We've made it eighteen weeks. I'm still just as nervous as I was the day we found out, and I'm starting to think that's not really going to improve. I'm also still sick at least 50% of the time, and while that's obviously a huge improvement over 100% of the time, it's by no means fun. I think all the nausea is really hampering my ability to appreciate each moment I'm given...
Despite the undercurrent of anxiety, worry hasn't really been my focus this week. I'm sure that (along with the three straight months of sickness) contributes to the awful mood I'm in, but I'm going to attribute the mood mostly to the fact that I'm back in my normal place of feeling alone. I don't see why we have to constantly fixate on life stage as the basis for relationships, but inevitably, someone wants to go that way. And it sucks to lose people I care about because of something that should be good. Yes, I'm married, and we're going to have a baby. No, that doesn't mean I can no longer be your friend.
It's particularly frustrating to me that it always seems to be my Christian friends who want to take that route. I get the temptation. I hate change as much as anyone, but being on the other side, it hurts when your friends abandon you. It's also really hard to explain to my non-Christian friends why they would want to consider Christ when they see how much pain these "church" relationships end up causing me. They don't get why I keep coming back, and it's a fair question. We've been friends for years, and they would never dream of cutting someone out just for getting married or divorced or having or not having kids. Why would they want to subject themselves to this?
So today I'm sad and just want this week to be over. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
excited?
The day I thought would never come is here: I'm pregnant!
And now I don't really know what to say.
I know all the "right" things, but for some reason those just don't seem to fit right now. As we've gradually told people over the past couple of weeks, the question I've been asked more than any other is, "Are you excited?!?" It's a totally "right" question, and for my own sake and the sake of the happy askers, I usually just say yes. But, if I'm honest, I'm not excited. While I appreciate the huge blessing we've been given, this doesn't feel real. I want to feel the hopeful happiness I see others feeling, but I can't stop thinking that something this good can't actually be happening, not to me. So it's not exactly exciting... it's surreal.
We found out a little over two months ago, and since then I've spent most of my time certain that I'd have a miscarriage. When I reached the point where that became less likely, I moved on to other fears. I can think of a million ways this could turn out badly, but after years of thinking it could never happen for us and watching so many people go through heartbreak after heartbreak, I just can't let myself believe that we might have an actual, precious little baby to hold in November. The risk feels too big.
So for today, I'm cautiously optimistic (so cautiously that I'm a little afraid to admit there's even a glimmer of hope), not excited. We'll have to wait and see what tomorrow brings...
And now I don't really know what to say.
I know all the "right" things, but for some reason those just don't seem to fit right now. As we've gradually told people over the past couple of weeks, the question I've been asked more than any other is, "Are you excited?!?" It's a totally "right" question, and for my own sake and the sake of the happy askers, I usually just say yes. But, if I'm honest, I'm not excited. While I appreciate the huge blessing we've been given, this doesn't feel real. I want to feel the hopeful happiness I see others feeling, but I can't stop thinking that something this good can't actually be happening, not to me. So it's not exactly exciting... it's surreal.
We found out a little over two months ago, and since then I've spent most of my time certain that I'd have a miscarriage. When I reached the point where that became less likely, I moved on to other fears. I can think of a million ways this could turn out badly, but after years of thinking it could never happen for us and watching so many people go through heartbreak after heartbreak, I just can't let myself believe that we might have an actual, precious little baby to hold in November. The risk feels too big.
So for today, I'm cautiously optimistic (so cautiously that I'm a little afraid to admit there's even a glimmer of hope), not excited. We'll have to wait and see what tomorrow brings...
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
conversations with five year olds
The scene: Table covered with bottles of paint, paintbrushes, and paper.
Kid: What are you doing?
Me (clearly stirring paint): Mixing the paint so you can start on your picture of Little Blue and Little Yellow.
Kid: Why is it taking so long?
Me: Well, the paint in your picture is sort of yellowish green, but this green is too blue. I have to make it match.
As I continue to stir a small drop of paint splashes from the container onto my finger.
Kid (highly concerned): There's PAINT on your finger.
Me: I know. It's ok. I'll clean it off when I'm done, but thanks for letting me know.
Kid continues watching my hand very intently as though it might explode.
Kid (after obvious consideration): Well, don't lick it, ok?
I stop stirring and look to see if he's actually serious and determine that he does, in fact, think there is a chance I might lick tempera paint off my finger.
