Peeved

Last week Ian received an assignment at school to make a self-propelled car out of household junk.  You know, powered by rubber band, balloon, or mousetrap.  We looked around the house and scrounged some junk: food containers, hot wheels, etc.  He went over to a friends house and they made a car that sort of worked.  He came home today to tell me that the teacher wouldn't accept his car and he had to make a new one by tomorrow.  The reasons? The aesthetics of the car were bad and he "didn't like" the engine.  The car wasn't fast, it did not go far, but it worked.  Then Ian tells me about the cars that "passed" inspection.  Of course, they were awesome looking and some of them came from car kits.  To say it got my blood boiling is an understatement. 

The assignment said nothing about the cars looking nice, it only said for them to be self-propelled and made out of household junk.  I did not take over the assignment.  I let Ian figure it out and do it himself.  I'm one of those crazy moms.  I don't do my kids science fair projects.  I don't do their reports or projects.  I do try to edit their essays, but the kids have starting printing them out without letting me see them anymore.  I can help make them better, let me help.  Anyway, I have enough to do thanks.  And I don't get any satisfaction out my kids getting grades that aren't theirs.

So, Ian and I worked together on another car.  We still tried to use junk.  He had a band concert tonight with the high school band and had to be there three hours early.  I just snapped.  I am helping him with an unfair assignment rather than doing my own homework.   And we can't make it work.  Fine, I can do this.

I took him to his function and went to the store to get rubber bands.  I had to buy stuff for this project.  I then went online and just looked up directions for a car.  Thirty minutes later, I had an awesome cardboard, duct tape, rubber band car.  That works.  Towards the end, it does turn around and come back a little, but whatever. 

Lesson learned?  I think I did, but not so much Ian.  Now it's late, the concert was two hours long, my homework for tomorrow is not done, and I'm exhausted (what's new about that?).  I still have twenty pages on Discourse in the Novel to read before I can even do my written response to it.  Oh, and it is academic intellectual babble, complete nonsense.  But, that car is awesome, bet I get a good grade on it, too.

Back to school

I started at the University of Utah last week.  I can honestly say that it was one of the hardest weeks of my life.  On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I have four classes.  All back to back with a fifteen minute break in-between each class.  The other day, I needed to use the facilities sometime during my first class; I finally got my chance on my way to my fourth class.  Those three days, I am gone from 8 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.  On Tuesday and Thursday, I have two classes.  The first is at 7:30 a.m., so I am on the 6:00 a.m. train to get to class on time.  I get home around noon.  I just figured this one out, those two days I am gone six hours for 1 hour and 50 minutes of lecture time.  This is the most grueling schedule I have ever done.  My commute is about 90 minutes one-way.  I try to study as much as possible on the train both ways.  Most of my homework is done online, so I can only read on the train.  When I get home, I still have to: study, do my homework, clean the house, make dinner, take kids to whatever activity it is that day, spend time with the kids, and errands.  What else?  Help kids with their homework, read the scriptures as a family, hold family prayer, family home evening once a week, have “me” time, have hobbies, do my calling, volunteer, I think you get the point.  I am drowning.  By the end of the first week of school, Carter was sick, Dayna had some sort of headache that would not go away, and we had a huge snow storm that turned campus into a hazardous mess.  All I could think was that I was failing at everything, and this was only the first week. 

Why was I doing this? 

My life has just fallen apart and I choose to pursue one of the hardest career options out there?  I could get a job (maybe, I’m not trained for anything) and just survive, couldn’t I?  Or I could just finish school with the quickest degree available to me and then try to get a job.  What is wrong with me that this is what I have chosen for myself?  I look around my classes and I am surrounded by babies.  I am on average 14 years older than these kids.  These kids are just a few years older than my son.  My professor for my statistics class handed out a personal survey to everyone on the first day of class.  The next time we met she used some of our information to teach about graphs and outliers.  I am the oldest in that class by five years, but the majority of the class is 18-20 years old.  It’s just ridiculous that I think I can compete with them.  All they have is time: time to study, time to get their volunteer hours up, time to TA for professors, time for research.  I don’t have the time to get Ian new church shoes, man I really need to get him to the store. 

Why am I doing this?

I’ll tell you why.  When I look back on my life, I know that I will see the huge crossroads that I am standing at right now.  I see the two paths clearly as if they were marked with huge neon signs.  One reads “survive” and the other reads “thrive.”  I refuse to just survive.  I refuse to settle for anything less than the best that I can do and be.  My children will know that there are no excuses they can tell me that I will ever accept.  Ten years from now, I can be one of two things: proud or sorry.  I may fail, this past two weeks have opened my eyes, it is a real possibility.  I may not get into Medical School, but it will not be because I gave up or stopped trying.  I will succeed or fall spectacularly on my face in the attempt.

 

But, I have already learned one very important thing.  Never take a 7:30 a.m. class.  I am sure it doesn't surprise anyone who knows me that I am not a morning person.  And 5:30 a.m. is obscene.  I am handling it better than I thought I would.  Just another one of those thing you do when you have no choice.