Sitting on go

I am unacquainted with standing by.

Apparently.

Since I have finished school, I've found myself at kind of a loss. For…well, anything.

I sit at home and listen to the alternate fighting and love of my children. I think of all the things I should be doing – laundry, writing, reading, cleaning. Making things to hang on the walls since they are all presently blank. Also, there is a strange conglomeration of 8-9 nails on the wall above my couch and I spend more time than I care to admit sitting and wondering what could have possibly ever hung there.

 

I've thought about grad school. But…what? What could I do? I'm thirty four damn years old and really I have no more idea of what I want to be when I grow up than I did when I was nine.

I thought about teaching. Praxis testing is expensive. And what happens if I do all that work and find myself in front of however many kids…and then I hate it?

Problem is, I got used to school. I got used to being occupied. I also have the fortune/misfortune of being married to a man who is always on the go, so many nights the kids and I find ourselves at home, existing through the night. I don't mind it, though. I have time to watch King of the Hill, talk about movies and games with Max, play 4,000 games of various substance with Lucy, or decipher Pretty Little Liars with Ava.

Then I think about what I'd want to do, given the chance.

I'd be creative, I'd have a different outlook on every day. I'd solve and make and do and be.

Or I'd be Beyoncé.

Anyway.

Enough. Enough with the thoughts.

 

It’s Friday.

School started back yesterday.

I’ve never been one of those moms who tear up and take pictures and all that.

Call me selfish, but I’ve been kind of amped about a day of (relative) peace.

But that’s not what I got.

There’s been all this hubbub for us about our financial aid. I don’t want to get into it because I’m not really sure I understand it all and I’m not sure what it means for our schooling future.

We had to appeal, and the appeals people met Wednesday.

After waiting and stressing and moping, I was approved to receive financial aid this semester.

Josh wasn’t.

How’s that for some shit?

I’m torn. This is something we had planned to do together and I feel like I’m reneging on some unspoken deal.

But then it’s senseless for me to have the means and not do it on principle.

Neither of us handled the situation with much grace yesterday. Josh (rightfully) felt wronged and devastated, and I felt so guilty that I made him feel guilty for being sad.

Follow that?

So I apologize for not being entertaining. It’s beyond me at the moment.

As for school and the kids, they had a great day. It was “awesome but boring” according to Ava.

I do need to tell you about Ava’s feather.

This whole feather-extensions-in-the-hair thing is not something I’m much a fan of, I think it looks stupid and it kind of ranks up with fur in the ick department, not to mention places are charging an arm and a hemerroid to put them in.

But see, my dad is Larry Wilkes, and of course he has the contraptions needed to make farther hair extensions. The world would not be spinning if he didn’t.

So we picked out feathers from the fly-tying supplies, and hair feathers were had. The first time they looked pretty good, not too garish and a little bit funky.

Then this week Ava wanted more. Because school was starting and what better way to celebrate than with dead bird hair?

So she picked out the feathers and we put them in.

And because of this one fuzzy pink feather that refuses to calm itself and instead wants to catch every breeze and defy every law of physics by actually staying in her hair, my sweet second grader looks like she had a bad night at a Ke$ha concert.

Fashion victims, that’s what we are.