Her First Day

With four kids, my husband and I have experienced many, many first days of school over the years. This year, with all of them well over 18, we have a very different kind of back-to-school: our older daughter will be teaching her very first classroom of students today as a first-year teacher.

From the moment she could speak, she has said she will be a teacher someday. At various times, she also declared that she would be a pop singer, President of the United States, and a few other vocations that momentarily struck her fancy, but being a teacher never wavered from her list.

Over the weekend, I tried to find pictures of us playing school, but since my husband and I were always both recruited as students, neither of us ever took pictures of it all. I can still picture the tightening of her lips and the stern, slight raising of her eyebrows when one of her siblings tested her patience as she ruled over her pretend classroom, and I imagine it won’t be very long before an unsuspecting high schooler witnesses those exact same facial expressions. I can only caution them to heed the warning and change courses of action before it’s too late.

I am sure she will call her dad this evening to tell him all about her first day as an official, bona fide teacher. He is so proud that he is ready to burst, and I know if there was a way for him to sneak into that classroom and witness her first day as a teacher, he would already be there.

How many of us can say that we held onto a dream of ours from childhood and made it happen? How many dreams did we let go of as we grew older? I am proud of her for sticking to it. She never doubted herself, or at least if she did, she never let it slow her down.

I keep watching the clock, wondering what she is doing now, what her students are saying and doing, how her day is going. And I can’t help but picture a little girl in overalls, a yellow sweater, and crooked bangs sitting on the floor with her teacher Barbie and mini chalkboard. I suppose a part of me will always see her as that little girl, but I am immensely proud of the young woman — and teacher– that she has grown into today.

Starting Now

I can be my own worst enemy at times. After a knee injury and then two very unpleasant rounds of antibiotics sidelined me for about three weeks, I am just now working my way back to any semblance of my routine, and it’s a struggle.

You would think I could muster up some grace for myself, considering the injury and illness were not my fault, and certainly not much fun. Instead, I have allowed my frustration and disappointment to get the best of me. This has pushed my goal deadlines back by several weeks, and my excitement has turned to aggravation, worry that I won’t reach my goals at all, and then heaps and heaps of self-blame and anger.

Yeah, it’s as delightful as it sounds. I tell myself how irrational it is to be mad at myself for something I couldn’t possibly control, but my inner critic is relentless and harsh as hell. The problem is, it’s making it very difficult to get back onto my feet. How do I move forward, when I keep shoving myself back down into the dirt?

Last night, I decided to talk to my husband about it. He is the most honest and straightforward person I know. He doesn’t believe in sugarcoating the truth, and it’s one of the many, many things I love about him. I know that any words of wisdom from him come straight from his heart.

I was glad that I opened up to him. We talked for a good while, and he gave me a healthy dose of tough love mixed with encouragement and compassion, exactly what I needed. He said he didn’t know why I am so tough on myself, but that he wished he could change that, and that he wished he could replace that negative voice in my head with his, telling me how beautiful and strong I am, instead of tearing myself down.

So, starting right now, I am committing to this promise to him, and to myself: that I will stand back up, brush myself off, acknowledge that the setback has slowed me down and delayed the finish line for some of my goals, but that I am absolutely going to move forward again, take good care of myself, and get back to work.

Not tomorrow. Not next week. Now.

For me. For him. For us.

Beaches, Sunsets, and Classrooms

This week, my husband and I celebrated 19 years together. We’ve made a tradition of taking a weekend trip near our wedding anniversary. It fell on a weekday this year, so we took a few days off to spend our anniversary at our favorite beach.

It threatened to rain on us, and it was actually sprinkling as we set up our chairs and umbrella the first day, but that was surprisingly soothing: relaxing in our chairs and listening to the gentle rain tap lightly on the umbrella, waves crashing rhythmically in front of us. Then the rain decided to give us a break, and we spent a beautiful afternoon alternating between jumping in the waves and half-dozing under the umbrella.

The days went by so fast. I loved our time together, nothing to worry about but what to get into next. On our last evening, we took a long walk down the beach, picking up seashells that caught our eye, pausing to take in the pink and blue and purple sunset that managed to peek through the clouds, seemingly just for us.

Today, my husband is helping our older daughter set up her classroom for her very first teaching job. I’m not sure which one is more excited about it, him or her! She has talked about being a teacher ever since she was very little. I got her a teacher Barbie doll many years ago that she still has, with a mini chalkboard, stored away with other cherished toys in her old bedroom closet. We played endless hours of school over the years, sitting in front of her while she instructed, preached, told random stories, issued commands, whatever popped into her head as she strutted in front of us. And now, here she is, awaiting the first day of school and her first classroom of (real) students.

I have been thinking of both of them all day. It’s fitting, actually, that the two of them are working together on her classroom today. They have always been close. I love that she was at our house when she received the job offer, and I love that my husband is with her today, working in her classroom with her. They deserve to share this happiness together, after all the jealous and bitter attempts by his ex to drive them apart. It didn’t work on them, and it didn’t work on us. Go figure.

I’m looking forward to heading home and hearing all about his day, and her classroom, and her new school, before we settle into our weekend together. It’s going to be diabolically hot, but yard work doesn’t do itself, so there is definitely some heavy sweating in our Saturday forecast. But after that (and after much-needed showers) is our date night, so it will be a great day, no matter what.

Setback

Sometimes life is not exactly cooperative. When I hurt my knee recently, I thought, okay, well, this sucks, but it will heal up. I will take it slower, limp around, and do what I need to do to take care of it.

Just as my knee finally loosened up, and I could walk semi-normally again, I ended up rushing from work to Urgent Care because I didn’t feel good at all. I left with a prescription for antibiotics, which upset my stomach so bad. I just want to curl in a ball and whimper, but alas, I’m at work instead, waiting for quitting time.

I’m excited for some things we have planned next week, so my focus this weekend will be resting and healing so I can be as close to 100% as possible and able to enjoy myself next week. I’m frustrated but also know that a bad attitude will multiply any problems and make things worse.

I’ve made a lot of positive changes and don’t want to slide back into any bad habits. Ultimately, though, that is completely up to me and in my control. I can let these setbacks toss me onto my butt and leave me there, or I can take a breather, remind myself of my goals, and get myself back to healthy so I can come back kicking.

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