Sprinting

It’s going on midnight and I am staring at a computer screen. It’s blank and inviting. Finally, a quiet moment to myself. Finally. permission to let go of my school work for the day. My head is so full of concepts and big words (what the hell does “philatelic” mean, anyway?) from the day’s readings that I am cross-eyed and am hitting diminishing returns on my efforts. Moments like these are delicious, despite my exhaustion. The only sound comes from the trickle of the fish tank filter and the tapping of the keyboard, and I can finally allow myself a break. The blue cast from my monitor lights the living room and I take my first, real, full breath of the day.

I know someday I will look back and be proud of my hard work, of the time I put into my degree. But sometimes, frankly, it is hell. And I wonder, with all of the sacrifices I am making now, whether it is worth it. There are times when I don’t have enough time to clip my own fingernails. Times when Jay asks me to read him “books, and books, and books” and I have to choose between seeing that big grin on his face or getting my paper in on time. Or times when I look down at Ella, nursing while I read an assignment and wonder whether she knows that I am not spending all of these hours just gazing at her. In short, I feel guilty.

And why shouldn’t I? I was raised a good Catholic girl. We’re already feeling guilty by the time we get out of bed in the morning. But as a working mother in full time school with two little ones under the age of three, EVERYTHING is a reason to feel guilty. I don’t see my parents enough. I don’t talk to my brothers and sisters enough. I don’t spend enough time with Chris, or stare unblinkingly at Ella, or make macaroni necklaces with Jay. I don’t do enough for my fabulous in-laws (really they are- I lucked out), and I am not around enough for my friends. And I want to be around for everybody, and rebound the generosity that has been bestowed on me… but, sometimes I don’t even have enough time to clip my own fingernails.

And I hate that.

I hate being that person who is too busy for other people. I never want to be too busy for anybody. People like that annoy me. Seriously.

But sometimes I feel like I am at a full on sprint and then something happens that ups the ante and suddenly, I am not just sprinting, I am sprinting to the point of near muscle failure. That point you hit in a dead sprint where you simply know you are going to puke. Yeah. That’s how it feels sometimes.

So. If you are reading my blog, there is a very good chance that I know and care about you. You know who you are, I don’t think I need to name all four of you. I’ll make you a deal. My life is jam packed right now. Please forestall all major crises until, oh, May 2009. Late May, just to be safe. By then I should have graduated and will be able to devote the proper attention necessary to address your issue.

So. Take your vitamins (if you’re a woman, make sure it has enough iron and calcium. If you’re a man, skip the iron). Get plenty of rest. (But not too much. We’re not going for blood clots.) Get your exercise (but wear a helmet if you do anything that requires any type of actual movement). If you must get into a car between now and May, wear your seatbelt ferchristsakes. Do not take an airplane, shave with anything sharper than a butter knife or go for a walk after dark. Wear a condom, sunscreen and a bear bell (not necessarily all at the same time, but it wouldn’t hurt).

Learn how to do the Heimlich maneuver on yourself and how to identify African Killer Bees.

Check your tire pressure and stay away from home canned beans.

Do not spontaneously combust.

Do not have your gallbladder removed or attempt to remove it yourself.

Actually, it’d be best if you just sat still. Right there. Just until, you know, this whole school thing blows over. Then we can all come out and play together. Helmets optional. Thanks.

Unless you need me. Because I'll be there. Puking a little maybe, but I'll be there.