But then again...

When I first started teaching Gifted/Talented six years ago, I went to a conference in Salt Lake.  The presenter was trying to describe the difference between how a gifted child perceives situations as opposed to a "normal" child.  She held her hands about a foot apart and said, "This is how a normal child sees the world."  Then she moved her hands as far apart as she could.  "And this is how a gifted person sees the world."  It doesn't mean they're necessarily smarter than a normal kid, it's just that the sheer number of possibilities aren't filtered down as much.  Where someone might identify three prospective choices that could be made, a gifted person couldn't possibly narrow it down that much.  Then she reminded us that gifted children come from gifted parents.  As the mother of four gifted children, I think I can honestly point the finger right back at myself.  It can be a cool thing, but it can be very frustrating too.

I really don't think of myself as a fickle person.  I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking through things, imagining every possible option and game change that a non-criminally insane person could reasonably imagine.  And yet invariably, the next day or so after a decision is made, I second guess my decision. 

It makes me nuts. 

Elvira is moving into the dorms this fall.  Between the added expense of the dorms, food, bus pass, tuition, books, etc., it became painfully obvious that I would for sure be going back to work.  Oddly enough, I don't mind so much.  I really love the people I work with, and I would miss them terribly.  I don't know if I could ever sleep at night knowing there was only one paycheck coming into the house.  I've been working since I was 10 years old doing one thing or another, and I don't think I could stop if I wanted to.  That was hard for me to accept about myself, but I'm okay with that, too.

So I'm right back where I was, with a class schedule that will bring me to my knees and make me weep.  If my new boss will agree, I'll leave 45 minutes early and head up to class every weekday.  I haven't figured out when I'll study, cook dinner, do laundry, or spend any quality time with my family, but I'll have to make it work somehow.  

OR

I could just work, go home at my normal time, spend irreplaceable "Mom" moments with my two loving children who will still be at home, throw on a clean apron and have dinner on the table at six.  Yeah, right.  How I wish I were that mom, but I'm so not.  I'm sure I'd get completely distracted doing something not even remotely important (or passed out cold on my bed), and the kids would be tactfully asking if they should just get a bowl of cereal before bedtime.  The truth is somewhere in between those two extremes, but it depends on the day.  So probably not a viable option.

OR

I could not work at all.  Budget carefully, watch my pennies, and still manage to put my two lovely older kids through college, pay for their dorm rooms, and set a little aside for a rainy day.  I could work on my insane number of projects, write charming children's books, keep an impossibly witty blog, and add a slew of ads to my sidebar that would allow me to live off my lovely readers like some weird sort of parasite.

OR

You get the picture. 

I was talking to an older friend today about all of this.  If I had a crystal ball, I'd know if I really need to go to nursing school or not.  She suggested that if the situation arose, the Lord would provide a way for us.  I replied that maybe feeling like I should go to nursing school was His very way of providing a way for us.  "Hmmm, there is that," she said.  I don't think it's a lack of faith on my part to stress about it all.  I love learning new things--I'm just a little tired of being in college.  But I really don't know another way to get from A to B.

I'll know what my decision is when I get to it.  If it feels good, I'll do it.  If it doesn't, I won't.  Announcing my plans way in advance is self-defeating and makes me feel like a fickle thing. 

I'm not fickle--just gifted.

Change Is In the Air

Lest one think that I whinge for the sake of whinging (isn't that a fabulous word?  Much more accurate than "whine", especially after you read the definition here), I am trying to restructure my life to resemble what I think it should, or at least closer than it does.  This has required a lot of re-prioritizing and soul-searching on mine and Sweetie's parts, and we've made some decisions.

I'm not going back to work after this school year.

I know that this seems a little silly, especially since my baby, Tinkerbell, will be in 7th grade next year and Kitty Boy will be a junior.  There is, however,  still much for me to do here at home.  As with most people, or so I assume, by the time I get home from work the very last thing I want to be is productive.  For some reason, this year has been much harder on me than others.  I feel nearly completely emotionally and physically drained at 3:20 when the school bell rings.  I don't want to hear one more child's complaints or requests, which does become a bit of a problem with three children still living at home.  And while I genuinely adore my fellow "soldiers in the trench," I don't feel that I make much of an impact on the students, particularly the way things are structured this year.  And as I have often said, you can give your heart and soul to your job, and your job won't ever love you back.

But your family will.


I do hear people talk about how being "at home" is thankless, and that they don't get the praise and feedback that those of us who work do.  I guess if I were the type of person who were exceptionally competent at being a homemaker, I might feel a bit taken for granted if my level of extreme excellence wasn't acknowledged now and again.

I'm not that girl, let's just say that much.

My family would be so stunned and appreciative if we could actually eat at a cleaned off table now and again, I think that could keep me going for awhile.  Add in clean clothes, ironed shirts, and a little bit of weeding, and Houston, we've got lift-off.

I've never stayed home alone without kids on a long-term basis (the odd sick day aside).  I worked until Drummer Boy was born, and as soon as Tinkerbell started first grade, I went back to work.  I do worry about being lonely.  I worry about having nothing to show for my time.  I worry that I might be bored.  I'll have to deal with those as I come to them.  Thank goodness for a pesky puppy--I'll spend so much time shooing her off the cats the time will fly by.

But today Kitty Boy was sick and having trouble breathing.  I took the day off because I was nervous about leaving him alone like that.  When I woke Elvira up for her college classes, she started throwing up and has been sick all day.  I was able to supply jello, ice water, blankets, heating pads, and just plain "Mom."  That's a pretty awesome feeling, and I didn't make a dime off of it. 

So a little less than three months from now I'll be officially embarking on a much more budget-conscious, solitary, but hopefully more fulfilling life.

Oh, and I'll be writing more, too.