So... why all the pics of water and canoeing? They are from the canal behind mom and dad’s house, of course. The one peaceful alone-with-nature moment I’ve had in the last while. It was so stunning. First we went as a whole family, but I was surprised how tipsy it was. Then before I got out, Dave let me go on my own little way paddling in the back slough. I was flooded with memories and longings from my thirsty soul. Oh how I miss water. Now I have this sensation to reflect on now that I am far away.
Although, on the final leg of our 2 day journey home as we crested the hills between the farmlands sparkling into the distance and the dark sky above, I felt like I was coming home. I was surprised, but pleased that this frozen prairie can also hold a kind of comfortable familiarity for me. But...
We have hit a terrible wall of Reality today. ‘Course, we’ve been bumping our heads against it all week long and trying to persevere, but alas, today both David and I are shrugging our shoulders and wondering if we really WON’T get everything done in time. I can’t tell you how often I have longed for a peaceful night to just watch a movie (I have a whole stack waiting!!) but alack, sigh, no movie tonight. It’s enough to just prepare and then begin teaching our new classes, let alone all the many evaluations we need to carefully write out from last term. Decisions to be made and a fridge woefully lacking in healthy consumables makes for a great weight on one’s over-tired shoulders.
Weston is at his end. His cranky, angry, cries bellow behind my closed door as I write my fist blog in 12 days. Dave is hardly ever home now that rehearsals have begun in earnest, and both of us are vying for computer time to finish our work. Not only are we vying with each other, but now the boys, too, are demanding their “time on the computer”. That set back in traveling really ate up our one buffer day. We knew before we left it would be tight, but now it feels like suffocating.
Dave and are lacking so much sleep from late nights finishing syllabi, course outlines, assignment handouts, and evaluations... not to mention Weston’s cries in the night from growing pains and Donovan’s reluctant risings in the still dark mornings. Also today I learned that we have not just one but two students who wish to withdraw, and this weighs heavy on all of us in education.
I feel undone by the Christmas break. I know it’s important to do, but now I feel almost foolish that I thought I could do all my catch up in this half week. Too much. I wonder if I should drop women’s choir, but I love having the habit of singing each week. Dave’s new directing responsibility has all these extra meetings creeping in and I feel like I never have time to sit down.
I did try to engage the boys in working on some memory book pages as part of our craft time so I could process the big event we just went through before diving into this new year, new term, new river of activity and leadership. We’re not done, but we did make a valiant start and I’m grateful for that. I’m finding a strong sense to close and process (at least in part) before I start something new.
The strange thing is that I love the class I get to teach, and I like spending time with Weston at home, but there’s just too much expected of us right now and we need not carry it with us all the time. Alas and alack, or a lass with a lack. Maybe that’s not so bad. I have a lack of time and energy because I seized an opportunity to go home and I worked hard in a very consuming show right before I left. There was no spare time or energy to work on these things then, so I will have to fit them in now if I am to live with all these opportunities.
Dave only had a few minutes for supper tonight and we had no bread, eggs, milk, or thawed meat. The power went off today too, but thankfully it came back on right away or I would have had to be more adventurous. I combined two different soups (Chicken Rice and Garden Carrot) from the pantry and made a batch of polenta from cornmeal. I layered it hot and spicy in the bottom of each bowl with a pat of butter and then I poured the soup on top. True to form, David loved it; bless his heart. But the boys hated it, and that’s when my evening started to go extra sour (like the milk I found in our fridge when we got back home).
It hurt my feelings when Weston said, “You can never play with me again!” and stormed out of the room because I took away his special treat privilege. He always calls me a bad parent when I don’t let him do everything he wants. I know this is not true, but it makes me sad in the moment, and then I chuckle later at how blunt he is.
He wrote a few sentences of his own tonight while Donovan did his for spelling. He wrote: “The milk is sour” and “bumble”. He saw me write the letters and copied them upside down on his page. When I suggested he write them right side up he said, “Well I’m just gonna keep going the way I am so I won’t lose all my progress.” -- How does he know how to use the word progress?!
Ha! He really is remarkable.
I do love my boys.
There was a fierce north wind this afternoon when Donovan was walking home from the bus. I just had a sense he might need some help, so I bundled and left Weston on his own for a bit and went out to meet D. Sure enough, there was his red coat walking backward against the wind. Then he suddenly disappeared behind a snow pile. I rushed toward him, scarf in hand, and when I arrived, there he was in a little ball behind the mound. “Donovan” I said, “Honey, you can’t stay here; let’s get home!” His weathered face was red with cold. “I was just finding a little shelter,” he said meekly. “Here” I said, and wrapped the fleecy scarf around his nose, chin, mouth and just under his eyes and tucked it all around. “Let’s do it!" I said. "Stay behind me and I'll block the wind!” Bu before I knew it, he charged ahead of me, all the way home. A lad with a lack received a little lift from a lass.
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