Did You Sign Up For This?

When I was still new to the K-8 job, I had a mini-conversation with one of the teachers over the roar of the lunchroom one day.  She's a young, cute thing.  Maybe 25 years old?  We were just chatting, passing the time, and she discreetly pointed to one of the young students and said she had seen him and his parents in a restaurant over the weekend.  She said they also had a very young baby who screamed through the meal and apparently ruined it for many patrons.  Then she shrugged and said, "What can you do?  That's the life they signed up for when they had kids!" and walked away.

There is such a huge chasm between what she said and what she meant.  This teacher is one of my favorites and she is kind.  She meant that the parents knew not every moment was going to be bliss with a baby and therefore it's not surprising that a dinner was ruined for them and other people.  What she said, though, is intriguing.  At least, it is to me.  She said that they signed up for that life by having kids.  But did they?

I didn't sign up for this.

The reason I have been thinking about her comment so much is because of all my whining about school lately.  And by "lately," of course I mean this entire semester.  Every now and then I drive poor G to the breaking point.  He sighs and sets down his X-Box controller.  Then he says something along the lines of, "No one made you go to grad school."

In other words, this is the life you signed up for.  You.  No one signed you up behind your back then shoved you into the wrong line.  You wanna whine, then go talk to the mirror.

And the thing is, he's right.  So is the teacher, though there's a better way to get her point across, I'm sure.

Paper?  What paper?

In one of my reviews of The Happiness Project I was struck by how many times the author was not particularly happy in the moment.  This. is. so. my. life.  If you were to randomly choose a moment - any moment - in my day, you will 10 times out of 10 not find me ecstatic in my circumstances.  In the morning at school, I just want to go back to sleep.  In the afternoon in class, I just want to break and work on my paper.  When I'm actually working on my paper at night, I want to sleep.  I want to read for fun.  I want to watch TV.  I want, I want, I want.

But when I step back and ask what I want in life...it's this!  I want to be in school and I want to work in education and I want to be busy with meaningful projects.  Which leads me right back to where I am, to this life I apparently signed myself up for in permanent ink.  Sharpie marker.  I don't even own pencils.

As I collapsed in front of the computer tonight and sighed colossally even though no one but Lucy is here to hear me, the teacher's words rang in my ears.  Do I want to do this paper?  No.  Can I do it?  Yes.  Should I do it?  Yes. 

I can sleep all summer and I can sleep when I'm dead.  There will never be enough time or money, there will never be a better (or worse) time for pursuing a degree, so I might as well get my caboose in gear and chug along. 

How lucky am I to be living the life I choose?  Very.

That paper awaits.   
{dangit}