Today I have done an excellent job avoiding any sort of academic productivity that could have potentially been considered doing what I “should” have been doing.

And…as I started the time on a self-mandated 3 hour push of productivity, I decided that I needed to celebrate the birthday of Baby Chicken.  She turns one today.  And where am I?

As she spends the day with birthday cake an a wildlife museum, I’m galavanting around the great state of Nebraska pretending to get smarter.

Guilt?

Drenched in it.

Swirling around it in.

Smothered in it.

Sigh.

An example of a Mother’s Guilt.

Now, I can rationalize my stance here.

And in all honesty, I found this odd following of supporters

(or maybe they are just trying to  make me feel better, who knows…it’s a crap shoot)

that think my being here is more laden in benefits and long term opportunity than the disadvantages.

And, broadly speaking, they are probably correct.

Now, rewind.

I have an aunt that once told me that as Mothers…our job is to focus first and foremost on our children.

That means that me being here and this whole PhD gig is ridiculously selfish.

The CA court system seconds this motion with its gentle reminders that a PhD is gratuitous education, and that life at the status quo already has me as an over-educated, underemployed  burden on the system.

So – here I sit.

Feeling guilt I’m missing my baby’s birthday.

So, I’ll remind myself.

That regardless of the court or the family…or social norms that put me at home with my kids, I know in my heart I’m doing the right thing.

Giving up on a dream because life gets hard is probably a shitty decision.

And as one person put it, in similar terms, I need to pull my shit together and stop focusing on things that aren’t in direct relation to my kids and my success….

She said that my inability to focus on what is my life’s work will only distract me from being a good mom.

And she said that my objective was to succeed so the kids would succeed.

She ended her little lecture on life with a rated G version of

“You are here. You have potential. Don’t fuck it up”

Sigh.

So, I won’t.

Today as the Baby Chicken ate cake and spent the day exploring animals at a wildlife museum, I spent the morning eating ice-cream and exploring a local wildlife reserve.

In her honor.

We celebrate apart.

But I celebrate her in my heart.

She was my center of peace, love and focus during a year of chaos.

I’m lucky.

I love her.

And you know.

I’m not going to Fuck it up.

It’s time I followed the advice of someone who knows.

Happy Birthday Baby Chicken.

We’ll celebrate again when I get home.