Me (quite seriously): Ok. I definitely won't.
Kid smiles, obviously relieved, and walks away.
Just another day in kindergarten...
Kid: What are you doing?
Me (clearly stirring paint): Mixing the paint so you can start on your picture of Little Blue and Little Yellow.
Kid: Why is it taking so long?
Me: Well, the paint in your picture is sort of yellowish green, but this green is too blue. I have to make it match.
As I continue to stir a small drop of paint splashes from the container onto my finger.
Kid (highly concerned): There's PAINT on your finger.
Me: I know. It's ok. I'll clean it off when I'm done, but thanks for letting me know.
Kid continues watching my hand very intently as though it might explode.
Kid (after obvious consideration): Well, don't lick it, ok?
I stop stirring and look to see if he's actually serious and determine that he does, in fact, think there is a chance I might lick tempera paint off my finger.
Me (quite seriously): Ok. I definitely won't.
Kid smiles, obviously relieved, and walks away.
Just another day in kindergarten...
Saturday, February 12, 2011
always the same
Last night we saw Jill Phillips in concert.
For you to understand the rest of the post, you'll need to know something almost no one knows about me: I absolutely adore Jill Phillips. I think she might be my favorite singer, and considering how much I love music, that says a lot. One album in particular lived in the CD player in my car for at least two years, and had it not been scratched, it might have never left. Her music is honest and humble, and many of the ideas she sings about are things that I wrestle with constantly... I LOVE Jill.
So, needless to say, I've been super excited about this concert, and it lived up to every one of my expectations. But, from the moment she hit the first note, I had to fight back tears. I'm pretty good at ignoring God when I'm hurting, but the familiarity of her voice and the intimacy of her lyrics pulled me back to the present. The music was too embedded in my soul to be ignored.
For the past couple of weeks, I've been dealing with lots of drama... primarily in the form of CPS reports. As a teacher, I've reported more families than I can remember over the past eight years. It's always sad, but it comes with the territory, particularly when teaching younger kids because they have no filter. If something weird is going on at home, they talk about it. Most often, everything turns out to be ok. Unfortunately, this situation has completely blown up, and once again I've been faced with difficult questions about the character of God.
I don't understand why God chooses to put children in that sort of situation, particularly when there are so many perfectly fit couples who desperately want children that he doesn't allow them to have. There are plenty of other hard questions about God that I'll never have an answer to, but working with children and dealing with infertility, that one seems to come up a lot for me. Why them? Why not us? My response tends to be distance... to pull away from this God I don't understand, this God who would rather let children be beaten than allow us to parent... and then I start to doubt the sovereignty and goodness of his plan.
That's where I've been lately. Distant. But last night, sitting in a very nondescript chair in a tiny, strip mall church, I felt God's presence in a way I haven't in quite awhile. The hope I asked for on Thursday night was there, and though I tried to push it away, by the time Jill started singing her last song, tears were rolling down my cheeks. It was an old song, my very favorite: I Am... all about the character of God.
I don't understand God's plan for us, and I certainly don't understand God's plan for the child I've anguished over for the past few weeks, but as he reminded me last night, I know he hasn't changed. He's still here with me, knows all my deepest doubts and fears, and still loves me just the same as he always has. He's still wise, and he's still in control, even when the situation seems completely abysmal.
I'm not sure I'm ready to totally let go of my doubt and allow him to comfort me in my pain. I can't reconcile the idea that the comfort would come from the one who's allowing the heartache, but at least I remember that he'll be there when I finally can.
For you to understand the rest of the post, you'll need to know something almost no one knows about me: I absolutely adore Jill Phillips. I think she might be my favorite singer, and considering how much I love music, that says a lot. One album in particular lived in the CD player in my car for at least two years, and had it not been scratched, it might have never left. Her music is honest and humble, and many of the ideas she sings about are things that I wrestle with constantly... I LOVE Jill.
So, needless to say, I've been super excited about this concert, and it lived up to every one of my expectations. But, from the moment she hit the first note, I had to fight back tears. I'm pretty good at ignoring God when I'm hurting, but the familiarity of her voice and the intimacy of her lyrics pulled me back to the present. The music was too embedded in my soul to be ignored.
For the past couple of weeks, I've been dealing with lots of drama... primarily in the form of CPS reports. As a teacher, I've reported more families than I can remember over the past eight years. It's always sad, but it comes with the territory, particularly when teaching younger kids because they have no filter. If something weird is going on at home, they talk about it. Most often, everything turns out to be ok. Unfortunately, this situation has completely blown up, and once again I've been faced with difficult questions about the character of God.
