No Words

I have no words for today....well, apparently that is a lie. 'Cause here I am, about to put a couple hundred here, trying to describe it all.

It started pretty well. Normal, almost. After getting ready to go to school and actually leaving within 5 minutes of the desired departure time (truly amazing after getting 4 kids up and ready to go), I drove to the babysitter's feeling a little empty. I never really knew what that meant when someone said it. Today, it all came together for me. I sat numbly driving to her house while Gabriel's mantra of "I miss Pappaw" began. He only does this when his brothers have said it or cried about it or he is really tired. He must have been tired because I don't remember any of the boys speaking of Dad this morning. Don't get me wrong, Gabriel was not crying as the chant began. It was a very matter-of-fact tone he used. Almost without feeling. Almost like he was just talking to be talking. Before I realized it, I was pulling in to her driveway when I finally remembered that he will repeat himself until you just acknowlege it. So I quietly matched his tone and said, "Me too, buddy." That's how it began for me.

I got to school, got busy. Things began to seem almost normal again. I went about my breakfast duty without any catastrophes. I taught my classes, I went to lunch duty. Then something happened to snap me back out of the "fog," which reminds me more of mud than fog. Two little boogers from first grade were flipping their green beans across the room in the cafeteria. No big deal, right? Just address the problem, correct it, move on. Well, you would think. One little boy went right up to the mess he'd help make and started gathering the beans from the floor. The other little boy refused, stating that he didn't want to touch them after they had been in Ethan's mouth. My surprisingly calm answer was that THAT was part of the reason he shouldn't have flipped them in the first place. I told Austin that it was no big deal. Just pick them up, sit back down, finish your lunch, and all would be well. My voice was calm. My face wasn't condemning. But something snapped in that 7-year-old's head. It was enough to snap me back from the mud...He began yelling at me and crying, flinging his arms about, wringing his hands, screaming, drawing back to hit me. I was okay with the reaction as I've seen them before, until the draw back. No child would hit me. I took him as firmly by the arm as my professionalism would let me and guided him to the side of the room behind a wall where I could still see the rest of the kids but they could not see Austin because as it would normally be, a scene like this sparked some interest. My assistance was unappreciated, however, and Austin's physical responses esculated. I was working very hard not to show anger. That didn't last long. When he had interrupted me for about the twentieth time and drawn back to hit me (never actually landing a punch) for about the fourth time, I let that boy have it. I informed him that he would go to the office after lunch (I couldn't leave the other 110 kids there alone unsupervised), he would go quietly to his place and eat his food so his brain would have enough energy to finish the day, and he would do it without complaining or talking back to me. Apparently, Austin had other intentions. This is when he informed me that he knew exactly where he lived and would be walking there promptly. He took off around the corner, and I reacted, again pulling him as firmly as my professionalism would allow (all the while thinking "Your butt needs a spanking!!!!!!"), and he was not happy. I finally got him back to his table where he shoved his tray across. I caught it before the entire thing toppled but not before some of the chicken and noodles sloshed out on to my hand and the individual portion of honey landed on top of my other hand. And that was pretty much it for me. He was still screaming about Ethan's spit being on those dang green beans, and now I was fuming. The cafeteria manager came up at this point and said I needed to get him out of here. I turned and asked, "You think?!?!" That probably wasn't the most professional thing to do at that point, but better to do that than spank that child, I suppose. I had resolved myself to the fact that he probably wasn't going to leave quietly or on his own feet. I had put my things in my pocket (that were now sticky because I had no napkins) and visualized all the possible ways to contain this child and move him out of the area. I had also resolved myself that I was going to get bruised in the process. I contemplated taking off my glasses but was afraid my blindness would hinder my way up the stairs....or should I take the ramp? All of these thoughts happened in probably 2 seconds while Austin screamed away. Anyway, Austin's teacher came in to pick up her class at about the same time. When she saw the disruption, she marched over and began escorting him. It was rough. She got him to the stairs I had contemplated when the principal just happened to come around the corner. After dismissing the rest of the classes with their teachers, I went to the office to explain the situation to my superior and wash my hands. And thus began my afternoon.

After my blood pressure returned to normal, my day joined and followed suit. My lessons went fairly well. The third graders loved playing all the instruments. The second graders loved hearing their favorite songs from the school year so far. It was turning out to be a decent day.

After school I went to a shopping party, and finished three people's Christmas gifts (already, I know!). Got some good deals.

Got in the van to return home and it set in again. I don't know when it comes, why it comes, or how I get there. But I get home and think, "Did I have a conversation with my kids or did I just ignore them all the way home? Did I take 600 all the way or cut over to 850?" By the time I got home we were in full fledged busy mode. Homework. Football game. Wait -- supper first! Etc. Etc.

After all that, I am still hazy...I find myself zoning out. When I'm around public, I don't do it. But at home, it's like I slowly, without even realizing it's happening, and sometimes over the course of several hours, I slowly and distinctly get swallowed back up in this thought world where there are no thoughts. Sometimes my brain feels like a hand that has gone to sleep...hating the current state and desperately wanting something to smack it really hard so the initial shock of the pain will just get here and get over with so things can go back to normal. So I can feel again...

So to answer your question, I don't know, Mom, where I would fly away to. Probably somewhere where I could be alone for a while with absolutely no schedule to keep, no person or thing depending on me for anything...a place where there was no stimulus. No outside. No reminders. Somewhere that it's just okay to be, well, empty. If you know where that is, let me know. I want the first ticket available.