Impolite noises

After lunch today, my Hot Shot Husband was driving me back to work, and our Little Bee was sitting in the backseat.

"We're not sitting at the dinner table," she observed, "so I can make this noise: Schkrunnnnq*."

*Sound of toddler making weird nasal, throaty slurpy noise that would, indeed, be disruptive at the dinner table.

She's a smart one, my girl.

And she probably updates her blog at least once a day.

But then, she doesn't have a real grownup-type job.

I do.

And I'll admit that it has been difficult for me these past couple weeks to keep everything neatly in its row and marching along. Some things have fallen by the wayside as I have recalled just how exhausting a real grownup-type job can be. (Hint: Pretty exhausting.)

There were more than two days in a row this week when I found myself too tired to wash my hair.

And now, after a couple months of waiting and basically giving up any hope of progress, I have gotten a call from the college to which I applied, and I am scheduled for an interview on Thursday.

Holy crap. What am I thinking?

Meanwhile, I think I may know what I want to be when I grow up.

Comments

[raehan]

Wasn't that Wonder Year's chick lke 9 years old 3 years ago? Now she's a soccer mom?

[Becky]

How many irons do you need in the fire dear? ;o)

[angie]

I wish I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up!

Get some rest. :)

[ppolarbear]

goood luck!

[An' Beckay]

Are you trying to hint, oh so delicately, that you didn't appreciate all those times I snrrkkkd and skzznnzzkkd at your dinner table? I SAID EXCUSE ME. God!
But I'm so glad you're back in the Fold of Employed Martyrdom with us, dear girl, if only to feel better about dumping my work tragedies on you.

[moreena]

Oooo. Just reading this makes me tired in sympathy. And just seeing that photo of Danica, forever the Wonder Years girl, in my supposed imaginary "soccer mom" peer group makes me feel old and wrinkly. Excuse me, I need to go check my hands for liver spots now.