A Very Scarey Halloween

The other night I pulled the minivan up to the Starbucks drive-thru window.  Crap. I couldn't find my wallet. "Hi!" I said to the 20-something "barista" at the window. "I can't find my wallet and no one is behind me so I'm going to get out and look around the van." "Oh... ok." She said in that dull, nasaly voice that so many young women are afflicted with.  My kids were fighting in the van and the noise was permeating the tranquil setting of 6:30 pm Starbucks through the window.  It was like a scream-o punk garage band had taken up residence outside and was overtaking the softly played indie rock.  She closed the window.  I got out, and after a few minutes found it on the floor by the new baby's car seat and close to the sliding van door. I got back in my seat and the woman asked, "So, where was it?" She was actually interested about where this lady had left her wallet.  I told her. "Oh, that's scarey." she said.  "That's how I roll." I replied.

I internally rolled my eyes as I drove away.  I misplace my wallet on average about once a week.  I say "misplace" because my husband says "lose" and I argue with him that when you lose something, it's no longer in your possession.  I say misplace because it's always in my car, or diaper bag, or closet, so it's never really lost, just misplaced.  Sometimes I don't bother looking for it because it's useless untill it just turns up.  But, I needed it at Starbucks.  I was in serioius need of caffeine to get me through the evening, so I had to look.  The next day was going to be craaaazy.  It was October 31st and Warren's school Halloween party and parade, plus a boyscout activity at night.  As "class mom", I was supposed to be there.  I was in charge of the story, game prizes, and a snack.  But, I couldn't be at the party.  I had to replace it with something equally stressfull...

Halloween morning I found myself wandering around a college campus. My big purse was filled with a notebook, folders, and pens instead of diapers and toys.  My overly responsible teenager had printed out a campus map for me, bless his heart, it was exceedingly usefull. I knew he pictured me taking too much time to calmly apply mascara in the car and then running around campus in a frantic spree trying to find the building and room I was supposed to be in. 

I found the buildling and ran into what happened to be a department professor who walked with me to the room.  I was so proud to be 10 min early untill I saw the whole room was filled with overly prompt people.  I was one of the last ones to arrive and took one of the last seats in the back.  The department professors introduced themselves and I eagerly paid attention for the ones who would be teaching in my field of study.  Every professor I run into seems to have an intimidating resume... Phd's, journal publications, books, research projects, national association of overly educated people membership, etc... This crew was no different.  My attention was briefly caught by the UPS man outside.  He was wearing a rainbow clown wig and clown nose for Halloween.  I suddenly wished I was interviewing for clown school and not graduate school.

Next we were broken into small groups by program and taken into small rooms to do group interviews.  I HATE group interviews.  When you are alone being interviewed you don't know if other people did better or worse, but in a group you stress about everyone elses answers and get annoyed at the people who try too hard to be memorable.  The first question was, "Why did you choose a Masters in Mental Health Counseling?" 2 or 3 people talked about already working in the mental health field.  One girl, fresh out of college, had a very dreamy general answer about helping people.  I talked about wanting to work with women with birth trauma and other women's related trauma... sexual assult, abuse, post-abortion, adoption, miscarriage, or stillbirth.  Then the man across from me answered.  He talked about being in Afganistan and seeing his friends die.  The man's eyes whelled up as he talked about wanting to help military people cope with PTSD.  Then, even worse, next to him was a tall, beautifull gay woman in men's wear.  I kid you not when I say that she could be a model.  She starts talking about her interest in the LGBT community and would like to dedicate her counseling to guiding people through their sexuality and issues realting to it.

Sigh.  I have no hope.  Later, when telling these answers to my husband, he said, "Your's is the best."
  "Mine is the best ?!?! I can't compete against crying army man who wants to help with PSTD or beautiful lesbian who wants to help the LGBT community!!  I'm SAHM lady! I can't compete."
 "No, no."  He replies, "Those other answers are so cliche." 
"But David, the Army man CRIED!" 
James cuts in, "Are these people trying to be counselors or do they need counseling?"
 Hmmmmmm... good question, because the interview goes on...

I realize I am also in a room with 2 recovered addicts and some very angry hospital workers who take turns making small, thinly veiled jabs at my answers. 
Question: "Why did you choose this Univeristy?" 
My answer:  "Well, to be honest, you offered my program of interest and I have 4 four kids, so I need something close and affordable."
 Hospital worker #1 begins her answer:  "Well, I'm not here for convienience. Although that can be a factor for some people..."
Question: Many of you probably work full time.  How do you plan on handeling this?
 My Answer:  "Well, I am currently a SAHM, which probablly has good and bad points for going back to school, but I definately think that if i'm going back to school, now is the time to do it.  Because then, when my kids don't need me as much, I can begin a career that I am interested in."

Hosptal Worker #2 Answer: "Well, I have kids, but I can't afford to be home with them, so this will be a struggle for me..."

Then, out of left field, beautiful lesbian in men's wear comes to my rescue.  "I am currently at home with our two small children, while my fiance is the bread-winner. My staying home is definately a sacrifice for us financially and is what I consider, our luxury, while others enjoy different luxuries..."  I almost winked and did the friendly gun finger motion at her.

But the interview left me feeling a little shaken and kind of un-confident, which is a feeling I don't feel often.  Not because I'm this super confident women, but because I'm an introvert and don't usually put myself out on display.  I'm super comfortable in my own mind and with my own thoughts.  But not so comfortable being open with strangers in person.  On the way home the "baby anxiety" set in and I started to wonder if I'm doing this too soon anyway.  I mean Brody is only 2 1/2 months old, maybe I should just wait for next year.

I didn't have too much time to dwell on it all, I had to grab the little two from my mom and rush off to make it to Warren's Halloween parade at school.  I got there and listened to a mom friend talk about how Halloween is the worst day of her life.  She has four kids in school and Halloween means getting 4 kids in and out of costumes at various times for various school parties, also making or getting snacks and volunteer time in at everyones events.  I'm pretty sure I got pale just listening to her.  How was I going to handle all of this?

Then while leaving the parade, I ran into another friend who asked how my interview went.  I told her basically everything that I told you.  But then, I started to tell her more about why I was doing it.  How I feel the pain of women I meet, and want to help them.  I know what it's like to feel pain and not be taken seriously.  I know someone who told my husband that I need to "stop being a victim."  Honestly, I'm only the tip of the iceberg.  I see women sobbing about their c-sections.  That their body is broken, that they can't connect with the baby, that every year on their child's birthday, instead of feeling joy they have panic attacks.  Fortunately my husband get's it.  But when it came to birth issues, very few people got it.  I get it, and I want to be a real resource for women with birth trauma and other traumas.

And this mom friend, who is in a counseling field herself, and has had a section, a vbac, and some angel babies waiting for her in heaven, loved it.  And it all reminded me that I need to do something that I'm passionate about.  I'm passionate about being a SAHM and when that's over, I need to keep being passionate because I am a terrible worker bee.  Sometimes passion is scarey and thats ok. Loosing my wallet doesn't scare me but my own passion does. 

Later that night, I took Warren trick-or-treating through a local college campus. On one dormitory floor, the stale smell of booze and beer hit us like a brick wall.  One happy child said, "It smells like candy in here!"  Warren responds in his blase fashion, "That's not candy, it's liqour."  Now, THAT'S scarey.