What can really only be described as rambling

OK, so here I am on the other side. Of the Atlantic. This isn’t a mystic voice from beyond the grave or anything. But you probably knew that. Oooh, I was about to write “But you probably knew that already”, which just goes to show. Year by year, day by day, sentence by sentence, I am being tweaked and shaped, and I become less and less the two people I flit between, UK and US, and more and more the one hybrid lump of somewhat amorphous personhood that… oooh, “somewhat”. Did you spot that?



For thus it is. The longer we live here in the Midwest, the more I become me, in this life that is my life. I’m no longer constantly surprised that it is my life. I don’t spend so much mental energy on comparisons and analysis. I’ve got used to the loss of many of the things I’ve had to let go of (not all…), and I’ve got used to carrying round the new things I’ve acquired. It’s just me, here or there. I’m feeling what the French would call “dans ma peau”, meaning literally “in my skin”. Very good expression, don’t you think? It’s rather taken me by surprise, because these transitions from one location to the other, from one culture to the other, are usually rather difficult. I know, too, that homesickness is a spooky lurking beast, and can pop out unexpectedly when you round a corner, so don’t be surprised if my next post is all about how much I miss England and how miserable I am.



For the moment, however, and we all know that the moment is the best place to live, life is good and seems full of potential. Today the kids are all back at school. I am debating whether to go back to the toy shop, which is fun, but has - as I predicted - rather lost its novelty, and is appallingly badly paid. I am capable of so much more, and as Husband’s teaching schedule this year means that he would be free to do school pick-ups, I have the freedom to explore. So I am job-hunting. I applied for a job online, but logged out half way through the process. I hadn’t got round to logging back in and finishing the form, when, blow me down, quick as a wink, the next morning I woke to find they’d sent me an email saying thanks but no thanks. This serves to confirm my worst anxieties about Corporate America. Way too flash fast for plodding-along me. But I know you’re all going to tell me not to be discouraged, and yes, you’re right. I will persevere.



The other idea that’s bumbling around in my head is to do an MA. My thought process goes like this. I can do an MA for free at Husband’s university. Ooh, good deal. What do they offer that I could do and that would be interesting and useful? (You have to remember it’s a small private university with a very small graduate programme, so the answer is not going to take long.) An MBA? Well, that would certainly look good on my cv, but it looks like you can’t really do it unless you’re in a job that will let you do on-the-job projects and assessments. And an MBA? Me? Really? Moving on… Counselling and Family Therapy. No. Not for me. At least not from that side of the table. Christian Ministry? An MA in Christian Ministry? Hm… Well, I don’t want to be a Christian minister… But it does look interesting. Some of it, anyway. And what’s this bit here? “You don’t have to be preparing for ordination or Christian leadership to take this course. Many of our students sign up for their own personal development.” Ooh, sounds like me. I’ve already spoken to Husband’s colleague who runs the programme, and he said he’d be happy to have me. Wa-hey! The only snaffoo (just learnt that word, isn’t it great?) with the idea is that I have discovered that although it’s billed as a freebie for families of employees of the university, it’s a taxable benefit and therefore does have a financial implication. Given the huge fees that people pay for these kinds of courses, even just paying the tax on it is significant. Plus there's the ginormous loss of earnings that I could potentially enjoy in my new, reinvented, Iota as Corporate Princess, “who needs to fill out a whole application form, can’t you see how impressive I am from the first half?” self.

So… job or MA, job or MA, or shall I just go back to the toyshop and potter along? Options, options.



Meanwhile, back at the first day of school for my kids, I have to just tell you that I am super-impressive in the whole area of school supplies these days. Gone are the laborious hours wandering round Target, Wal-mart, Hobby Lobby, Office Max and wherever else the last person mentioned, lists clutched in sweaty hands, wondering why on earth it has to be a pink eraser, not an eraser of the colour of my choice. I am now Supplies Queen. I know that all erasers are pink (except those white polymer ones), so that pink erasers are easy to find! I know what a 1½” 3-ring binder with an accordion folder inside is. Yes, I do! I know what a folder with brads is. Ha! I know that… sshhhh… it doesn’t always matter if what you get isn’t exactly what is specified on the list. Is it really going to matter if your child has a 2” notecard ring instead of a 1” one? No! I am so obviously Supplies Queen that I’m surprised Target hasn’t made me a crown using their construction paper (one pkg, any colour), dry erase markers (pack of 4, thick, different colours), 3” x 5” plain white index cards, 7” pointed Fiskars scissors, and Elmers glue.



But pride comes before a fall, so I must temper my self-adulation, and tell you that having a child start High School puts you right back at the bottom of the pile. You know how it felt when your child started Kindergarten or Reception, and everyone else seemed to know what was going on except you? Well, High School brings that feeling back with what might be called a vengeance.



And now, since this is 1,000 words and already too long, I’m going.