I don't understand why God chooses to put children in that sort of situation, particularly when there are so many perfectly fit couples who desperately want children that he doesn't allow them to have. There are plenty of other hard questions about God that I'll never have an answer to, but working with children and dealing with infertility, that one seems to come up a lot for me. Why them? Why not us? My response tends to be distance... to pull away from this God I don't understand, this God who would rather let children be beaten than allow us to parent... and then I start to doubt the sovereignty and goodness of his plan.
That's where I've been lately. Distant. But last night, sitting in a very nondescript chair in a tiny, strip mall church, I felt God's presence in a way I haven't in quite awhile. The hope I asked for on Thursday night was there, and though I tried to push it away, by the time Jill started singing her last song, tears were rolling down my cheeks. It was an old song, my very favorite: I Am... all about the character of God.
I don't understand God's plan for us, and I certainly don't understand God's plan for the child I've anguished over for the past few weeks, but as he reminded me last night, I know he hasn't changed. He's still here with me, knows all my deepest doubts and fears, and still loves me just the same as he always has. He's still wise, and he's still in control, even when the situation seems completely abysmal.
I'm not sure I'm ready to totally let go of my doubt and allow him to comfort me in my pain. I can't reconcile the idea that the comfort would come from the one who's allowing the heartache, but at least I remember that he'll be there when I finally can.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
ice, Isaiah, and hope
So the ice week was INCREDIBLY boring! Having four days off school sounds fun, but it wasn't that great. I had to sit at home because our driveway and street were insanely slippery, and after four days without seeing anyone except my husband I was mostly ready to scream... nothing remotely interesting happened.
This week has been just slightly more eventful. We've only been out of school for a day, but I've still spent most of the evenings at home. One positive side effect of the new, stricter diet has been that we rarely eat out or even go anywhere after my husband comes home from work... great for a budget but not so exciting to write about! Life has been calm, and that's been fabulous. It just doesn't make for an interesting blog.
Tonight I finally made it out into the real world for the first week of the spring women's Bible study. I've been excited to see my old friends, but I've been even more interested to start our study of Isaiah. As I walked out of the stairwell into the crowd of people around the registration table I saw the books we would be using stacked up next to the rosters, and I was at once thrilled and taken aback by the title of the commentary, Be Comforted. I know there's so much more in Isaiah than just hope, but I'm not sure there could be a better title to describe what I most want from God right now: to feel his presence and love... to be comforted.
So I'm hopeful. It's going to be a great study. I even talked with a new girl in my group who lives in my neighborhood. ME. I talked to someone new and actually connected. On the first night. Amazing.
The semester (of Bible study, anyway) is off to a good start!
This week has been just slightly more eventful. We've only been out of school for a day, but I've still spent most of the evenings at home. One positive side effect of the new, stricter diet has been that we rarely eat out or even go anywhere after my husband comes home from work... great for a budget but not so exciting to write about! Life has been calm, and that's been fabulous. It just doesn't make for an interesting blog.
Tonight I finally made it out into the real world for the first week of the spring women's Bible study. I've been excited to see my old friends, but I've been even more interested to start our study of Isaiah. As I walked out of the stairwell into the crowd of people around the registration table I saw the books we would be using stacked up next to the rosters, and I was at once thrilled and taken aback by the title of the commentary, Be Comforted. I know there's so much more in Isaiah than just hope, but I'm not sure there could be a better title to describe what I most want from God right now: to feel his presence and love... to be comforted.
So I'm hopeful. It's going to be a great study. I even talked with a new girl in my group who lives in my neighborhood. ME. I talked to someone new and actually connected. On the first night. Amazing.
The semester (of Bible study, anyway) is off to a good start!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
good stuff!
Ok, so I had high hopes of writing a positive, cheerful post this week, and I'm going to. My week was, um... interesting, I guess. Lots of extremes, both high and low, but I'm in the mood to forget the awful and focus on the good. So here you go! A list of the good stuff...
1. Eating organic strawberries... as it turns out, fruit tastes SO much yummier now that I'm not constantly stuffing my face with processed sugar.
2. Winning the lunch room award for the 2nd week in a row! We got to have extra recess Friday in the gorgeous sun. Amazing.
