How I Roll (Job Interview Edition)

I have a job interview phobia.  I sit there with an eager smile plastered on my face until my cheeks ache.  

It doesn't matter how big of a douche the interviewer is or how quickly I realize I would never, ever, EVER want to work there, that stupid grin stays in place.

HI!

I am always interviewed by an asshole, and at some point, he/she always insults me.  And I just sit there and take it.

Liberal arts degrees are sooo pathetic! I know, right!

Like the woman in charge of X-ray records at the hospital who said, patronizingly, "I don't think you would fit in here with my girls.  I see you more as a receptionist."

If I have to wear one of your scrunchies to fit in, then...yeah.  Point me to reception.

Or the panel interview with old men who pounded me with personal questions like, "Is your husband okay with you working?"

Wha--?  Don't think that's legal...

Once a pervy old man directed all questions to my left boob in his isolated, dingy office.  He never looked at my face and I still kept smiling.

Should I walk out?  WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS?!?

I smile like a loon even when I say something totally stoopidz.  I read somewhere that you should ask questions and seem really interested in the job...but at the end of the interview I couldn't think of anything to ask.  (DATA ENTRY is not that complicated.)  Feeling like I need to ask something, I burted out:

"Can I listen to the radio here? Because at my last job, we weren't allowed, and IT WAS HELL to hear nothing but keyboards clicking.  Er...I mean...not that I'm going to blare the radio or anything!  Hee. Snort.  Bwahahahahahaha!  Wow.  I did not just say that to you."

Annnnd...that's how I landed my current job.

Thumb Peace Declared!

Victory!!!  Huzzah!!!

The Thumb War petered out into a weekend riot, similar to the tear gas and couch fires at Akron U on May Day.  Ah.  Sweet college memories. 

The first night Elizabeth would roll over, put her thumb in her mouth, then wake up spiting and gagging.  She'd run to the bathroom and rinse her mouth out and cry before falling back in bed and PUT HER THUMB IN HER MOUTH AGAIN.  At about 4 am I was beating my head off my air mattress and screaming, "You know it tastes bad!  WHY ARE YOU STILL PUTTING IT IN YOUR MOUTH?!?!?"  She'd cry and moan, "I want it off!!!!  BLECH!" and we'd fight with each other until we passed back out for another hour.

*shudder*  We are waaaay too similar.

Kevin stayed with her the 2nd night which naturally--NATURALLY!--was a perfect night.  She was worn out and didn't wake up.

The third night we both stayed until she fell asleep, then let her work through her night alone.  I heard her in the bathroom spitting in the sink once--and she just dealt with it and headed back to bed.  No crying.  No moaning.

And now?  It's over!  Peace has been declared!  The thumb sucking issue is dead!

Honestly, I am in shock.  Greeny (and the sneaking of her thumb behind him) has been a big, irritating power struggle for over a year.  It's almost like she used him to regress?  He wasn't allowed out of the house--he wasn't supposed to leave her bedroom--but inevitably she'd smuggle him downstairs and zone out in front of the TV.  Then we would find her with it, confront her, and she'd storm off angry. 

I expected a month-long war over her blanket, but she willingly put him away in the attic and hasn't asked for him.  She isn't sitting passively on the couch anymore--she's up and busy playing while a movie is on.  She's excited to watch her thumb lose it's red lines and sores.  Buying that nail polish and asking her to retire Greeny is the BEST move we could have made.

Goodbye Greeny.  Elizabeth is not a baby anymore.

I Declare a Thumb War

Tonight is Girl's Night with Elizabeth.  Popcorn.  Harry Potter Movie Marathon.  Pedicures.  Thumb-sucking Intervention.

At 6, it's obvious to the entire family that Greeny (her blanket) and sucking her thumb isn't going away on it's own.  Permanent teeth are poking up from baby tooth holes, and it's time for Mom and Dad to step in before she damages her bite.

I bought a bottle of Malava Stop Bitter Nail Polish and told Elizabeth that we're trading Greeny in for a trip to Build A Bear.  (Greeny is part of her ritual.  She needs one to complete the other, so getting rid of Greeny seems to be the logical first step.)  I explained why she needs to stop sucking her thumb, what the plan is to help her, and I'm gearing myself up for a rough couple of weeks while she...uh...detoxes.

The reviews said the bitter polish is so gross that kids gag on it--so I'm sleeping in her bedroom to catch any midnight, unconscious thumb sneaks that lead to horrific freak outs at 3 am.  I'm totally sympathetic to her battles with this.  I sucked my fingers until I was NINE--and I spent many a night with a sock pinned to my pajamas, tweaking like a crack-head and testing my willpower to not rip the thing off.

(I almost always FAILED.)

Some parents say breaking the thumb sucking habit by force is cruel, and only a monster would paint something on their kid's thumb and take away her method of self-soothing.  

Mmmmmmmm.  I don't buy it.

"Cruel" is a roomful of dental assistants pinning a 10 year old down in the chair so they can jam her mouth full of goo for dental impressions.  Head-gear is cruel.  Three years of painful braces to correct 9 years of thumb sucking is cruel.  A week of bitter nail polish and Mom sleeping on your floor for support is...parenting. 

But...let's discuss it.  What's the proper response to school-aged thumb sucking?