My Cunning Plan to make sure B survived all his first round interviews worked a little too well. (Other than the whole locking-himself-out-of-his-room-in-just-athletic-shorts-15-minutes-before-the-first-interview thing…) I have since realized my strategic error. Instead of extra shoelaces, breath mints, lint rollers, and clif bars, I ought to have been packing things like garlic-anchovy sandwiches and secretly changing variables in the formulas in his presentation. B is going to be gone for most of September and October, and even a little of November for Round Two of the Job Search.
Am I proud of him for getting so many second-round interviews? Of course. Am I surprised? Not really. (see label: doting wife) Am I irritated at having to fend for myself (read: mooching off friends in the neighborhood) while getting increasingly preggo? Yes. Am I excited the odds are B will have a great job next year, and that will probably fund outside help with the Fiend so I can continue with grad school and dissertation writing? Naturally. Am I still being a little sulky at how much he’s going to be gone? Duh.
I like my husband, and as I get more uncomfortable (Fiend: please stop kicking me for at least 25% of any 24 hour period. Thank you.) I like having him nearby. Just in case. Even though everything is going swimmingly so far, it is still a high-risk pregnancy and I narrow my eyes in a significant manner when I think about him being in Asia 4 weeks before I am due. Even if all he would be doing is giggling at how it looks like I swallowed a watermelon at that point. That’ll teach me to have Cunning Plans/Care Packages.