Confession: I am painfully practical, almost always.
I strategically planned my first pregnancy (as strategically as one could possibly plan that) to deliver only months after completing my Master's degree.
I knew my limits as a human being, and "retired" from working in youth ministry when baby #2 was scheduled to arrive just 17 short months after baby #1. And as funny as that sounds, that timing was also on purpose.
I keep three calendars, all up to date. One for each school I work at, and one at home.
I don't buy clothes that aren't comfortable, or clothes that might accidentally be interpreted as revealing. Not my thing.
Hubby and I started planning the wedding before I had the diamond ring/proposal, because obviously, since I was a teacher, we had to have a summer wedding. And we knew we would get married. So, out of practicality, we planned away, and got engaged somewhere in that time frame.
In almost all aspects of life, I'm a practical girl. I wear my sunscreen, I don't make reckless decisions, and most of the time, I'm level headed (except that time I taught my kids the phrase, "Get in the corner! I am done with you!"... that was not level... nor were the decibels at which I expressed those sentiments! And now, I am reminded of it daily when they yell it at me).
So, I cannot really explain to myself WHY ON EARTH I thought I was capable of raising a family, working full time (I go to 2 schools, every day, to be clear, and teach 5 periods a day), maintaining many household responsibilities because Hubby is working with a new business as well as his old job, AND GET A DOCTORAL DEGREE... Seriously. I mean, just read that last sentence again... it spells bite-off-more-than-any-human-can-chew-like-ever, and a little bit crazy too. But along with being practical, I am a little stubborn. Bull headed, some might even say. But I HAD to do it. Why? No definite direction, really. I wanted the challenge, and I wanted those three pretty letters next to my name. I dreamed of a wedding invitation addressed to Mr & Doctor... Pay raise? No, unless you count the $3,000/year I would get. Which would never pay back what we were spending on the degree. So, with reckless abandon, I dove in. The first class was truly great, and I learned so much. I was starting class number two, when I realized that in a month's time, I had not even completed a third of the first assignment, which was required to even be considered "enrolled" in that course. Uh-Oh!
After contemplation, tears, and many conversations with my family... I quit. It rocked in many ways. It rocked me, because I felt like a failure, and a quitter. It also rocked in a positive way, because I started to feel human again. I didn't want to sacrifice time with my kids in favor of course work, so I would stay up late and rotate between reading, writing, falling asleep, waking up startled (and stressed if too much time had passed), and then repeating. But most of all, it rocked because I knew I made the right choice. So, with pride, I announce to the world (well, all 7 of you who actually read this): I QUIT... and I'm proud of it!