Tuesday Slice: Seventeen inches

I emptied the rain gauge thrice last weekend, keeping track of the amount each time.  One and a half, then six, then six and a half, then three.  Seventeen inches of rain from Friday through Sunday.

We had electricity with only one "blink", running water, gas, and food in the pantry.  Our thirsty yard soaked up the water, as did the field behind us and the grassy culvert beyond.  Some blustery gusts knocked small bits of branches down without damage to our house or cars. 

Widen the circle a bit, and we had friends without power for up to twenty-four hours.  A tree was waterlogged and split in a neighbor's yard.  Flooded low-water crossings prompted official requests to stay home, or at the very least "turn around, don't drown".  We complied for the most part, my husband running some errands on Sunday but coming back frustrated with an incomplete merchandise return due to downed computers at a store.

The news to the southeast was more dire.  Evacuations of floodplains, highways under water, towns gone.  I stayed glued to Facebook for much of the weekend, checking in with friends in the hurricane's path and watching weather reports and live footage.  So far, the friends are all right, high and dry, though one family will be dealing with damage to their almost-new home.

It felt surreal to go back to work yesterday, with a two-hour delay to accommodate more rain, knowing that the sprinkles hitting my windshield were nothing compared to what our coast will continue to get throughout the week.

Tuesday Slice: One less

A song from 1970 has been running through my head the last week.  It started one morning as I was emptying the dishwasher, thinking about all the drinking glasses my son went through in a day.  It occurred to me that there would be a lot less to put away once he started college.

"One less bell to answer..."  No more getting up from a comfy seat to open the door when he's locked himself out.  No more phone calls to be picked up from a friend's house, or requests for chicken and fries on my way home from work.

"One less egg to fry..."  He doesn't eat fried eggs.  But this summer of recovering from jaw surgery found us focusing on what he could eat, and trying to get as much of that in him as possible.  I'm happy to report that he's found at least one cafeteria on campus with grilled chicken he can "eat".  He knows he has to meet with a nutritionist this week to make sure he continues to gain weight. 

"One less man to pick up after..."  We just got home Sunday night from college move-in, so there's still the aftermath of packing to deal with.  We'll clean up his spot at the table, wash his bed linens for his next trip home, and do the last bit of laundry in his hamper (though I suspect he'll return with more).  But there will be no school papers strewn on the living room floor this fall, no eyeglasses left in the hallway, no sneakers to trip over.

"I should be happy...But all I do is cry."  The one line that doesn't ring true for me.  I am happy for our newest college student.  I thought I'd cry when I came home to an empty house, but have yet to shed a tear.  Chalk it up to exhaustion from the move or the chaos of starting my own school year in the library, or maybe it's the feeling that we have graduated as parents.  Our fledgling has left his little cage of home for the aviary of college, and I am looking forward to seeing him fly.

Tuesday Slice: Chaos and control

Chaos

The frenetic thoughts ignited by the buzzing alarm
Tiptoeing around a cluttered home
      and the pillows knocked to the floor by the couch-sleeper
Adding to the ever-growing pile of college dorm supplies overtaking the living room
Baking pans and mixing bowls left in the sink
Papers on the dining room carpet displaced by the air conditioner
Papers on my desk threatening to avalanche
Papers at work calling out to be filed
The library arranged for adults not children
Tables everywhere 
Cables in dangling tangles
Chairs stacked at odd angles
My attitude at odd angles

Control

Getting up in the dark with time to spare
Dressing in workout clothes
Morning coffee in a favorite mug
The familiar routine of writing
Lists written and items crossed off at home and school
Emails written and answered
Appointments made and kept
My work clothes laid out the night before
Healthy food cut up and packaged for the week
Reaching for the water instead of the wine
Turning off screens and going to bed before the evening news
The grateful thoughts penned in my journal as I set my alarm.

Tuesday Slice: After the rain

The rain started around 4am on Monday, thwarting my plans for a walk in the predawn gloom.  I did a quick workout indoors after gently awakening my son for his morning dose of antibiotics and extricating him from the couch, his preferred sleep locale when his tiny bedroom gets too hot or cold.

My husband found a nail in one of my tires over the weekend, so I was forced to drive our ancient Durango in the pouring rain to my first day of work for the school year--an all-day meeting for district librarians. The rain even affected my planned wardrobe; I put aside the cute dress and lacy shoes, opting instead for jeans and rubber boots, not knowing how far away I'd have to park.

The precipitation lasted as long as our meeting.  We were rained on as we walked between portable buildings to meet with vendors, and as we stood in line at the food truck for lunch, a row of umbrellas gently poking at one another as we chatted about the details of our summer break.

The sun broke through as we left for the day, the rising temperature and humidity making for a sticky walk back to our cars.  Overwhelmed by a growing to-do list, coming home to a teenager rightfully frustrated by recent medical woes that I could not fix, I decided to go for a walk on our hike and bike trail.

Lush greens, purple martins swooping to catch the buzzing insects, and happy dogs straining their owners' leashes soothed my soul at the end of a long day.

