Ever have one of those days when trying to do anything productive is useless?
I woke up this morning with a real purpose.
Today is the first day of the last week of my Master’s program. My purpose is to finish strong!
In many ways it has been a hard road. The program is an intensive one, two years of study completed in only one year.
They really weren’t kidding about that intensive part. I hit quite a few walls throughout the year, walls that took every ounce of strength I had to climb, one slippery handhold at a time. Sometimes I wondered if I could make it.
When I began the program I was warned that I would need to devote an average of 30 hours a week to complete it. I must say, the estimation of the time commitment was dead on. Although there were a few lighter weeks that required a mere 20 hours, they were balanced with others that needed at least 40. I had one or two weeks that came in around 50.
But all that is now in the past.
In a few minutes, when I’m done here, I’ll log onto the school’s portal and check what I need to do for this final week. Then I’ll roll up my sleeves and get to work.
Because I like when I get that oh-so-lovely sense of accomplishment. And successfully finishing this Master’s program will feel lovely indeed.
And I have a purpose.
I will finish strong.
The thing about living in a city is that no person is ever truly alone. People are there and watching, even if they aren’t trying to watch.
This morning, a little before 7:30, I was making a cup of espresso. My espresso maker is right by a window, and the window overlooks my neighbor’s back yard.
It is a very busy backyard. There has been a constant stream of workers building and digging all summer long. As soon as one project is completed and the workers leave, another team arrives to start the next project.
The current team has only been at work a day or two. I have no clue what their project is, only that it requires a certain amount of hammering and playing of loud music.
I’m pretty sure that although I can see into my neighbor’s backyard, anyone in the backyard probably cannot easily see into my kitchen.
At least that is what I now assume. Ever since this morning when, after looking around in a very suspicious manner, one of the workers unzipped his pants and marked his territory just like a dog.
Yes, you read correctly. He urinated, right there in the backyard.
Just what I wanted to see as I made my coffee.
Yep, city living. It can sometimes surprise you.
A new era just began for me. Today. This morning.
I stepped outside to walk the dog this morning to be greeted by the sound of children heading off to the first day of school.
That’s when it hit me. My last child is grown.
I’ve always been a hands-on type of mom, so for twenty-two years I’ve taken my children to school on the first day. It started with my oldest daughter and became an instant tradition.
Twenty-two years of rushing through breakfast. Twenty-two years of agonizing over first-day-clothing, which always resulted in multiple clothing changes. Twenty-two years of backpack checks and lunches. And twenty-two years of tears, usually mine.
I’ll miss it, but at least I have the memories. Memories of angst, and memories of excitement.
My youngest begins college at the end of this month, but it’s not the same. She’ll head out to her first day of school from her dorm room. I won’t be a part of it.
The new era has indeed begun.
Or at least, my allergies have gone and done it.
Up to now my allergies have just been annoying. They keep me from fully enjoying social gatherings, since I’m allergic to a lot of foods and fragrance triggers asthma in me.
You may think that I miss eating all those yummy goodies, but avoiding the wrong food is the easy part.
People who don’t know me well think I’m anti-social. Especially when they reach out to give me a hug and I practically sprint away. It isn’t that I don’t want to be friendly, it’s only that their perfume jumped ahead of them and gave me a fragrance sock right on my nose. My heart might be saying, “how sweet, a friend,” but my lungs are screaming, “poison…run!”
That’s bad enough. But now, now my stupid allergies have now gone too far. They made me lose a job.
I tried to stick it out. I struggled to concentrate as each waft of fragrance was matched by a wave of dizziness. I lasted up to the point when that elephant pranced into the room, sat on my chest, and wiggled around to find a comfortable seat. I knew then that it was a lost cause.
I’ve heard that acupuncture relieves allergies, for some people. I should give it a try. Nothing else has ever helped.
Yep, I really should think about it.
I really should.
After all, what choice do I really have? I can be an unemployed anti-socialite or a pin cushion.
You would think the decision would be easy, wouldn’t you?
I have some very exciting news!
Monday morning at 5:10 a.m. my husband and I received a phone call from my daughter. She was going to have her baby.
We rushed over to her house. Her 3-year-old son was still sound asleep, so we assured my daughter and her husband that we could take good care of him while they were busy at the hospital. They left, and we sat on the couch and twiddled our thumbs for a while.
Five in the morning is NOT my normal time to wake up. So after about 30 minutes of thumb-twiddling my husband volunteered to run out to Starbucks for a cup of perk-me-up. I was tired of fighting with my eyelids to stay open, so I agreed.
He was only gone about 10 minutes when the 3-year-old decided it was time to start his day. As soon as the little sweetie saw me peeking into his room he burst into tears.
“I want my mommy and daddy!” he cried, throwing himself dramatically down on the bed. (If you’ve never been around small children you’ve probably never experienced real, true drama. They do it very well because for them, everything is very, very important.)
“Your mommy and daddy have gone to the hospital. They’ll be back a little later.” I kept my voice calm.
“I want my mommy and daddy!” he cried, tears streaming down his little face.
I reassured him again. And again. And again. I spent about 5 minutes reassuring until I finally realized that it wasn’t working. He was just too worried about the changes he knew were coming. A new baby sister is a very big thing.
So I switched tactics. I asked him if he remembered how big his mommy’s stomach had grown. He tearfully nodded that he did. I then asked if he remembered before his mommy’s stomach had gotten big. He thought a moment, but then nodded yes.
I could tell I now had his interest. He wondered where I was going with this.
I then pretended that I was his baby sister, growing, kicking, and stretching in the confined space of her mommy’s tummy.
He smiled.
I knocked on the pretend tummy and asked in a silly voice, “Hello, I’m ready. Can I come out now? Hello, I’m ready to meet my brother.”
He laughed.
The rest of the day went well, with no further tears.
The baby was born around 7:30 p.m., but my husband and I didn’t get to return home until closer to 11.
It was a very long day, but very worth it!
Welcome, little one!
I can now breathe again.
I submitted my thesis yesterday (Thursday) morning even though it is not due until Sunday.
I thought about hanging onto it a few days longer. I asked myself, “Wouldn’t one more pass make it stronger? Wouldn’t a few more days of work bring it that much closer to perfection?”
But every change is a double-edged sword. It might make the script better, but then again, it might not. That little glimmer of goodness in the script could be lost with one stroke of the delete button, or overshadowed by an added clutter of words.
Besides, every change increased the odds that I would incorporate a mistake that I might not find to correct.
Still, I almost caved. Until I realized that I could no longer see the script!
Oh, my eyes haven’t given out. I can see other things fine. It is only the script that is blurry.
I’m too close to it. I need to back off and give that little script time to grow and mature.
And I need to breathe.
Ah. Breathing is nice. It feels good to breathe!
I’ll have to try it more often.
Even in the middle of rewrites the dog has to be walked.
Sometimes walking the dog can be very pleasant, with sunshine, fresh air, and chats with neighbors.
Sometimes it can be disgusting. (You can use your imagination for the disgusting aspects because I’m not going to expand on that.)
Today was a combination. It started as the former, but ended as the latter.
I don’t really want to talk about it. Let’s just let it go and move on.
You’ve heard of people with nerves of steel? Well, it looks like I’ve got nerves of ice.
Let’s see…
One daughter is starting college next month.
One daughter just moved back home to save money for grad school.
One daughter is preparing for her wedding.
One daughter is due to have a baby this month.
My husband is remodeling our kitchen.
And my thesis is due in two and a half weeks.
No pressure. No stress.
Just family life.
(Okay, I’ll admit it. I am a little stressed about the thesis. It’ll be our secret.)