Today on Facebook there’s a group that’s urging Kurt Vonnegut fans to post “So it goes…” as their status as an homage to Vonnegut’s novel Slaughterhouse Five. January 25th marks the anniversary of the end of the Battle of the Bulge, which start off the novel. However, Tim has informed me that the date should be February 13th, as that’s the date of the bombing of Dresden as well as the date that the main character died. To that, I say, “so it goes…”
I had a crappy day yesterday. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. And by woke up, I mean, hit the snooze three times, then turned off the alarm and got up an hour later. All day long I felt as though something was off, but Iwasn’t able to put my finger on it. So it goes.
Sometimes I feel like I’m just a hamster running in my wheel. I’m constantly moving but I’m not getting anywhere. It’s like I feel the need to always be preparing for something. And it’s like I always have. I was preparing for my wedding. Then I got married, got bored, and started preparing for buying a house. Then we moved and 2 months later we were preparing for a baby. Here I am, 14 months after that, and what is there to prepare for? It makes me wonder if I should just pregnant just so I can have something to prepare for. So it goes.
I spent a good chunk of my therapy session yesterday talking about this need to plan for something, this feeling of spinning my wheels but not getting anywhere. I told her I applied for a graduate certificate program and for the last month, I’ve been waiting to hear something. Basically, acceptance into this program would define the next two years of our lives. We’d put off having another kid. In two years I’d be looking for a new job. But if I don’t get in, then what? We could have another baby sooner, but honestly, could we afford two in daycare? So it goes.
On the way home from therapy, I called Tim to see if the mail had come yet. It hadn’t. Driving through my neighborhood I saw the mail truck. Twenty minutes later, the mailman dropped of a bunch of letters. Junk, junk, bills, junk, acceptance letter. I got in. I’m starting grad school this fall. So it goes.
I’ve wanted to make a change in my life for a while now. I want to work with kids. I want to work within the school system so I can have holidays and summers off so that when Aric is in school, we’ll have the same time off. But I have a degree in psychology. I’ve worked for the past four years with adults with mental illnesses and traumatic brain injuries. I thought that if I wanted to teach, I’d have to get a completely different degree, which I didn’t think I wanted. I thought about being a school counselor, but that required a Master’s degree, which I didn’t want. And then it hit me. While I was checking out a university with a campus 5 miles away from my house, I found it. The answer almost literally slapped me across the face. They had a graduate certificate program in special education. It’s specifically designed for those who have an undergraduate degree in something other than teaching. It’s a two year program with no major capstone project at the end. I get to work with kids again. Kids with learning disabilities. In the school system. It’s perfect. So it goes.
While reading the letter of acceptance, I was extremely confused. There were no dates, no phone numbers, a name for an advisor but no way to contact him. I have no idea how to register, or even if I CAN register for classes this fall. So it goes.
I had my yearly appointment with my gynecologist yesterday. I haven’t seen her since my 6 week post-partum appointment. I actually missed her. We chatted about our boys (3 months apart), my depression, plans for new babies, and how much 2010 sucked. She didn’t mention the 10 pound weight gain I had in the past year. That’s right, I’m 20 pound above my pre-pregnancy weight. So it goes.
I love Aric so much I just want to squeeze him silly. So it goes.
Oh, and if anyone knows of any cool writing/editing/copy-writing jobs out there, let Tim know! I’m sure he’d appreciate it!
