That Time my Dreams Came True. Kinda.

Last July, when things really start to percolate with a new project at work, I said to Pete one day: watch. I'm saying this today. I'm going to go in there and kick ass and they're going to want to hire me. I kicked ass. And kept kicking ass. Then the press secretary had enough of the shitty pay and insane hours (she often worked 18 hours -- she's a youngin) and left for a job that paid her what she deserved and allowed her to have more of a work-life balance (which, I'm not really sure that's what she wanted, she seemed totally fine with being obsessed with work). 

I DIGRESS. In February I knew the client was down a person, and struggling, so I put on my A-game for a meeting and plotted. Herringbone suit, check. Knee-high boots that convey just enough femininity (OK fine, more than enough femininity), check. I entered the room and made the rounds, air kissing on both sides and playing it like this was the BEST GODDAMN MEETING I HAD EVER BEEN TO. The client whined about not having enough staff, and what were they going to do. I played it cool and made a very big point to showcase my boss as kickass during the meeting. Then afterwards, I sauntered up to the client and said, I don't know if you know, but I used to be a press secretary and would be more than happy to help out. He was thrilled. YES. I have him now, I thought. 

I drove to the state capital to work Mon, Tues and Wed one week. It was excruciatingly tough schedule-wise, 6 a.m. workouts, traffic traffic traffic, home late, missed bedtimes/family dinner, go to bed, do it all over again. But it was exhilarating work. Really exhilarating. My old love of press secretary duties was back, and I was putting out fires. One day the CEO stopped a briefing to see what I needed, then told his employees to get me whatever I needed, and NOW. I nearly passed out -- the respect was back. It was back. I was back. It was INCREDIBLE. And for three days, I was eating it up, soaking it up, couldn't wait to do more. I worked my ass off. It was wonderful. I was riding a high like noneother -- a high I was so used to riding in my old life. Ego-driven. Mercilessly competitive and cutthroat. I was back.

Then it came: two of the women in the press shop casually suggested I apply for the job. They confirmed my experience, and said I would blow the other applicants out of the water. Please apply, they said. The client would be thrilled to have me.

I went home and told Pete. We talked about it. I decided to apply. I looked at the salary range, which was $20K less than I make now, and that's if I was at the top of the range. Plus we'd have to move to the state capital, away from our friends. I drove up and back for the last day and looked at the Golden Gate Bridge on the horizon and thought, was I really going to leave the SF area? For a lot less money to work at least 80 hours a week? Is that really where I want to be right now?

And the answer was no. The answer of where I want to be right now? Pregnant. With a highly flexible job making great money that supports our family (Breadwinning supermoms unite!). My new boss is UBER flexible about whenever I work and when I choose to work over 40 billable hours, I make overtime. If I do not want to work more than 40 hours, whenever I hit 40 hours, my week is over. Which is just awesome. We've been plotting to move back to the Peninsula (more on that later, hopefully) and my boss/job allows me to work on the BART while I commute so that I'm not chained to my desk. I am SO grateful for all of that. 

But it was also nice to be wanted, and respected, and admired again. So very nice. I told them unfortunately no, I wasn't interested at this time. But I continue to raise my hand anytime I catch a whiff of press secretary duties that need fulfilling, because it kicks ass to work towards those 40 hours blissed out of your mind. Which is why I'm writing this in a hotel room three hours away from home in preparation for a big press conference tomorrow.

My dream came true. I set the intention last summer and through a lot of strategery and hard work, it came true. It felt that way when I moved to SF; I set out to do it, and the doors opened to make it happen. It was not without sacrifice or hardship, but it happened anyway. I remember laying in bed at night, my penthouse apartment overlooked the Avenues, and thinking  -- every single night I did this -- I did it! I set the intention. And here I am.

I can only imagine what will be the product of my newly focused intention of getting pregnant ASAP and having a baby. : )