Graduation is coming

My graduation is coming up—Saturday to be exact. The entire idea of going through with the formal ceremony seems a little weird to me, but I’m going to force myself to follow through and try to enjoy it.

First of all, I don’t like people making a big deal over me. My sister and my niece are coming to town for the event and Robby and the children are very excited. My mom made me promise to take lots of photos and my last-living grandmother sent me a card and money and told me how proud she is of me.

Yesterday, I picked up my tickets for the event and I picked up my cap and gown. Needless to say, I was the oldest person standing in line. I was also the only person not wearing spandex and flip flops.

I felt silly. I felt out of place. I could hear that inner voice inside me saying, “You’re too old for this.”

But, I reminded myself that I needed to go through with this. I needed to come full circle with this journey I started back in September of 2010.

When I decided to go back to school in 2010, I didn’t apply for graduate school. I didn’t think I could even get in, so I decided to play it safe and take some undergrad classes and get back into the flow.

I quickly realized it was a mistake and switched to the graduate program the next quarter.

I almost quit twice. When I turned in my thesis in November and found out I was finished with my degree, I went to my car and cried.

Goodbye, SCAD

But I didn’t have long to celebrate—I had to find a job.

I’m still trying to find a permanent job but somehow I have made it financially and I have been able to establish myself as a professional in Savannah.

So, why is the graduation important? I guess a lot of people would say it’s because I accomplished something really great and I did something a lot of other people don’t have the courage to do.

But that’s not my reason. I want my children to see that all this hard work had a greater purpose. I want them to understand that hard work pays off in the future.

Children can’t see behind the next five minutes. My children hated the idea of me going to school and going to work. They wanted things to stay the same and for me to stay home with them.

I had to convince them that everything would be okay and I would still be around—and I was.

They were never late for school. They never missed an activity. I still ate lunch at school with them and volunteered in their classrooms. I stayed home with them when they were sick and made sure they always had their lunch and snack for school.  I hosted slumber parties and Girl Scout meetings. I sat through endless karate classes and play dates.

I hired the best sitters for the days I couldn't be at home after school or on weekends and they loved the time away from me--safely protected in their own home.

I still did everything that they were used to but I also went to school full-time.

I did mess up one time—I forgot to pack Jude’s snack for school one day. But that was it--the big mistake during those two years. I guess that’s not too bad...

I honestly don’t know how I managed to do it all. I didn’t put much thought into it. It’s just who I am.

I realize now that I was always as strong as I am now. How else could I have done all of that stuff?

Sure, I don’t need to wear a black gown and shake a bunch of hands to know I graduated. But my children need to see me—they need to see me in a different light. They need to see that moms are more than just homemakers and caretakers and free rides to the movies.

They need to see that moms are people who have dreams. Moms are people who still want to travel and stay in a hotel and order room service. Moms are people who have sexual fantasies and enjoy playing videos games in their pajamas every once in a while.  Some moms like to watch gross horror movies and get tattoos. And some moms like to go to Las Vegas every once in a while and drink one of those sweet drinks in the tall glasses with super-long straws. And moms want to be respected and feel like they have accomplished something great in life.

I think so many of us grow-up and only see our moms as “moms.” This is my chance to show my children that I am so much more and that they can be more, too—they just have to understand that if you live your life with good intentions and a good heart, you don’t have to sacrifice your family or your happiness.

Mama, Mama….Mama?

Working from home is a gift in many ways. I don’t have to change out of my jammies to write an article or to make phone calls. I can take my children to and from school every day and get them to their activities.  I can get dinner started while I’m making my final edits for the day.

But there are some downsides. The money is great, but I never know when I’ll have work so it’s not as secure as a steady paycheck. And my biggest complaint is having to work when my children are home.
It never fails that as soon as I am on a roll and those perfectly paired words are flowing from my fingertips, I hear the words, “Mama?” And just like that, everything zaps from my brain and I forget what I was writing.

