I love/hate my job

I love my job. Lately, I have a new emotion, not about the tasks I do or the people I work with, but regarding the organization from which I receive a paycheck. I hate working for the federal government.

Turns out once you become a federal employee, you can no longer use any previous experience or education to qualify for promotions. So, even if you took a much lower paying job to "get your foot in the door," you are not "qualified" to apply for a position more than one grade above your current one. Based on my past positions, I could qualify for a GS-11 job. My current position is a GS-5. The only other job I can compete for is a GS-6. Forget GS-7, or 9, or 11. Until I have fulfilled one year time in grade for each of these, I cannot qualify for the next one. Unless, of course, I resign. Then I can compete against all the other external candidates, and the internal candidates that have fulfilled the time in grade requirement and qualify for GS-11.

This is such a bureaucratic nightmare. I never wanted to be a government employee and I certainly didn't want to work for the federal government. Yet, here I sit with few other options. I could apply for a job at the bank and not get the benefits. I could try for a NAF job or a contract position, also without benefits.

The bottom line is I love my job. It's never going to get me anywhere, but I do enjoy what I do and the people in my squadron. I have to hold on to that.

Easy Come, Easy Go

Well, my goal to move up in the organization has come to an abrupt end. I applied for the Wing Commander's secretary position a couple of weeks ago and I just received an automated message via email indicating that I'm not qualified. For a secretary position. Awesome. The reason I'm not qualified is because my current Squadron Commander's secretary position is rated as a G5. The Wing position is a G7. The requirements for the job indicate that you have to have held a G6 position for 52 weeks in order to qualify for this G7 position. I cannot believe how ridiculous the USA Jobs process is. I've been told by my boss, by the people I work with, by the Equal Opportunity director, by my bosses' boss, that I am greatly qualified for this position. In fact, several people have assumed that I will be selected. Oh well, I'm really happy with my job and it allows me a lot of flexibility and low stress. I'm going to be happy where I'm at for the last year and a half of my time here and forget about this one small goal which was not reached. I've got lots more to work on and many more goals to reach.

Bootcamp - Day Sixteen

I worked out hard today. I was rather stressed out from my workday and that contributed to my energy. But I think what really did it were the compliments, both verbal and nonverbal, that I got from the hubby this weekend. He thinks Bootcamp is working and definitely worth the investment in money, time, and his loss of convenience because he has to pick up the munchkin from daycare three days a week. I'm feeling a bit more sexy these days and that's certainly a great result of working out more often and regularly. Yeah!

Bootcamp - Day Fifteen

Five weeks down, one to go. I signed up for the next six-week Bootcamp, although I will miss the first week while on vacation. My husband suggested we get up early and run while in London. RIGHT. That will be following the late evenings at the local pub enjoying dark beer. Yah, I don't think there is any chance of it happening. I am, however, committed to staying active the week before that so that I'm not a complete wreck when I start Bootcamp again. And we will be walking a lot, at Stonehenge, in the Cotswalds, and around the city. I had one of my trainers check that my push-ups are within regulations today. She said I'm golden. I hope to rock this PT test. How exciting would it be to go into my squadron's staff meeting while they announce my excellent score? Well, can't get over-confident, it will still be a tough test.

Bootcamp - Day Thirteen

I had a major breakthrough today. Not only did I work through the annoying menstrual symptoms yesterday, but today I ran a mile-and-a-half in approximately 13 minutes. I tried this same feat a week ago and, because we incorrectly figured the distance, thought it took 24 minutes. Considering I have to break 18 to get minimum points for the PT test, last week I was feeling really discouraged. Now I'm on top of the world and feeling very good about my chances of passing and even doing pretty well on that test. As long as I can crank out more than 11 push-ups, I believe I will pass. What a huge relief.

Bootcamp - Day Twelve

I have to admit this was a very difficult week. My expectations were a little high, I guess, because I thought by now I would start to feel more energetic as a result of the workout program. Not so. I've been dead tired every day when I get home, regardless if it's a bootcamp day or not. I had a heart to heart talk with my husband, the resident workout expert, and he assured me that I've not yet hit the point to which I'm referring. I should expect that in another several weeks. Really? I'm not quitting, but realigning my expectations. And hunkering down for the duration.

