The Interview

Well, right after the interview I would have said it went well. But now that I have had many hours to review every single thing I said and compare it to every single thing I should have said, I have morphed the entire interview experience memory into me sounding like Miss South Carolina in the Miss Teen USA pageant.

And I KNOW it wasn't that bad! I did pretty well and gave a lot of great answers.

But man, the interviewer was good. If it was an essay test, I would have passed with flying colors, but some of the very open-ended, barely related to the situation at hand questions really threw me for a loop at first. They were all the type of questions that took a moment to think of an answer for and now I'm hoping I didn't look like a bumbling idiot while forming my responses.

Ugh.

Then I started getting nervous about these questions requiring in-depth complicated answers at a moment's notice and was over-thinking things as he was asking, instead of just relaxing and answering. This made me stumble a little on questions I usually ace (Why should we hire you? and What are your best qualities?). Again, I'm sure it was fine but I wish I could have a redo. They are looking for someone poised and articulate and I'm just not 100% confident that I was appearing that way by the end of the interview. I have also started misremembering his facial expressions and have convinced myself that he was outwardly hostile by the end of the interview--this 100% did NOT happen. At all. My memory of the situation clearly can't be trusted because it is out to sabotage me for some reason.

He'll be making a decision by August 27th (the day after the Jack Johnson concert, woohoo!) and honestly, I won't be devastated if they don't hire me. It's an awesome job, but one that will require an incredible amount of hours. I'd be away from home far more than 40 hours a week and they want me to regularly be on television. Yeah, I could be on television but the thought makes me want to barf. I would also need an entirely new wardrobe, including black tie stuff. Which would be fun, but expensive as I was getting started.

So, we'll see. If they can find someone better qualified who answered those questions more gracefully and who loves the thought of being on t.v., they should hire her. If I get the job, I will be excited and I will work my ass off and get some Valium for television appearances.

Mr. Ashley no longer loves the idea, especially knowing that I will rarely be home. I think he learned his lesson on telling me to get a job when he doesn't really mean it. I think we're both in the "If it's meant to be..." camp at this stage of the game and could take it or leave it.

So, I don't know. I guess keep your fingers loosely crossed for me?

I Know

I Know! I'm the worst blogger in the whole world. It's not you, it's me. I really do miss you and everything we once had. I hope we can be together again soon.

I had the interview, an unexpected out-of-town guest that night who stayed until Wednesday and today I'll be running around like a chicken with its head cut off getting ready for the boys' birthday party on Saturday.

Please forgive me. If you've been cheating on me in my absence, I understand. I will be back with more inane rambling soon, I promise.

And thanks for all of the well wishes for the interview, I'll be back with an update once I get a minute!

Dear Big Kid,

7 years ago today, I looked down into your tiny little baby face and thought, "Man, I'm tired."

Having babies is very hard work.

I knew I was embarking on the greatest adventure of my life, Motherhood, but I had no idea what I was really in for.

Every emotion I have ever experienced was multiplied by 1,000 when I became your mother. Sadness, joy, fear, excitement, anxiety, elation, empathy and pride, among the many others. By loving you, I was able to love the whole world more. I gained a depth of perspective that I couldn't even comprehend before. You have given me so much already, just in 7 short years.

And it has been a short 7 years! My God, where has the time gone? If I've already had you for 7 years, and let's pretend you're not really an adult until 21, that would mean that I only have 2 more of these time periods with you and that's just not enough. Yes, that's the crazy way that a mother thinks. You have even distorted my perception of time, since 14 more years seems insufferably short. (And my view on this may change again when you become a teenager. If I could keep you 7 forever, I might.)

Aside from being the unique, sensitive and super smart little boy that you are, you are a cool guy. I have had so much fun with you this summer; you are so funny and quick-witted and enjoyable to be around. I loved playing the new Super Mario Bros. with you and was astounded when you beat the entire game. It may be silly, but I am so proud of you for that! You wanted to do it, so you did. It's not that you played excessively either, but that you spent time researching game strategies and reading game guides. I have never beat a Mario game (and I wanted to) and you did it at 6 without using cheat codes. It was awesome. You're not only smart, you're a hard worker and that will take you far. I know you will go on to do even bigger things in the world than rescuing Princess Peach.

