End of the Day

I’m sitting on the train listening to blues. Gary Clark, Jr. if you are curious. Today has been a day. Long and tiring. It a bad day, although there were moments in it that certainly weren’t good.

My four year old is having a difficult time that time moves in even when he doesn’t want it to. The clock can’t stop in the morning to give him extra time to crawl back into bed after eating, especially if Mommy and Daddy are letting him know he needs to get his shoes own. He’s a good kid, and I can certainly understand the desire to want to just lay down and curl up with Mommy. It all got sorted, but it added extra stress, and tears, to the morning. Looking forward to giving him extra time and attention tonight. Hope he will be on the mood to laugh and play.

Then was the workday. And I might say this too much, but it’s good to acknowledge the positives. I work with good people in a good place. But so much of teaching can be using energy to give kids a reason to focus on something that they may not naturally have an interest in. Keeping that going for a full workday with almost no downtime can be exhausting. And then there is the meeting after the workday, which sometimes feel like meeting for meetings same. And somehow the points that really need to be addressed just can’t fit into the schedule.

And then looking at the clock to see it has gone on longer than scheduled anyway and it is time to fly back home. Well, almost, the long meeting means that it will be daycare first and then home. The time to breath will be on the train. Thank goodness for trains.

And I’m writing this not only because I promised myself that I would post everyday, but more so because I love writing and what I really want to do is work on my novel, but already I know that their will likely be no time or energy left for that tonight. So more poor novel will be forced to wait, because once I start to slow down the exhaustion will creep in. There is always tomorrow for the tale of bards and elves and underground colossi.

Almost at my stop, which also means an end to this post. Thanks for reading. Writing is great, but being listened to makes it feel even more real.


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