I am at the cusp of finishing my studies. Just 10 weeks to go and it's done. No more reading, no more writing. No more exams. No more late nights. Or more like early mornings before I hit the sack.
I gave myself three years to do this. And if anyone thinks it had been difficult, yes, you are right. It had been an enormously difficult journey. You don't cease being wife and mother.
You don't cease being an employee. The housework does not disappear. The kids' assignments cannot wait. Their learning also cannot wait. The bills cannot wait. So I juggled.
I juggled everyday hoping I don't drop the ball. But somehow as I near the end of that journey, the juggling gets harder. Perhaps because my body is now tired. Or perhaps because my hands are now tired from trying to catch each ball. Or that my mind is tired.
Over the last two and a half years, the eldest finished high school and now at university. I was supervising him with his major projects for his HSC last year whilst I was also trying to beat my own deadlines at work and at uni.
The second boy finished primary and started high school last year. His calmness and organisational skills helped a lot from easing the pressure on me.
The youngest started kindy, and needs my attention as well to make learning a fun experience. So I became the class parent organising events for the class.
Last year, 15 sets of school uniforms await me to wash every weekend. That includes 15 pairs of socks. That excludes the rugby uniforms the two older boys have for training and matches every week.
But I have dropped the ball. The house is not immaculately clean. My commitment to do more humanitarian work had to wait. I have missed catching up with friends. I have missed birthdays that I should have not forgotten. I have not visited my homeland and I am homesick like crazy. I have not looked after myself as well as I should and I am packing up weight like a whale.
I comfort myself that there are only 10 weeks left. The end is near. There is light at the end of the tunnel.
I am always fascinated by the juggler at the circus. Amazed at his dexterity and focus. He is trained to juggle. Years of training to perfect the art.
I have no training in my kind of juggling. I've just simply done it crossing my fingers (and toes) that I don't drop the ball and hit my head. But I have. And the ball has hit my head several times already.
My juggling continues. I remain wife, mother, employee, friend, family. I hope to drop less balls in the next 10 weeks. But if I do, I seek your understanding.
