Left Alone

Laying in bed last night listening to the dishwasher run, I remembered the first time my mother left me alone.

I was eight years old. We were living in our third, and my favorite, house. My best friend was visiting and we were deeply entrenched in imaginative play. My mother needed to go to the farm down the street for vegetables. Ali and I asked to stay home. My mom wasn't sure about that. We promised everything would be fine and we would stay in the house. After much prodding, my mom relented. After all, she would only be gone 10 minutes or so. "The dryer is running so you may here some noises come from the basement. I'll be back in just a few minutes."

It wasn't long after she left that we heard noises. After a few more minutes we convinced ourselves that it didn't sound like the dryer. We decided someone must be in the basement or trying to get in the house.

Ali and I ran up to the third floor bathroom and hid in the tub. That is exactly where my mother found us whispering to each other when she returned mere minutes later. "I guess we need to wait a little longer until I leave you alone again." she laughed. "No, no, Mom. We're fine like we promised." I insisted.

I can't remember the next time she left me alone with no adult present in the house. Truthfully, I was probably 16.

Lying in bed in the dark I felt alone, floating, suspended in time, and 8 years old all over again.

My Mom

had this to say about Easter:

"It was fun watching you cook, just like a 'big girl'--LOL! It's still so hard for me to remember you're a grownup."

Just for reference, I will be 28 in a little more than two months.

School is Cool

So, in general, I enjoy school. I always have. I attribute it to my mom who was my first teacher. I distinctly remember, among other things, sitting at the kitchen table with her, a stack of magazines and a piece of paper, blank but for the upper and lower-case versions of one letter of the alphabet. We would talk about the letter and what it sounds like. My favorite part was opening the magazines, finding pictures of things that started with the letter on the paper, cutting them out, and gluing them to the page. Thanks to Mom, learning has always been fun for me and school therefore cool.
Then there were Lois and Pam, my preschool teachers.
Mrs. DeLorenzo, my kindergarten teacher who came to the house to meet me before school started.
Miss. Sullivan who eased my transition to a new school mid-fifth grade.
Ms. Pepin who managed to make high school math bearable, maybe even enjoyable, for me.
Even at the first two colleges I sampled my first and second year out of high school, there were teachers and classes I enjoyed.
Now here I am 27 and so close to earning my degree that I can taste it. I have had my rough patches, but school is still cool.

What is not cool is my having not blogged since Sunday, but school took priority. I wrote a very long paper and put together a thick portfolio of my Fall 2008 mentoring experience at Teen Voices for my independent study. It didn't start out as a major project. It just turned out that way. It started out with my adviser asking me to write a paper describing my Fall Experience at Teen Voices in order for her to understand what I did then so she can help me design my independent study for the work I am doing at Teen Voices now. When I got to our meeting yesterday and handed her the portfolio, she was flabbergasted. "What I am holding in my hands right now is worth at least the three credits you are taking this entire course for. I suggest you do an add/drop and take this independent study for 6 credits, instead." So that is exactly what I am going to do. We then outlined the rest of the semester.
My adviser for my independent study is also my overall academic adviser. Since my stick-to-it-ive-ness has been waning as of late, I asked her to go over what I have left so I can write it out and see it spelled out in front of me. This is what I have left or, as I fondly call it, Project Graduate:

This semester - Changing Views of Nature in American Literature
Independent Study - Teen Voices Magazine

Summer - One class (perhaps Applied Ecology, a two weekend class)
Some elective

Fall - Research Seminar in preparation for thesis
Thesis I

Spring - Thesis II

Graduate!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(Can there be too many exclamation points?)

So, dear blog friends, I am on a mission. This means I may go missing for a couple days at a time. It does not mean I love or appreciate any of you any less. Rest assured I will never abandon you because that is just not cool.

Sunday Scribblings #142 - Late

"Sunday Scribblings was set up to provide inspiration and motivation for anyone who enjoys writing and would like a weekly challenge." This weeks prompt is "Late".

"Late" was not allowed when I was growing up. My mother always had us up and ready to go with plenty of time to spare before we had to get to where we were going. Often we were 15 minutes early, never less than 10 minutes early. I understand early. I know how to wait patiently. I know how to occupy myself when I am waiting. Even now I rarely go anywhere without a book to read and never go anywhere with a notebook & pen for writing. My mother taught me that being early or, at the very least, on time, shows respect for the person(s) you are meeting and demonstrates your reliability and sense of responsibility. Oh, and if something unforeseen happens you call, explain, and let those waiting for you know you are getting there as fast as you can. These "unforeseen circumstances" should happen very rarely because you should be giving yourself more than enough time (i.e. be accounting for unforeseen circumstances) to get your destination on time at the very least. "Late" was not allowed.

Fast forward to now. I am married to someone who grew up much differently. He is much more "loose" about time. He assumes wherever he is going people will forgive him for being 10, 15, even 30 (perhaps more) minutes late. He runs on the belief that everyone will understand. He does not view being late as even a small indiscretion. We have had to come to an understanding about time. If we are going to see my family or going to and event we have been invited to due to my activities, we leave when I want to leave. When we go to see his family or go to an event we were invited to due to his activities, we leave when he wants to leave. It works most of the time, but can sometimes get a bit complicated if we are going to visit joint-friends. Our joint-friends know that if I am coming alone I will be on time, but if my husband and I are coming together they can expect tardiness of some sort.

While I appreciate the lessons my mother taught me, I also appreciate having the husband I do. Being with my husband has helped me to loosen up a little bit about time. Instead of leaving a 30 or forty-five minute "cushion" of time when I go some where, I tend to leave a 15 minute cushion (unless we are going somewhere new). I have learned to be more in the moment which helps me enjoy and appreciate every minute more. I believe I am beginning to find a healthy balance when it comes to time.

I leave you with an interesting tidbit: While I can become crazy over being late to every day appointments, I am very relaxed about how long it takes to accomplish certain goals and milestones along my life path. Case in point: I am twenty-seven and still working toward my bachelor's degree. What does this say about me?