Monday, July 18, 2011

Dear Margaret

I have no idea who Margaret is. She's a figment of my imagination. Someone I should have made up a year ago when I started this blog thinking that I might, in fact, do what that banner says I should: Commit to writing! But as Margaret knows just as well as I do, I am really good at stopping things that I start. Whatever. It's part of life. And it's been happening.
(This is where I distract you with a pretty picture of the yard our neighbors let us use three times a year to make you forget my downfall as a writer: not writing)


Where were we? Life. Yeah. The kids are healthy, the husband is hot and bothered in a house where he refuses to turn on the A/C until 3:00PM or so. Brooklyn summers are a mess to be honest. It's too hot, too windy, too much to do and not enough time to do it. Though trips to the beach seem to cure all ills even if I am still deathly afraid of going in the water past my chest. There are sharks in those waters.

You know, that place people go after college when they have no experience and lots of ambition, or if they are in their mid-30's and wondering what the hell they are going to do for the next 30 years (me), or for some other reason I am aware of but don't want to take the time to explain? It's called grad school. And for some reason, I am there. Twice a week. With a full-time job, two kids, and Matt.

Having two children at home and a house manager husband makes things much easier than if both of us were working full-time. Trying to juggle it all without him would be difficult. Stupid even. My feelings may change come September when it's two classes and I can't get any reading done because my daughter is still attached to my leg like a little monkey screaming "mommy I need you. I NEED YOUUUU!" I haven't take the time to explain the difference between want and need yet. Because, well. Even my seven year old doesn't know that difference yet.

Ok, I feel better now.