I'm in the house, being kind of sad.
Spring Break is all but over. It wasn't enough. I wasn't careful about how I let myself slip into my home self--my real self--this week. I didn't keep an eye to next Monday or the remaining six weeks of the Mrs. P Show that I have in front of me and I didn't stay in school mode. I just surrendered. Exhaled. Forgot about responsibility looming. I was so happy to pretend this time at home with the monkeys was permanent--that we wouldn't all hop back on the crazy train in just a matter of days. It's not that I don't want to go back to work. I do. But I'm so fulfilled by this simple, tiny life at home that I don't want to let it go, either.
I haven't done much this week. I've barely ventured out. I gave myself permission to not walk, not grade, not hang up that pile of clothes that's been on the end of my bed since I got home from LA. My focus was family and writing, and those two things more than filled my days. For the first time in months I've had a quiet string of days to sit and type. No distractions, no obligations, no reason to not give in to the stories I've been carrying around in my head (or mulling over, in the case of reviews) for the past few weeks.
Tuesday, E and I had our 14th anniversary. An insignificant number (even more so since we needed a do-over about five years ago), but a significant week. I didn't write about Tuesday right away since it seemed almost too precious to share. We had dinner at a fantastic small restaurant in Elk Grove, and--more importantly--a week of putting work into our relationship. Not work that feels like work, but work that feels like an affirmation. Care, I suppose, is a better word. The kind that says to the person sitting across from you: you're worth my effort.
Yesterday Addie had a ticket to meet her teacher at the movies (100% Homework Club gets to do that, I guess), so Henry and I dropped her off and went to see Mr. Peabody and Sherman. Since I generally spend my time fretting about where I'm supposed to be or what I'm supposed to be doing, it was amazing to just go and enjoy myself without guilt.
Today Henry invited his friend over and I spent my afternoon on the patio finishing Bonnie ZoBell's What Happened Here. I made a brie and turkey panini for lunch. I sipped espresso and talked to my mom on the phone. I tried to be thankful for this quiet life. With our over-committed schedule, I often forget it exists.