I'm having a serious case of the "sentimental awwws" tonight. It's a good night, so I am avoiding some mopey moments. Yay. Small victories.
I'm working through two crates full of everything undergrad/grad school related that I've had squirreled away. But I've got to the point where I want to use that corner of the house, and while I don't really want to get rid of this wealth of all things gloriously rhetorical, analytical, and literature-ical, there's not much if anything that I'm banishing to the recycling bin that I can't find in a few moments with a quick trip to Google or JSTOR. I don't need to keep every source for every essay. I don't need to have my first day of class notes and syllabi. And, I can recall defining information on the various literary "isms." So, I'm basically set.
But, oh...those were such good sources. Such delicious syllabi full of possibility and potential. Such purposeful notes. And it feels like I'm purging one glorious stash of delicious, perfect chocolates out of the house, knowing that I'll never have those delicious, perfect chocolates again.
I think I'm devolving into a mopey moments. So let's shift directions for a quick moment.
My nephew was born a couple of days ago. Because of the ever present HOLIDAY SEASON, I was able to skip town (Me: "Our nephew was born this morning. I'm going to drive up there and visit. I'm going to leave after lunch. Are you okay with that?" the boy: "Sure.") participate in the joy that is a cramped hospital room full of several family members and one little 7-lb. person, who somehow takes up all of the space. And there WAS A MOMENT in those 10-minutes when I got to marvel at his ears, tickle his toes and giggle at his sleepy twitching when I had THAT THOUGHT.
Oh, friends. I can't believe I was even close to having THAT THOUGHT. But I did, just for the quickest of moments: We could have another one of these little persons, thisissomuchfun.
Like a devout Catholic might, I had to confess my moment of weakness to the boy as soon as I got home.
Me: "I was holding him, and I thought for just a second that it might be pretty great to have another one. But then I drove home for 2 hours by myself and it took me about negative 30-seconds to remember why this wouldn't be great. Forgive me; it won't happen again."
the boy: "You're a nut job."
But hear me out. I am going somewhere with this. (A + B = I have a point)
Looking through all of my old school work gives me the same weepy sentimental gitchy-goos that I get when I get to celebrate a new life full of possibility and absolutely perfect ignorance. And considering the similarities between these two things, it makes sense.
Grad school: managing your time is imperative, it doesn't allow for much of a social life, it drains your resources, and it's still the best thing ever.
A child: managing your time is imperative, it doesn't allow for much of a social life, it drains your resources, and it's still the best thing ever.
So I can imagine the conversation that could happen if I don't mitigate the itch that is always tickling.
Me: "I was reading through this college's website, and I thought just for a second that it might be pretty great to have another one."
the boy: "Here we go again...you're still a nut job."