This week isn't a very exciting one, but it's the kind of thing I know I'll look at when the kids are grown and marvel about in that how did we ever do it kind of way, which is why I am taking a moment to mark it here. Just like how now I can't, for the life of me, remember how I used to stay up all night with infants and then go to work the next day. (Those years are just gone. Gone! from my memory.)
This week E and I took our marriage to new levels of intimacy and trust and synced our Google calendars (I can hear you gagging, it's okay). Simply so we could deal with things like the shit storm that was Wednesday. Henry had baseball, E had softball, and Addie had swimming all in the same night. So suddenly, as E texted me on Monday, we are THOSE PEOPLE. And I was like get used to it, because this is the next ten years.
Ugh. Remember, now, this is me with my PE credential that I only got so I could teach ballet and my total avoidance behavior when it comes to any kind of sport playing or watching. Yick.
So, yeah. We spent all week in the car and then watching our kids font le sport. I spent all week packing food into little baggies. And making dinners--which I feel like a boss about, honestly--because that is my sanity. If I make dinner and it didn't come out of a box--like, if there is at least one plant in it--I feel like I won at something. Food in baggies the rest of the day, notwithstanding. The kids spent all week alternately getting dirty and then getting yelled at about not taking so long to get in the shower. Somewhere in there, people did homework.
I am so, so so so proud of my monkeys and their new endeavors. And the other side of that coin is that I am almost unable to stand up in the morning when my alarm goes off right now because I'm so tired.
Back to School Night was this week too, which isn't a bad thing per se except that it involves small talk which gives me the heebs. It's always fine, but it always challenges my shyness. Like, ten million. If I could just stand at the front of a hall and present my Mrs. P Show and then drop the mic and walk out, cool. But here is my terror (and please remember: I have 185 students and we've been in school for less than two weeks by the time I see their parents):
[Parent enters classroom.]
Me: Hi! (Smiling) Welcome. I'm Mrs. P. Please sign in so I know you were here? We'll get started in just a few minutes.
Parent: (Shaking my hand) I'm Xavier's mom.
Me: (Thinking) ...
Me: (Flipping frantically in my mind through the 185 new student faces I've met in the last ten days.) Xavier... Xavier...
Parent: You know him, right? He talks about you all the time.
Me: Uh... (Panicking, now) Um. Well, I'm still learning names...What does he look like? I, uh...
Parent: (Clearly annoyed) ...
Me: (Sweating) ... (Walking to seating chart to search frantically for Xavier) What did you say your last name was, again?
Imagine that, about ten times.
Ta-da! Welcome to Mrs. Awkward's class.
It was fine, but I did a lot of sweating, per usual.
I feel a bit out of sorts--more so than a regular year, though my kids (as I am steadily learning their names and faces, both of which are lovely) have been really, really good even though our class sizes are gigantic. I'm teaching two new courses so that comes with a little more prep work. But that's the kind of work I enjoy, honestly. I like the challenge of curriculum.
One thing I'd like some more of in the next few weeks--if I am to feel like a sane human--is some quiet time. I'm sitting in my backyard right now for the first time in a few weeks and I am realizing that it's the first time since last weekend when I got up early and wrote a bunch of letters that I've been alone with my thoughts. Well, for longer than it takes to run to the restroom between English classes. Not good. I don't do well when I don't have stillness in my life. Heck, I haven't even had gym time this week, and that's not stillness--that's mindless repetitive movement. Not even that.
It's all good. All this is good. But I'm going to try more actively to find some peace now. I need it. My brain needs the space to think. I need some time to read the book I've been carrying around in my purse for a month. I could really use a nap.