DEC 30

It's almost the end of a decade and I entered the decade in the 9th grade and came out with a 5 year old.

Grad school is the home of an incessant amount of meetings. I have never felt more violated. Well actually I have... the day of my son's birth for one... but anyways. I am currently in the midst of planning a meeting with 6 other people. The only times available are Monday 5-6 and Wednesday from 5-7. HMMMMMM

Why might this not work for a women with a child????

Let me count the ways.

Last semester the same situation happened with the same group of people. All involved were very accommodating and let my son come along to the meeting. It's just not fun bringing your personal life around to be viewed for an hour. I don't care how well behaved he is...which he always is.. I'd still not have to subject him to that idleness and black hole effect of grad school.

I had to bring my son to class several times during the year in undergrad. I had one Prof say, " I have never seen more well behaved children then the ones that come to school with their mothers." He is right. These kids learn very early about the stifling, monotonous ways of American Education. It will not surprise me either way if my son does or does not have a "Fidgeting" problem when he enters school. I was labeled as a fidget. One of my proudest labels.

Parents do know their children. My father has never pressured me into anything except sports. Even that was not really pressure. He just got so excited about it, never missed a game. It was hard not to respond to this manly affection. He was never overjoyed about my psychology career. Just happy I was advancing. He was hinted at my true passion several times. A passion I refuse to accept or act upon: writing. I mentioned journalism school several times during my undergrad but I never listened to him. My father has had creative dreams all his life. He was always working several jobs and adding ADD (undiagnosed) to the mix provides several ideas discarded due to middle class balance phenomenon. My father is running from being poor and striving to not only gain wealth but prove worthy of wealth. An American Curse. This balance between rich and poor provides for a time consuming bout with work and spending savings on things to make your children more marketable like snobby private schools, and dreams of Olympic greatness.

Today he mentioned a book. He doesn't read alot. I think he prefers to be active, expelling energy. Anyways he mentions this book, some read about fire fighting that he couldn't put down. My dad has been a fire fighter for some 30 odd years. It doesn't surprise me that he was so interested in it. He says, " I want you to turn this book into a screen play" I am always overjoyed when my father mentions my writing career but usually he mentions things that he wants me to help him develop or write. This time he just mentions me. I told him out of pride that I didn't know anything about fire fighting and that I would try to write a draft and then send to him to make more "accurate." Later I went to grab the book from his room. It was signed by the author with a message,

BOB
The adventures of your career as a firefighter will stay with you long after you retire. It is a special brotherhood. You will find yourself in the pages of this book.

You will find yourself in the pages.... My dad was asking me to write about him, in some crazy indirect way. That meant alot to me.


After putting a quarter in, wishing for a red gumball, but getting a blue one.......

Jaden: Mommy, why didn't I get the red gumball. I wanted the red gumball.
Mommy: Jaden. Some things we can not explain. Make it a goal to get the red gumball.
Jaden: Yeah, Imma get the red gumball.