I remember writing my college admissions essay for BYU when I was all of 17. I’m pretty sure I crafted a thought-provoking, 300-word missive on navigating the tension between what divinely-given academic and intellectual gifts and a genuine desire to be a stay-at-home mom while my children were young (because, of course, a SAHM is a pretty monolithic state of affairs, right? . . . Did I mention that I was 17?). Someday I wanted to get a master’s degree–probably when I was, like, 40 and “the kids” were in school or on their way to college.
If I could now talk to my 17-year-old self, I would probably just chuckle, pat her on the head and say, with a wink and no small degree of good-natured snark, “Let me know how that plan works out.”