Published in The Fauquier Times-Democrat, Weekend Edition on Jan. 13, 2012
Are you superstitious? In theory, I’m not. But I don’t live in Theory. Just as with learning in the classroom, theory and practice can be cousins who are so far removed, that sometimes, they barely recognize each other. Of course, you might then argue that Theory and Practice could make for a perfect marriage, but we’re not going there. At least, not today. And not for the one dollar you shelled out.
I know better than to be superstitious, but I don’t DO better.
For example, there was a meeting this week I really wanted to attend, but the last time I tried to do so against my husband’s advice, all sorts of things went wrong. You know the kind of “advice” I’m talking about. The advisor throws his or her hands up, almost as high as the exasperated eyebrows arch, and says, “Fine, go ahead. Do what you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you afterwards.”
Don’t pretend like you haven’t given out that kind of advice. If there are children in your household, you are probably doing it right now. “I would ADVISE you not to bother me now that I have my coffee and am reading this wonderful woman’s column. If you attempt to do so and get hurt in the process, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
It’s not that he has specifically, verbally, said, outright, that doing so is a waste of my time, and my time, as the mom, translates into our time, as in the family. It’s just the uncanny series of events that followed that were hard to ignore.
The last time this happened was a few months ago, so it is recent enough to be fresh in my feeble memory. Unfortunately, many of us spend our lives learning and relearning the same series of lessons. I know I have been given this lesson before, but life, like in the classroom, sometimes results in cramming enough to pass the impending exam, and not maintaining the knowledge to keep you out of future scrapes.
If I think hard enough, I think I can really blame everything on a dish of spicy Thai eggplant, as innocent as it may sound.
This was back when my family was in belt-tightening mode. (We are now officially out of belt-tightening. I feel I must announce that in case you have “caught” my family dining out to celebrate a special occasion, or carrying out, to lament at Mom’s time management issues.)
I had had to drop my second daughter off to UVA one weekday morning, right after her fall break. I had homework that had to be completed, and I also had that meeting I planned to attend when I returned home that evening.
My husband discouraged my going to the meeting, considering I was already behind on the homework, and the rest of the week threatened to be crazier than our normal-crazy. Did I listen? Of course, I didn’t. We all know that we are smarter than our spouses. It is just the humanitarian in us that prevents us from saying so outright. Instead, we simply smile and do not comply or we sweetly sabotage their silly ideas.
Skipping this meeting was not an option, I said. I had already promised to take a friend, and I didn’t want to let her down. It would, indeed, make for a busy day, but you need to remember that I am (almost) as American as you are, and therefore, I follow the rules of American Mathematics. Busy = productive = fulfilled = happy. We think it only works in that order. No has dared try to reverse the flow. We validate being busy and we dismiss the notion that anything good or contemplative could come out of “idleness.” We treat our time the way we treat our closet space: it doesn’t matter how much you have, you are sure to clutter it up anyway.
So I get down to UVA. I’ve got my reading to do for class, so that afterwards I can tackle the assignment. I have my tiny laptop with me, just in case I can get onto wi-fi somewhere and post peer review comments on other students’ papers, as required. We get there just in time, and I am ready to whip around and head home. But here comes the first hint that something stupid is about to happen. It is lunchtime. “So, Mom, do you want to split a spicy eggplant dish with me?”
This daughter can get you to spend money in nearly criminal amounts. Should I leave and get back to Warrenton, or should I hang out a bit, and try to get some work done out there? Ah, Indecision, you’ve come back to me again.
Maybe it’s Indecision, and not Superstition that is really at the root of my problems. Stay tuned to next week for me to actually get to the topic. What, did you really expect me to finish a WHOLE story in one little aliquot of 850 words? See you next week – you can decide whether that requires knocking on wood or not.
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