YoungMother: Dreading my FINAL final examinations

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Dreading my FINAL final examinations

Well, tomorrow morning I have two of my last three exams. After that, there's one on Thursday, and that's it for me. I'm petrified, really, because these philosophy questions looks difficult. I honestly don't know if I'll pass the test; I just hope I might average well enough to pass the course. It's so unlike me... but this is the end. Who else has to plan their final-exam-cramming around midnight feedings and expressing milk for the next day's bottle?

I'm not sad or sentimental about finishing. It's time.

My stomach feels sick from the caffeine. I rarely drink it.

My husband got moved to working days, finally. That's good news. He works two thirteen hour days and two nine hour days, all including lunch. Would you believe he says it goes by quickly? Well, we're so thrilled it doesn't even seem real. Thirteen hours in the day is better than eleven at night, which is what he has been doing the past year and a half. What a wonderful blessing for Laudete Sunday.

So tired... I don't have enough time to learn all of this. I pray to GOD that Dr. Simm will have mercy on me when he reads my crappy exam. And the same goes for Dr. Jodz! Ack, I'm embarassed at how bad this is going to be. I have this mounting sense of dread.

St. Thomas Aquinas, please pray for me!
Holy Mother of God, please pray for me!
LORD Jesus Christ, have mercy on me and help me to do well!

1 comments:

Mary Catherine said...: St. Joseph of Cupertino's pretty cool. He couldn't ever remember any of the stuff he had to know to pass the theology tests to become a priest, so he was a stable boy instead. And then the bishop came to examine him, and as he took care of his horse (St Joseph taking care of the bishop's horse) and asked him about the Trinity, and St. Joseph folded a horse blanket into three and said, "three folds, one blanket." So the bishop said he passed. Here ya go:

O Great St. Joseph of Cupertino who while on earth did obtain from God the grace to be asked at your examination only the questions you knew, obtain for me a like favour in the examinations for which I am now preparing. In return I promise to make you known and cause you to be invoked.

Through Christ our Lord.

St. Joseph of Cupertino, Pray for us.

Amen; December 17, 2008 8:57 PM

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SLEEPING WITH BABY, DECEMBER

Steam rises, here and north of here
from a hundred holes in the snow,
from a hundred warm stone caves
where sister bear curls dreaming against the cold
around a cub who grumbles, stirs
the way you do against my belly,
under this thick white blanket.
In the walls of here and everywhere
in fluffy nests of shredded work gloves,
leaves, insulation,
mouse mother's white belly curves
like the crescent moon around her naked brood,
containing their blindness.
Think of it: in attic boxes, basement drawers,
warm fur and the tiny miracle of mouse milk.
Even in deepest sleep I cannot put you down.
I know from instinct
that birth takes months; a push from womb
to cradleboard, hammock, sling;
Woman rises, sore, from birthing
returns to the work of life, hands free
for gathering, digging in dirt, kneading bread.
She walks unhindered, patting the sling
like a pregnant belly, shifting familiar weight.
Baby remembers the tight, dark warmth
the comfort of heartsounds, rides rocked in her walk
awash in the waves of her breathing like before.
At night, in the furs,
in hammocks and sleeping mats, pioneer rope beds,
in wigwams,grass huts, soddies, they slept
as we sleep now,
heart to heart. Before you were born
I listened for you all night,
curled on my side around your squirming.
Now your breathing comforts me back; you wake
and nurse, rooting,
grunting like a lion cub, smelling of warmth and milk.
When newborn nightmares furrow your brow,
(what fear from deep and long ago?)
push that quivering bottom lip, you stiffen, reach out
touch ... mama
and that face erases, small pond after a rain.
I try to imagine why you should be
in the next room, alone,
on your back, in the dark, on that wide caged crib mattress
where predators drool and prowl, where instinct
(your only compass) says unheld is unsafe,
alone,
crying that wail of the dropped and falling,
the howl of the foundling,
orphan left on forest floor,
on glacial ridge, in desert sand,
alone.

Kelly Averill-Savino, 1995
Copied from the first pages of Attachment Parenting by Granju and Kennedy

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Dreading my FINAL final examinations

1 comments:

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SLEEPING WITH BABY, DECEMBER

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