Driven to distraction

OMGah. I have been such a half-assed mom lately. I'll let Jack play in a box all morning if he'll just be a little quiet.

I am SO DISTRACTED because April is so incredibly shitty this year. Every year. When I was an undergrad, April was a bitch because I had 2 national speech tournaments (DORK). In grad school, it sucked because all my seminar papers were due. When I was done with course work, it was a stressful because I was usually pregnant or having a baby. Last year, April was the worst month of my life because I turned my dissertation in to my committee and spent weeks awaiting their response, writing my graduation speech, and gaining-- no joke-- 9 pounds while I ate my feelings.

This year, I have, oh, EVERY PROJECT I HAVE STARTED SINCE JANUARY to complete, two class preps for next year that I need to finish by the end of the semester because I have a childcare-free summer on my horizon, and a million things to grade.

I have come to the conclusion that April is the cruelest month in academia every year.

In January, the new semester seems endless, and it is easy to take on too many projects, serve on too many committees, and overestimate how much time remains until summer. Then all of the sudden it's April and you are kneeling in the public speaking textbook stacks in the library trying to put together the most perfect course reader EVER for your summer advanced speech composition class while 2 essays sit on your desk awaiting edits before they can be mailed off and your students are turning in book reviews that you must read in less than 12 hours. For, um, example.

This week, I only happened to remember it was Harry's turn to bring snack (happily, I remembered this fact while at Target, so I could load up on fruit juice and HFCS-laden snack food). It was a total accident that I remembered his special day-- a happy accident because I cannot even think how terrible a discovery that would have been as I dropped him off at his classroom sans snack and show-and-tell item.

Probably it would have been about as terrible as last week when I brought him to school fully dressed in clothes on PAJAMA DAY because I am a monster who loves to torture children. He was so sad. I had to drive 20 minutes home, get his PJs and drive 20 minutes back. He was half-heartedly playing on the playground with his class, and his teachers said he didn't want to go outside because he was afraid I wouldn't be able to find him.

As a result, I was almost late to my massage. I KNOW. My life is very, very difficult.

I have been getting massages every 3 weeks as part of a complimentary and traditional medicine regimen to manage my anxiety. So far, not bad. My doctor thinks with some talk therapy, massage, yoga, and Xanax, I should be boarding a plane in no time. Where am I going? Probably Milwaukee or Chicago, just for practice, but after that-- the possibilities are limitless. Especially when there's no more ash over Europe.

Harry votes for deep space, but I was thinking someplace with a beach.