Bootcamp - Day Nine

Half-way to the end. Today I realized that my ankles are very weak. I also realized I may have overstepped. On Thursday, I presented a challenge to my squadron's leadership. I said that I was going to take the PT test after I completed Bootcamp, and if a 44-year-old civilian can pass the PT test it would be a great reason for the younger military members to sign up. If I can't run the mile-and-a-half in less than the maximum allowed, I will not pass. I know I can do enough sit-ups and the waist measurement is fine. The push-ups will be a challenge, for sure, but I'm getting closer. I may try a practice test tomorrow to see how much more it's going to take to get there.

Bootcamp - Day Eight

Today's workout was really tough. I fell asleep on the sofa at 8:30. I'm really enjoying this whole not having to think while exerting a lot. On those difficult days when I'm ready to punch someone's lights out, Bootcamp is the perfect way to let it all go. Thank you to Intrepid Fitness' Sarah and Stephanie.

Bootcamp - Day Seven

After all the squats, lunges, and step-ups I did today my ass better be an inch higher tomorrow. That's all I have to say about today.

Bootcamp - Day Six

Now we're talking! I feel great after today's workout. Finally the benefits are starting to kick in. My goal for this week was to start adding in three days of cardio, which I failed miserably to do. But since I'm doing well now, I'm thinking that tomorrow's a great day to practice for our upcoming salsa performance. That should be a decent cardio workout. I'm starting to look forward to week three of bootcamp. Hard to believe.

Bootcamp - Day Five

Okay, this sucks. I feel really tired and nauseous. I thought working out was supposed to make you have more energy and feel good? I guess the good news is that I haven't puked yet. Someone else in the bootcamp did, so I feel better about feeling like I will soon.

Enough negative thoughts. I'm going to think positively about day six. By the way, if you're keeping track, I'm only counting the workout days, therefore day one is Monday, day two is Wednesday, day three is Friday, day four is Monday again, and so on. There will be 18 days all together. After the next one I'll be a third of the way done. Yeah, not feeling very positive.

Bootcamp - Day Four

I think I've discovered the trick. After my bootcamp ass-kicking (those Intrepid Fitness girls are Nazis), I need about 30 minutes to stretch all my muscles. They scream a little less the next day if I do this. I am starting week two of the six-week course and feeling pretty alright. I'm going to bed early and crossing my fingers for tomorrow.

Bootcamp - Day Two

Yesterday I felt like I would soon require hip replacement surgery. Today I was all over sore, but didn't feel injured. The work out was good and emotionally I'm feeling pretty happy with myself.

One thing I didn't expect was a need to compete with my fellow bootcampers. I was never really a big competitive sports person. Cheerleading and dance doesn't require that type of spirit. But being able to complete the workout, the way it was supposed to be done, and look decent doing it was at the front of my mind the whole time. It made me feel really good when I saw others not able to do it as well. Weird how you continually learn things about yourself that you didn't know.

Bootcamp - Day One

Day one of Bootcamp – ow. Since I’m hurting already, tomorrow and Wednesday are not looking good.

But the good news is I’m motivated to improve my health. Judging from the others in bootcamp, I’m not so out of shape. But none of those people is 44 with a 3 ½ year old running them ragged. Or a 34 year old husband who's getting frustrated because I can’t keep up.

I’m going to try and check in each week and see where this adventure takes me. I’m hoping for the usual results like looking better and feeling better, but really I want to set the stage for living a longer, happier life. After all, Natalie’s probably not going to have kids until she’s 30 (I hope), which would make me a grandmother at (gulp) 70? Oh god, I really need this bootcamp.

AARGH!

Okay, I want to start this blog by saying I adore my daughter and my husband. I'm going to repeat that for my own benefit -- I ADORE my daughter and my husband.

But this particular morning, I could not wait for them to get OUT OF MY HOUSE! My kid has this thing about chocolate. When she gets even the littlest bit in her system, she gets hyperactive and schizophrenic all at one time. You can imagine a 3-year-old with those qualities, no?

And my husband cannot be on time for anything.

So, I wake up this morning to my daughter saying, "Mom, I've got poopies in my pull-up." Reminder, she's three. And three months. And she's not yet completely potty trained. A rather constant frustration.

