I know, avid reader; you have been waiting with baited breath to see how/if I survived night one on my own. I can hear from here the feminists among you are screaming at your screens, "Stop acting like you can't do it - you're giving us a bad rep!" and you're probably right that I am but I really was worried that I wouldn't be able to go it alone.
However - I have conquered! 9:04pm and I am sat - with a alcoholic beverage (of your choice as you hear my voice inside your head) swirling around a glass - curled up in bed. Dozy, contented, smug. After what was clearly an exhausting day with Granny and Grumpa; a huge dinner and the most frivolous bath I've ever seen (Pretty sure I had to save him from attempting to drown himself on at least 4 occasions!) My beautiful boy was drifting in and out of sleep. Laid down (awake!) turned on all the various nightlights, singing/wave/uterus machines that he enjoys, told him I love him and pushed the door to. Not. A. Sound.
Bloody Miracle.
Of course, I still have to get through another night (and another early rise!) but for now. I am wallowing in my Mama-hen-ly smugness. No, I didn't do the washing up. No, I didn't mark those 12 books I brought home even though I promised myself this year I wouldn't bring any work home. No, I didn't unload the dryer. No, I don't care. I get to have an evening to myself where I'm not tired. I mean I am, of course, completely exhausted what with full time teaching, recovering from illness and being a generally completely under-slept new mother. But that's not real tiredness - that just the perpetual tiredness that we all seem to endure!
On those lines, the other day I saw another staff member run, breathless, into the staff room. Grab a cup and down a glass of water. I asked him if he had a bottle. He shook his head as he downed another. I have found myself to be the keeper of the stash of water our school hides in case a pipe bursts or we have parents visit (heaven forbid they drink tap water!) and so saw an open pack in one of my cupboards. I took a bottle up to him and, due to his valiant teaching efforts with what could only be described as a particularly testing group of young people on a final lesson of a Friday, he never noticed my leaving it on his desk. It wasn't until I emailed him later asking if he had drunk said water that he even realised it was me. The email in return was simple:
"My Guardian Angel."
But here's the thing... that's not how it should be. As I said, we all seem to live in this perpetual tired haze. Rushing and running from class to meeting, meeting to department, department to training. We forget to look after ourselves. How can we be expected to look after others if we cannot look after ourselves? I didn't give him the water to brag, to be an angel, to gain some sort of personal superiority complex. I didn't even know I was going to tell you all until I was suddenly writing it. I gave it because I care about him. He works hard, he cares about us and he cares about the kids. It made me feel good - of course - but it made me feel good because I knew he wasn't looking after himself and I could do something tiny to remind him he should be... Be an angel for someone - it feels awesome and it takes next to nothing.
Most of the time people need the tiniest of things to finish them off. A kid smirking at them when they're trying to help; a bad lesson review; a split cup of coffee. They blow up. At the time it feels completely justified, then immediately completely stupid. Ultimately, you even out but your self respect goes down a little for a while. The thing is, that tiny thing. We forget that it's just the last thing. It's not the whole thing. There's so much stuff that we bury under the surface of happy families, confident employees, loyal friends that we don't confront the things that stop us from looking after ourselves. That's why we need each other... No one can do it alone. Who ever you are, what ever it is.
I want to be an angel to more people. It's contagious.
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