Getting late and, ack! just remembered about the dishwasher emptying and loading and washing to have bottles tomorrow for Ian who will be playing with cousin and auntie while I am at inservice . . . gah! It's that sort of week, the sort that leaves me breathless and befuddled. We interviewed for my coteacher next year as my class is growing into a four day program. A wonderfully creative teacher is going to join me next year. I am so excited! And why can't I teach four days? Ah, I remember now. Fatigue, irritability, and a gazillion other signs that my health is so not happy with me right now. It's easy for me to be lulled into a false sense of confidence. I want to believe. I want to believe I am normal :). Normalish. And seeing these symptoms resurface so quickly just holds up my fragile world right in front of my face. The good news is that I see clearly how well the modifications over the years have helped. Going part time. Allowing, no, imposing downtime. Admitting that I have limits. All of these things have given me a much higher quality of life. I am so grateful that the universe has lifted up to support me in these massive changes.
I must be respectful of my limits. Because the ones who pay the consequences are not me, really. They're my family and students, friends who get the razor edge of my irritation because I am so spent, I could crawl into bed and sleep for a week or a year. I'm fighting off a cold/allergy yuck too, but those usually settle in when I'm stressed. And I'm not stressed, really, it's the physical stress of keeping up with this schedule this week. Oh, how breakable I feel . . .
But I'm all right. I know these things. And this is so temporary. Because in my off time I am getting contracts all tidy. And kids are only with me for two more weeks. Two weeks! I can scarcely wrap my head around that. I'll miss them. This class is a gift. Each and every kid has a special corner in my heart.
The pool is fixed and the baby is learning not to crawl headfirst over shallow stairs and it will all be okay. More than okay.
Dishwasher is calling my name . . . and ten minutes, ding!