Visions

I was doing my thing yesterday, loading the dishwasher, thinking about a million other things, when I had a vision as clear as day.

I was older, but not elderly, and living in a little house very like my brother's, a little 1920s bungalow. It was clean (I love this vision), hardwood floors, floaty white curtains at the windows, and a yellow sewing room at the top of the stairs that was all mine. There was a pretty garden that I knew was all my work, and I had lots of projects to do with no deadlines.

But I was completely alone. No husband there, my kids grown and gone. Alone, but not sad. Why wouldn't I be sad? The main reason I work is because I hate being in an empty house. Where was Sweetie? Was he coming back? He wasn't doing the gardening (I could tell that--it would have looked better), and it was very much my house with my kind of stamp on it.

Was this a premonition? Not sure. Written in stone? Doubtful--I don't believe anything is, really. Hallucination? Quite possibly. Wishful thinking? Hmmm. I do think about the day when the kids are grown and gone. Sweetie keeps threatening to die on me, which I would smack him for if I were the smacking type. What if he's right, God forbid?

I must confess that I do get a bit lost in thought at the idea of having my time entirely my own. I think I'd head someplace warm where I'd sit in the shade with a cold drink and a cool breeze, lost in a good book and slipping off to sleep when the urge strikes. Not that I've given it much thought, really. I mean, who has time to fantasize about things like that when one has a house being remodeled and lovely children all around, not to mention hundreds of kids one could possibly be surrounded by at school every day. Honestly.

Not sure how happy I'd be alone, though. I don't want Sweetie to leave me, though the statistical odds against that are pretty daunting. I would hate for my children to live far away from me, as I do from my parents. Is it vain to think my family misses me? I do have four other siblings to fill the gap, but my kids are each completely unique and irreplaceable to me. What an idea to think that my mom and dad might feel that way about me.

I've always lived my life believing and completely accepting that everything is situational and transitory. No one (me) is so important that a substitute won't take the sting away from the separation, either temporary or permanent. Of course, I don't feel that way about others. I remember everyone and everything--nearly. But I have always believed that I pop in and out of people's lives like a flicker of a thought, neither remembered nor missed. It stunned me to know that old friends remembered my name, that my family missed me particularly, that my absence was felt. I feel so forgettable, yet there it is.

So I'm not sure about this vision. It's certainly not something I'm working towards. I like the chaos, color, and energy of my life now. I only imagined living this life when I was single and alone in my cozy studio apartment. But there is that whisper that intimates that if my circumstances do change one day, as they certainly will in some form, I will be able to find happiness and peace there.

Will my children miss me when they're gone? Enough to come see me? Will Sweetie miss me a little if he's waiting for me on the other side? Will he pick out a new someone who is a lot less irritating and likes philosophy? Don't know.

And that's the beauty of it I suppose, if one must find beauty in change, as we really must to maintain some sort of sane perspective. Our relationships and temporal situations change all the time, but our core is the same, the whisper of us that flits in and out of life. For all I know, I'm the one who goes first and my vision is the place I create while waiting for everyone else to join me. Either way, I know I'll be with my family again, and that they'll miss me as I miss them.

Things That Go Bump In the Morning

A few weeks ago our neighbor Josh was hit by a car on his way home from school. He was severely injured, but is doing remarkably better now. You can follow his progress at the blog that was set up for him.

Today was our turn.

Nate was on his way to the bus stop with some friends when a 17 year-old cheerleader pulled out of her driveway quickly without looking first. He was in the middle of the group of kids but was the only one who couldn't get out of the way in time. He hit the back of the car and rolled off the trunk onto the ground. She drove him home and dropped him off, and once he got inside he called me (I was driving to the high school at the time).

An eyewitness report from the 16 year-old girl next to me in our van states: "You then proceeded to freak out."

Yes, I did.

When your kid calls you crying incoherently into the phone and all you can understand is "I got hit by a car!!!", you tend to freak out. I dropped off my daughter and raced home, where I found him lying in bed with an ice pack and nasty bruises and scrapes on his knee and leg. I got Tinkerbell off to school, Sweetie up to BYU, then coaxed him out of the house to have him checked out by the doctor.

Apparently, if he had to get hit, he got hit in the right spot. No kneecap or ACL damage, just bruising that will heal. Didn't hit his head or injure his back and neck. Apart from having my kid hit by a driver who wasn't paying close attention, I feel pretty fortunate!

I feel sorry for her, too. What a scary experience. Apparently she, her brother, and dad came by the house this afternoon while I was at work and asked for me. They neither identified themselves nor asked about Nate, then left. It's odd that we haven't heard from either her or her parents since. Hmmm...

