Boreal Witch

Robinson and I had been discussing enrolling Arthur into some kind of music class for some time. He loves music at school and has such a logical mind that he would probably love playing anything.

So when a piano teacher posted that she was currently accepting students, I contacted her immediately. During our initial meeting she explained that she had stopped teaching for an extended period of time due to family reasons but was just now taking a few students. 

I am one of the most organized people in the world.

I have labeled tubs in my refrigerator to hold snacks and dairy. My fabric is neatly folded and placed in drawers by color. My scraps are cut into specific sizes and put into plastic tubs. All of my office supplies fit into a tiny suede box next to my desk.

This does not mean I am capable of time management.

When it comes to finding ways to avoid actually doing something, I will do it. I stare at Facebook for at least a half hour waiting (and hoping) that someone writes to me so that I can write back at them. I scroll through pages of Internet searches looking at fashion and quilt blocks. I wander about aimlessly eating cookies and stressing about everything I have to do (without actually doing it).

My plate has been to the buffet so many times, my life is looking a little bloated: Pilates two times a week, teaching an ESL class two evenings every week, quilting club, connecting with donors for Imagination Library, quilting, blogging, writing, and creating - not to mention all of the boys' activities: assist in the taking care of gerbils, Arthur's music lessons, homework, Balin's classes at the Y...  

It was time for a change.

So, here we are. It's the middle of January and I've tried really hard to get myself in gear. I've decided to forgo lists - lists are something organized people create to make them feel more efficient - and just remind myself that if I get a big, important project done now...well, I won't have to do it tomorrow, will I?

If I have a free moment, I spend it doing a little something. Maybe sending off that email I've been meaning to or working on another basket. I've been trying to plan my days better so that I can get my errands done faster without back-tracking.

It's been working - more or less - but I wonder if I can keep up this hectic schedule. (Although I did spend the better part of today quilting and playing Skyrim with Robinson...time worth it? Absolutely!)

Tomorrow I will be spending most of my day running from staff meeting, to a Frozen party, to teaching. But I won't feel so overwhelmed because I have already made the broth for the Pho. I have Monday's lesson planned and the worksheets finished. I will make the Vietnamese rolls tomorrow morning. And I will hopefully start a new quilt: a little red-and-white one that I will submit to the Red and White Display at the quilt store by the end of the month.

Because suddenly, I have lots of time. So much time, I hardly know what to do with it.

Blessed be.

It always seems like a good idea at the time, doesn't it?

School. A car. A phone. A TV.

Paying for it is an entirely other matter.

Robinson and I spent much of our young married lives deferring and paying back student loans. College seemed like a good idea at the time. But was it really? I learned how to research. How to write academically. How to form my thoughts into coherent arguments.

But, considering I don't have full-time, well-paying employment to pay off that debt...maybe not. (Currently my only income is teaching ESL twice a week. Satisfying but not exactly a million-dollar job!)

We've reached a point where we can pay off debt in large chunks, not just a little bit here and a little extra there. In fact, if everything goes as planned, we'll be debt-free by next year. It's a bittersweet feeling, a mixture of woo hoo! and it took us this long?

Which leads me to this conclusion: when you take years from your life to work toward something, it should be a good feeling: finishing school, completing that novel, a promotion. In the meantime, though, trying to pay off that debt suffocates, frustrates, and frightens you. The only positive learning experience you get from paying off your loans is the incentive to not repeat that awful experience; the not-so-lucky continue to be swamped by bills.

So I wonder again: was it worth it?

I don't have a clear answer but I do know this: I am not going to pay for my sons' college. I am not willing to go into debt for them. If they want to go to school so badly, they will find a way to get there.

What I am going to do instead is provide them with a full bank account and options other than college. I wish my parents had discussed my options because, chances are, I probably would have still attended college, but I would have gone after joining the Peace Corps. I might have even gone to a technical college instead. At 18, I was still growing into myself. Accumulating debt and instantly having to pay it back upon graduation is a horrible induction into adulthood.

But it isn't just school. Americans are consumers. We love buying new gadgets, phones, televisions. You name it, we want it and we are willing to go into debt for it. Whether or not we need these things is an entirely different matter. Robinson and I have both managed to stave off consumer debt because we live fairly simply.

One final observation about debt: my boys recently saved their money to buy a Lego Sandcrawler. This was a $300 purchase and it took them about a year to save up for it. Some parents might have just swiped their card and bought the behemoth for a birthday or Christmas. I'd like to think that by encouraging the boys to complete chores and odd jobs and save their birthday and Christmas money, I've done them more good than just throwing this toy at them. What do you think?

Blessed be.

Robinson and I felt that, at 3 and 6 - almost 4 and 7, our boys were old enough for their own pet. Something small, quiet, and interesting. Christmas was coming up and we scored a 20-lb aquarium and stand for $20 from a co-worker, complete with pump, light, and filter.

Arthur has a certain fondness for frogs, so we originally planned for a pet of the amphibious kind. As we began doing more research, it became evident that caring for a frog would become a full-time job: heat lamp? Humidity reader? Non-clorinated water?

But it was the "no petting" that finally decided it.

When the boys learned that they would be unable to take their frog friend out of the tank to play with it, they were disappointed. Then they learned that many frogs are nocturnal which means they would be asleep when the frog was awake.

Enter the rodent.

We had gone to the pet store to look, not to buy, but the boys were immediately captivated by two, small, furry mice. They fought. They played. They cleaned each other. The boys laughed and we knew then that maybe - just maybe - getting a little furry something would be a good choice.

So we researched: mice? Hamsters? Gerbils? Rats? If we got hamsters or rats we could only get one. Mice are nice but gerbils are incredibly friendly and social. Plus, they love to play in boxes and tubes.

Bingo.

We left the pet store and that night made a list of all the things our furry friends would need: bedding, water bottle, food, wheel, house, gnaw sticks...

The very next day, school was out because of high winds and frigid temperatures so I packed up the kids in the car and took them to Target (to get bedding, food, and Timothy hay) and then to Petco (to get everything else but the gerbils).

We got their new home ready that afternoon. The boys were psyched. They eagerly and impatiently awaited that night when we would go to another pet store and bring them home. Unfortunately, we learned that the pet store had gerbils but that they were under quarantine for three days. We would have to wait for Saturday to bring our new friends home.

Every day Balin asked if it was Saturday. Arthur grumbled, "I wish we could bring them home now!"

Then Saturday came and the boys went down to Rockford and brought back two gerbils: one black one with a white spot on its chin and a cream-colored one with reddish-black eyes. Balin named his right away. Arthur waited so that he could name his gerbil according to its personality.

Welcome to the family, Boo and Skippy. I hope you like it here. The boys are excited to have you as friends and want you to be happy here. The boys have promised to do their best to take good care of you.

Blessed be.