whether i want to or not, the universe appears to be insisting that it is time to "grow up". i think im ok with that. sort of.
i have been offered the position as clinical director for a crisis/residential facility for the zero to fives. i will carry a small caseload (how much "so tell me about your relationship with your crackhead mother?" can you really do with an 18 month old?) 50% of the time, and the remainder will be spent sitting at my desk blogging, checking email, i mean, supervising the staff (my staff!). this is the piece i am having difficulty processing. "supervising" "my staff". i am used to being the entry level subordinate with the supersize caseload. as a child, i was extremely bossy, not that my younger brother, or anyone else, paid too much attention. i am used to people not listening to me. now people are going to be paid to do what i tell them.
however, this is the year that i started a vanguard retirement plan so that i would have more than $200 a month to splurge on some super absorbency depends when im old and crusty. i also put money in a mutual fund (i'm still not entirely sure what this is, but i just "did what [i] was told"). and last year i got a new car; it has power windows, no rust, and one of those key clicky thingies to unlock the doors (the true litmus test of adulthood is being able to unlock your car from the entrance of target, or while youre ensconced in your bathroom reading the newspaper). before i know it, i'll be getting mammograms, worrying about osteoperosis and buying matching pink and lime green, spring flowered outfits at chico's.
the methadone clinic sounded fun, but not a "career move". i hope this doesnt mean i have to put on make up and iron clothes before i go to work.