So, I’m still in college and still have three children and am still married. We still live in the same run-down house–yep, we are one of the few families that have not been foreclosed on. Yet. So things are pretty good. They must be because my husband and I decided last year, without the presence of alcohol, to have another child. Willingly. Really, I’m not kidding. It took a few months but I am pregnant with a fourth child and am about to burst. I have another month to go before the true joys of parenting this child will begin. My unborn kicks, stabs, jabs, and even complains when I am hungry; it forces me awake several times a night, and seems angry when I am stressed. It craves pie and movie theater nachos–it has to be movie theater, and it apparently wants me to clean behind the dryer. I can’t sleep until I do and I have to do it because everyone else will get it wrong or something. I truly feel like a host to an alien that is sucking all energy out of me along with my wallet. I know, pregnancy is beautiful but not when you’ve done it four times and not when it’s summer and the dog is barking and not when the air conditioner is on the fritz–it ain’t pretty. One plus–my body has been so stretched out by the previous three kids that I do not have any new stretch marks. That’s right, the whole point to my blog about stretch marks and making the most of it is a total bust.
I have to admit that I am excited about a new baby–the after part of pregnancy and am even looking forward to a few nighttime feedings. That will be my only chance to be alone. I haven’t had a kid in over ten years so some of the fears of my first-time days are creeping up like labor pain, when will it happen, and is this stuff normal? Watching pregnancy shows does not ease my fears at all–those women are suffering and begging for relief while screaming, moaning, squeezing, and grimacing. I for one take advantage of modern medicine and opt for the epidural because I am not stupid. I want to be happy to see my baby and not resent him or her for punishing me–there will be plenty of time for that. And I know ’cause this ain’t my first time at the rodeo. I know exactly what is ahead which I think is a little more daunting then actual labor.
My unborn baby is already defiant as she kicks and squirms plenty for me, but the second my husband or one of the kids puts their hand on my belly, the baby is still and will not comply. Naturally. Why would one of my kids listen now? They don’t listen later so I appreciate the heads up early from this one. Another sign of things to come. My kids think that having a new baby is cool and they seem legitimately excited. My daughter though thinks my belly is weird and it freaks her out. I lift up my shirt anyway and show her my protruding belly. She has decided to adopt.
Dust thou understand world literature? Dust thee do not, at least not yet. So, I haven’t blogged in a while and as you may have guessed my college honeymoon period is over. It’s been a long year (including a summer “vacation” with children–don’t get me started) of studying, writing, and analyzing. Enough is enough. And just as the honeymoon is over and I am determined to find more time to write and keep up on this blog, behold, ye olde literature comes lurking via the internet and my on-line school. Literature requires me to read and yes, write a lot, and by very specific direction which leaves no room for the imagination or my patience. Just to spite my instructor, I am now going off the beaten path and write what the hell I want the way I want yet with irony and mockery of my education. Something must be sinking in, however, because I wrote an outline for this blog prior to beginning this writing journey. I am now an official learned person and can recognize that education holds no conformity. What?
Anywho, as I said, literature is my current subject along with accounting. They obviously have nothing to do with the other and I think that’s funny. What if my accounting papers start to sound like “How dust thou define debits and credits under the law of the Sabbath or from whence we came?” Huh? That’s a joke, but it is not too hard to believe that I easily see that happening. I also recognize that that sentence is wordy and could have easily been summed up, but I refuse. I also recognize that I say recognize a lot and don’t know why so I will blame that one on college. But this is my blog damn it! The last time I studied literature I actually liked it and remember reading it, but that was in high school when everyone had really bad hair and ironic loss of virginity despite having no taste in physical appearance. That’s why that is ironic, duh.
So far this year I have picked up equilibriams, e-commerce, the laws of supply and demand, student protest, Nixon, the Cold War, etc., but can’t for the life of me decipher literature or why I have to decipher it at all. I like Hawthorne and all, but we have Hollywood now–I should not have to figure out his meanings without Demi Moore! Plot, setting, symbolism, blah, blah, blah. I get what those things are but how can I enjoy the reading material if it gives me a migraine the size of Shakespeare’s ego? “I must apologize for Sabbath last.” You mean last Sunday? Just say that!! Most of these so called “good” writers came from a time when a public hanging was considered a social and entertaining occasion and as big as Monday night Football. These literary so-called masters also believed in witches and spells and that birthmarks were a sign of the devil. Why should I believe anything these writers have to say?
The answer is: because my instructor says so. For some mute reason these writings of great literature are important to the literary canon of society. What? I am majoring in business management and I would like to know how “having kept covenant by meeting thee here, it is my purpose now to return whence I came. I have scruples touching the matter thou wot’st of” is going to help me manage a restaurant and deal with a staff that has trouble with writing down medium or medium rare. Will I hire a better chef? Is this how managers become bitchy? Am I secretly being trained as an English spy or that of a weiry drone lost in an enigma wrapped in a riddle? Huh?
As a writer I find it ironic that I am frustrated with my literature course. Naturally, none of the literature I remember from my youth is included in the syllabus. I meant when I was a kid, yes. Well, I’m off to Toys R Us to beg for a job and maybe I can woo them with my exestential knowledge of symbolism for which I have a simple hand gesture to satisfy them.
Hey everyone! I’ve been busy in college so I have more important things to do than blog, however my son has tons of time on his hands to fool around! He would like to share with you his crazy experience concerning a museum far, far away…
How My Civil War Museum Trip Turned Out to Be
Alright, so I went onto the bus preparing to leave for my field trip and I came across the driver, which, from my point of view, looked like my 6th grade teacher. Then I took a seat and I looked around and I saw these off-topic and off-season mini cut-out posters scattered about the walls of the bus and a picture of a U.S. army guy (who was probably her brother or something). Then after maybe an hour and a half of driving and waiting (because we were going to Kenosha to go to this place), our bus group was finally at the Civil War Museum.
Now when I got there, I had to hang my coat and “any other things we had along with us.” Now, I’m thinking about that statement thinking, “Like what else are we going to have with us? An iPod? A stereo system? A portable mini television [I wish!]?” After that, we had to take a seat in a room that looked like I just walked into Majestic Cinema (a fancy movie theater in Waukesha). Then we sit down through what seems to be a three and a half hour presentation of some-guy-I-forgot-the-name-to. Now, there’s a table in the corner of the stage, right? Well, he (fortunately) had the annoying tendency to lay his hand flat on the table every 25 seconds at least 30 times. Now, at least he’s not the most paranoid human being in all of the universe and he goes like this every 5 seconds counting, “Uhhh………ummmm……”
Another thing that he would do is, well, there’s a chair in the middle of the stage, right? Well, he will have the annoying tendency to sit on that every 5 seconds. After two hours of that nonsense, we had to go to another museum (for some reason) just to go and eat lunch. After that was finished, we started to head back to our original location. Now it was time to see the mannequins and exhibits that were awaiting our arrival. But, I got this 85 year-old tour guide (his name was Jack by the way) who tended to shake a lot whenever holding something and he seemed a little paranoid. I turn over to my language arts teacher, Mr. Jorgensen, and told him what I noticed about him and he said to me, “It must be his age. Probably Parkinson’s Disease.” After the exhibits, we had to ride all around a certain area of Kenosha (because I can’t remember what specific city in Kenosha we were in at the time) inside a streetcar. It pretty much depended on electricity and gas, but that’s probably about it. Then, I don’t remember what happened other than the two-hour bus ride back to school. Despite that, the trip went very well for me. By Scott Jr. (13yrs.)
I wonder if my son learned anything–probably that old people are kind of creepy. Those are the jokes folks, see ya’!!!