Why do I want to go to grad school? I need a change. I need some joy in my work life. I need to be able to be something other than an administrative assistant. The only roles I’ve ever played in the working world are receptionist, data entry and administrative assistant. There’s no career in that. It’s not exciting. It’s filing, faxing, copying and setting up meetings. I need a challenge.
What about getting my hands dirty? Working with archaeologists and historians can help me do just that. I can research old buildings and artifacts and work hands on in history.
I’m supposed to write a statement of purpose for my grad school application. I’m having a hard time putting into words the reason I want to get a degree in Historic Preservation. Is it just because I want “out?” Out of my current boring, unchallenging day to day world, or is it because I really want to be a historian. Deep down in my heart I’ve always loved the past; the old things, the old buildings, the stories of people from centuries ago. Now I’m needing to put these thoughts and feelings on paper for the world of academia to understand. I’m having trouble with it.
I’ve started running again. It’s an amazing joy. I started running regularly in 2000 after I decided that my body was in seriously poor shape. (Seriously, I was out of breath with aching shoulders after going up 5 steps of a staircase). I started reading copies of my sister’s Runner’s World magazines, bought my own subscription, and started running. I also changed my eating habits, and after about a year’s time lost 30 pounds. It was nice.
I ran for years, but quit for a little while after moving to our current neighborhood, and after feeling like garbage again, began running every morning until about a week after I found out I was pregnant. I stopped because my body felt too funky to run comfortably.
Then, my daughter turned a year old and I was feeling funky and fat and said, “Can’t feel this way anymore” and I did something crazy. I signed up for a half marathon. What? Crazy, but fantastic. So I’m starting to run again. My friend Cliff, who I call “coach,” calls it training to train. I’m running the half with my sister-in-law and I’m excited. It’s up in New Hampshire by the ocean and the thought of it brings me joy.
Just getting outside in this spring weather makes me happy in the first place, but adding running and health to it is a bonus.
Ah, sweet running, I had forgotten the joy.
We celebrated Mathilda’s 1st birthday last Sunday and I feel as though life has been different ever since. There’s something about reaching that milestone that makes life with her feel different. How do I put my finger on it with an explanation? I’m just going to let my thoughts roll and we’ll see where that gets us.
We made it. We got through the newborn (or lumpy bean stage), which was the most difficult time I’d ever been through in my life. It was a soul searching time that I had never imagined. One can’t imagine it until they’ve gone through it. The phrases, “It’s really hard” and “Your life will change” are complete understatements. I don’t think I ever want to go through it again, but at the same time I’m glad I did go through it because I’m a better person because of it.
Then came the nap battles. Good God, why won’t my kid nap. And I didn’t have to go through most of these battles because I’ve been at work since Mathilda was 10 weeks old. Dav can give you a run down, play by play, of some of the most frustrating times in the infant nap battle stage when we were learning how to “program” our child. Yes, program. It’s a perfect word for the first few months. You take this brand new human being and program it into a person. One of the hardest things ever, but one of the most rewarding when this little person responds back with a 2 hour nap, or a 10 hour full night’s sleep (8 hours uninterrupted for mama).
And she’s pretty mobile. She’ll walk on her own about 4 or 5 steps but has it in her head that she still needs to hold on to something or someone. Very cute. But there’s something about her being mobile that feels almost liberating. Sure, it’s tough when she’s apt to get into anything and everything, but liberating all the same because she can walk on her own two feet and you don’t have to carry her everywhere.
And she talks and talks and talks and talks. Nothing understandable of course, but she talks nonetheless. And it’s great. Everything from da da da na na da na ma ma da DA da DA, with hand gestures and stomps on the floor. We’re teaching her baby sign language, too, and she’s soaking that up like a sponge. So sweet. So amazing. When she now can say eat, or milk, or swings without fuss, it’s awesome. I highly recommend baby sign. Talk about saving sanity. When you can eleviate a cry session with a simple sign, it’s all worth putting the effort into teaching it.
I love my sweet kid. She’s one of the most fantastic people that I know. I think I can kind of understand God’s love better by having her in my life. He loves deeply. I love Mathilda deeply. Amazing thing is, He loves more than I’ll ever know how to love my sweet girl and I love her more than anything on the planet. Hm… deep love. It melts me.