So...the day before yesterday Mr. Ashley was kind of hinting that I should get a job.
(The hint was somewhere along the lines of, "You really need to start looking for a job.")
He has been happy about me not having a job (the plan was for me to stay at home through the next school year) and I think he was just having a bad day.
So I said, "FINE! I'll get a job!"--knowing it would be nearly impossible to get a job in my city right now. I checked Craigslist and the online classifieds and cried, "There aren't many jobs and I'm not qualified for most of them! My only option is to be a waitress at IHOP!" (No offense to the waitresses at IHOP, you do what you gotta do.)
"Whatever we have to do," he answered, knowing that I would most likely not do that.
I was annoyed about the suddenness and unexpectedness of all of this. I checked my Facebook page to take my mind off of it and right then (literally) a job posting came up from an organization I know well. A really perfect Dream Job type of job.
"I found a job to apply for!" I shouted, yelling the job title across the room. Although I lacked some of the qualifications requested, we decided I should go ahead and submit my resume, figuring it couldn't hurt to try.
As I was working on a cover letter, I got a Facebook friend request from the Executive Director, who I had known from my previous job. That made me nervous but excited.
I stayed up until 4:30 in the morning working on my resume package. Construction resumed right behind my house around 7:30 in the morning, so I awoke to the sound of clanging machinery and tried to proofread. It's like little kid could sense that I was attempting to escape and he did his best to make sure I couldn't concentrate. Around noon the construction people went on break and it was quiet, so I locked little kid out of the room and read through everything twice. And then I hit send.
An hour later I had an email requesting an interview, to take place on Monday morning.
Aaagggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh! How exciting! How dreadful! How flattering! How scary!
What will I wear? What will I say? Can I still be normal around people in a professional environment? What if I forgot how to work? What will I do with the kids? What if I get so nervous that I say something really dumb? What about those Jack Johnson tickets I have for the 26th? What about my plans to lay by the pool and workout during my free time this school year? Remember how boring or difficult work can be? Remember how fulfilling work can be? Remember how nice extra money can be?
Mr. Ashley was as shocked as I was and briefly seemed to regret asking. It's been so nice to have you home, it's been so good for the kids, we can make this work for another year, work will pick up again drastically next month, last month was just really expensive, what will we do about childcare?
But this is The Job. The job that would answer the "What do I want to be when I grow up?" question. A job that I would enjoy, that I would be proud to do, that would look amazing on my resume and could take life in a completely different direction. This Job won't be around next year. I want this job! I really do. Mr. Ashley realizes that too and has warmed up to the idea, agreeing that it's for the best and seeming excited now.
I am worried about childcare since little kid's pre-k runs from noon to 3. I also feel terrible because I just convinced Big Kid to switch to the school across the street, promising that I could volunteer more and walk him home from school. I was really looking forward to that and know he was too. He asked what I was working on when I was putting my resume together and I decided to be honest with him.
"I am writing a resume to try to get a job. There's a really good job available," I said.
He looked really sad. "What's the job?"
As I told him, his eyes widened and he smiled. "Wow! What a neat job! You'd be good at that, I hope you get it." Oh how I love him.
I haven't mentioned it to little kid and won't until I know if I'm hired. I currently do some marketing for my hair salon in exchange for hair services and little kid has suggested that I just stop getting my hair done, because the 2 hours a week I spend on it is just too much. As I type this, he is clinging to my shoulder, kissing the side of my face softly and calling me his "little baby love and his little 'tato." He gets confused by food-related terms of endearment and often calls me his little tuptup (ketchup) or his sweet mac and cheese. I really wanted to squeeze out one more year of babyhood before he starts kindergarten.
It is bittersweet. The truth is, I have had the best summer of my life being home with the two of them. I've had some awesome summers too--I lived in the Keys one summer! I have had many carefree, party-filled summers, but these few months of playing Mario, swimming in the pool and going to the beach with my boys have been the best. I'm sad to see it end.
But who knows. Maybe I won't even get the job.
But I hope I do and sort of think I might.
How can such an exciting prospect also make me want to barf?