Two roads diverged

Well, it's back to school time, and I don't mean for the kids.  They've been back for over a week now.  Nope, it's time for Mom and Dad to go back to school.  I can't say that I'm incredibly disappointed...I mean, all this rest has been great, but I really do better when I am under a crap-ton of pressure.  I fully enjoy being stressed out most of the time, and my life typically functions better when I am.  Now my pressure is getting to be a little bit different though.  I'm still in school, to be sure, but I am not sure what I am going to do with myself after this year is over.  I will graduate this December and either have to go for a Master's, law school, med school (yeah right), or put my big girl panties on and get a real job.  I just don't know which one of these things I really want to do.  I'm looking at a couple of different programs, but I'm still not 100% certain which road I want to travel down. 

The kids are no help.  They don't seem to care what Mommy does, as long as I cook them something palatable for dinner.  My husband is still in the middle of trying to figure out what he wants to do which basically renders him useless.  So I don't really know exactly what to do.  For now I suppose I'll stick with staying suma cum laude and working on dropping some of this winter warmth.  Am I supposed to technically call this stuff blubber? 

Baby balooga....oh baby balooga! 

Perhaps my distractability is one of the issues that I haven't dealt with.  I mean, I want to do everything.  I can't really narrow it down.  You should see my resume.  And although I usually excel at whatever I do, it doesn't exactly make me prime material for new companies. 

What I'm really considering is getting a Master's in teaching, which would enable me to mold young minds in my likeness, not just with my own kiddos, but also with YOURS!!  Looking forward to that, are you?  Perhaps I'll be seeing you sometime down the road at a parent teacher conference, where we can put the blame of your child's stupidity onto each other in order to make ourselves feel better about not having a fucking manual to drive one of these things.  Oh, and when we do meet, don't send your kid to school with an apple.  A martini mixer would be just fine, thanks.