Wildly Unprepared

I’ve been surviving, you know? I mean, the laundry gets done and the house gets cleaned (but not usually tidied) and the kids are fed and mostly grime-free and I’m doing well in my classes and I haven’t dropped a serious ball in my coaching gig or TA gig. The yard is a different story and I haven’t had a minute to take the cages off the rhodes or rake the leaves or put away the deck furniture.

And then, out of nowhere, following the most mild fall I have ever known, we got 40cms of snow.

It took me two and a half hours to get home last night (it usually takes me about 45). I would have skipped class except the people in my TA lab had their final presentation at 1:00 and I had my final presentation for another class at 2:30. I called the daycare around 5:15 and told them I hadn’t even hit the highway yet (they close at 6). I got there, finally, between calls to Steve to see who was more stuck in traffic (it was him), and the kids were crunching on crackers – the last kids there.

Cereal for supper at 6:45, but we were all home safely. Snug in our warm little cave.

That said, I think I chock my cages up to a loss.


Yesterday, I had two profs tell me they thought I should write a thesis, do a masters, teach. One prof wants me as a TA next winter, asked me twice even though I said no (so I might say yes). Part of me would love to sit a write a thesis, to write academic papers for a job. Part of me would love to continue on to a Masters, to continue studying and learning. Part of me salivates at the thought of being a prof.

But I don’t know what I want to do a masters *in*. Business? Well, I really like management courses, but I don’t feel like I fit in with the business student crowd. They’re all profit and careers and moneymoneymoney and that’s not me. Women’s Studies? Well, I love examining media and societal norms trough a feminist perspective, but do I really want to sit through nine hours a week of feminist theory classes? (Not really.)

And so, here I am again, thinking I don’t know what I want. I mean, I do, kind of. I love love love training people with Team in Training. And so what about opening my own business? What about a studio that offered self-esteem building and fitness training? What about a place for women where there were no scales, no judgement, just yoga and running and walking and positive self talk?

On the other hand, for someone who strives to achieve quiet time at home with my kids, I’m not sure that entrepreneur would work. Also, opening a business sounds lonely, at least at first, and I need socialization like I need oxygen (otherwise I end up panting and salivating at women across the grocery store isle Be myyy frieeeeeendddddd!!!).

It’s probably the end-of-term blahs mixed with missing my kids mixed with encouragement from a few profs that skews my vision of my plan.

Oh hell, can I even call it a plan? More like a hazy vision of what might be.

Ultimately, I think that I’m not ready to commit to a masters, and though it’s something that I want in a distant but vague future, I’ve also felt the same ambivalence about a Masters since 2004 when I graduated from university for the first time. (I just can’t decide on what program.)

So tell me, when did you realize what you wanted to be when you grew up? Because hell, I’m 30 and it still often feels like I don’t have a sweet clue.

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