I am feeling melancholy. I feel like I shouldn't admit that because I know I should be brimming with joy every day because of the good news that we got recently--but the truth is, I am stressed. Not necessarily about the baby (though I will admit that I am not happy about the ginormous folder of Colorado adoption paper work that appeared in our mailbox this week)...I am just stressed. About everything.
Our house is a disaster. We have "to do" piles everywhere--stuff to be sorted and dealt with. We haven't unpacked from our trip yet, though we've been home for two days. We haven't had time.
I work "part-time," but I've been at the school until 7 p.m. three nights in a row. I will never catch up on the grading that I have to do.
Our time in Buffalo is drawing to a close, and I have regrets. I don't like having regrets. I regret not spending more time with friends. I regret not spending more time with Deborah. I regret not spending more time with our neighbor kids, who haven't been over to make cookies since the summer. I regret that I didn't let go and have more fun while we lived here. ...it's difficult to explain to someone who has never been a teacher what it's like to be a teacher. I wish I wouldn't have spent so much time on teaching.
Do you ever feel like you can't do everything in your life well? So you just do as much as you can semi-well, but it never feels really satisfying? Do you ever look back on previous years and think, "How did I do it all back then?" It seems like I used to be able to do more and handle more.
I feel like I run around every day "putting out fires," and yet I never seem to make any progress. I wish that I could just accept this as the reality of my life and stop feeling stressed about it. I wish I had a more eternal perspective.
I hope the snow on the ground melts tomorrow.