We're all gonna go hungry tonight. Mama's back to work, and it's only Monday. It's all over.
I can feel you shaking your head as you read this, E, thinking it's only going to get worse. You will get to eat dinner, Dear.
Anyhoo. It's not so bad, but I do need a little break or I'm going to fall asleep mid-dinner prep, which won't be very safe.
I don't see students until Thursday, because I have three days of pre-service. Which I think must be Swahili for "crush the will of the teacher by convincing her she has a lot to do in her classroom, but give her no time to do it." I get time in there, sure. But it's kind of like how sleep was when the kids were newborns. It happens in fitful spurts--like, 45 minutes at a time. Never long enough to count, just long enough for you to feel the cruelty of its being over too soon. And just as soon as I get going on a good stretch of quality time, some crisis happens, and it all goes to crap. Or a bell sounds and I have to be somewhere. So it's a lot of rushing around, a lot of crazy, and then in between the not getting decent stretches of time to do things, I just sit in the piles of things I know I need to do and look around meekly like I can't figure out where to start, and ask myself what the hell I was thinking back in 1995 when I took that career quiz and I was sure that firefighter and hairdresser were not the jobs for me.
My room will be ready. It always is. Seeing the kids will be great. It always is. But that doesn't mean I won't do this derpy routine where I sit in the piles and pull at my hair and spin in circles like a dog 900 times, first. And I'll get all nervous before the first day and then the first day will come and then it will be too long and once it's October I'll be like I'M GOOD.
So, I'm looking forward to that. October.
Today was weird. I won't lie. It was sudden. Before I knew it, I was up and presenting a workshop to other teachers, and realizing I hadn't given my teacher voice a workout since May. I could hear myself talking and I wanted to laugh at me, at Mrs. P--probably not the right space to be in while you're up at the front of the room doing the teaching. It went fine. It just felt strange. Out of body, like. I'm so not Mrs. P right now.
And after school I ran around so I could get the kids to my Gram's to finish Addie's pickles. They came out great, but of course I forgot to take any pictures other than the recipe. But that's pretty cool, since it's in Gram's handwriting:
A good day, but I'm beat, I still smell a little brine-y, and I might just fall asleep right here on the couch.