I've fallen woefully behind on this 30 day challenge, and the end of the month is almost upon us. I'm not even halfway done. Here is the challenge if you are interested.
I told you guys that I was bad at both completing tasks and following instructions.
I'm doing two of the prompts today in an pathetic attempt to get back on track, though I know it likely won't make much of a difference, and I'll likely never finish the rest of this challenge.
Self awareness, for the win.
The first prompt is about my commute to and from work/school; the second about my life in 7 years.
Considering I am sitting here in my pajamas on the couch with the laptop and the dog, I don't really have one, at least not in the truest sense of the word. I work from home almost all the time, and these days I don't ever write nearly as much as I used to or should now. Frankly, I'm too busy homeschooling and toddler wrangling to get any time to "work" beyond the work that all that stuff entails.
I'm a bit frustrated with the reality of my situation at the moment, not so much because I'm personally frustrated by it, but because it has become apparent that I'm essentially the worst nightmare of one of my daughters. The idea of being a mom stuck at home with a ton of kids, regardless of what other contributions to society she might make in addition, is abhorrent to her.
I felt the same way at her age. I still feel that way a lot now. I've mostly made my peace with my place in life at the moment, but there are days that I still question everything, particularly the days when it's made obvious just how negatively this place is viewed by her, though I suppose my being here is actually the luxury that gives her that perspective in the first place.
This was supposed to be about my commute.
My primary occupation, if you don't want to consider it "work", is parenting. I live in my car for hours and hours each day, shuttling kids to and from school and doctors and orthodontists and band.
My desired occupation, that of a writer, doesn't have a commute. In the imaginary world where I could get up each morning with a hot cup of coffee and nothing else to do, I could churn out books left and right. Perhaps someday....
My secondary occupation, the one where I stand in bars full of drunk people and read questions, doesn't currently have a commute as I am waiting on a venue. My fingers and toes are crossed that the one I'm pulling for comes through, and if the planets composed of bars full of drunk people align, my commute will be approximately 10 minutes each direction.
My Life in 7 Years
Ooooh, math, and the kind that I despise the very most in this world, the kind that makes me look into the future and figure out how old I'll be and my children will be someday.
In 7 years, I will be 46.
I will have been married for 25 years, with my husband 31.
My oldest will be 21, the age I was when I got married. He should graduate college that year.
My older daughter will be 20, in the middle of college.
My younger daughter will be 18 and a senior in high school, getting ready to graduate.
My middle son will be 14, a freshman in high school.
My baby will be 8.
Aside from the terrifying truth of those numbers and where my kids will likely be in life at that point, I don't actually know what I'll be doing.
My two current homeschoolers should be back in the public school system at that point. The older of the two is going back to middle school this fall. Barring any reason to keep my son or pull either of them, I'm assuming they'll both be in public high school in 7 years.
I'll have two kids probably in college. Two.
The only two kids I was ever supposed to have, according to my initial life plan. Heh.
The baby won't be a baby anymore, and whether he is in public school or homeschooled remains to be seen. A lot of that is going to depend on how he learns and grows and whether any marked changes happen to the school system around here at the elementary level. He might still be home, learning here. He might be in school. I don't know. A lot of where I am will depend on where he is.
By then, I hope that I'm working more, doing something. Anything. I'd like to still be doing pub quizzes because it's fun even if I still freak the fuck out when I have to do it.
I hope I've finished at least one of the many books I'm working on.
I hope that I'm able to work as a doula more consistently.
Beyond that, I'm not expecting anything specific. 7 years ago, I was a very different person in a very different place. Pretty much everything about my life was different. I had no clue how much was going to change. I had no clue about a lot of things.
Back then, I still had both of my parents.
Can I be done with this prompt now?
Some of My Most Popular Posts
I wasn't. I wasn't going to write about Mother's Day this year, and yet here we are. The times that I want to believe that I h...
I warned a friend months ago that I felt like 2017 would be the year I start biting people. Months ago. I haven't actually bitten an...
I briefly thought I was maybe, possibly, probably, most definitely going to die yesterday. Twice. Fine. I'm being a bit dramatic, bu...
Philip Seymour Hoffman died yesterday. He was found with a needle still wedged into his arm, heroin believed to be the culprit. When I h...
Dear Oldest, I started thinking about writing this a few weeks ago. I've been putting it off in a sort of denial that if I don't...
The internet is quite literally full of articles about the right way and the wrong way to be a feminist right now, especially after this wee...
The following is a post I wrote on Saturday morning. I was sitting in a college classroom on the other side of the state, there for Science...
This is my eighth annual Christmas list. Which is crazy. There's simply no way I have been doing this for that long. If you're so in...
I was standing in the hallway tonight, urging my toddler to fall asleep in his bed, awaiting his recurrent footsteps towards doorway when so...
My one year old has recently developed fairly severe eczema, maybe even worse than his older sister had at his age. This is the worst part o...