3. Co-workers who took up the slack when I was dealing with crisis and helped my kids make the puppets that rocked the rest of our day... infinitely thankful.
4. Getting to go to dinner with my husband before he left for the weekend
5. Wearing short sleeves and capris yesterday... totally needed the spring-like sun!
6. Playing Clue with some great friends... can't remember the last time I played Clue, but it was my favorite as a kid. Luckily we caught the dastardly Mr. Green in the kitchen with the lead pipe before he made his escape.
7. Receiving a beautiful calendar with photos taken by a friend and scriptures that will encourage me all year... the gift that will keep on giving even when things are hard. :)
It seems like a sort of short list, but I think seven will do for this post. Perhaps I'll have more next week.
1. Eating organic strawberries... as it turns out, fruit tastes SO much yummier now that I'm not constantly stuffing my face with processed sugar.
2. Winning the lunch room award for the 2nd week in a row! We got to have extra recess Friday in the gorgeous sun. Amazing.
3. Co-workers who took up the slack when I was dealing with crisis and helped my kids make the puppets that rocked the rest of our day... infinitely thankful.
4. Getting to go to dinner with my husband before he left for the weekend
5. Wearing short sleeves and capris yesterday... totally needed the spring-like sun!
6. Playing Clue with some great friends... can't remember the last time I played Clue, but it was my favorite as a kid. Luckily we caught the dastardly Mr. Green in the kitchen with the lead pipe before he made his escape.
7. Receiving a beautiful calendar with photos taken by a friend and scriptures that will encourage me all year... the gift that will keep on giving even when things are hard. :)
It seems like a sort of short list, but I think seven will do for this post. Perhaps I'll have more next week.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
the new diet
For the past four years or so I've had an ongoing war with my dietitian over the fact that I eat far too many carbohydrates and not enough protein. At first I tried to appease her by following her plan, but as time passed I sort of gave up. I never got all the protein in, and I was still relatively healthy. I'd go through phases of compliance and attempted to eat protein at every meal even on the bad days, but the issue never really went away.
Fast forward to last Friday. I'm sitting in my doctor's office listening to her debate possible diagnoses when it comes up that a possible treatment for one of the conditions is a low-carb diet. Now, I went into this appointment knowing that I could hear all sorts of bad news, but my immediate thought when she said that was, "You've got to be kidding me. This is the WORST!" I know. It sounds so absolutely self-centered and immature, but in that moment it felt like I was being told that not only do I have to deal with infertility and all that goes with that, I now have to give up everything I like to eat, possibly for the rest of my life... and that sounded like one too many things to deal with right now.
It took a bit, but I calmed down and accepted that miserable as it might be, I had to change my diet. At first it was every bit as awful as I expected. I walked out of the grocery store early in the week with an entire basket of foods that were completely unappealing to me, and I wanted to cry. In fact, that was how I felt with every bite of food for the first 4 or 5 days. However, once I got past the initial shock, it hasn't been as hard as I thought it would be. I'm finding foods that I like that have more protein, and I don't miss sugar as much as I did in the beginning. I'm even excited about the food I bought at the grocery store this afternoon. Who knows if it will work the way we're hoping, but at least for the time being I'm in a much better mood.
Maybe this will be great... can't hurt to hope, right?
Fast forward to last Friday. I'm sitting in my doctor's office listening to her debate possible diagnoses when it comes up that a possible treatment for one of the conditions is a low-carb diet. Now, I went into this appointment knowing that I could hear all sorts of bad news, but my immediate thought when she said that was, "You've got to be kidding me. This is the WORST!" I know. It sounds so absolutely self-centered and immature, but in that moment it felt like I was being told that not only do I have to deal with infertility and all that goes with that, I now have to give up everything I like to eat, possibly for the rest of my life... and that sounded like one too many things to deal with right now.
It took a bit, but I calmed down and accepted that miserable as it might be, I had to change my diet. At first it was every bit as awful as I expected. I walked out of the grocery store early in the week with an entire basket of foods that were completely unappealing to me, and I wanted to cry. In fact, that was how I felt with every bite of food for the first 4 or 5 days. However, once I got past the initial shock, it hasn't been as hard as I thought it would be. I'm finding foods that I like that have more protein, and I don't miss sugar as much as I did in the beginning. I'm even excited about the food I bought at the grocery store this afternoon. Who knows if it will work the way we're hoping, but at least for the time being I'm in a much better mood.
Maybe this will be great... can't hurt to hope, right?
