where wildly different is perfectly normal
Still kicking
Still kicking

Still kicking

It’s been…it’s been a long spring, yo.

Mid-February I started a longterm middle school band sub gig, covering for a friend going on maternity leave; it started significantly sooner than expected when she had her son eight weeks early. What everyone anticipated being a two month “keep the wheels on the bus through the end of the school year” gig became a 13 week “oh holy shit we are smack up against large group contest and we’re hosting it this year and concerts and festivals and grades are due and new music is needed and there are 65 kids in this band who see a sub and not a grown-ass adult with multiple music degrees.” I loved my time there, but thank all the deities past, present, and future that 1) it was a part-time assistant position, 2) my friend and her son are healthy and thriving, and 3) it’s over. I have many, many thoughts and all the feels about the job, but that’s a post for another day, if ever. I’ll just say that even if you think you know what a teacher’s job is like, you do not, so STFU and vote for more funding.

Oh, and if you have a middle school musician, have them checked for pica. I swear to christ those kids were eating their music when I wasn’t looking.

But subbing on top of my usual chaotic life kept me hustling even more than usual. A recap:

At the end of February, we did have to finally escort Rosie over that Rainbow Bridge. She was in bad shape, and it was time. Didn’t make it any easier. It did, however, dramatically reduce the amount of vacuuming we needed to do.

I continued to teach my flute students, all 26 (28? A lot, is my point) of them, at three different locations in two different counties. In order to keep them and sub, I pulled 12-14 hour days at least three times a week. I judged solo/ensemble a few Saturdays as well, and continued to play in our adult wind ensemble.

The boys needed shuttling to Destination Imagination practice, to doctor appointments, to classes, to Scouts. Conversations with Tom were logistics and what cocktail to slam and sob sip while discussing said logistics. I became quite fond of the Negroni, and this weekend discovered the Boulevardier, which is a Negroni but made with bourbon instead of gin.

The heaving dumpster fire that is American society and politics ordered up a pallet of fireworks and rocket fuel, so yeah, there’s that. See previous note on cocktails.

I continued to lose weight. At last count, down 26 pounds since Thanksgiving. I’m four digits from my first goal, 14 from my next, and 24 from I need an entirely new wardrobe. I’m in clothes that didn’t fit last summer, which is fantastic, since I haven’t had a freaking moment to go and get replacements.

Self-care became “I am going to say no and the person/situation will determine how guilty I will allow myself to feel.” Example: volunteering at the middle school? Zero guilt…nay…less than zero. Blog hops? Those bounced around in my bumbling hands like an iPhone heading for an overflowing toilet; yes, I can do it became maybe I can do it became shit ain’t gonna happen became double shit I’ll promote the hop and posts became OH FFS FML it’s time for the next damned hop already? All the guilt.

There were no posts in April. April, when my oldest turned 17. Uh, happy birthday, dude. Love you.

And because this is The House That Chaos Built, this spring just couldn’t leave quietly, and instead built to a THX-like deafening chord. In the last week and a half I had my final middle school band concert (and whoooo-eeeeee the last couple days of school were ones for the ages, and unlikely I’ll share them unless we’re drinking wine), finished the spring term of flute lessons (if you don’t think high schoolers have it harder than we ever did, you just don’t get it), had my own wind band concert, MacDreamy3 died (brought back to life yesterday and I’m stumbling around trying to recover things), my van went in for an oil change and discovered it needs an expensive amount of work (still deciding on repair vs replacement), I developed a Heavy Summer Man Cold and then shared it with Jack, we went out of town for the long weekend, and the weather went straight from cold and rainy to sweetbabyjesusonapony hotter’n balls.

So I’m gathering up my life and putting everything into piles, both virtual and tactile, and breathing through the very real there is so much here I am legit frozen in place anxiety attacks when I acknowledge said piles with more than a sidelong glance through see-no-evil fingers and squinty eyes.

It’s been a long spring, yo. It’s good to be back.

Whaddya think?

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