That Sunday Night Feeling

Sunday nights have a very distinct feeling during the school year.

As an elementary teacher, a mom of two very active school-aged kids, and a wife of a husband who travels for his job, Sundays nights are my least favorite night of the week.  It is planning and prepping and cleaning and cooking and scheduling.  

It is looking at the week ahead, and figuring out who is taking which kid where, and what we are doing when their activities overlap.  It is emailing coaches and leaders and letting them know if a kid needs to leave early or will be coming late because of another activity.  It's making sure the refrigerator is stocked and there is some kind of loose plan for feeding your family for the week.  It's making sure lesson plans are complete and materials are ready for teaching nearly 600 students at 2 schools in the week ahead.  It's doing enough laundry that there are clean clothes and uniforms for whatever the week demands.  It's trying to squeeze out the last few minutes of the weekend and family time before diving back into the chaos.

My husband will tell you I try to cram a 32-hour to do list into one night.  I'm not gonna lie.  He's right.

(Yes, Trevor.  I put that in print and on the internet. You. Are. Right.)

If I'm being honest, I generally dread Sunday nights.  Because of all the reasons listed above, by Sunday afternoon, I can feel my mood shift.  I feel myself getting more uptight and less patient.  I feel myself feeling more stressed and less relaxed.  The only way I can describe it is "that Sunday night feeling."  Maybe you know this feeling, too.

Tonight's Sunday night feeling is something entirely different though.

For the first time in I can't remember when, it's Sunday night and there is no "half done" to do list still in my head as I tuck my kids in and tell them good night.  

My schedule is clear, with no practices, concerts, events or meetings to transport anyone to. There are no logistics to coordinate.  There is no need to sit down across the table from my husband and walk through each day in the week ahead to decide who was getting which kid where. I have actually taken down our family calendar.  Each box on the calendar is filled with multiple commitments, but in our current reality, those hand-written times and activities have all been cancelled.  The calendar that was once crucial to our daily functioning now means absolutely nothing.  It is folded and put away in a cupboard for now.

My laundry is done.  Like done done.  I literally do not ever remember a time this has happened.  The only dirty clothes in our house right now are the ones we are wearing.  

Let me share a quick story just to reference how bizarre this is for me.  A few weeks ago, as we were coming home from my daughter's indoor softball tournament at 9:00pm on a Sunday night, the thought actually crossed my mind about stopping to purchase underwear for my children on the drive home because I wasn't sure if they had any clean underwear at home. That's how Sunday nights usually feel in our house, especially after a weekend jammed with activities.  But it's Sunday night.  And my laundry is done.

My bathrooms are clean.

My floors are vacuumed.

My dishwasher is empty.

My meal list is made for the week.

Again, just to be clear, this is not the norm.  These are things I dream of having done on a Sunday night, to feel prepared to dive into the week that lies ahead, but don't ever actually happen, and definitely don't ever happen all at the same time.

The only thing that feels familiar about today is that I still have "that Sunday night feeling."  But this Sunday night feeling is totally different.

On this Sunday night, that Sunday night feeling is one of sadness.  

I feel sad that once again, I will not get to see my students' sweet faces this week.  I will not get to share books and stories that have touched my heart with them.  I will not get to see the joy and excitement that crosses their faces when they choose books, and get to check them out from the library to read in the days ahead.  

I feel sad that my own kids are missing their friends and teachers.  They will not get to see them tomorrow and share what they did this weekend.  They will not continue working on group projects or go on field trips to the observatory or have their school carnival.  

I feel sad that my daughter's basketball season was left undone.  I feel sad that my son's one year experience at Zoo School is being drastically changed.  I feel sad that I can't hug my friends or run a quick errand.  I feel sad that our Spring Break trip to visit dear friends in St. Louis will no longer be happening.  I feel sad that the half marathon I've been training for since January will now be a virtual run, with no real finish line to cross.

Please don't get me wrong.  I think we should all be staying home and staying safe.  I agree with the tough decisions being made right now, and support the cancellation of every single activity and the guidelines being put in place.  The sadness I'm feeling is nothing compared to the sadness families are facing when they can't visit sick family members in the hospital or the sadness medical professionals are feeling as they face impossible decisions or the sadness essential workers are experiencing as they continue going to work and facing risks for the common good.  And this adds another layer to this feeling of sadness, which feels a lot like guilt.  It has felt a lot like trying to ignore the sad or just "get over" the sad or stuff the sad away somewhere.

But I'm still sad.  And I'm coming to the realization that it's ok to be sad.  

I'm also coming to the realization that I can feel sad and honor those feelings, but I don't have to stay there.  I can remind myself of all the happy things.  Of this extra time with my family.  Of the slower pace of life that I can cherish and hold to in these days.  Of the laughs and giggles we've shared together as a family.  Of the messages I've gotten from students and colleagues.  Of the fewer loads of laundry I've had to do since we all keep wearing our pajamas for days on end.  Of having our health.  Of having a roof over our heads.  Of my friends who make me laugh through text messages and Zoom calls.  

