I was having a week. The kind of week when every decision I made seemed to be the wrong one. When my patience was a unicorn that had flown somewhere very, very far away. I was a cranky old ogre with barely enough time for a shower and the thought of speaking to anyone in the outside world made me really want a nap.
And then I had to go to a parent-teacher conference.
I don’t know how other people feel about these things, but they always fill me with a weird anxiety—ok, so maybe a lot of things fill me with anxiety, but this is sort of weird, anxious dread. I know I’m going in to talk about one of my daughters, but I always feel like I’m walking in to be judged.
Oh thaaaaaat’s why this kid never shuts up.
How old is this girl?
Is this hot mess really capable of taking care of another human?
Ridiculous? Yes. But that’s kind of the thing about anxiety, isn’t it? So I walk in, immediately more awkward than normal. And I’m pretty awkward.