I’ve tried to teach the children that “when you see Mommy typing on the keyboard, don’t interrupt unless it’s an emergency.”

I quickly learned that my children don’t understand what a true emergency entails. In the past few weeks, I’ve had to inform the children that locating honey mustard, telling me the remote needs new batteries, and asking me if Harry Potter is a real person are not emergencies.

Not to mention that over the past years, I’ve seen the kids do really amazing stuff--lots of times. So, it isn’t necessary that I look at you to see that part of the Kleenex stuck to your nostril when you blew your nose, or that your hair looks crazy when you are only half-way done blow drying it for school, or that the dog looks like he’s smiling when you pull on his cheeks in front of the fan. It’s all great stuff, but trust me when I say I can live another 38 years without seeing all of those amazing feats.

After several outbursts of “Mama?” I find myself angrily announcing, “If you’re not bleeding, on fire, or have bones sticking out, don’t bother me!”

The announcement is usually met with a surprised, “Geez, okay!”

Apparently, I’m the one with the problem.

Then I start to feel guilty. It must be a product of my early Catholic upbringing.

I try to remind myself that there was a time when I longed to me a mother. I longed to hear the words, “mama” and know that I was the object of a young child’s affection.

I’m not sure if I will ever work in an office away from my children. If I do, I’m sure I will miss those sweet little voices calling from the next room, “Mama, I spilled my milk on the couch and the dog is peeing on it!”

What’s funny is that while I type this blog, I can see the reflection of small green lights reflecting on the computer screen. I realize my son is standing behind me with his spy goggles on—he’s giggling. I finally hear,


“Hey, Mom, look! I found my spy goggles!”

Yes, it’s all wonderful. It’s great. Thank God for the bad times in my life or I would totally take all of this for granted.

Whenever I feel like slamming my fists on the computer and screaming, “Can’t you see Mommy is freaking working!!!” I just remind myself of the day that my ex-husband stood in the doorway of our bedroom and told me that he would take the children away from me and that they would never live with me again. He had the job and the money and I believed that no judge would let a single, jobless mother keep her children.

I’ve been wrong about so many things in my life. I’m so glad I was wrong about that. I pray I never forget how lucky I am to hear “Mama?” whenever I start to write what could have possibly been the next Pulitzer Prize winning story.

I may never be a famous writer, but I know I will always be the most popular person in this house.

Maybe I'm Not a Loser?

I stumbled across some old drawings from the children the other day that made me stop and think about what is really important in my life. For the first time in a while, I quit feeling sorry for myself about not finding a job and being flat broke. I decided to even pat myself on the back and admit that I have done pretty well for myself despite the hand I was dealt.

I don’t see myself as a materialistic person. I try not to measure my success by the size of my bank account. But sometimes I feel like a total loser for not having a full-time job. Unemployment is beginning to wear on me and affect my self-confidence.

I’m worried that I won’t be able to follow through on my financial obligations and I’m even more worried that I am going to become a very large burden on my very sweet husband. I know he can handle it, but I like to think of myself as an asset and not dead weight.

But those little pictures made me remember that I am not a loser and that no matter what happens in my professional life, there are people in my personal life who will always love me. And while I really need that steady paycheck and health insurance, I will gladly settle for little reminders from two very special children who will always think I am the greatest mom ever.

So my advice today is to forget about your professional aspirations and accomplishments or your failure to reach those aspirations. Take comfort in the fact that being a good person far outweighs the tiny print on your business cards. Find a way to make peace with a dwindling bank account, gray hair, and an old worn-out minivan.

Luckily the world is not over yet. I still have time to make those career goals come to life, but for now, it’s just not working. The stress is beginning to take a toll my health. I’m taking a break from the chaos and the rejections and focusing on the things that I have control over. I’m going to sit back and soak in the fact that I have made a difference in people’s lives and that is worth more than a big title on my resume.