Low.

That's how I'm feeling these days. It was only, what-- a couple of weeks ago when I posted about lean times and shopping at Walmart and trimming the fat and just barely squeaking by?

Well, as it turns out, we're not, really. Not squeaking by. It's been an important and upsetting realization, and as much as I've enjoyed (loved) being a completely stay at home mother to Eva, those days are numbered.

Bah. I could go on for a few pages, probably, about how it was a bit of a sticky adjustment, but we're really filling our playdate calendar these days. I've had phenomenal luck meeting moms out and about at the playground, and Cartwheels and Coffee, and at library story times. I'm starting to get a good handle on taking care of things around the house, running the errands, planning the meals, and generally feeling organized and efficient and very, very happy about the way our lives look day-to-day.

But part of being an adult is putting aside what you want to do for what you need to do.

There are several things I'm thinking about, but what it boils down to is that we need for me to pick up something soon. I haven't really got the luxury of polishing my resume and reading "What Color is Your Parachute?" and visiting, in person, all the branches of the local library systems to introduce myself and make a little pitch (which is what I did that netted me both my prior library positions). Besides, the public library systems locally are even more cash-strapped and desperate than the system I left, where many of my co-workers were laid off or had their hours reduced just a couple of weeks after we moved to VA. There are no library jobs.

Ideally? I'll become a freelance or grant writer, and work from home. I did write a successful grant proposal while at the library, and I enjoy writing and research. Realistically, however, I'm going to have to research that alongside working some kind of retail job to help fill in the gaps in our sinking ship.

It's not what I want, but it's reality, and I do want to do whatever I can do to get us back to treading water.

Part of me wishes I wanted to work full time. Part of me wishes I secretly felt excited about needing to get back to work 40 hours per week, getting up and dressing up and making my little mark on the world.

But I like making my mark on the world by helping Eva hold her crayons and decorate cut-outs of Christmas trees. I like taking walks and explaining why there are so many leaves on the ground and applauding her when she ventures to climb something on the playground. I like meal times and nap times and pretty much everything we've been doing lately.

That's why I'm going to try my darndest to seek out something that will fit around Mr. Milkweed's teaching schedule. I don't know who will work with me, and I don't know how things will shake out-- probably working weeknights and weekends-- but it's very important to me that Eva's primary caregivers continue to be her father and myself, and that I work only part time in order to make that happen.

As glad as we are to be where Mr. Milkweed has the job he wants with hope for advancement, part of me misses our little arrangement back in Columbus, with the library job that my sainted manager essentially carved out of rock for me and wedged in between the cracks in Mr. M's teaching schedule.

Everything will be fine, of course. I just need to get my hopes and expectations on par with what's needed of me, rather than with the way I thought this next chapter of my life would look. So look lively, hopes and expectations, and fall in line. Lickety split.