It's 8PM on Valentine's Day and my house is completely silent.
No one is sick. No one is angry or upset. Nothing is tragic.
We're just slightly zombified.
It seems pretty harmless to let the kids stay up extra late while you're on vacation. In fact, it's good because they'll sleep extra late. We kind of overdid it on that. After two months of vacation, Maya was staying up until midnight "reading," which in Maya language means dragging all of your picture books into bed and rolling around on them. The upside is that she slept until 11 AM most mornings. Heaven. Max is old enough to set his own sleep hours because he can really read, and he can make his own cereal. The perfect sleep conditions for Mom and Dad.
Until today. We had to get up at 6. All I could think this morning was that if I'm going to get up before the sun, it better be because I'm catching a flight to somewhere awesome. This was not the case. We went to work, sat in meetings, and yawned. Oh yeah, and I also realized that I agreed to give two back to back presentations tomorrow morning and neglected to do one lick of prep work over the vacation. Thus, there were instant extra meetings and a concerted effort on my part to remember ANYTHING I knew about teaching two months ago. There's a distinct possibility I got confused in my exhaustion and showed up at the wrong meeting at the wrong school. I might not even really be a teacher. Keep it under your hat.
In the top five of things I hate and fear in the world are sitting in presentations and public speaking. By volunteering to offer professional development, I have managed combine those two things into a whirling dervish of fear, self-loathing, and dread.
SO now, except for a brief conversation about how awesome it is to have a garbage chute and just thrown unsorted trash down it- plastic touching paper in a way Japanese trash law would never tolerate, we've all been rendered mute with exhaustion.
I think Max just muttered something about brains.
No one is sick. No one is angry or upset. Nothing is tragic.
We're just slightly zombified.
It seems pretty harmless to let the kids stay up extra late while you're on vacation. In fact, it's good because they'll sleep extra late. We kind of overdid it on that. After two months of vacation, Maya was staying up until midnight "reading," which in Maya language means dragging all of your picture books into bed and rolling around on them. The upside is that she slept until 11 AM most mornings. Heaven. Max is old enough to set his own sleep hours because he can really read, and he can make his own cereal. The perfect sleep conditions for Mom and Dad.
Until today. We had to get up at 6. All I could think this morning was that if I'm going to get up before the sun, it better be because I'm catching a flight to somewhere awesome. This was not the case. We went to work, sat in meetings, and yawned. Oh yeah, and I also realized that I agreed to give two back to back presentations tomorrow morning and neglected to do one lick of prep work over the vacation. Thus, there were instant extra meetings and a concerted effort on my part to remember ANYTHING I knew about teaching two months ago. There's a distinct possibility I got confused in my exhaustion and showed up at the wrong meeting at the wrong school. I might not even really be a teacher. Keep it under your hat.
In the top five of things I hate and fear in the world are sitting in presentations and public speaking. By volunteering to offer professional development, I have managed combine those two things into a whirling dervish of fear, self-loathing, and dread.
SO now, except for a brief conversation about how awesome it is to have a garbage chute and just thrown unsorted trash down it- plastic touching paper in a way Japanese trash law would never tolerate, we've all been rendered mute with exhaustion.
I think Max just muttered something about brains.
Is this your new gig? Did you survive? Have I mentioned how courageous and awesome you are lately?
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