My husband had a phone interview with a company in Michigan this morning. It started at 8am. By 8:15, I heard him stepping down the stairs—two quick steps and a pause, two quick steps and a pause—as I shoved kale into the blender.
“They wanted someone with some specific skills I don’t have,” he explained in response to my raised eyebrows. He remained undaunted and headed back upstairs to send out more applications. I didn’t bounce back quite so quickly.
Most of the jobs in my husband’s field are along the coasts: Seattle, San Francisco, San Diego, Boston, New Jersey, Philadelphia. These are the places I’ve reconciled myself to living. Being that our families live in Michigan and Ohio (with other representatives in the Midatlantic and Florida), this also meant reconciling myself to continuing to live far from family.
When this job in Michigan came up, there was a little glimmer of a different future. Ten years ago, the idea of living in Michigan would not have been so exciting, but now things look different. I mean, we live in Salt Lake City and quite like it. We’re clearly not looking for adventure.
I envisioned once every month or two having my in-laws watch the kids while my husband and I went out together. I envisioned listening to live music with my brother- and sister-in-law, seeing the sights in Ann Arbor with my other brother-in-law, my husband and his brothers getting together for Michigan football games at The Big House. We would be able to go to the family Christmas party and gift exchange each December and make it to baby showers and weddings with much greater frequency than we’ve been able to for the past ten to fifteen years. With family so close, we might occasionally get to take a vacation—you know, like a “real” vacation to somewhere other than Ohio or Michigan? My kids would get to know their aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents and everyone else in our large extended families more closely than I ever got to know my extended family living so far away most of my childhood.
There was a glimpse of this possible future and then it evaporated.
My friend Amanda is much more optimistic than I am.
“Oh, I think you’d really like New Jersey,” she told me yesterday. And she’s much more practical about when information will lead to happiness and when ignorance really is bliss.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have your husband tell you all of the details of his job search,” she suggested. “Then maybe you wouldn’t get so tied to each possibility.”
She’s probably right.
Every job he applies to in a new state, I look up homeschooling regulations, Suzuki flute teachers, home prices to purchase and to rent, the presence (or absence) of a walkable downtown and/or practical public transportation. I picture my family living there. I all but move in before he’s even hit “send” on his online application.
And then things fall through, and I’m left with reality.
My husband had an advisor back in grad school who would tell my husband about his lab experiments, “Come to me with the successes,” meaning don’t tell me when things don’t work, just when they do.
We joked tonight that my husband should avoid giving me the play-by-play and just tell me when he needs me to drop him off at the airport to get to an on-site interview. Maybe it would be even better, we said, if he just told me when he’s accepted an offer and I can start planning our move. I requested that I be frozen like Han Solo and thawed out when we’re ready to unpack in the new place.
I am a woman of action. Waiting and uncertainty are not my thing.
But I’m not convinced ignorance would do the trick, either.
Imperfect Happiness 
You and I are so similar. I can relate to having to take vacations home and missing out on pretty much every family event. Although I do like moving and discovering new parts of the country (and hopefully outside the US some day too) it does wear on you missing out on everyone’s big life events.
As far as your husband’s search goes, all I can say is stay positive. The right opportunity will arise and hopefully that will be sooner than later. I think your friend may be right; maybe your husband should share less details of his search- stick to the interviews and other positives that come his way. I know it is tough but you guys will make it through this. And if for whatever reason you end up in Texas, or wherever we move next, you have yourself a babysitter!
LikeLike
Thanks for the babysitting offer, Dacia!
I’m not sure I have what it takes to remain positive about the job search, but maybe I can see it as an opportunity for spiritual growth (one of those character-buliding experiences like being chosen last for kickball).
LikeLike
That limbo sounds so hard. I don’t know which is worse, knowing the play by play or staying out of the loop until it’s an actual possibility. I hope you get that airport drop-off soon and it’s a place you’ll enjoy living.
Your freezing in carbonite idea? Lol. Can we do that every afternoon around magic hour, then defrost after bedtime? Well, except I’d miss the bedtime books. So maybe defrost after possible meltdowns but before books.
LikeLike
Glad you like the freezing in carbonite idea. I thought you might dig that one.
One day I’ll probably look back and say, “What a difficult time, but what great lessons we all learned.” But for now, it’s a struggle.
LikeLike