I know. It’s been a really long while for me… I love to write, but all of my efforts have been going into 10 page papers on The Psychology of Personality. I have a lot to do in the next four weeks. EEEK! So, I figured I’d write another blog. Good use of my time!
I want to tell you that graduate school is mighty expensive. I could buy a house (granted, a small house. in Nebraska. with redneck neighbors.) with the loans I am getting for the honor of studying myself silly (and I can’t wait, because I’m dorky like that). I have been researching grants and scholarships and black market organ sales, but it looks like my most reliable source of tuition payment will be the fed. And I will pay them back because no one likes to bail out a mom. A bank? A car company? Well, sure! A mom? Nah. Still, all that matters is that I get to go.
My mom had a suggestion for me to drum up some tuition money. She said, “Why don’t you sleep with your brother-in-law, he can afford it.”
I think that A) my husband may not appreciate that, B) my sister may not appreciate that, and C) EW! (no offense to my bro-in-law; he’s great, but I couldn’t do that with anyone for money. for beer? okay, not even for beer)
Who does that? I mean, obviously Charlie Sheen’s goddesses would, but me? I taught an Ethics class last year, and from what I learned in teaching that, it somehow seems wrong.
My mother-in-law (who is very concerned that my selfish desires to attend school will stress my husband out too much) said that she has a friend enrolling in the same program that I will be attending (art therapy, not goddess school). I asked what her name was. “Well, I really shouldn’t tell you.”
“Why not?” I inquired.
“Because we both feel that if the universe wants you to meet, you will.”
Blergh. That was the sound of me I gagging on my own vomit.
“Well, how old is she (we’re thinking she must be older than I am, and I was the oldest one at the group interview)?” my husband dared to ask.
“I just don’t think I should share that with you.”
Um, what the fuck? Is she in the witness protection program? Is she a famous supermodel? Is she the man who you are having an affair with, disguised as a woman? Why is this such a big deal?
I can not answer these questions, but I want the world to see the role models I have in my family for aging as a woman. I need some sane women. I need some rational women. My daughter needs a gramma who actually shows up when she says she will and when she does randomly appear, does not get in her face and ask her a billion questions.
Just play with the kid. Put away the damn bowls and get silly.
When and if I get to be a gramma someday, I vow to do a few things:
I will love my grandchildren with the unconditional capacity of a puppy (but hopefully not pee on them when they come to the door).
I will tell them how proud they make me and remind them of their awesomeness.
I will bake them sugary, fattening treats, with flaxseed and cauliflower hidden inside. And make them spinach smoothies.
I will watch all the teen drama movies with them, because I secretly LOVE them.
I will have sleepovers.
I will make s’mores.
I will show up.
I will gladly return them when I am exhausted, because I’ll be old and in need of a good nap.
When they’re older, I will have a beer fridge (and if they’re good, I’ll share).
It’ll be fun to be a good role model. I just wish there were more of them in my family. I have found them elsewhere though, and those women keep me hopeful that life does not become some wallow-ing self-absorbed pity-party that no one wants to attend. Thank you, my funny, awesome, witty, smart, beautiful role models. Even if you aren’t in my gene pool, I love that you are in my life.