This weekend Clay and I had a disagreement. Now, I know you're thinking I mean a fight but, no, I actually mean a disagreement. It ended with me saying, "I can see where you are probably right, but I'm not able to agree just yet."
We are totally mature like that. It's very boring.
It started with me announcing that I don't intend to take any more classes in the fall.
"It's just too much. Too busy, too expensive, too much time. Everyone's stressed, and all of this in pursuit of a degree that doesn't even have any earning potential. And I could be wrong, but I suspect our schedule won't actually be easier next fall. Hmm?"
And then he said all these reasonable and yet somehow unconvincing things about how life was never going to take a break so I could get my degree done, and we would make it happen (again) (somehow) with the money and the time and the driving duties. Plus, he pointed out, if it's important, it's important, even if it's hard.
I just don't know, though. I'm tiiiiiiired. I always say that it takes very little to tip a family's schedule over from "pretty full" to "aaaaaauUUUUUGAAAAHHH!*" We can be managing fine, then one kid's birthday party makes everything complicated. And we're smack dab in the middle of complicated right now. I swear, Clay and I spend half our lives on the phone, hammering out details. "So, if I pick up Tre you can take the dog to the groomers**, and is Mom taking Max to chess club tonight?"
So although Clay is probably right, I still am not sure. Tonight I gave a presentation on Anne Sexton (see also: Confessional poet, reframing archetypes, bat s**t crazy***). I think I did okay, despite the fact that I'm currently harboring a cold in my head, where it is repaying me for the shelter by trying to kill me by imploding my sinuses. You are welcome for the visual. After the class one of the other students caught me in the hall to ask how I did on my mid term. *cough cough* I got an A. *pleased smile* *cough*
She was TOTALLY IRRITATED because she got a B, and I suspect that she doesn't DO Bs. I would have given her an A, and I told her so. This was not as comforting as you might think. I truly think she would have felt better if she'd only gotten a higher grade than mine. Because if she can't beat the ancient breeder woman from the SUBURBS, why is she even getting out of BED IN THE MORNING?
I wonder how horrified she would be if she knew more about my life. If she could have seen me this morning, singing an embarrassingly enthusiastic rendition of "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" and engaging in intense negotiations over whether or not a Yu-Gi-Oh! tournament is a gift-giving occasion, she would probably be extra appalled that I got her A.
I'm just not sure it's all worth it. I may have an A in the class, but I feel like I'm barely scraping by with a C**** in my life. It just doesn't seem like a reasonable trade-off.
And yet, at the same time, I'm just a little bit tickled my spider-singing, decision-making, paper-writing, presentation-giving, archetype-busting self. Heh. I guess we'll figure the next semester out later.
(*I have never once in my life said "aaaaaauUUUUUGAAAAHHH!" That was poetic licence, also known as "making stuff up so it's a little less boring.)
(**This was also poetic license. The dog hasn't been to the groomers in months. I couldn't think of another example. I am tired.)
(***I actually really like Anne Sexton. Her work. Anne Sexton's work. I didn't know her personally, and she died when I was 3, but from all accounts, she was...whoo. Emotionally fraught.)
(****Maybe a C+. Not to brag, but I did bake apple bread last week. That's gotta count for something.)