I've been busy again, this time taking a couple of math tests. Or more, frantically studying in hopes of maybe passing one of the math tests the first time around.
****
Yesterday I took the second test. There were several of us in the room who were taking the same math exam (the university puts different classes together for tests, but I could tell who was taking "my" test by the identical sets of lurid-green textbooks on their desks).
Aside from me, there was a hareidi (ultra orthodox) guy, a Muslim woman (in a hijab), a not-religious-looking Israeli-Israeli woman, and a Russian guy. People from all different walks of life, all suffering the same horrible math exam together. It was almost heartwarming, except for the part with the final exam (unsurprisingly, us lurid-green-books people were the last ones out of the room).
****
I've decided that math is to me what marathons are to the crazy weirdos who run marathons (seriously, people, just look at the name! "Marathon," after that time a guy ran that distance and then died immediately. Why????).
There's this cycle of:
1. OK, this is going to be tough, but I'm excited.
2. Off to a good start.
3. Wow, this is really challenging. I forgot how hard it is. But that's OK, I like a challenge.
4. It hurts.
5. It really hurts. Make it stop.
6. OK, this was a bad idea. I should just stop now and (go rest/go major in something normal).
7. Owwwwwwww.
8. ALL IS PAIN.
9. Oh hey, it's over.
10. (weird chemicals hit brain, presumably thanks to non-natural-selection-friendly mutation) THAT WAS AWESOME. I should totally do this again in another few months.
****
When I got home from my test last night, I told Viggy that I wasn't sure how it went, and still don't know if I'll have to retake one final in March, or two.
Me: But hey, at least there's one awesome thing that's going to happen in March, too, right?
Viggy: You mean having the baby?
Me: Oh. Uhhh... that too, but I actually was thinking of Game of Thrones coming back on the air.
Viggy: ......
Me: I'm a terrible mother, aren't I?
(To be fair, the baby might not be born until April.)
****
Also, this week A, N and D have all been home sick. Or more, A has been home sick (since Sunday), N has been home sick-ish, since Monday, and D has been home "sick" because I didn't have the heart to send her to preschool when she knew the other two (aka the Awesomest Big Sisters who are to be Worshipped in Everything Always) were staying home.
And then today, just as they were all recovering (/"recovering"), I get a call from S's daycare. She's also sick. And nobody does sick like a two-year-old. They're young enough to have no idea what's going on, but old enough to put up a decent fight (against what? well, mostly getting medicine or having their diaper changed, but also just life in general).
So tomorrow it will be me, 8 hours of work, about a dozen math problems (I did mention that I only passed one of those tests the first time around, right?), and one sick toddler. I haven't quite perfected my Ali's First Rule of Coffee equation, but I'm pretty sure that means tomorrow should be a 5-cup day. Except that 3 of those cups will have to be caffeine-free.
(It's tempting to just give in to the lure of 3+ cups of full-caffeine coffee... after all, this is a Viggy and me baby, what are the odds of low birth weight being an issue? But I resist.)
****
A few days ago, D asked what I was doing when I was studying math. I told her I was doing something kinda like the math she knows (זה כאילו צורה של חשבון).
A couple days later, a friend of mine overheard D explaining to her daughter what it is I do in the mornings, "She pretends to do math" (היא עושה כאילו שהיא עושה חשבון).
****
Yesterday I took the second test. There were several of us in the room who were taking the same math exam (the university puts different classes together for tests, but I could tell who was taking "my" test by the identical sets of lurid-green textbooks on their desks).
Aside from me, there was a hareidi (ultra orthodox) guy, a Muslim woman (in a hijab), a not-religious-looking Israeli-Israeli woman, and a Russian guy. People from all different walks of life, all suffering the same horrible math exam together. It was almost heartwarming, except for the part with the final exam (unsurprisingly, us lurid-green-books people were the last ones out of the room).
****
I've decided that math is to me what marathons are to the crazy weirdos who run marathons (seriously, people, just look at the name! "Marathon," after that time a guy ran that distance and then died immediately. Why????).
There's this cycle of:
1. OK, this is going to be tough, but I'm excited.
2. Off to a good start.
3. Wow, this is really challenging. I forgot how hard it is. But that's OK, I like a challenge.
4. It hurts.
5. It really hurts. Make it stop.
6. OK, this was a bad idea. I should just stop now and (go rest/go major in something normal).
7. Owwwwwwww.
8. ALL IS PAIN.
9. Oh hey, it's over.
10. (weird chemicals hit brain, presumably thanks to non-natural-selection-friendly mutation) THAT WAS AWESOME. I should totally do this again in another few months.
****
When I got home from my test last night, I told Viggy that I wasn't sure how it went, and still don't know if I'll have to retake one final in March, or two.
Me: But hey, at least there's one awesome thing that's going to happen in March, too, right?
Viggy: You mean having the baby?
Me: Oh. Uhhh... that too, but I actually was thinking of Game of Thrones coming back on the air.
Viggy: ......
Me: I'm a terrible mother, aren't I?
(To be fair, the baby might not be born until April.)
****
Also, this week A, N and D have all been home sick. Or more, A has been home sick (since Sunday), N has been home sick-ish, since Monday, and D has been home "sick" because I didn't have the heart to send her to preschool when she knew the other two (aka the Awesomest Big Sisters who are to be Worshipped in Everything Always) were staying home.
And then today, just as they were all recovering (/"recovering"), I get a call from S's daycare. She's also sick. And nobody does sick like a two-year-old. They're young enough to have no idea what's going on, but old enough to put up a decent fight (against what? well, mostly getting medicine or having their diaper changed, but also just life in general).
So tomorrow it will be me, 8 hours of work, about a dozen math problems (I did mention that I only passed one of those tests the first time around, right?), and one sick toddler. I haven't quite perfected my Ali's First Rule of Coffee equation, but I'm pretty sure that means tomorrow should be a 5-cup day. Except that 3 of those cups will have to be caffeine-free.
(It's tempting to just give in to the lure of 3+ cups of full-caffeine coffee... after all, this is a Viggy and me baby, what are the odds of low birth weight being an issue? But I resist.)
****
A few days ago, D asked what I was doing when I was studying math. I told her I was doing something kinda like the math she knows (זה כאילו צורה של חשבון).
A couple days later, a friend of mine overheard D explaining to her daughter what it is I do in the mornings, "She pretends to do math" (היא עושה כאילו שהיא עושה חשבון).
No comments:
Post a Comment