Saturday, January 22, 2011
the tipping point
I had a crummy week.
I want to write a positive post because I feel guilty for spending so much time complaining about what I don't have when I've been immensely blessed in comparison to most of the rest of the world, but if I'm honest, it's been a hard week. I've spent so much time worrying about and waiting for doctor's appointments and test results that I've become even more self-absorbed than usual. Life has revolved completely around me, and being me hasn't been very fun.
My new student teacher came for the first time this Wednesday, and I realized about five minutes in that starting down the path of fertility treatments has already changed me for the worse. I think I was a pretty good mentor in the fall, but just the thought of mentoring this new girl makes me tired. It's not that I think she'll be particularly difficult or anything. It's just that she's one more person I have to take care of, and taking care of extra people feels really hard when I've got so much going on outside of school.
Teaching little bitties has always been emotionally demanding. In fact, it used to feel crushing to me, but this year it hasn't. Until this week, picking up my kids in the mornings tended to be the highlight of the day. They would see me walk in the door and jump up, all fighting to be first to tell me whatever exciting news they've picked up since the previous afternoon, and the stress of the rest of my life would melt away. This week that didn't happen. There were moments that they'd do or say something precious and I'd get pulled back in for a bit, but apparently I've reached the tipping point where the stress is too much to sweep under the carpet with a few cute smiles. Adding responsibilities certainly didn't help.
I'm beyond thankful for the moments that were special. Seeing a picture of words written in chalk on a sidewalk proclaiming to the world that I take care of my class when they're hurt and help them with their learning. Escaping into a magical pirate world during recess with one of my autistic kids. Reading a card that described me as "loevly." Having a dance party after we were the best behaved kindergarten class in the lunch room yet again. Those are the parts of the week that I want to remember. That's the post I want to write... the one where my week totally rocked.
Maybe next week...
I want to write a positive post because I feel guilty for spending so much time complaining about what I don't have when I've been immensely blessed in comparison to most of the rest of the world, but if I'm honest, it's been a hard week. I've spent so much time worrying about and waiting for doctor's appointments and test results that I've become even more self-absorbed than usual. Life has revolved completely around me, and being me hasn't been very fun.
My new student teacher came for the first time this Wednesday, and I realized about five minutes in that starting down the path of fertility treatments has already changed me for the worse. I think I was a pretty good mentor in the fall, but just the thought of mentoring this new girl makes me tired. It's not that I think she'll be particularly difficult or anything. It's just that she's one more person I have to take care of, and taking care of extra people feels really hard when I've got so much going on outside of school.
Teaching little bitties has always been emotionally demanding. In fact, it used to feel crushing to me, but this year it hasn't. Until this week, picking up my kids in the mornings tended to be the highlight of the day. They would see me walk in the door and jump up, all fighting to be first to tell me whatever exciting news they've picked up since the previous afternoon, and the stress of the rest of my life would melt away. This week that didn't happen. There were moments that they'd do or say something precious and I'd get pulled back in for a bit, but apparently I've reached the tipping point where the stress is too much to sweep under the carpet with a few cute smiles. Adding responsibilities certainly didn't help.
I'm beyond thankful for the moments that were special. Seeing a picture of words written in chalk on a sidewalk proclaiming to the world that I take care of my class when they're hurt and help them with their learning. Escaping into a magical pirate world during recess with one of my autistic kids. Reading a card that described me as "loevly." Having a dance party after we were the best behaved kindergarten class in the lunch room yet again. Those are the parts of the week that I want to remember. That's the post I want to write... the one where my week totally rocked.
Maybe next week...
Thursday, January 13, 2011
reality
Infertility sucks.
I've shied away from using that word to describe what I'm going through, but since my doctor seems ok with claiming it, I guess it's time that I accept that it's accurate. I'm dealing with infertility. It is an issue, and it isn't going to magically disappear. It's my reality. My problem has always been that I have friends much further down the path than me, people who've gone through years and years of heartache, and I tend to feel guilty placing us all in the same category. I don't know when the magic moment would be when I would have felt enough pain to qualify though, so perhaps it's time to let go of that distinction and admit that, unfortunately, I already do.
I've enjoyed the last couple of weeks because, to be completely honest, I'd given up hope of ever getting pregnant. That sounds like a really awful place to be, but surprisingly, it wasn't. I'd started researching other options like fostering or adopting kids, and I started to get excited about those things. I could walk through the children's building at church or read that another friend was pregnant and not want to scream out of jealousy or burst into tears, and that was nice. Life wasn't going as I planned, but this was a workable alternative.
