My new year starts now.
Tomorrow, early up, get a run in,
( I mean that is the plan),
pack up the boys,
and walk in with the two crates of work I meant to do this summer.
But let’s be honest,
(if that’s what we’re going to do),
I haven’t touched those suckers since I put them in my bedroom,
sometime near the end of June.
Not sure how long I will last tomorrow.
Be it an hour or six, to set up the rhythm,
maybe I’ll wait to make my coffee till I get there.
So that the room smells of the deeply roasted
french pressed coffee, I require to put my teacher face on.
But I end this year tentative –
After a summer worth talking about.
It is rare for me to not be excited about the fall,
about the crisp settling in-
about the colors changing,
about apples measured in pecks and bushels.
about the prospects of shoes.
I mean, I won’t wear shoes that require socks or stockings till –
perhaps October the first,
so long it has been that I have lived in New England,
and believe that one should expose their manicured toes,
till at least the oaks start to turn.
But no, I am not thrilled for this new year,
this is a bit of dread.
And I’m not sure if it’s because the energetic one
begins his new school-
but then, the small one does too.
Perhaps, it is because, like every summer,
I feel like I haven’t even begun to finish all I meant to do.
Or maybe there is a darker shade of grey,
no not the book I avoided all summer,
(because dammit,I get my smut from a third wave feminist magazine)-
Maybe there is something darker besides the night that grows longer.
Or perhaps, after eight years of grown-up September,
I’m just not ready to let my summer go.
. . .have only returned one phone call since Monday.
. . .have only written two non-work emails in thirteen days.
. . .got really lovely and sweet news this afternoon that made me smile.
. . .think that if I don’t get paid to hang out with you, I didn’t marry you, or I didn’t give birth to you, there’s a good chance I’m ignoring you at this moment in life.
. . only become a self-centered narcissist in September.
. . .have a weird obsession with tracking hurricanes, and am terribly disappointed by the current track of Earl.
. . .earned my first paycheck in 15 months today. I then spent a good deal of cash on things I didn’t need at CVS.
. . .am trying to fake it till I make it, but that only takes me so far.
. . .am so straight-up heartbroken that my grandmother doesn’t recognize me anymore, that I thought making my cousin travel eight-hours to come see her with me, would fix that.
. . .have just learned, once again, that I can’t control, or fix everything.
I wrote this top list of things I must get done you know, in the next ten days – and then I posted two other blogs — so I figured I’d save something for today.
1. Finish my syllabi, as well as my class policies and procedures worksheets
2. Finish clearing off my counters in my classroom
3. Finish filing
4. Tie up some yearbook loose ends
5. Start putting things together for my student teacher
6. Put posters up and finish bulletin boards (well, I guess I mean start them)
7. Lose ten pounds so I can fit into my pre-pregnancy work clothes (an effort I’m currently thwarting by making Martha Stewart’s chewy-chocolate-chip cookies).
8. Plan my first units for all three classes – 9th, 11th, and Journ./Creative Writing
9. Learn what it really means to be chair of an English Dept that has four people
10. Fill out the rest of the kids’ paperwork for day care and pick up their physical forms
I haven’t blogged in over a year. I got my feelings hurt – and got a little gun shy. I have since rubbed a little dirt in it, and put on my big girl pants. The other thing is – I harbor bizarre guilt about not finishing my kid’s birth story, and I worry how am I supposed to talk about the newbie without finishing up the big guy’s. I can hear him in a voice that sounds much like mine, except it’s deeper, much richer, twenty years from now saying, “you’ve always liked him better, even from the beginning, you never finished my birth story.” And at that moment, I will silently apologize to my mother for any like sounding accusations I threw her way about my baby brother. Read the rest of this entry