I never got senioritis in high school. Oh no, I had screwed up my freshman and sophomore years way too much to afford that luxury. By junior year with my sister and the boy I lusted deeply after (more on him soon) firmly at Rutgers University, I knew it was time to get my act together so I too could taste the sweet, sweet freedom of a 30,000+ student filled school in New Brunswick, NJ. The me of now would probably have settled for the woods and frolicking moose of University of Vermont.
But this was then and now is now.
I worked hard straight through my senior year until the very end – senior prom. I had my final Physics project due the Monday after prom weekend. I was going to the prom with the dishy Rutgers-bound boy from above (more on him soon). I was not going to do the Physics project. My dear mom enlisted the help of my older sister’s Rutgers boyfriend late Sunday night before the morning my project was due. We had to make a “car” out of various materials. It couldn’t have a motor or batteries. It had to go far down the hallway on its own. As I sat entranced and dehydrated and..worthlessly nearby, my sister’s boyfriend made me a car. It didn’t go far down the hallway on its own. Still, my teacher thought it was “special” and told me that if he could keep it, I would get an “A” on my final project, thus getting an “A” for the entire term, and being exempt from the arduous final. I remember reading in the hallway and watching my classmates fumble over their final exams.
Basically, I’m a fraud. There’s a skill to that too, though…
I definitely got senioritis in college. And for those not in the know, Urban Dictionary defines senioritis as: “A crippling disease that strikes high school seniors. Symptoms include: laziness, an over-excessive wearing of track pants, old athletic shirts, sweatpants, athletic shorts, and sweatshirts. Also features a lack of studying, repeated absences, and a generally dismissive attitude. The only known cure is a phenomenon known as Graduation.” That’s exactly what it is. When you taste that sweet, sweet taste of the end of one thing and the start of something else – something you worked toward. Freedom.
My senior year of college started with September 11th, peaked DURING first-semester final exams with the too-soon passing of my beloved Grandma Bella, and ended with me having two boyfriends. That’s right. Two. Two boyfriends bearing flowers for me at graduation ceremony. One I had picked up years earlier at a mutual friend’s rock show, but he had brutally cheated on me like three times, so I was “thinking things over.” The other I picked up spring semester of that year. On a bus. A bit more on him if you read my epic love story linked on the top left of the main page of my blog. My grades suffered a bit…
It was only by a little – enough for me to notice. And my mom too, I bet.
Then we have senioritis of pregnancy, which should really be its own definition, if it’s not already. I’ve seen it happen to so many women. This takes place in the last month of pregnancy when you’re in that glorious home stretch and you realize that all of the important parts of the baby are already formed and you want to go easier on yourself. Symptoms may include “forgetting” your prenatal vitamins, eating sushi, cold cuts or soft cheeses, and drinking wine. I don’t do those things.
But man, how I find myself lusting after the processed junk foods that I have cut out of my life for ten weeks now. M&Ms. Oreos. Potato chips. All stuff that isn’t nearly as good as the pure, homemade variety of junk food. Not even remotely.
I guess this is my version of “Pregnancy Senioritis.”
And then there’s, of course, the ways in which I’m slipping or just think I’m slipping. In reality I’m still keeping Scarlet busy. I’m still doing our laundry and “trying” to clean her room. I’m still taking the garbage to the dump. I’m still blogging! In fact, where did this said blog post come from??? It came from me sitting in my “thinking chair” – our glider rocking chair. I like to sit there and fiercely rock and come up with solutions to little things I don’t even know are bugging me. And somehow, this entire blog post coughed itself up within fifteen seconds! So I’m pretty lame with my senioritis. I haven’t truly slacked yet. It’s just that the wanting to mixed with my OCD of not getting buried by the pile of things I really need to do is making me a little crazy. The OCD is winning out. I’m 37-38 weeks pregnant, though. I gotta do something to celebrate. I think I’ll eat some M&Ms (shocker!) and continue to let Scarlet suck the marrow out of the joys of life, rather than making her take a nap. Cause wrestling her into bed is one battle I can no longer fight every day. Sue me. We’re having so much fun, just the same:
Oh, yeah! I had some lemonade today too. Ten weeks with no juice. Torture. It was worth every drop. I adore senioritis.