Friday, July 17

To Do

  • Plan meals.
  • Utilize all of my lovely cookbooks.
  • Learn to make five soups without having to consult a recipe.
  • Start walking.
  • Purge.
  • Get organized.
  • Go on a trip.
  • Start writing again.
  • Watch old movies.
  • Stay organized.
  • Perfect the soft-boiled egg.
  • Learn some good jokes.
  • Read. Read. Read.
  • Remember my pre-motherhood sense of style.

Thursday, July 16

Mosquitoes fear me.

Today was the last day of my last summer class. No daily obligations for another month. I am thrilled. I am also exhausted and honestly...a bit disappointed. I don't think I did very well in my math class. Math has always been hard for me. My mother even enrolled me in Sylvan Learning Center when I was in high school, which I believe ended up being a huge waste of money for her. I am fine when I have time to concentrate and don't have the urgency of a test in front of me and a clock ticking away the seconds. I was in geometry, trigonometry and pre-calculus in high years ago. I did well in math on my years ago. I got a B in Statistics two semesters ago, yet I got five As, a B, and a C in math last semester. I just don't understand why I get so freaked out when it comes to numbers. I won't even show you my check book. I didn't even learn how to count back change until I was in college. Nope...not kidding. I can cook and tell you how much I owe on an item that is $26.99 and 33% off, but don't ask me to remember formulas or what they're for or how to use them. Math to me is like being told something in Spanish and having to answer back in French whilst writing in Gaelic.

I know one shouldn't shoot for a C, but I am praying. What saddens me is that my professor is so fun and terrific and if I weren't in her class I think she would be a great friend. I know my friends would love her. Too bad it would be too awkward to invite her to things, especially since she would know what a dolt I am when it comes to numbers. I can't even give good directions.

I did miss three classes this summer. I went out-of-town for the Fourth of July (which is when I discovered that the body which once was a feast for mosquitoes now repels them with fervor), and I had a panic attack on the way to school one day. It was horrible. I thought for sure I was dying and that I would die on the side of the highway and little Huddy would be stuck in the back of the car in the emergency lane until someone thought fit to pull over to inspect my car. So I can't even blame my confusion in class on laziness or slacking-off. I would just freak myself out so much over the tests that I couldn't concentrate on the material.

She was so sick on our vacation. Something told me over and over again not to go on the trip, but I didn't want to miss it. Now, she's been going to bed at 10 p.m. or later and still getting up at 6.45 a.m. I am exhausted. I could really use a vacation, but I can't imagine leaving her. The conundrum of motherhood. No one needs a vacation more, yet we can't stand to be away from them for a day.

Sometimes, I still wonder what the hell I was thinking going back to school. Poor baby has had such a crazy little life being rushed here and there so I can make it to class or my practicum or a study group. I just don't want to have to take the class over again. It would put me back a whole semester. I just don't have it in me. I'm already feeling too old to start over again. My teacher is my age (I thought for sure I was older than her) and already has her Ph.D. I look at her and think...Huh. So I could have done that already? Good to know.

I just wish the tests came as easily to me as writing a paper. Or massage therapy. Or figuring out how many outfits I can make out of eight shirts, four pairs of pants, and two skirts.