Anyway, thanks for being you. Thanks for helping me become a better person. Thanks for growing up to be the amazing guy that I know you will be.

I like you, I love you and I will always protect you.

Happy 7th Birthday, my friend.

Forever,
Mom

The Job

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?

Career Options

little kid is still adamant that he will never, ever live apart from me.

He wanted to be a "shooter" (his word for soldier) when he grew up. This topic always upset Big Kid greatly.

"You can't be a shooter, little kid, it's dangerous! Do you really want to kill people? War is bad! Shooting people is bad! What if you died? Mom--little kid is saying he's gonna be a shooter again."

Regardless of my position on the current war and military spending, I do believe all soldiers are heroes. Every one of them, by default, just for signing up. I am eternally grateful for their sacrifices and service and I have nothing but admiration for them and their families, who are also heroes for living the lives they lead to support our soldiers.

That being said, I'm not out to raise heroes. Call me selfish, add me to the "bad persons" list (I'm probably already on there) but the very thought of either of my children wanting to be in the military makes me feel sick with dread and worry.

I knew better than to act upset over a 3-year-old's threats to enlist though, mostly because he would definitely love the idea forever if he knew how much I hated it. So I thought of a better tactic:

"Being a shooter is a very important job and it's a good job, soldiers do a wonderful thing for our country. It is very hard for them because they have to live away from their families when they are away at war."

"They lives away from their mudders?" He looked worried.

"Yes. For a long time. Maybe years."

"Can you be a shooter and still live wif your mumum?"

"Nope. Hey, you could be a policeman! They have guns and they can live with their moms."

(So maybe I'm willing to raise a hero after all.)

"Cops can live with their mumums? In they own houses?"

"Yep."

"I'm gonna be a cop! I'm thinkin' I'll be a good cop, you know why?"

"Why?"

"'Cuz I'm good at beatin' up my bubby!"

(Okay, maybe I spoke too soon on the whole hero thing.)

"That's not how it works, little kid. Cops don't beat people up. People are innocent until proven guilty--policemen can't treat everyone they arrest like they are bad guys."

"But what about the bad guys? Can I beat up the bad guys?" I told him I didn't think so.

During a later conversation I suggested that he would make a good astronaut.

"I am NOT bein' an astronaut!! Why would you want me to be a astronaut?!" He seemed angry at the suggestion.

"I don't know...it's exciting and amazing, you could ride on rocket ships and do science--"

"I'm not bein' an astronaut and livin' on a whole 'nother world from you! I'm livin' with you forever, 'member? Not in outer space!"

"Oh, yes. I do remember. An astronaut wouldn't work then."

Today I made the mistake of promising to buy him his own tools and a toolbox as he grew up, so that he would have a nice set of tools by the time he left our home to start his own family.

"I don't need tools! No tools, I'll use daddy's tools 'cuz I'm not leavin' you. Bemember? You still okay with that?" He has picked up on the fact that Mr. Ashley and I really don't love this plan of his.

"Yep. I'm okay with that."

And that's why I'm afraid I'll be living with a Scuba-diving cop one day.

iPhone Home

Big Kid: Mom, can I get an iPhone?

Me: What?!? Are you crazy? I don't even have an iPhone! You're 6 years old, are you kidding me?

Big Kid: Please? Come on, mom.

Me: You are INSANE!! What does a 6-year-old need an iPhone for?

Big Kid: So I can call you and stuff. I want one 'cuz the new ones are 4D now. Wouldn't that be cool? When we talked, it would be like I was standing right in front of you!

Me: Wh--? Oh, 4G? Not 4D. 4G just means it processes data faster, or something.

Big Kid: (looking disappointed) Oh. I guess I don't need one then. But when they go 4D, can I get one then?

Me: ...yes. Of course you can.

Let's hope we're at least 2 decades away from 4D phone calls, so that he can buy it with his own money. It would be pretty cool to talk to my grandkids in 4D though...