Yesterday the boys woke up at 4:45. They were fussy all morning, feeding off my own nervous energy.
We were visiting the elementary school where I’ve taught for the past seven years. My first visit since I left in October to go on bed rest. My first visit with the twins.
My first visit since resigning last month.
There were many things whirling in my mind: fears of germs, nap schedules, diaper changes, did I remember binks-Winston-Churchill-teething rings-diapers?
But my mind was most focused on how would I feel returning. Would I sit in the parking lot daunted by the eight months that have passed since I crossed that threshold? Would I feel left out, overwhelmed by all the experiences, jokes, and events I’ve missed while holed up with the twins? Would I remember my students’ names? Would I regret my decision? Would it feel like good-bye?
When I actually pulled in the parking lot I didn’t pause to feel anything. There was a stroller to unload, two sleepy babies to settle.
And it was school. My school. It was a parking lot I’ve crossed a thousand times, a front office I automatically pause to chat in.
School was school. It felt like I’d never left, like I could step through the door of room 202, pick up the pen on the SmartBoard and resume teaching where I left off.
Except my students are a whole lot bigger than they were eight months ago.
I loved my job. LOVED it. Adored my colleagues and felt privileged to work with the students. It challenged, inspired, energized and fulfilled me.
I will miss it.
BUT.
This morning the boys slept in, we played, cuddled and lazed around and then went to a playdate with the Schmidtlets still in their pajamas. I drove there grinning and so grateful – I love this life. Today and tomorrow and next week-month-year is a combination snow day and summer vacation.
I am so lucky. So blessed. And so thrilled to be able to stay home and saturate myself in baby love and memory-making and writing.
Asher is giggling in the baby sling while I type this. Brad is napping with Churchill and smiling in his sleep – revealing a spot of spinach I missed when wiping his face after lunch.
When he wakes up we’ve got a baby dance party scheduled.
I can’t think of a better song than this one —