This week, I've been working.
Which means that my season of alone time, of quiet time, of "me" time, is over.
I'm working as a Substitute Teacher Aide with special ed eighth graders this week. It's a small school- the teachers are close, and the kids are close. And I like my students. I genuinely like them. But, like working with every type of eighth grader on the planet, it gets to be a little... well, exhausting.
I head out for work at about 7:15 in the morning. My day mostly consists of, "Where's your book? Let's get that out, please," and "Nope. The question is asking you where this took place, not who the main characters are," and, "Sloan, that behavior is unacceptable. What would an acceptable behavior be, in this situation?" And it's good. I love being back in the classroom. I get home around 4 pm.
When I get home, I just want to sit. Sit and do nothing. Maybe watch TV. Maybe eat some junk food while watching TV.
When I was student teaching, that would be exactly what I'd do.
But I'm married. And I have to actually feed my husband- and he won't last long on just a couple pieces of string cheese and a quart of cookie-dough ice cream. And he likes having clean clothes. And talking to me. And doing things in the evening, like boating or visiting friends. Zeke helps a lot at home, actually, which I truly appreciate, but still.
It makes me feel like a bad wife, sometimes. Like the things I need to do are so overwhelming compared to the things that I want to do.
Then I start comparing myself to other people. People with children. How do they ever get anything done at all? Working all day, coming home and talking and sharing and cooking and feeding and cleaning and bathing and laundry and sleep... well, maybe no sleep... How? I feel inadequate just thinking about it.
I think that I'll make a transition. Learn to balance. I keep telling myself that it's only my first real week of work, and that I'll get into the swing of things. And I truly hope that I'm right. Still, though, there's something lurking... something telling me that I really can't do it. I'll just have to prove that thing wrong.