I have to file a police report since there was an injury, so I'll do that in the morning. Wasn't quite up to it today. Hopefully she'll never again forget to look in her rearview mirror, and I don't think Nate will walk across someone's driveway trusting that they see him ever again.

Confusion

A couple of months ago I mentioned a moleskine project that I was working on. I'm finishing up two books right now that I'm mailing out later today, and as I was selecting some photos to print out and use I came across some that gave me a few things to think about.

These are pictures of our garden from a few years ago. Aren't they lovely? Sweetie works so hard on our yard, and he does an amazing job. We've had more than a thousand people tour our garden over the years, and we get to enjoy looking at it every day.

Having a beautiful yard and garden is important to both of us, and keeping it as organic as possible is important to me. I spent many evenings digging up dandelions rather than blast them with pesticide. All those little pesky weeks between the pavers? Me. That was my job in my grandmother's garden, too, so I'm well adapted to such work. I don't even mind it--it makes me feel very happy to see the results of my work.

But I've done next to nothing on the yard for a couple of years now, and it shows. Sweetie is the hardest working person I know, but we have a bit of an inverse relationship there. The harder he works, the more tired I get just watching him. I really (and I'm not being self-deprecating here without cause) have been such a slug! There are so many weeds in the grass now (and we don't have that much) that I'm going to have to resort to non-organic measures. Most of the vegetables went to seed and became compost. The fruit on the trees didn't get picked and canned. I tried to keep the potted stuff watered, but didn't try quite hard enough and they're all crispy now.

There is a to-do list a mile long just in the yard! And then there's the house, which is even longer. Why am I even considering going to grad school and putting everything on hold for two years, cutting our income (which is sort of necessary with kids in college and aging appliances), and then working full-time probably to "use my degree?" The kids would be subsisting almost exclusively on frozen pizza (oh, I know myself better than to think I'd throw something in the crock pot each morning), I would be too tired or busy to monitor their homework, they'd never graduate from high school, and the next thing I know they'd be spouting right-wing sound-bites at me. I can't have this happen to my family!!

Okay, maybe I'm being a bit "Worst-Case Scenario" here. I do know some very nice Republicans after all:) But it is a concern of mine that in my quest to level the playing field with my siblings, the other faculty wives, and whoever else makes my ultra-competitive blood boil at the time (don't even think about taking me on in gin rummy) I'm sacrificing something way more important. Already I've skipped reading bedtime stories to Tinkerbell in exchange for curling up with my GRE prep book. We're on Fall Break right now, and I read about four books to her last night. It reminded me of what I was missing. I made homemade eggrolls for Elvira and her friend on Wednesday, aebelskivers for the kids on Thursday, and tonight it's homemade pizza. I like cooking for them, and while in all honesty I don't like cleaning, I like the results. It makes me sad to see the yard so neglected, and I feel like a horrible parent if my kids aren't doing well in school.

So I'm confused. But not really. I'm more valuable right here being a mom and "keeper of the hearth" than I would be as another drone in an ad agency. I've been that before, and my colleagues didn't bat an eye when I left. There's always an eager 22 year-old college grad ready to step into the gap. Masters degree or not, everyone is infinitely replaceable in the workplace. But I'm the only mom my kids will ever have, and these are the only years my kids will ever be young. Once they're out of school, if I still feel so compelled I will absolutely go back to school. Age is just a number, and if having a graduate degree is that important I'll do it anyway. But for now, I think I'll stay a bit closer to home and hearth.

How many times does this make that I've changed my mind? Not sure anymore. Aren't you glad you're not me? This is what goes on in my head 24/7! Will I flip-flop again? Maybe...

Young At Heart

Wow, I threw an idea out into the cosmos and things happened which I hadn't quite considered.

My erstwhile friend Facebook put me in touch with a couple more dear wonderful friends from Chicago--Adam and Scott. As luck would have it, both are coming out in two weeks for entirely different reasons and I'm so excited to see them both. Scott will be speaking to the advertising majors at BYU in a couple of weeks during Homecoming, but he wasn't quite sure what time he would be giving his presentation. I left a message with the professor over the advertising program and kind of forgot about it for a couple of days until he returned my call. Such a nice guy! We had a great chat and he asked about my background which I shared with him. When he found out I'd been a media buyer/planner at Leo Burnett and planned on applying for grad school, he threw out the idea of doing some teaching for them while I'm going through my program. No big deal--lots of grad students teach lower division classes. But to think that I might be one of those grad students makes me all excited and happy inside! I've decided to spend the whole day with the advertising students and professors and listen to the other presenters that day, as well as Scott. I can introduce myself, get to know a few people, maybe hang out at the Ad Lab for a little while. See and be seen--you know.