I get out of bed at 7:30 a.m. on my Friday off, and change the dirty pull up, finally convincing her to put on big girl panties instead of another pull up. I also get up to a trashed living room, food from last night's dinner still on the dining room table. (Here I will say that I was so tired last night I went to bed at 8 p.m. and left my husband to get the kid off to bed.)

After cleaning up the dishes, I fix breakfast for the little one and me. Pop in a movie, play a little bit, and then my lovely daughter in her chocolate haze (she convinced me to let her have just a tiny piece), slaps me in the face. On purpose, mind you, she knew what she was doing. She was duly punished with a swift swat and getting sent to her room to think about it.

Then I realize that my husband, who is still sleeping, is going to be late getting the kid to gymnastics, which he had promised to do because his work schedule has not allowed him to do it for a couple of months. I go to try and wake him again.

The kid and I have a long heart-to-heart after she is able to come out of her room. Then I try to get her into her gymnastics leotard, only to realize that while she was in her room she took off her panties and put on a pull-up. And she refuses to put on the leotard. No, let me further explain. When I walk away from her, frustrated that she won't help me get her dressed, she screams, "No, I want help!" -- twice we go through this dance. Until I can't stand it anymore. I go into the kitchen, poor myself a cup of coffee, down an extra dose of my menopause vitamins, and wait for my husband to get her ready on his own.

I'm done being a mom this morning. I'm done being a wife, too. I want to be just ME in my house by myself doing only what I want to do for the short time that I get once in a while to just be ME. I'm sure I'm not experiencing a new situation or emotion. This is surely a universal feeling. But, fortunately, I don't have to feel if very often so I'm not practiced in coping with it. Anyone have a trick to get through this overwhelming experience? It's too early in the day for wine.

My One Wish

If I could be granted one wish by my Fairy God Mother (Mel), and it couldn't be for world peace or for my daughter to have her college education paid for, I would wish for the opportunity to try dancing full time. It may sound a little confusing, so let me explain.

I have always loved dancing. My parents said I was doing it before I could walk, mostly bouncing to the rhythms my dad played on his guitar when he was in college. But I grew up in a small Midwestern town and children's dance classes were limited to the local YWCA ballet and tap lessons. I stuck with it until I was in 7th grade, though, when I asked my mom if I could quit. You see, the girls in my class were a couple years older than me and all went to a much larger school together. Puberty was not the right time to be the odd man (or girl) out. Less than two years later, I found a new dance school and started lessons again. It was still very basic ballet, tap, and jazz in another small town.

In college, I tried out for the pom pon squad and did that for a year, then I found the Contemporary Dance Theater dance company. Ball State was not know for its dance school so again I was limited in my exposure to good choreography and talented instructors.

When I moved to Phoenix, I dabbled in some adult jazz classes, but really found something when I stumbled upon the movie "Swingers." In the final scene, the lovable but goofy lead guy shocks his hilarious but deviant dude friends by asking a girl to dance and sweeping her off her feet -- literally. I was watching the movie with a male friend and we kept repeating that scene to see if we could learn the swing dance moves they were performing on the screen. Soon after, we convinced a larger group of friends to check out the local club that was offering swing dance lessons. It was great fun for all of us but especially me. I felt like I had rediscovered my first love, and it didn't hurt that I was pretty good at it because of all my previous dance training. (It really makes the evening when the best dancers keep asking you to dance.)

About a year later, a female friend asked me to accompany her to a club so that she could get credit for her salsa dance class. The instructor made all of her students attend a certain amount of club nights as they turned a typical bar into a Latin club one night a week. I had tried salsa at a ballroom dance lesson with an old boyfriend but hadn't thought much about it. From that night on I was hooked. I danced with people who introduced me to more people, who told me about a dance school and tryouts for a performance team. The next thing I knew I was dancing 5-6 nights every week. And I was loving life! I didn't get a whole lot of sleep in those years but I had some of the most amazing experiences with people that I still call friends today. And if that wasn't enough, I met my husband on the dance floor. We're still dancing today, teaching Latin dance lessons to beginners.

So, that's where my love of dance has brought me. But I will always wonder how much farther I could have taken it. You know how life happens. You meet Mr. Right, get married, have a baby, move to a foreign country, yadda yadda.

