For the last 18 months, I have been working on getting my Master's of Education. I started this process during the summer of 2010 (actually I started way back in 2001, but that's another story entirely), and it was pretty much a breeze to begin with. I could do my classwork while my babies napped or slept at night, and I didn't have a stack of student essays to grade. When the school year started again, it became a little more difficult, but it was manageable. "Manageable" would be a good word to describe the whole experience until this semester.
When I saw my course requirements for my last two classes in January, I told my husband that I was going to quit. Smart, huh? My last semester of this journey and I was going to quit. It just looked like too much to handle: writing an action research project, tutoring students, teaching full-time, being a mother, having two of my girls playing softball, feeding my family, sleeping, breathing. I was positive that all of that could not take place at the same time. I broke down. I cried. I threw a fit. And then my husband told me what he's always told me, that he would do whatever it took to get me through it. And he has. He has always been the voice of reason to my emotional outbursts. I thank God for him daily.
So here I am, April 23, and I just submitted my last assignment for one of my classes. The final assignment for my other class is due Sunday, my birthday. As sick as it may be, that will be the best birthday present. With all of the activities that have consumed this month, though, I am refuting Eliot's claim that "April is the cruelest month." This month started with my mother's baptism-- how beautiful is that for beginning a month?! We celebrated Easter, Mom's 68th birthday, and Aubrey's 4th birthday along with her first softball hit.
It's been great, April; now bring on May!
Mom's baptism
My girls on Easter
Aubrey's 4th birthday cake
Aubrey's game ball for her 1st hit!
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