To set the stage, it was raining and pouring this morning.
I've been anxious all week waiting to hear about a job I interviewed for last week. I thought I rocked the interview. I practically high-fived the potential boss on the way out. I was pretty dang confident that the job was mine. Until I got the email from the headhunter (it was just a contract position). "You weren't selected for the job. They didn't say why. They chose someone they liked a little better."
Ouch. That stings. Why is there always such a mystery about getting turned down? You're rejecting me anyway, could you at least throw me a bone and tell me what I could do differently next time? Sigh.
The thing about kids is that they're relentless. They don't really care if you just got a poorly worded rejection email. They think that's a fine time to tell you that "your hair doesn't look pretty." It's raining okay. On the other hand, at least kids are honest.
Feeling down, I took the girls to Big A's dance class. We got home and I heard the sound of water running. This can't be good. Our bathroom sink is broken. J tried to be a plumber, but um...he's not. We actually HAVE a plumber scheduled to come Friday. Ha. So the water turns on when you turn the faucet on...and when you turn the faucet off. It only stops pouring out when you put it in the middle of off and on. Which I guess I didn't do before we left. Oh yeah, and the sink doesn't drain. So the sink filled and spilled over onto the floor. Lovely. I guess at least I wasn't gone long enough for our house to flood?
I cleaned that up and the kids were whiny so I decided to serve dinner early. I made a complete dinner but both girls just ate corn. Fine. I had a phone interview for a job I don't want scheduled at 5:30. The plan was for J to come home and watch the girls while I did this interview, then I had a dentist appointment at 6. So...um, you can see where this is going, right?
J was in the field with his boss today and he wasn't home yet at 5:20. I quickly cleaned up dinner and set the girls up in front of Dora. Then I called for the phone interview I didn't want. It pays less than I made in my first job. And I'm over qualified by three times the amount of years required. I'm not sure why I even accepted the phone interview except for the small chance that they fell in love with me and decided to double the salary. So anyway, I call...and no one answers. Okay really? Was the universe paying a joke on me? Like ha, you think you're too good for this job, well we don't want you anyway!
I called the recruiter who set up the interview and she told me she'd figure it out. Panicking now, I ran upstairs to brush my teeth and call J to see where he was. It was now 5:40 and I needed to leave in 10 minutes to make my appointment. J answered and said he had just arrived back at work...20 minutes away. Great. He told me to take the girls to the dentist and he would drive there and pick them up. Double great. The only thing worse than going to the dentist right now was to go to the dentist with 2 kids in tow.
I pretty much forgot about the phone interview as I scrambled to get the girls ready. I don't know about your kids, but mine tend to resemble orphans by the end of a long day - especially after dinner. I put jeans and a t-shirt over Big A's dance costume and gathered our things. The phone rang. It was the recruiter. "Okay," she said in a cheery voice. "Everything's all fixed, you can call for your interview now." I laughed. "Um...I'm actually running out the door for an appointment, so I'll have to reschedule." Let's just say she was not happy...and even if I wanted the job, it wouldn't be happening.
With no time to spare, we rushed out the door and drove to the dentist. I realized I'd forgotten to change Little A's diaper and the eternal question ran through my head...leave it or change it? Since her pants were practically sagging to her knees, I knew I had no choice. So in the front seat of my car in the parking lot of the dentist's office, I changed her diaper and we ran in. I'm sure you can imagine the thrill the hygienist had when she met me and two toddlers in the lobby. I told her my husband would be there shortly and we headed in. She set the kids up on two little chairs and I laid down in the big one. As I closed my eyes and the plaque scraper started in, I felt like I was in some sort of surreal alternate reality. I felt my teeth being scraped, heard my kids saying "mommy, mommy" and then felt them grabbing at my hand. Then my cell phone rang and I became *that* patient who is trying to text while getting her teeth cleaned...with her kids clamoring on the side.
Luckily, J showed up a few minutes later and took the kids. I had bribed them with the promise of ice-cream so he took them to the ice-cream shop, while I finished up my appointment. They even brought me back a scoop of my favorite flavor. But I'm afraid to say that after the day I had, even ice-cream isn't doing the trick.
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