from the disillusionment and disappointment, we both felt a huge relief (especially me!) I really hadn't wanted to move within the US at all - not even to a state known for its lovely climate, not even to a place with good air links to the UK, not even to a lively growing city by the sea, not even for a great career opportunity for Husband. Because it was the only option on the table, and seemingly a very good job and a good package, with bells and whistles, it would have been hard to turn it down, but my heart was never in it. I already knew all that in advance though, so going through the tortuous process didn’t tell me anything new.

Life’s a bit like that sometimes, isn’t it?

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