Moments

Every Day

Every Hour

Every Minute

I Make It Through

Is a Victory

Step 1

So I gave my notice. My official last day of work will be May 28th. It's a relief and terrifying at the same time. I keep thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Stupid fricking anxiety.

The Plan

There is a plan. It is written in pencil, but still it is a plan.

Why in pencil do you ask? Only because I tend to be a wee bit impulsive, and I want to make sure that I am making my plan thoughtfully and not impulsively. Last time I made a plan impulsively, I got myself this job that makes me want to stab my eyes out.

What's that? Oh what is this so-called Plan?

First, I get to quit this job. To coincide with my children's summer break and I will be home to parent my children instead of send them off to summer school and daycare (which the husband is adamantly opposed to. Don't ask why. That is a whole other Oprah that we just don't have time for.) If I don't stay home, we would have to find a nanny, which in our smallish town is not an easy prospect.

Second, I go back to school and get my master's degree. Here in comes the thoughtfully vs. impulsively. The program I am looking at has a Fall deadline of May 1st. I would have to commit and do all the paperwork (I have to write an essay, kill me know) and take/pass the GRE before then. That's kinda quick. So my plan is to take a class or two in the Fall, MAKE SURE I want to do this school thing, and start the program in the Spring of 2011.

Do I sound calm? I am working really hard at sounding calm. I figure if I practice hard enough with this calm thing, it may override the shrieking, panic-filled banshee that is rolling around inside me.

I have this little issue with change. And anxiety. The plan doesn't sit well with the issues.

I still have to contact the people in the program to make sure I can take the 2 classes I am looking at without being admitted, plus I have to apply to the grad school.

Plus I have to quit in such a lovely sweet way that my boss and former boss (same office) will right me letters of recommendation for the program.

The program? You're curious, you say... oh, well then. Master of Arts in Library Science. (Did that catch anyone off-guard?)

So what do you think of my plan?

I NEED one!

Yes it's pretty. Yes, I want one.

I also want one these:

And one of these:
This one needs to come with a puppy nanny though.

Whine

Me: My wine is gone.
Husband: Understand that after this, there is no more.

Good husband - bought me a bottle of wine for after the 8 year old birthday party
Bad husband - He only bought one.

Time flies

whether you want it to or not, no matter what you are doing. Unless of course you are doing something you dread then it creeps by or worse seems to move backwards. But that's not the point.

What is the point?

My baby is 8. She's my oldest, but my two are so close in age (they are 16 months apart. Yes, I did do it on purpose. Yes, I am mentally unstable. What's your point)... as I was saying... they are so close in age that I consider both of them my babies.

She's tall, she's mature, and she's 8. Eight! EIGHT! How did this happen? Soon she'll be 10 and then a teenager, and I have been listening to all of you, I know the best is coming.

Sigh.

It isn't enough that I have to deal with my emotional ramifications of her getting another year older... we have to have the dreaded birthday party. I suggested a nice bowling party or pottery painting. You know something where you go somewhere, not your home, and someone, not you, sets it up and cleans it up. Somehow we are doing a kids party in my house. I will have 10 under 10s running around my house which is currently a disaster area. The whole house needs to be bulldozed and start over.

By tomorrow afternoon.

Last night her brother got upset because HE hadn't gotten her a present yet. And I forgot all about buying plates and forks and stuff. And I suppose I should have some sort of activity for them to do. And my parents are coming and I have to remember to get clean sheets on their bed.

Do you feel sorry for me yet?

I didn't think so.

Oh, and Uncle Anon, she squeed when she saw your gift.

Want

Want: