April is the Cruelest Month

My husband and I are in the middle of something. We are in between anything. Neither of us is employed, but we think we see great things in our future.

In a few short weeks I will graduate college, but having completed all necessary tasks to do so I am in limbo; waiting for the thing to happen and the next big thing to begin. My husband, Joe, has been laid off for two whole months. The bills are beginning to not get paid. We've been fortunate but our time is running out. He's had two consecutive interviews for a very promising (read: lucrative) position, with a third scheduled. So we have reason to be hopeful. We are both capable of (or nearly capable of) making money, of sinking the debt, of adding lines to our resumes, but in the meantime we are beginning to feel like helpless, lazy, good-for-nothings who stay up too late, sleep in, and wear pajamas and bath robes for an inordinate amount of time on a daily basis.

It doesn't help that we were raised with those classical middle-class hard-working values. Particularly me, whose father would rage through the house if a child of his was still in bed past 9:00 on a Saturday. Who, if he happened to catch you in a horizontal position on the couch while there was daylight and favorable weather, would have you in the yard picking up sticks faster than you could blink. After doing dishes my father would check that all water had been properly wiped dry from the inside of the sink. I will agree that my dad was a bit on the compulsive side when it came to ensuring that he was raising productive citizens, especially when compared to my friends, whose simple chores often consisted of feeding the cat and nothing else. But now, as a productive citizen, I don't begrudge my father one bit for it.

So productive citizens we try to be, Joe and I are making the most of it. We look at the bright side: we're spending lots of time with our toddler-trips to the library, trips to visit great-grandma,-things we never have time to do when working long hours and feeling guilty about it for the consequences it has on the family schedule. We take turns waking up with her, letting the other sleep as late as wanted; but there is something programmed in us that causes serious, unexplainable guilt, so that we can't sleep in-no matter how late we stayed up scouring the internet for jobs or perfecting the resume. We must rise with the sun, at least.

We've worked out a routine. Rise. Coffee and email. Breakfast. Shower. Dress the child. Joe and child go to Grandma's house. This gives me a few hours every morning to do house work, check my own email, read, work on my job search, or write. Then Joe and child come home for lunch. We play and then nap. Joe never naps, but I convince myself that my napping with Hadley is beneficial, will help us to bond, or at least will help her to fall asleep sooner.

At some point after that one of us will decide who cooks, who does dishes, and who will bathe child. After child is asleep we eat popcorn, read and spend too much time on the internet-searching, searching for the answer, for the company or institution that needs and wants just what we have. We look over our credentials just in case we were mistaken and all of the fears we keep secret about nobody needing us or wanting us are true. We didn't spend money and years educating and experiencing ourselves for naught. We will be able to support ourselves indefinitely and once again store up the retirement plan.

I try constantly to think of ways for us to get out of the house without spending too much money on gas and lunches. It is almost April and the weather won't stay spring-like. Just last night the rain, which was somewhat pleasant, with it pattering and dark clouds, which were conducive to reading and eating popcorn and promising of May flowers, turned into snow. And to my disbelief the snow accumulated into an inch or two. Raking up last year's leaves or cleaning out the flower beds would be so much like work with a clear purpose and reward. The warm sun and birds would give way to anticipation. Nature's change.

But nature is in the same limbo we are.

Waiting. It is so close; just around the corner. But not yet. The sprouting green bulbs are still hidden under the heavy wet blanket of old leaves. The birds still hide underneath the shelter of pine branches. The cat is in the sun patch on the carpet.

April is the cruelest month.