“Doesn’t cancel class enough.” -Anonymous College Student
This week is my least favorite of the semester: evaluations. An honest reflection of a course has slowly become the equivalent to an angry tweet.
“Doesn’t cancel class enough.” -Anonymous College Student
This week is my least favorite of the semester: evaluations. An honest reflection of a course has slowly become the equivalent to an angry tweet.
Two. The number of times I have almost drowned.
The first episode involved one of the only adopted children I knew growing up. His birth mother had been an addict. His psychology was frail. But I was a fighter and broke free from his attempts to submerge me permanently in water.
I should have internalized the bigger lesson: steer clear of the deep end.
When my husband and I started dating, I was a single mother. A Yorkshire terrier puppy named Wharton had stolen my heart just two months prior.
In the midst of graduate school and multiple jobs, I think owning a dog gave me permission to be maternal. At 22, I was nowhere near ready to have children.
But I liked to think that one day it still might happen. A dog, I believed, would give me practice.
And, it’s true, I endured all of the frustrating stages required of little creatures.
Bladder control (often in the wee hours of morning).
Destruction of property.
Boundaries.
If I’m honest, I think my dog represented something even deeper: my fear of being alone.
“You can do this.” It’s become a mantra in our relationship.
First, it was sweet encouragement my husband and I whispered to one another during our tenure in graduate school. Eventually, we walked across the stage – just minutes apart.
Next, it was yelled by my husband over intense labor pains. Truthfully, I thought our children might be stuck forever. Eventually, two little people entered the world.
And, just this weekend, I found myself mentally replaying the words.
For the first time, we trusted a non-grandparent caregiver to put both children to bed.