“Where’s Eema?” Mr. December asked the kids at 3:15.
“I’m right here,” I said from my office on the landing. “I’m just sitting here. I’m… spent. Don’t know why I’m so exhausted.”
R looked up from her colouring. “You did just teach us all day every day for a week,” she said generously. Which is all fine and good if it weren’t for the fact that, as I pointed out,
“This week had only two days of school!”
Today went beautifully. Everyone did their work, nobody screamed or protested, and we were done by 2:30. K and N finished all their history work that didn’t get done yesterday (including the assignment K was upset about, which she did with no further input from me) and everyone practiced their instruments. It doesn’t get much better than that, honestly. So why am I so drained?
In a similar vein, I had wondered why my hand still hurt so much after more than a week since the injury. Today my band-aid started to fall off, so I took it off and took a good look at my hand. That’s when I saw something that none of us had seen when I was first injured: two large slivers of wood protruding from the otherwise-healing wound. A small tug on each and they slid right out. They must have been in there pretty deep, because neither Mr. December nor the doctor saw them at all.
By the way, did you know that you don’t have to dig out slivers as soon as you get them? If you leave them, your body will gradually push them out without any poking, prodding, tweezers, or needles. Seriously, just let your body handle them.
I think I’ll take that philosophy to heart tonight. Yes, I’m feeling drained and exhausted, and it doesn’t seem justified. But if there’s a reason, I don’t need to dig deep for it; my body will handle it…as long as I get out of its way.