It is three o'clock in the morning and I just reordered the textbooks I need from Amazon once again. I have ordered these book four times now, cancelled three, swinging back and forth over whether or not I would finish my last semester of grad school. I am a teacher, a language teacher, and the degree I can almost touch is in a field that I am not interested in. I have wanted to quit for a long time so that I can do things I want to do like write novels and make and sell things. Yet even when I take a semester off, I don't work on my writing or make things that often. I woke with a start of realization just now that part of the reason I was quitting grad school so close to the finish line was out of resentment towards my husband. I wanted to quit my "practical" adult path in order to make him start hiking up his own adult path. I thought desperation would drive him to want to provide for his family. I know now that is a silly notion and a risky one for my kids. I have tried to be supportive of his ambitions to be an artist and I am happy that he is working on what he likes now, making small resin toys. He announced to me recently that he has figured out the steps he needs to achieve his dreams. That he will finish the toys he is making now, network with other resin figure makers, and eventually collaborate with them on other design projects. I have been waiting for years for my husband to have some sort of clear, obtainable goal and here it is as he slides into his mid-thirties.
I don't want to sound bitter though I undoubtedly can't remove it completely from my tone. I wasn't expecting that he would want to be an EMT or some sort of computer programmer or whatever generates a solid income these days. I did hope that he would take into account the three kids, the fact that we are raising said three kids in a foreign land, and the fact that I am a teacher who doesn't like teaching full-time. I wonder how he can forget that I have wanted to write since I started reading at three, that I fill notebooks with stories and ideas. I wonder why it is fair that he gets to stay home with the kids all day, looking at porn and design websites (while they play in the other room, I hope), letting them languish. They can't read in English because the only time they practice is with me and my current schedule doesn't fit with many suitable reading practice moments. I have all sorts of activity and kids' craft books, lots of how to teach your kid books, books bought because he claimed he didn't know what to do. These books gather dust, waiting for more neighbors to join the shelf. He doesn't have the time, he says.
I just finished my two week summer break. During that time, I had to spend the first part of cheering him out of his depression that he slunk into because my side project, my Etsy shop, started doing well which gave him less time to work on his resin figures during the day. The rest of the break was spent working on my shop (a much needed thing because we are strapped for cash on my teacher's salary), taking care of the kids and their homework, cooking every meal, and doing most of the chores. Happy vacation. I thought maybe I could get some writing in but that dream popped since most nights I was either exhausted or constantly interrupted by a kid waking.
But...I gathered my rebellious spirit and was going to make a break. I thought, well, if he has no problem doing what he likes, why should I? I ordered some books on being a novelist, cancelled my textbooks, and got down to work, distractions be damned. Then, guess what, a big distraction invaded my very person. Just what I need, another mouth to worry about. No, I am sorry about it but this little paper boat that is carrying my family in the sea of life is at capacity and has been threatening to capsize for a while. We can take on no more passengers. So this is another thing to figure out how to do in a foreign language, next month after my paycheck. Until then saltines and ginger tea because my body never does pregnancy in halfsies.
So now here I am, 4 o'clock in the morning. I have a kid on my tit and some textbooks that will arrive next week. I decided to continue my degree because I think I will need the stable, albeit low, salary and insurance even more when I am a single mom. I am in no humor to return to the States. I have three kids, each three years apart, who I want to give a safe and happy bilingual upbringing. I was going to quit grad school because I didn't think it was fair that I had to make sacrifices like writing research papers when I wanted to write short stories. But what about my kids? Is it fair to them to uproot them because their dad is a manchild and their mom an aspiring writer? No. My talent will keep. I must be patient and in a few years when they no longer wake in the night demanding tits and comfort, then the novel I have been working on will be finished. I don't see my husband in this future. It could change but his dreams are of the bachelor sort. I am not mad but I refuse to carry him along anymore. It will be some time before we can separate as my youngest is not quite two so not yet old enough for preschool and I don't make enough for nursery care. I want him to be in their life but I think he needs to find another boat to board because otherwise I fear we will all sink.
Thanks for letting me have the space to get this out. I really don't have many close friends in my life right now who I can share my troubles with.
It is one of the hardest things about living overseas.
