It’s a week past the first of the month.
It’s the first time since I began my “word-of-the-year” goal that I’ve missed an entry detailing my progress.
I know you don’t really care and probably didn’t even notice.
The irony of this happening during the year my goal is “remember” isn’t lost on me.
School. It overruns my thoughts and my days and some of my nights. Seasoned teachers tell me the first year is the worst, and that it all gets better from there. I’m trying to believe them.
Right now I’m barely swimming. I love it. I hate it. I can’t stay away from it. I can’t make myself do it.
It’s a weird place to be.
And while I feel like I’ve found a part of me that has been buried for decades, I caught myself thinking about and missing the stay-at-home mom part of me. The part of me that decorated for holidays and endlessly searched Pinterest for new ideas. The part of me that took photos of meticulously organized closets and pantries and kids’ drawers. The part of me that could spend an entire morning at Target wandering the aisles with nowhere else to be until school got out. The part of me that blogged regularly about the crazy antics here at the Sanatorium. The part of me that spent dedicated time each day on homework (my own kids’, not someone else’s).
I ask myself the same question many times a week:
Is it worth it?
When I’m in the classroom and I read something one of my students has written, I get flooded with excitement when I can pinpoint exactly what I taught them. That feeling is incredible. I love it. I love my students. I love the subject. I love the challenge and the learning and the environment.
But is it enough?
I haven’t had a break from teaching since August. Fall break was in DC, and Thanksgiving will be out of the country at a wedding. It’s beginning to wear me down, and I can’t tell if that feeling is because I need to rest or if it is something more.
I’m trying to find the middle ground, wondering if I can find that place where I can do not all the things but do the things that really matter.
When will I Christmas shop? Or decorate the house? Or wash the car? Or fold the growing pile of clean laundry at the foot of my bed?
Just some small things.
And can I do it and still remember the important things: birthdays, scripture study, exercise, prayer?
Both of my older boys pointed out to me my lack of blogging lately—an outward manifestation of my crazy schedule. The other kids feel a little ignored as well. I love this picture of photo-bombing Ben on Halloween night at the neighborhood carnival.
Can I continue to do this? Should I?