My wish would be this, Fairy God Mother: If I could not work for a year (all my family's expenses would be magically paid), I would like to spend that year learning, practicing and dancing full time with the goal of competing and performing on the pro level. A year is probably not long enough, but if I was actually good at it, the money would sustain me for as long as I wanted to continue. If I wasn't, I'd be ready to say I tried it and now I'm done.

Now, are you ready to wave that wand?

Happy Women's History Month

March is the 30th anniversary of Women's History Month. The theme developed by the Women's History Project is about adding women back into our history. Maybe we should all think about the many women who have inspired us and post them in our blogs as a tribute. What do you think, Ladies?

The Insanity

Today I am at my wits' end. My friend is very sick. She has numerous nasty symptoms and doesn't know what is wrong with her. Well, that's not exactly true. She knows that she lived for months next to a burn pit while deployed. She knows that before she left that location she started exhibiting just a small number of symptoms. She knows that over the last two years since she's been back the symptoms have multiplied and intensified to the point that she can't work at all. She knows the burn pit was the culprit, she just doesn't know what to do to get well. And the damn people who are supposed to be helping her find a cure are doing their best to throw up every roadblock imaginable. At one point a doctor tried to prescribe anti-depressants because he thought she was imagining all her symptoms.

Now, I'm not so naive that I think these people are evil. I know they are being directed, through miles of red tape and volumes of rules and regulations, to keep anyone from acknowledging that the burn pit causes severe health problems for our military members. But it seems no one has informed these medical so-called professionals that the Department of Defense has finally admitted this is the issue. They are a long way from finding the answers for these enlisted people who are suffering, but at least they're now willing to study the issue.

If this poor young woman doesn't get sent to the States soon so that she can get the tests run that she so desperately needs, I may start some sort of a campaign against the medical group that is causing all this unnecessary pain and suffering. They can't possibly be able to live with themselves knowing what they're doing to her and others like her. But maybe they don't know. Maybe that's my job -- to inform them.

I know this is not the most eloquently written blog, but I'm just so mad right now and I have to get it out. Maybe I'll go back and edit/rewrite later. For now, this is what I've got.

Happiness wins

My friend presented me with an offer I couldn't resist. So now I'm going to try this blog thing and see what happens next.

Last weekend was a mixture of happiness and disappointment.

On Saturday night, I was up for an annual award as a civilian employee. It was something to which I had been looking forward for several months. I had purchased a new dress, scheduled appointments, reserved a hotel room, and hired the all-important overnight baby-sitter.

After spending the day practicing for the event and getting my hair done, I returned home to find that my dear husband had not listened to my request to wash two specific things. Instead, he had heard, "Do two loads of laundry." Rather than calling to ask for details on the request, he assumed I had some unknowable reason for asking him to complete such a pointless task. He missed washing the shirt he needed to wear that evening and the blanket that our daughter needed to take on her sleep-over. He also waited until two hours before we were supposed to be at the event to discover that he didn't have a very important piece of his newly purchased formal uniform.

As you might expect, I overreacted to these issues before realizing that they weren't exactly issues. It was, after all, my special evening and he wasn't taking it seriously at all. To his credit, he ironed his unwashed shirt and it worked fine. He convinced our daughter to take a different blanket. And because he has mad skills at coming through in the proverbial pinch, he succeeded in borrowing the missing item from a colleague who just happened to be going to the base right before the event.

He also had stayed home with our daughter while I was gone the entire morning and part of the afternoon. And he did give her a bath and get her fed.

At the time, however, I felt completely justified in my anger. It wasn't until much later, after he had gotten me two or three glasses of wine, a decedent dessert, and was rubbing the back of my neck as they announced the award winner -- and it wasn't me -- that I realized how unimportant the anger and stress had been.

Although I really was disappointed at not winning the big prize, I was very thankful to have a date night with my husband. It had been a long time, too long really, since we had spent an entire evening together having fun. We went to the lounge after the event and had another drink while talking and laughing with friends. We danced like rock stars and walked hand in hand back to our hotel room to romp like the kids we used to be.

Sometimes I get too wrapped up in what should be because I have a picture in my head of what I think it should be. It's only when I let go and don't know exactly what it should be that I can truly enjoy what it is. Thank God my husband is getting good at reminding me of this, regularly.