Tuesday Slice: Ninety-four

In May, when folks asked about my summer plans, I replied that my focus was going to be on getting my son through jaw surgery and helping with his preparation for college.

As my summer is winding down, I'm reflecting on where the days have gone.  I now realize the focus has been on food.  Too much for me, too little for him; every day, walking the tightrope between concern and nagging, service and encouraging independence.  Avoiding eating his favorite foods in front of him out of sympathy, but then crunching away at handfuls of chips when he's out of sight, swallowing my own worries and frustration with each salty mouthful.

I'm slowly regaining control of my eating habits, forcing myself to acknowledge what I'm feeling as I'm standing in front of the refrigerator or pantry, deciding if it's really hunger or avoidance of tasks and worrisome thinking.

But for our son, now dealing with having wired-shut jaws for two weeks after a second round of surgery, it feels like a loss of control.  He was just back to eating small bits of "real" food (he isn't allowed to chew for months) when his oral surgeon decided that the jaw placement needed adjustment, and that wiring was necessary for proper healing.  Our son was angry, but signed the papers and submitted to the procedure.  Nothing but liquids for two weeks.  The most calorie dense concoction I can come up with is a mixture of frozen custard, protein shake, and protein powder whirred together in my mini-blender.  He likes it, but his shrunken stomach can only take so much at a time, in a day.  A diet of chocolate shakes sounds wonderful until it is all you are eating.

We saw ninety-four on the scale yesterday.  I pray it doesn't get any lower.

Tuesday Slice: Forgot it was Tuesday

It didn't occur to me until three hours post-wakeup that it was Tuesday, my personal Slice blogging day.

I'm not exactly sure why I forgot.  It can't be summer mode, as I never really got to enter into that zone this year; too many obligations and appointments have kept us busy.  I was at a professional development session yesterday morning, for crying out loud; should have remembered that it was Tuesday today.  

Things I do remember:

• the appointment we have with our son's oral surgeon this afternoon
• the looming deadline for the professional development I'm co-presenting, and the amount of work left undone
• our houseplants need watering today
• I'm a day behind in washing bath towels (that alone should have reminded me of Tuesday, as Monday is towel washing day)
• it's my weights workout day
• I'm cooking pork chops tonight, since they've been defrosting in the fridge
• the books I'm meaning to read today
• the planning I need to do today
• the cleaning I need to do today

Maybe today's mental file cabinet was just a bit too full to remember the day of the week.  That's what I am going to tell myself, at least.  

Tuesday Slice: This is not a paid vacation

Last year, I wrote about my work-filled summer.  In that piece, I planned to really look at this summer's activities, and make them less work-related.

I didn't succeed.  I ended up working almost a week beyond my calendar, trying to catch up on tasks that didn't get done before my official last day.  Of course, those extra days pale in comparison to the number of weekends my colleagues spend working in their classrooms, a practice I successfully avoid.

I did make a point of signing up for library activities that came with a paycheck.  The five sessions of summer library afternoons, one evening of pop-up library time, and presenting a professional development are compensated hours. 

But....each one of those activities eats into my summertime.

Why do we educators do this to ourselves?  Do doctors and lawyers take their case files with them on vacations?  At the end of the school year, our administrators send us off with messages of "Relax!" and "Enjoy your break, come back refreshed!" How does self-care fit with the parallel, unspoken expectation to continue working?  Are they mutually exclusive?

I began thinking of this post when a blog about a summer bingo game for teachers popped up in my Twitter feed.  I get it; it's supposed to make work fun. But we aren't at work. We are on summer break.  You know, those days we don't get paid for. Viewing it from the lens of self-care, imagine my disappointment when every square was work-related.  If I were to make a summer bingo card for educators, this is what I would include:

• Get a pedicure in a bright summer shade.
• Turn off your alarm clock, and see how many hours of sleep you really should be getting.  Try to work that into your school year schedule.
• Attend an adults-only event (or two, or three).
• Read a fiction novel for grown-ups.
• Read a nonfiction book that ISN'T about education.
• Revive an old hobby.
• Listen to new-to-you music; purchase whatever lifts your spirit.
• Learn a new craft or skill.
• Go off the grid for three full days.
• Connect with friends/ meet new people who aren't educators.
• Travel; visit a new-to-you place.
• Get a massage, or two, or three.  Schedule them at regular intervals for the next year.
• Find physical activities that bring you joy and health.
• Get a physical checkup with your doctor.
• Make a self-care kit with snacks, mints, gum, scents, deodorant, chocolate, cough drops, bandaids--whatever you might need to get through a long school day. (Yes, I know this is work-related, but the self-care aspect is what's important here.)

I know that great teachers are lifelong learners, and are always striving to improve their teaching skills.  It's an admirable trait, but I often wonder if we are truly compensated for our time and effort.  Yes, the intrinsic value is worth more than the paycheck.  I also worry that we become myopic in our definition of learning. We don't have to be all about education, all of the time.  

Especially during our summer break.