And then the awful truth hit me.

I have nothing to wear! Proud to be a mom, but keenly aware that I look like one. This was confirmed by my mother who panicked at the thought that I might wander amongst polite society in my usual garb. So I got my hair cut over the weekend and have to head out for new clothes this week. I used to dress pretty sharp back in the day, but I'm not sure what's workable on me now. There's a big part of me that's worried that no matter how much paint I put on the old barn, it's still just a barn after all.

Years ago my darling grandmother Gigi prepped me for just such an occasion. She was a great beauty when she was young, but she looked very much like a grandmother, albeit a lovely one, during most of my life. She always encouraged us to show off our strengths and be interesting and animated. People are much more likely to listen to what one has to say if one is not self-conscious about how one looks. Make scintillating conversation, be witty, urbane, au courant, considerate, and charming.

That's a lot of pressure!

But I listened.

I'll put on something nice, put on a big smile, and jump in with both feet.

T Pain Obama Auto-Tune

Okay, I voted for Obama. But even I have a sense of humor.

Calculating "Life Cost"

I've been taking a great class up at BYU this past month on financial planning. The material is challenging but so interesting, and I'm looking at our finances and goals through much more hopeful eyes now. We meet every Thursday for three hours up at the Marriott School, and last night we had an interesting discussion about cars.

Somewhere around 1990, Toyota was selling over 9 million cars to people in Japan. The twenty-something segment of the population started reevaluating the expenses associated with automobile ownership. In order to pay for the car itself, parking, gas, insurance, maintenance, etc., they had to shell out a ton of money, not to mention accept the environmental impact of that many cars on the road. Many decided that the "life cost" of owning a car was too high, and today Toyota only sells 2 million vehicles in Japan. Of course, they have a ridiculously more advanced mass transit system over there than we have in the States, which makes it more feasible for some, but it's still a pretty significant shift.

During the break, I talked to two women who were sitting by me. One is single with no kids and recently finished her masters in Library Science. The other is divorced with older kids who just finished the Executive MPA program this summer. Both talked about how stressful their programs were and how they had to put their entire lives on hold to get through those few years. The MPA grad told me her program was incredibly intense, and it didn't turn out to be what she really wanted to pursue after all, though it will help her get where she wants to go. This gave me a few things to think about.

As you know, I've been agonizing over my lack of a master's degree forever on here, and I keep flip-flopping about which program will get me where I want to go, although I'm not really sure where that is yet. Do I pursue the MPA, MBA, JD/MBA, JD, MA in Comms, English, Nursing degree(s)? Can I even get in? Am I way too stupid to keep up with the work? And what about those little people at home? Oh right, and I'm married. Sorry Sweetie! Almost forgot about you!

I'm already working at the school way more than I thought I would be this year. Obviously this is my actual life, but I feel so disconnected from the life that I value. I miss being with my kids, even though I'm with other people's kids all day. I can't remember the last time I did the simplest things like iron, make bread, or weed the garden. Yes, the money is helpful, especially now that the kids are older and much more expensive. But what is the life cost of my choice? Do the benefits outweigh the drawbacks? Right now, I think they do. It's hard on the kids and me, but it's working out. I still haven't figured out when to exercise and sleep, but I'm optimistic that I can do both.

I'm debating about taking the GRE prep class, but I'm planning on taking the test itself in December and applying for my program in February. Can I handle one more thing on my plate? Maybe I should have gotten my MBA at Wash U back in '87 like I had planned. Maybe I should have done the Comms degree and taught at BYU back in '87 when they offered. Maybe I should have just pushed through the rest of the Nursing prerequisites in '03 when I started going back. Maybe I should have done less playing in college and more studying and then I wouldn't feel so stupid when I look at my GPA now.

Maybe I missed my chance.

This would be a very bitter pill to swallow. I still think I can do it all and have it all. Accepting that I'll die with just a BA is like accepting that I'll never be thin again. Sure, I can love myself in spite of it, but I'll always feel like I didn't live up to my potential. Maybe that's a divine prompting. Maybe the life cost does make it worth it. Maybe I'm supposed to do this, for whatever reason, and I just need to have faith and press forward. If it weren't a worthy goal, I really doubt that not accomplishing it would eat away at me like it does. Maybe I'm placing waaaay too much importance on a stupid piece of paper. Does God really care if I have an advanced degree or not? Would He prefer that I just make a decision and shut up about it already?

It sounds blasphemous, but that's the one I'm going with.