You are currently browsing the monthly archive for March, 2008.
“I took back those 4 boxes of hair color this morning.”
“Why did you get those colors?”
“I don’t know. You mean you didn’t like that color?”
“It makes me think of someone, and when that person enters my mind, I don’t even want to kiss you.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, what’s your obsession with these colors?”
“So what color do you want me to try?”
“I don’t know. It’s your hair.”
“Wait. The options are blonde, brown, and red. Which one do you like best on me.”
“I just don’t like that color. Why don’t you try one of the other colors?”
“WHAT COLORS ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”
“I don’t care. It’s your hair. Do whatever you want.”
My to-do list lately has looked a little something like this:
- Write 25 more articles for the real estate agent living in fantasy-land.
- Clean off desk in classroom.
- Wash enough underwear so you don’t have to wear the 2-year old and 3 sizes-too-small stuff at the bottom of the drawer.
- Catch up on detention list.
- Call people for addresses for sister-in-law’s baby shower.
- Crochet two rows on cousin’s baby’s blanket.
- Order take-out for dinner.
- Update resume and call principals at local schools.
- Buy gifts for cousins’ children.
- Write 25 more articles for real estate agent who thinks she has brilliant ideas.
- Design sister-in-law’s baby shower invitations.
- Make it to GRE test on time and score at least 1000.
- Count the change sitting in the computer fund can.
- Write analysis paper for grad school application.
- Make quilt for new neice.
Somewhere in here I am supposed to clean my house, which for the record, now has a 1/2 inch layer of dirt across the entire floor, this week’s entire work wardrobe spread across the dining room table, and all the forks in the house sitting dirty in the sink. I think I lost the cat somewhere in the stack of papers on my desk.
I guess you could say it’s a little chaotic, but this morning, at 11:46, I crossed one item off my list. As I drove away from the GRE testing center (with an acceptable score for grad school), my mind filled with far too many ideas. I’ve been so busy trying to keep up with mundane tasks, that I’ve pushed the creative endeavors to the side.
They immediately noticed the free space on my to-do list and moved right in. I was designing a summer dress, arranging for some photographs, and even putting together the “family history” wall in my hall way. My new business idea lobbied for a more prominent position. Book topics loomed.
It was an epic battle in my brain, and I couldn’t help but notice these ideas clinging to my leg as I desperately tried to shake them free. Creativity can be forceful when it wants to be. That’s why I am writing this instead of finishing my article about real estate marketing mistakes. Even with my to-do list, I’m still a slacker.
My mother and grandmother just left, and my house is back to it’s typical quiet stillness, except for the occasional sound of dog nails sliding on the floor. I’m sad. This is the exact same feeling I’d get after each holiday or extended visit with my grandparents or cousins when I was a child.
Even though I knew we’d see each other again, I’d sit in the back seat and cry most of the way home. That heart-in-a-vise-grip bawling that never seems like it will go away and makes you feel so silly when it finally does.
And it does. Eventually.
So here I am with way too much work to do and not one ounce of desire to do any of it. I’d much rather hop in the car and drive over to the beach where I could cry behind the cover of sunglasses and the pounding of the ocean waves. But life goes on, and my grandmother purposely cleaned my house so I could focus solely on the work she knows I have to do today.
I wonder why it hurts so much, and yet I already know the answer. I guess I just thought that I’d reach a point in my life when I could say good-bye to the people I love without the lump in my throat.
At least I can recognize this feeling and embrace it, as painful as that is. Two years of therapy paid off in that I’ll sit here and cry just long enough to clear my head instead of eating the rest of the macaroni and cheese my grandmother made for me. Or making a pitcher of margaritas. You have no idea what progress that is for me.
There’s a comfort in knowing that I do view my family as people I’d rather wrap around my life. Still, none of that changes the fact that my heart aches right now. So I’ll let it ache.
When most people hear that I am a middle school teacher, they sigh and give me that look. You know the one that goes along with, “You are such a trooper.” Yes, middle school sucks. It sucked when I went through it, and that part has not changed.
No one tells you before you walk in the classroom door that most of your day will be spent wrangling and pleading and praying that you don’t say something that will be misconstrued by a parent or media outlet. I usually find myself laughing sometime during the day about what comes out of my mouth in the course of those interesting 7 periods.
Here’s some of what I said today:
“Please don’t kick boys in the knees. Ladies don’t act like that.”
“Yelling is only acceptable at sporting events, to stop someone from running into traffic, or when someone is beating you to death.”
“I guess I just like them better. What kind of question is that?”
“I asked you to please stop talking. I didn’t say anything about acting obnoxious and ignoring me.”
“These excuses are getting really lame. You can come up with something better than this.”
“Wow. You guys are, like, really bad at this whole voting thing.”
“Um, I asked you stand in a circle, not in a weird polygon.”
“Hmph. You know, if you’re going to cheat, you really need to work on your technique. I’m not supposed to be able to see it.”
It makes for a interesting day. Fortunately, I’m laughing today.
