I decided Monday night that I really had to get on the ball and start reading, and reading ahead of schedule and doing whatever I can whenever I can so one day I won't realize I'm really far behind and the end of the class was only a week away.
I have this reoccurring nightmare about school. The nightmare doesn't stem from this class, per se, although this class certainly doesn't help the situation, but I think it stems from me being busy, working full time, having a kid, writing on the side, whathaveyou, and also being a big goody-two-shoes who likes to do things correctly the first time around (and make fun of those who don't).
My nightmare consists of me taking two or three classes while working a full time job. I go to the classes and go to work. Then I go to one of the classes and go to work. And then, one day, I remember I was taking classes, but haven't been to a single one in a million years. I just assume I've failed and there would be no way to make up the time lost, especially since the courses I was taking built upon themselves and I needed to read a ton of material. At first the realization I've pretty much dropped out without doing so intentionally hits me like a ton of bricks and feel like my life is over. Then I start thinking, well, there is always next semester.
And so it goes. Over and over and over.
I actually had a similar occurrence while in Jr. College. I didn't wake up in enough time for an English final. My mom ended up waking me up because the teacher actually called looking for me. He said if I got there in "x" amount of time, he would let me take the final. And he's really the reason why I decided on English as my major because he felt I was a good student (at least good enough that he would give me a second chance, and I guess that's got to be pretty good).
Anyway. This is all digression, and I do love to digress.
I was going to write about trying to do homework with a toddler around.
Before leaving to pick up Mateo yesterday, I got all my school books and my laptop together and moved them into the living room in preparation for some quality time on the couch with my boy. Turns out he was having some emotional breakdown when I went to pick him up from daycare, and really, all he wanted to do was sit on the couch with his woobie and watch Yo Gabba Gabba or Little Einsteins (his two favorites).
I had my laptop open, one of my books off to my side so I could read and so Mateo couldn't get to my book (not that he really cared at that point). At some point he decided he wanted to sit on my lap.
This was all fine and good because all he thought I was doing was sitting there since I wasn't typing on the keyboard. I don't think he understood I was reading.
However, when I logged onto my class and started reading discussion posts and felt I could actually respond to one and be helpful (it was on collective nouns, very exciting stuff), that's when Mateo lost it.
He flipped. He flopped. He bashed me on the nose and laughed (it was an accident, but man, did it hurt). He put a pillow on top of my head. He flung himself across my lap. The topper, when I knew I had to close up shop soon or I was going to be in big trouble, was when he got behind me, so he was in between me and the back couch cushion, slung his arms around my shoulders and around my neck, leaned against my back and said, "HIIIIIIII!" right in my ear.
I couldn't help but laugh. I said "hi" back. Then he said "HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" again. That's when I decided I had to finish my thought, spell check and shut down until my husband got home to entertain Mateo.
Now I'm trying to sneak in what I can when Mateo's not paying attention, which isn't doing so well for my concentration, but I've got to get it done some time.