Performance Anxiety

I don’t know what YOU were thinking this blog was gonna be about; but you are a dirty bird, so I can guess. 

In which case, just to set sexpectations, it’s about job interviews.  But since your mind is in the gutter, you probably misread that sentence and thought for a second I said SEXpectations instead of “set EXpectations.”  Creep.

Anyway…I told the kids this morning that I was going for an interview.  To which Sonny replied, “Wait!  Will you be able to pick us up after school and make us dinner?!” 

I wasn’t sure if his question was referring to today, the interview day; or if it was a more long-term, far-reaching impact question.  As in, “If you DO get the job you’re interviewing for today, will you still be able to pick us up after school and make us dinner until we learn how to drive and/or get married??”

But as I’ve learned from skiing, don’t think longterm.  Short-sighted is the way to go.  It’s best not to look past the tip of your skis as you’re coming off the chairlift.  Because if you do look, you’re stunned into immobility because you realize how high up you actually are.  And how far down you actually have to go.

With this in mind Thank you, skiing.  Turns out you are good for something, including my new-found life philosophy of not looking beyond the moment because otherwise, it scares the sh^# out of me. I interpret Sonny’s question as a “right now, this moment-in-time” sort of ask. 

Also?  A ride and food?!?  Good to know someone has their priorities straight.

So I reply, “Yes.  But is that all I am to you?!  I was telling you this because I’m kinda nervous and I thought you could help me feel better about things.”

So they all cluster around and do their very best to allay my anxiety. 

Hubby, for example, tells me to just have fun with it.  Then he hugs me and reaches around to squeeze my a$$.  When I jolt and try to pull away, he explains that what he’s doing is akin to acupuncture.  Everyone knows THESE wucka, wucka, wah-Ah, Ah-ah [those were a$$cheek squeezing noises by the way] are pressure points on the human body and touching them wucka, wucka, wah-Ah, Ah-ah releases endorphins and relieves stress. 

Oh.  Ok.  Frankly, it didn’t do a thing for me, but he had a big smile on his face when he pulled away. 

Sissy didn’t say anything as she took his place in the hug line.  But by the way she was swallowing, I could tell she didn’t want me to get the job almost as much as I don’t want to get the job.  So she just hugged me in her pubescent I-think-I’m-getting-too-old-to-hug-my-mother sort of way and moved off.  But having her fresh, freckle face so close to mine for that brief second actually did make me feel better.  Until I remember how I used to have a fresh, freckle face of my own.  BACK WHEN I DIDN’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT JOBS!!!  And we’re back to square one.

But not for long because Sonny comes in for his own hug.  And having his sturdy arms around me is a treat.  Then – as if he will shortly be imparting his usual out-of-the-mouths-of-babes brand of wisdom, he smiles at me and says, “Two words, Mom….

KNIFE FISTS!!!!”  And starts jamming his pointified fingers into my ribs. 

Thanks, everyone.  I feel much better about things.  Glad we had this talk.

P.S.  Don’t know nothin’ ’bout no knife fists, you say?  Knife Fists 101 can be found here –

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