I wrote this post three weeks before the COVID-19 pandemic. I was rushing through life just as we all were. I’m so glad I wrote this and never published it (because I hadn’t yet finished creating my new blog), so it was still sitting here on my computer waiting to be posted. I read through it and on one hand, it felt like I wrote it yesterday, but in reality, I wrote it a lifetime ago. The scenario I described in this article involved schedules, and Bobby coming home late from work, and piano lessons. Now, those are things of the past. I got choked up while reading it because I so desperately want life to return to it’s old norm.
But there was a part of me that said, Wait a minute, it’s time to put more effort into seeing the bright side of the reality we’re living in now. There’s no need to rush. There’s nowhere to be. It’s time to slow down and not long so hard for those old days because there’s absolutely nothing I can do right now to get them back.
And I just remind myself that they will come back, and what a sweet day that will be.
Original post written on Feb. 20, 2020
I am now in week 3 of my new Master’s degree program in a course called “Orientation to School Psychology.” I can’t believe the first month is almost done. This is what drew me to the program; its one-month-course-at-a-time structure. At this rate, I’ll be done before I know it. But just because it’s going fast doesn’t mean it’s going easy.
I think of it this way. I have kids, a husband, a house, a couple of side writing jobs…I have meals to make and schedules to keep and responsibilities that comes along with raising children and maintaining a home.
It’s a juggling act, and I just threw in another ball.
I chose the online version of this program (rather than the once a week, in-class option), for pretty obvious reasons. I have three children. My youngest is four. Enough said, right? Programs like this are designed for people like me; people who return to school after their first career has sizzled out and they want to find something new to sink their teeth into.
My class virtually meets every Tuesday evening at 7 p.m. We all login to class via Zoom, and we can see our professor in the middle of the screen. All of us students are logged in with our microphones on and our cameras aimed at us so when we decide to participate in the class discussion, we can. For those of you who watched The Brady Bunch, picture the intro…Mom in the middle, floating heads of the kids surrounding the mom. That’s us during class. We can all see our instructor. We can all see each other.
As you can imagine, a lot has to take place for me to have the quiet space required to be able to login into a class and participate. My house is not quiet unless nobody is there. There are five of us in this home, it’s two-story, and there are only a couple of rugs to absorb noise. No carpet. It echoes. There’s laughing. There’s fighting. There’s complaining. There’s playing. It’s a full-time, live-action house.
And my husband, Bobby, has a job. An important job that sometimes requires long hours. Before signing up for this program, we agreed that he would need to get home every Tuesday in time for my 7 p.m. class.
The first Tuesday that I had class, I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted to be sitting at my computer with washed hair, fresh makeup, you know, presentable. I wanted enough quiet time to exist before the start of class that I would no longer feel frazzled from the day. I wanted to have the kids bathed, fed, and almost ready for bed by the time 6:30 p.m. rolled around.
And I did. I had all my ducks in a row. I had all afternoon, starting right after school, to make sure that my boys, Andrew and Evan, practiced piano, and that my daughter, Ava, had her bath with proper playtime rather than a rushed “let’s get you out because mommy has something to do right now” feel to it.
They were all fed and clean when Bobby got home at 6:45. He was 15 minutes late, which I was expecting, so that was okay. I still had 15 minutes. As I started to open my school email account to locate the link for my new class, my boys got into a pillow fight and the corner of a pillow went straight into Evan’s eye. He cried. Hard. Andrew apologized, and Ava ran to get an ice pack. Evan said he couldn’t open his eye. It hurt too bad. He needed mommy snuggles. Okay, I can do this, I thought. I have a few minutes.
We snuggled on the couch, and then Ava, who sometimes likes to avoid taking breaks from playing by holding her pee in until the moment it’s going to escape from her body, peed on the bathroom floor right before she made it to the toilet. She started crying.
It was 6:52. I still had eight minutes. Bobby started asking questions. Have they eaten? Are they all bathed? Will they need bedtime snacks or did they eat enough for dinner? I answered all questions while cleaning Ava’s pee situation and getting her onto the toilet. Finally, things were starting to calm down.
Bobby found out he got a promotion that day. He needed to squeeze in that information in the midst of everything else going on. I don’t blame him. He was so happy and I was so proud. I hugged him and tried not to look like I was going to have a panic attack because it was then 6:58 and I needed everybody upstairs. I had my computer and notebook and articles we’d be discussing during class all set up at the kitchen counter. Upstairs is where all the bedtime action happens, so I thought I’d be safe. It was 6:59 and I was not safe. I was going to be late.
So, out came my mom voice. Not only to my kids, but to Bobby as well. GET UPSTAIRS I yelled. The kids started whining about the snacks they still needed and Bobby had another question or two. He was asking them as he marched the kids upstairs. Four people saying endless words, echoing up the stairs.
It was 7 p.m. on the dot. I rushed to my computer and hit the “Join Zoom Meeting” button. Phew. I made it. The noise upstairs was unheard by my new classmates, and well, for me, I’m pretty good at blocking it out when I need to. Bobby had it under control. And I attended my first class without a full-blown panic attack happening. It all worked out.
My point? When you want to do something, you make it work, no matter what. This situation could have been much worse… someone could have thrown up on me. Bobby could have gotten stuck in traffic on the way home. But, no. On this particular day, believe it or not, it was a success. I was in a quiet room, looking halfway put together (my hair was still in a sloppy pony tail and I had no make up on, but I was there).
This is just how life has to be done sometimes when you’re working toward something you really want. Messy, sloppy, rushed, and crazy…but it’s still possible…and worth it in the end.
Mid-LIFE Reinvention 