My friends called me Superwoman. began work on my Master's degree when pregnant with my fourth child, and got an internship on top of my full-time job when the baby was less than a year old. People looked at my clean house and four smiling children and proclaimed my status immortalized among Orion and Hercules. wanted to believe them. now shake my head and chuckle at that silly period of time when thought could be some kind of super hero. Before dropping my cape, stood proud atop my pile of obligations, fists on my hips, red satin cape billowing in the breeze and proclaimed, I can do it all! The reality check started on a Thursday morning in April and really hit home six days later during the long quiet hours lying in a hospital bed, out of the woods and rested, but before the doctor would consider sending me home. The first big epiphany while absentmindedly pushing cold potato buds around on my plate was that am actually not Superwoman. The second, even bigger stroke of genius was realizing that was OK. Prior to being defined as a mere mortal had a husband, four children, a dog, and was earning my Master's degree in the Continuing and College Education program at Western Washington University in beautiful Bellingham, Washington. Between my job as a Track and Field Coach at WWU and the internship, worked at least 70 hours each week. had headaches daily, worried about everything that was NOT doing at any given moment, and was ridiculously, stupidly tired. It all began innocently enough with a husband, kids and a job. The kids were clean, dressed, and fed. regularly did my hair and put on make up. spent time with my spouse. Going back to school was something I'd wanted to do for a long time. looked forward to the opportunities and responsibilities that came with a Master's degree. So told myself a few motivational cliches and there was, enjoying school and all it was adding to my life. An internship came out of the program and was still smiling, though it was strained, and my arms were beginning to shake from the weight of everything on my plate. A smart individual who values quality of life and love, when adding a heap of this or that to her plate would slide something else off. Not that proud super hero atop her mountain. just piled stuff on. Scoot over kids, there is a paper due tomorrow! Sorry Honey, Christmas is on the way so need to shop and wrap presents and bake cookies! Though was doing more and more, still expected 100% of myself for everything. Everything had to be done to the best of my ability as if it was the ONLY thing in my life. Anything less really stressed me out. If couldn't get all A's, keep a clean house, be the world's best mom and wife, and go above and beyond at work, was a failure. The first indication of my mortal limitations was time. No matter how much had to get done, there are only 24 hours in a day. That's it. That's all we get. tried repeatedly to stuff four extra hours between noon and 1:00pm, but only succeeded in chasing my tail and falling over from being so dizzy. As it tunas out, there is absolutely no way to work twelve hours, do homework for three, read and play with the kids, clean the house, run errands, eat, bathe, brush my teeth, make dinner, feed the dog, and get seven hours of sleep all in one day. It's just not going to happen. The second mortal barrier came with my kids, though they are absolutely the best. Their ages are eleven, nine, four, and one, and they are the most amazing people know. love them so much that if think about it too much it frightens me. As wonderful as they are, however, children do not make two jobs and school easy. Hardly a week goes by without a doctor or dentist appointment, school function, or birthday party. We have football, ballet, and baseball. Four kids mean eight ears to clean and 80 nails to clip. They outgrow clothes and need haircuts. They are always hungry. …
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