I fought with the kids this morning and they won. I'm thoroughly embarrassed. As I am certain that this is their purpose in life, this constitutes a win.
I am, to put it mildly, poor. We have for years managed to live as poor people in a pretty normal non-poorness-evident fashion. But this fall I start at a very expensive school, and this has me scrambling like mad for financial help, culminating in a frenzied 8am redial-button-pushing episode a la the radio station contests...with Washington Women in Need. Application submitted and my poorness duly presented, I thought my duty was over for now. But no, they called this morning, without warning, for a phone interview.
"Ring" (ok, ba-ba-lalalalalala-ba-ba...they called my cell...) and commence child madness. The 4yo picks up the toddler. She screams BLOODY MURDER. Yes, as I am saying "this is she." This sets the tone for a 30 minute struggle for quiet. Or fuck, I'm realistic, I'd settle for low bustle and hum and movie noise. Run to one room. Followed. Run to the other. Oh GOD someone is screaming bloody fucking murder again, what ARE they doing...run back to kids. Throw chips at kids...please, for the love of god, stuff your mouths and SHUT UP. Go to the other room to get financial documents. Start quoting numbers. Cue child fight over who holds the chip bag.
Yes, 30 minutes of this later, I am wrapping up the phone interview, planning an in-person interview, and I apologize "sorry for all the kid noise". I fully expected, if not absolution, at least an uncomfortable chuckle, especially considering that I'm on the phone with an organization that purports to be about improving the lives of poor women. But no. Silence.
If anything could make me cry after a solid half-hour of trying my hardest to get quiet, stressed out like mad, it was that.
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