I will also try to remember this new Sunday night feeling when my calendar goes back up and we are back to our routine, whenever that may be.  I hope it will help me keep perspective that the laundry being done isn't the end and be all.  Maybe this new Sunday night feeling will help combat the old Sunday night feeling in the future.

These days have been a roller coaster, filled with lots of ups and downs.  I imagine that will continue in the days, weeks and months ahead.  I'm going to lean into the sad times, as I'm sure they are not over.  I will let myself feel those sad feelings and let go of the guilt tied to them.  But I will also keep reminding myself of the happy so I can also push out of those sad times, too.

Sad, happy or anything in between, You're a Good Mom.

An Open Letter: To All the Parents Who Now Find Themselves "Doing School" With Their Kids,

To all the parents who now find themselves “doing school” with their kids,

I have spent more hours than I can even begin to count writing lesson plans over my 18-year teaching career.  

But I have a confession to make. A secret to reveal.  One that all teachers know.  

Most of my day-to-day lesson plans don’t actually go as planned. 

There are almost always tweaks along the way -- things that totally failed and I try differently the next time or happy surprises that come along and completely change what I had written down in my lesson plan book for the better.

If I’m being honest, most of my very best lessons have actually been the ones where I have “punted,” made on the fly decisions and followed where the kids were leading.  This is because what I write down on paper is what I plan in my head, but it is missing one key element: the kids.  The real live actual human kids who I have the privilege of teaching each and every day.

I say this because you may have the very best plan on paper for what "school" is going to look like at home in the weeks ahead, but when you put your actual real live kids into the mix, that may change quite a bit.  

And that is ok.

I’ve been a teacher for 18 years and I’m trying to figure out how to "do school" at home with my own 4th and 6th grader now. (And I taught 4th grade for 10 of those years...)  I have the best intentions and plans in my head and even down on paper in some cases, and I'm still trying to wrap my mind around this.

This is hard for everyone. This is new for everyone.

Everyone is trying their very best.  That is going to look different for every single person, every single day.  There are so many color coded charts and systems and structures going around right now.  If that works for you and your kids, lean into that.  Use it.  Use it to help guide you through this unknown time.

But if that doesn't work for you and your kids, please know that is ok.  

If you made one of those beautiful color coded charts, and then tried to put it in to practice, and found out your kids aren't so "color-coded" right now and don't really care much what your chart or schedule says, please know that is ok, too.

Remember that whole "actual real live kids" thing?

Learning happens in so many different ways. Some traditional. Some non-traditional.  Some things with learn with our heads. Some things we learn with our hearts.  Some things happen step by step, just as we think they will.  Some things take major twists and turns along the way.

That's all ok, too.

Keep talking with your kids. Keep loving on them. Keep listening to them.  

This is new and unknown and unsettling for them, too.  They miss their friends.  They miss their teachers.  They miss their activities that keep getting cancelled farther and farther into the future.  They don't know when all this will end, and the people they usually go to with questions don't have solid answers for them.

They have a lot of big feelings, and those probably won't come out nice and neat.  It may come out in tears over something that doesn't seem "tear-worthy."  It may come out as complete and total silly goofiness and laughter over something not all that funny.  It may come out as driving their sibling (or you...) absolutely crazy just because it is something they feel like they can control in that moment.

That's the part to listen to.  The words they aren't saying.  But what their actions are saying. I'm anxious.  I'm bored.  I'm scared.  I'm annoyed.  I'm disappointed.  I'm frustrated.  I'm worried.  They may not be able to tell you this or want to tell you this or know how to verbalize this, but it's there.  Those feelings are there.  We just have to know how to listen.

Give them grace. Give yourself grace.

Trust yourself.  You know your kids.  You know yourself.  You know your family dynamic.  You know when to push and when to back off.  You know when it would be best for everyone to grab a book and read, and when it would best for everyone to pile on the couch and watch Frozen 2 for the thirteenth time.  You know when it's a good time to sit down and try some of those math problems and when it's a good time to sit around in your pajamas and finish another box of Girl Scout cookies together.

They will be ok if they don't follow a color coded learning schedule.  They will still be learning on their own schedule and in their own way.  

They will also be ok if they do follow a color coded learning schedule if that is what feels safe and familiar for them right now.  They may be craving routine and predictability and that may be what provides it.

Either way, let's support each other through this.  Be kind to each other.  And be kind to yourself.  Don't use social media as a some kind of imaginary, unachievable measuring stick.  Don't think everyone else has it all together because of a few pictures or moments or ideas captured on Instagram or Facebook.  I'm hear to tell you they don't.  I don't.  Don't be too hard on yourself when the day has not gone how you thought it would or how you planned it would.  

Remember, some of the very best lessons are the ones that don't go as originally planned.

And honestly? The best part of all those lesson plans are always the real, live, actual kids, anyway.

You Are a Good Mom.  You are not alone. We will get through this together.

(I mean 6 feet apart from everyone else, but you know what I mean... 😉)

Much love,
A Teacher Mom