Long Night
Parent-teacher conferences make for pretty long days, although I have to admit I enjoy getting some face-to-face time with the parents of kids I work with on a day-to-day basis. Conferences give me a new lens through which to view my kiddos, and they keep me anchored to the fact that each student I work with is someone else's baby. Now that I have Anna, it's easier for me to think twice about how I relay information to parents and harder for me to think of the world--and any given kid--in terms of black and white.
Tonight on my way home, I called my sister to get the daily report about Anna's shenanigans at her house while I was at school. Rachel reported to me that Anna had a "nearly perfect" day...until, that is, she was playing on their screened-in deck and discovered (silently, I might add) how to pop out the screen from the door and escape. Rachel described herself as being "frazzled and annoyed" by the fact that my toddler was capable of slipping away from supervision with such ingenuity. We both were thankful that Rachel checks in on the toddlers every few minutes and that Anna was found unharmed by the garage. Rachel asked me what she's supposed to do with my kid. I told her to clue me in once she figures it out.
My whole house feels tired tonight. Anna was half-looped by the time I got her to her bed, and Brian's eyes look as though he could use more than just one solid night's sleep. I, myself, have begun my too-tired disintigration process. My hair's up in a blob of a ponytail on my head, my mascara has been unceremoniously rubbed off my eyelashes and onto my cheeks, and I can no longer fight the look of disgruntled exhaustion from setting firm on my face. With the TV off and no laundry or dishes running, there's a quiet here that's almost eerie--welcome, but eerie. I think I'm going to go wash my face and flop in bed.
Tonight on my way home, I called my sister to get the daily report about Anna's shenanigans at her house while I was at school. Rachel reported to me that Anna had a "nearly perfect" day...until, that is, she was playing on their screened-in deck and discovered (silently, I might add) how to pop out the screen from the door and escape. Rachel described herself as being "frazzled and annoyed" by the fact that my toddler was capable of slipping away from supervision with such ingenuity. We both were thankful that Rachel checks in on the toddlers every few minutes and that Anna was found unharmed by the garage. Rachel asked me what she's supposed to do with my kid. I told her to clue me in once she figures it out.
My whole house feels tired tonight. Anna was half-looped by the time I got her to her bed, and Brian's eyes look as though he could use more than just one solid night's sleep. I, myself, have begun my too-tired disintigration process. My hair's up in a blob of a ponytail on my head, my mascara has been unceremoniously rubbed off my eyelashes and onto my cheeks, and I can no longer fight the look of disgruntled exhaustion from setting firm on my face. With the TV off and no laundry or dishes running, there's a quiet here that's almost eerie--welcome, but eerie. I think I'm going to go wash my face and flop in bed.
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