Friday, June 02, 2006
Does this mean I need to be an adult?
So, I'm employed. I have a job. I am about to be a productive member of society. And there was much rejoicing. Yay.

In case it's not glaringly obvious, I'm having a wee bit of ambivalence about this. I like being home with the kids. I like wearing sweats and t-shirts most days, I like watching Jacob figure out how world and grow and talk and beat on his sister and all the other things he does just like a real boy. I even like the power struggles with Emily (though I will deny it if you tell her so) because it's just so cool to watch her personality form and change.

But. I don't like the constant money worries. I don't like not having health insurance. I don't like the process of looking for a job. So getting an offer is a good thing, and I'll be fine with not being home all the time, once it becomes the new normal.

I just keep telling myself that.

Anyway, it's with the local community mental health center. The building is 2.7 miles from my house. So while the salary is not quite awe-inspiring - Bill Gates probably makes my annual salary in the time it takes him to wash his hands - I won't have to deal with a commute. And the kids are home with Willem for the summer, and even once the school year starts it's looking like he'll only need daycare two days a week. (He bring Jacob, not Willem. I don't know how many days of daycare Willem will need.) The schedule is good - three 12-hour days and one 4-hour staff meeting, with part of the 12-hour days at home on-call.

I'll be what's called an emergency services clinician, so basically whenever someone arrives at an emergency room or police station or similar, with some funky symptoms, I'll get called in to evaluate and decide what the next best step is - psych hospitalization, medication, return back to their political office... hah.

The good news is, I've met several of my colleagues-to-be, and they are a colorful and quirky bunch. And, even better, they are technologically illiterate, so I can blog about 'em till the cows come home. Hooray! And apparently they do like me - I had to go on *four* interviews for it, and it came down to a head-to-head between me and some faceless person, and clearly the right person won. Or something.

So, it's a mostly-good thing. Good enough, anyway.