Then I went to the doctor, and she brought hope back into the equation.
It's counter intuitive, but when she insisted there was still lots of hope for me getting pregnant, everything fell apart again. Not immediately. At first I was thrilled, but that didn't last long. The problem with this new hope of pregnancy is that along with it comes a lot of risk. Treatments that may or may not work. More months or years of the emotional roller coaster of waiting for test results, knowing the answer I want is unlikely, but still getting my hopes up anyway. Having my heart ripped out every time another friend announces her "accidental" pregnancy. Life-altering ethical decisions that scare me to death. When the situation looked hopeless, there was a peace in at least having a clear answer and an end in sight, but with hope there's no black or white next step... just lots of uncertainty.
So that's this week. I'm glad it's almost over...
I've shied away from using that word to describe what I'm going through, but since my doctor seems ok with claiming it, I guess it's time that I accept that it's accurate. I'm dealing with infertility. It is an issue, and it isn't going to magically disappear. It's my reality. My problem has always been that I have friends much further down the path than me, people who've gone through years and years of heartache, and I tend to feel guilty placing us all in the same category. I don't know when the magic moment would be when I would have felt enough pain to qualify though, so perhaps it's time to let go of that distinction and admit that, unfortunately, I already do.
I've enjoyed the last couple of weeks because, to be completely honest, I'd given up hope of ever getting pregnant. That sounds like a really awful place to be, but surprisingly, it wasn't. I'd started researching other options like fostering or adopting kids, and I started to get excited about those things. I could walk through the children's building at church or read that another friend was pregnant and not want to scream out of jealousy or burst into tears, and that was nice. Life wasn't going as I planned, but this was a workable alternative.
Then I went to the doctor, and she brought hope back into the equation.
It's counter intuitive, but when she insisted there was still lots of hope for me getting pregnant, everything fell apart again. Not immediately. At first I was thrilled, but that didn't last long. The problem with this new hope of pregnancy is that along with it comes a lot of risk. Treatments that may or may not work. More months or years of the emotional roller coaster of waiting for test results, knowing the answer I want is unlikely, but still getting my hopes up anyway. Having my heart ripped out every time another friend announces her "accidental" pregnancy. Life-altering ethical decisions that scare me to death. When the situation looked hopeless, there was a peace in at least having a clear answer and an end in sight, but with hope there's no black or white next step... just lots of uncertainty.
So that's this week. I'm glad it's almost over...
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
a new year
We're only five days in, but 2011 is already off to a better start than 2010. No one has died. I haven't lost my voice. My bones are all intact (well, as far as I know). The first week of this year is definitely an improvement!
Actually though, this week has been great. Other than having to wake up early, being back at work is wonderful. I've always known that I thrive on structure and sameness, but lately the routine of school is a greater comfort than usual... well, except for the part where the kids are irate about my new haircut. They had a MUCH stronger reaction than I expected, but luckily they seem to be adapting. Today I only got two, "You look like a boy," comments which was a huge improvement over the roughly two hundred critical comments yesterday.
Nothing in my life has really changed. All the problems that were here last week are still around today, but it's amazing how the perception of a fresh start and the reality of eighteen smiling faces thrilled to be back at school has improved my outlook on life. That, coupled with a great conversation with a friend over dinner, has made for one of the best days in a long time.
The problems will come back to the forefront soon enough, I'm sure, but for now I'm going to enjoy the rest of this first fabulous week. Happy January!
Actually though, this week has been great. Other than having to wake up early, being back at work is wonderful. I've always known that I thrive on structure and sameness, but lately the routine of school is a greater comfort than usual... well, except for the part where the kids are irate about my new haircut. They had a MUCH stronger reaction than I expected, but luckily they seem to be adapting. Today I only got two, "You look like a boy," comments which was a huge improvement over the roughly two hundred critical comments yesterday.
Nothing in my life has really changed. All the problems that were here last week are still around today, but it's amazing how the perception of a fresh start and the reality of eighteen smiling faces thrilled to be back at school has improved my outlook on life. That, coupled with a great conversation with a friend over dinner, has made for one of the best days in a long time.
The problems will come back to the forefront soon enough, I'm sure, but for now I'm going to enjoy the rest of this first fabulous week. Happy January!
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