But now it's Tuesday, and the work matters. They left yesterday morning, and I had to teach two classes, and I did it, but I'm tired and today I teach another and tomorrow two more, and, well, you see how that goes. . . I'm not doing so well with the busy, at the moment, but I know I'll just cram this week full and then find a wee corner of downtime on the weekend. I can do it. I can do it. . . . If only this weren't the week that I scheduled two committee meetings in. And we host a Fall Feast for our department's students (and we cook for them! I'm supposed to make baked beans sometime tomorrow, which means I have to buy some of the makings today! Yikes!).
This is also the week that the Faculty's first Friday Colloquium happens -- I usually fit my yoga class in on Friday morning, but that will get bumped to Saturday morning, which means my long run gets bumped to Sunday. More importantly, it means that my one long-morning-to-myself is becoming a monthly, rather than a weekly phenomenon. In terms of guarding mental health, not so good. But the trade-off will be that I hear one of my colleagues present some of her research (on the poet Edward Thomas, of whom I've recently been reading because of his predilection for walking long distances) and enjoy some discussion with others. Mental stimulation, social engagement, also good for mental health.
And I wouldn't have traded last weekend's Busy-ness for all the quiet in the world. But it has ramifications, this Nana stuff. We got some news a few weeks ago, and my husband said, "Wow! Our lives are really changing, aren't they?" He was referring to the powerful effect of being grandparents, and I was rather tempted to answer, "Well, Duh!" Didn't, you'll be pleased to know.
And I did know what he meant. As obvious as it might seem that this newest generation would change our lives, I don't know that we could ever have predicted how drastically it would impact, for example, our day-planning.
I'm reminded of an afternoon back in 1985 or '86. I'd woken the baby up from his afternoon nap to load him into his car seat. His 3-year-old sister wiggled in next to him, got buckled in, and we headed off to pick up 6 and 9-year-old sisters, to drive them to, respectively, their skating and their piano lessons. The older two were already squabbling as they climbed into the car, but after the disagreement over who got which seat was over, the one who'd ended up in the back seat settled in to catching up with her younger siblings. All was fine for a block or two, but the play turned to teasing turned to howling by the baby, and I could only drive and cajole from behind the steering wheel. And I remember thinking, "I never thought this through! This is what it means to have four kids! I'm not entirely sure I can do this!" I might also have thought a little "HELP!" in there as well. . . .
And now, almost 30 years later, I'm still experiencing the consequences. And they are wonderful, rich, astonishing even. But sometimes exhausting.
The photo above? Well, relaxation this week has consisted of some knitting while I watch an episode or two of The Good Wife. I've been sound asleep by 9:30 many nights lately, but this little baby blanket in a Hudson's Bay Point Blanket pattern is proceeding apace. Simple garter stitch in a washable wool (Smart Superwash, I love this yarn which, though Superwash, still retains some wooly "crunch"). Someone new should arrive in a few months to snuggle in it -- lives are changing, as we speak. . .