Awake . . .

. . . at 4:30 a.m. Initially I woke up to at 3:50 to go to the bathroom. But then I couldn't get back to sleep because my unfinished homework looms over me, watching me toss in my bed. So I got up to work on it, only to find that there is no space for me to work on it. I can clean the kitchen from 4:30 a.m. to 5:30 a.m. so that I can work on school stuff that I still won't have time to finish, or I can sit here being super-tired and blog about it.

So here's a little whine for you.

My Pattern class is making me crazy. Now, I do like patterns, and I still "get it." But I spend every spare minute I have pretty much ignoring my kids, and my house, and almost not even preparing meals, so I can draft, cut out, and sew new patterns instead. This week I've only had time for the drafting of patterns; no sewing got done—a major, HUGE part of the grade each week. And between that class and the mom stuff I have to do I'm not getting any of my other homework done. I'm about three weeks behind in Tailoring—another reason I can't sleep, because that's my first class this morning. I don't have my Pattern by Measurement assignment done; I will scramble to do it tomorrow before class in the evening. I am staying up too late and getting up too early, and am generally stressed-out and unhappy.

Add to all that: one son who aimlessly stays up all night every night, even though he doesn't seem to like it and frequently complains about going nowhere; another son who dropped his core classes in school, opting to take charge of his own education instead (meaning he will study English, math, and history on his own—pretty much unsupervised, since I'm not really able to keep track of what he's doing while I'm in school myself); a husband working three part-time jobs; plans to go to graduate school (Bruce, not me, obviously) and possibly move; and all the normal craziness of life.

I ask myself, "Why am I going to school anyway?" I don't think I've ever been entirely clear about that.

I rationalize, "If we do move I'll be forced to drop the program anyway and I can learn most of it from reading the textbooks. This is what's happening in Patterns, anyway." (True enough.)

I think, "Maybe I should just quit going to classes, and fail them all, and forget about school."

Dropping out sounds like a very relieving thing to do; but this option, I think, would make me feel sad. I don't want to be a quitter—never mind the lovely example this would give my kids.

But I am drowning, drowning, drowning. I should be sleeping now, at 5 a.m. I should gently and kindly tell myself that I can't get the work finished anyway—not before I have to get the kids up, and ready for, and to school—and that another two hours of sleep would serve me better. But my over-excitable brain won't let me sleep.

So, instead, I guess I'd better go get the kitchen clean enough for me to start working.