The first week back...

Oh, sweet Friday. Sweet, sweet Friday night that smells of freshly-bathed children and clean laundry and burrito bowls from Chipotle. I had all kinds of plans for the afternoon -- squeeze in a workout after school, drop off a couple of things at the post office, wrangle my kids through Fred Meyer, make a sunchoke and kale gratin for dinner, do all the laundry, get the kids bathed.

Which is awfully ambitious for a Friday night, especially the Friday night at the end of the first week back after winter break.

I managed some of it -- I mailed the things (that should have been mailed last Friday), I managed to get everything I needed at the store and I only had to use my menacing “BehaveImeanit” voice a little bit, and I did most of the laundry, some of which is still languishing in the dryer. The kids had baths and bedtime stories, although I’m writing this at 10:38 p.m. and my son has yet to go to sleep -- he just hollered that he needs to go potty, so Matt is off dealing with that while I cuddle with the pug here on the couch. (Isaac is so different from his older sister, who would creep out of bed as soon as her legs would allow it. I kept Isaac in a crib for far longer than Suzannah, figuring that we’d convert the crib into a toddler bed once he started trying to escape in earnest. Eventually, though, we just had to do it anyway, because Isaac has never willingly gotten out of bed by himself. It’s not that he’s in there sleeping peacefully. It’s that when he wants to get up, or when he wants something, he sits in bed and brays at us until we go in and extend a polite invitation to get up and go to the damn bathroom.)

I did not work out. I ate tortilla chips instead.

And once I made it home with the groceries and the kids and looked at the mountain of laundry, when the kids were pulling at my sleeve and telling me that they were so hungry and could I get them some milk and could I find Isaac’s blankie and could we play and could they watch a movie, and when I realized I had forgotten to run the dishwasher this morning so that was still full of dirty dishes and the sink was full of all the dirty dishes from breakfast that didn’t fit in the dishwasher because really we meant to run it last night but forgot, I decided to call Matt and say, “Hey, I can cook supper if you really, really have your heart set on sunchoke and kale gratin, I mean I don’t really mind making it, it’s just that I’m totally exhausted and the kids need ALL THE THINGS and I’m doing laundry and just, you know. I mean, if you maybe felt a little bit like picking up dinner on your way home then maybe that would be okay.”

He agreed that was okay. So Chipotle. No regrets.

The Friday night at the end of the first week back after winter break feels so much more necessary than the first weekend of winter break. It’s true that teachers look forward to winter break with feverish anticipation, but that last week in December is full of all sorts of loveliness. The kids are nuts, but we can handle it because we’re about to get a two-week break, and even though everything is chaotic it’s all Christmas music and holiday parties. The first week in January is all about taking down the Christmas tree and realizing you haven’t graded the papers you’ve been ignoring for weeks. It is depression and sadness and woe.

My week went sort of like this.

Monday: Students were psychotic. I tried to ignore it because it was the first day back after break -- not representative of job.

Tuesday: Decided I chose the wrong job. Expressed this thought to people I thought would care and/or have my best interests at heart, like husband and close friends. Felt immense frustration at not being taken seriously. Hated everyone.

Wednesday: Absolutely decided to quit job. Students horrible. Couldn’t think of alternative job I would be good at. Hated everything. Wrote “I HATE EVERYTHING” e-mails to Becca. MEANT THEM. Cleaned the house. Cleaned the house REAL GOOD.

Thursday: Grudgingly had good day. Admitted sophomores are entertaining and ridiculous. Had dinner with Kyanne, who showed me how to use my new smartphone.

Friday: Am willing to table the “Should I quit this terrible job” conversation until next week (much to my husband’s relief). Am basking in the visits from several former students who are still home from college this week. Remember that I love them a lot. Grudgingly admit that I also might love the horrible ones sometimes, or at least might not feel like killing them (at least not all the time). Feel grateful that obnoxious sophomore waited until Friday to steal my scotch tape, color copious amounts of it with black pen, and give himself a scotch-tape mustache and goatee.

So here I am. I’ve survived the first week back. We have two weeks before semester finals, and kids are starting to send me panicky e-mails about their grades, and I can feel the rumbling of the avalanche of grading that will bury me starting next week. But it is Friday night, my laundry is clean, my kids are clean and -- yes -- both finally sleeping now, and I’m reading a good book. I have stacks of good books. Isaac wants to “go somewhere” tomorrow -- his last request of the day -- so maybe we’ll plan some sort of outing, though likely not to Seattle, as I hear something important is happening with football up there this weekend. (I wore a Seahawks shirt to school today -- the first one I’ve ever owned! My students were so proud of me. A smartphone and a Seahawks shirt, all in one week.)

So I’m not quitting my job right now. Maybe next week. Probably next week. But tonight I feel pretty okay, and weak-kneed with gratitude that tomorrow I get to hunker down with my little family, drink a few extra cups of coffee, and breathe.