Streaming Along

Ok, so here’s a little stream of consciousness writing for you. As I can’t really make myself pick a topic and then come up with anything remotely witty or interesting to say about that topic.

I’ve had 6 days of kid hell. My youngest has been bending over backwards the past 6 days to put us both through the ringer. Between a nasty bout of the stomach flu, falling and putting her teeth through her lip (yep, all the way through) and finding, opening and ingesting half a tube of hydrocortisone anti-itch cream, I’m tired. And spent. And pretty incapable of anything but stream of consciousness right now.

Oh and the lovely fact that at the ripe age of 31 my credit card company just called to “remind” me about being late with my payment. Even though I haven’t received the statement yet. Even though I work my ass off everyday without the benefit of consistent childcare or a living wage. Even though I consider myself to be a responsible adult capable of being said adult in the phrase “use only with adult supervision.”

More and more lately I’ve looked at my life and been astounded by how young and inexperienced I feel. I remember when I was a teenager feeling so ahead of the game and feeling so much older than my peers. Now I just feel like I’m never really going to feel grown up. How would that feel I wonder? Would I feel in control of my life? Would I be able to pay all my bills and take my family out to dinner comfortably without having to put one or the other on a credit card? Would I go to bed earlier? Would I finally be what I want to be when I grow up? Will I actually get all the laundry done every week? I mean what are the defining factors of feeling like an adult?

I’m totally just living by the seat of my pants right now. I’ve decided that I will NEVER work in nonprofit again. It’s toxic and unhealthy for me and I cannot ever consciously put myself back in that environment. So I’m working with a friend on her business and it’s going really well and I really like it, but it’s no where near what I thought I would ever be doing. And that’s ok. But it pays less than what I was making in nonprofit, which seems a bit backasswards to me. I mean, how is it that being happy in my professional life means making less than being miserable? What’s up with that?

I want so badly to go to grad school and start work on my MFA in writing. But I have to put together a 25 page manuscript for the application alone. Let alone the 20 hours a week minimum that the program would take. How do I work 30 hours a week, take care of my family and do a 20 hour a week grad program? For two years. I just don’t know how to make that happen. And that’s just the first hurdle, not to mention the whole tuition thing. When we have pennies more than a mortgage payment in our savings account and are living paycheck to paycheck. All I want to do is write. Why is that so impractical?

So the level of frustration is high. But I adore my friends and sometimes I think they even like me a little. And I adore my children, no matter how hard they are on me. And I adore my husband, even though I don’t get to see him much right now. And I adore my work even though the pay sucks.

So that evens out a bit I guess. Right?