It's been a week.
An exhausting week. I struggle to stay awake until Brian's home from supervising an extracurricular at his school, which ends at the dark hour of 9:00 pm. I used to mock my friend Karyn relentlessly in college for going to bed before 10. Now I'm wondering how I ever started a movie after 4 in the afternoon: how did I stay awake to see the ending? Brian comes home to a dazed and groggy wife, supremely proud of herself for barely staying coherent until 9:04 in the evening. Our life. It's riveting, people.
It's been a week for my face, as well, as what used to be my spot treatment, specifically designed to powerfully target severe blemishes in small areas on your skin, started to be enlisted as a full-face treatment. I no longer dab, I smear. Bring on the chemicals! Full coverage time. Zap whatever you must! Wait...Benzoyl Peroxide? Peroxide? Doesn't that destroy the pigmentation in clothing and other textiles? Isn't that bleach? Well, if bleach on my face means that clearer skin is on it's way, then BLEACH IT IS! Amiright? Amiright? If you've also experienced the spot treatment turned whole-face treatment episode in your life, I'm currently standing in chemically saturated solidarity with you.
It's been a week for my brain. My eyes are blood-shot no matter how many eyedrops I use, but not because of any substance in my system as that condition often hints toward. It's just, you know, my organs telling me: We need more oxygen! Why do you mistreat us so? GO TO SLEEP EARLIER AND STAY ASLEEP LONGER! And yet those 5:15/5:21/5:32/5:45 alarms (by the way, if you make it to 5:45, get a hustle in your bustle!) aren't waiting for anybody anytime soon. And while the rest of humanity has come to grips with the harsh reality that working in the real world means waking up before 6:00, my nocturnal clock will never get used to life on this earth prior to 8:30 a.m...of this I am convinced. I was in our Wal-Mart to buy my kids popsicles today at 6:15 (it's the only place open at that hour on my way to work) and the workers who take that shift instantly became my heroes.
It's been a week for my head, as I so gracefully at that before-6-o-clock-hour-that-no-human-should-ever-see, was minding my own business, onto the conditioning step of my shower routine, when I turned to place the bottle back on the shelf and...BAM! Hit the MIDDLE OF MY FOREHEAD on a PORCELAIN SHELF FIXTURE IN OUR SHOWER. It hurt so bad. It left a big bump. It left a big bruise. This overly-self-conscious girl would have freaked out if it wasn't so early, but lo and behold, a benefit to being in a I-should-definitely-not-be-awake-right-now early morning daze is apathy toward everything. So what did I do? I shrugged my shoulders and thanked God sincerely and wholeheartedly for bangs and their many uses, the latest of which I discovered in being the best tool available in covering up my idiocy to the world, both literally and figuratively. You think I pick this hairstyle because it's cute?! On the contrary. This bump on my head, as it turns out, also induced a crazy weird headache, so I now (thanks to Brian, that kind soul) have a lovely stash of Advil on my nightstand along with a water bottle. I used to judge my mom for having headache stuff/water bottles/tissues out on her nightstand because I didn't think she was that old to need it that much. Now I'm thinking of adding my own lovely little Kleenex box to round out the trifecta. 24 never looked so good.
And yet, it's been a good week.
It's been a week of smiling kids, smarty pants readers, engaged mathematicians, excited scientists, and loving students in my life. I love my kids. They are so smart and thoughtful and funny and kind. They make me want to be a better teacher. And if that means the hot mess takes over my life, I guess that's what will have to be.
So what have we learned in this lesson?
1. Spot Concealer is our best friend.
2. Advil is also our best friend.
3. Bangs are our third best friends.
4. My second graders are the best.
Class dismissed.
No comments:
Post a Comment