I imagine a lot of people read the title of this and thought, ‘Well, how morbid’. It is a little bit morbid, yes, but that is merely an accurate reflection of my life last week – or at least how I felt last week.
Last week was one of those weeks. You know the one I’m talking about. The one you want to write off and pretend never happened; the one that makes you question how your life managed to plummet down into such a pitiful state. Where did it all go wrong? you think. Where indeed.
Okay, last week wasn’t that bad, but I felt that bad. I would like to explain that my title isn’t me saying I dug up the past only to bury it again – it is, in fact, two different situations. Two posts merged into one, I suppose. Both linked to last week, though.
I was in the foulest mood last week, and I don’t know why. I’ve always found that infuriating. When there is no justifiable reason for the venom-spitting bile of a mood, it makes me feel like the worst being ever, for I have always struggled to control my anger, and it comes out most abundantly when I felt the way I had been. I can’t even say “Thank you” without sounding like I’m plotting some devilish murder. I have a dark side, as do we all (I actually have some pyjamas that say ‘Come to the dark side, we have cookies’ – glow in the dark pyjamas, I might add. I am secretly a five year old. But they are cool pyjamas, don’t try to disagree). I was in such a foul mood last week that my own mother asked me if anything hormonal was going on (as in, Am I pregnant?). No, Mother. No. And a male friend of mine also tentatively asked if it was my time of the month. It wasn’t. Just as well he did it via text hey, or else he would have got a death look! As I’m sure the girls reading this will agree, men asking such a question is, quite possibly, one of the most enraging things imaginable.
Being in a foul mood was not – or is not – convenient when working with young children. Let’s just say I wasn’t the merriest teaching assistant last week. I tried so hard not to take anything out on the children, and for the most part I didn’t, apart from the fact I was quite stern regarding everything (sterner than usual, I should say, ’cause I can be a teeny bit firm sometimes..) I had no patience nor tolerance, and it was when I was at my frailest last week that I seriously questioned what the hell I was doing, and thinking I had made a terrible mistake, that I cannot possibly work with children. Who was I kidding? I thought that all along anyway: why didn’t I just listen to myself? As for my cripple knee and being in constant pain, that did not help matters. I went to the doctors on Saturday morning, and it was as pointless as I could have presumed. But back to physiotherapy I go! As I anticipated. I seriously live in physiotherapy at the hospital. I need to save myself a lot of hassle and marry a physio…. Any takers?
I jest, of course. I’m already married.
But when you’re in such a mood, the smallest things just cause an explosion of rage or tears or whatever emotion it decides to be. The straw that broke the camel’s back, if you will. Such as: a child not being able to decide what pencil to use. This sounds ridiculous, and I didn’t actually go berserk at this child, but I had inner rage, and that is often far worse. Luckily it was near the end of the day and I held it in until I got home, when I then reverted back to being a moody teenager and slamming everything imaginable – WHACK went my water bottle on the work surface, SLAM went the cupboard door, MASSIVE BOOT down the stairs to the dog toys that Kodi forever brings upstairs etc etc. But what happened is we were supposed to being making Mother’s Day cards for Sunday, and I had to take children to do this; I had a little bit of a lack-of-patience moment at the beginning with some boys, for they refused to do it initially (as Stevick Steven knows about 😛 ), but as time went on and I was doing it with different children, I wrote down how to spell a word for one, and then she caught sight of the pencil I was holding.
“Can I use your pencil?” she asked.
*inner rage, greatly suppressed as I opened mouth* “No, this is my pencil. You’ve got a pencil already.”
“But I don’t want to use this pencil.”
*sigh* “Then get another pencil.” …… “That’s a PEN,” I said through gritted teeth, taking it out of her hand and putting it back. “The pencils are here.” *slides pencil pot across the table with clear frustration – maybe not to a child, but certainly to an adult*
*picks another pencil and starts attempting to write with it*
“That pencil’s blunt.” *takes pencil from her hand and gives her a different one*
“I don’t like this pencil,” she said.
“Just pick a pencil.”
*looks at them all for what felt like an eternity*
*grabs a pencil and smacks it down in front of her* “You’re using this one.”
I MEAN HOLY MOTHER JUST PICK A PENCIL!!
By the time the school day finished on Friday, I had never felt so relieved in all my life. No children, no noise, no mess, no excessive amounts of knee pain, no silently sitting in the staff room, no standing outside in the cold during break, no having to deal with children telling tales on each other, no having to put on a mask of patience and tolerance, for two whole days. What bliss. My brain was also starting to go walkabout by the end of the week. I know who all the children are, but I kept muddling their names up. I called John Tom and Tom John, and Phoebe Amber and Vestas Dexter and Lenny Vestas, and I even made up names completely, such as Leicester (I mean, what on earth with that one? Was that a merge of Lenny, Dexter and Vestas?) and Michael, when there is no Michael in my class. I need a holiday.
But I’ve also had some run-ins with my laptop. Curse the pesky thing *shakes fist in pure annoyance*. It has not been my friend, at all. I need my laptop for essentially all my work outside of my teaching assistant work (so, writing (if I EVER do it again, bloody hell), and my work regarding my position as an executive director). I need it. Desperately. So when it decides not to work properly… Oh, good heavens. I want to cry for the rest of my life. It is a miracle this is even being written right now. With everything seemingly going against me last week, and me feel the lowest of the low, I thought I couldn’t possibly deal with anymore. Please, life, STOP PUNCHING ME, I thought. Please? Just for a teeny while. I found it hard to smile last week, although, I must admit, I still smile when I walk past the bench Mr. Gazelle-Catley leaped over, as I mentioned in a previous post.
I ended that week with ducks. Yes, ducks. I love ducks so much, and I have wanted some for soo long. So now I have ducks. YAY for ducks! I smiled to myself as they quacked in the back of the car, their feet pitter-pattering about as they moved – it was easily the highlight of my low week. But that, I’m afraid, is where the highlight ended. That quickly? Unfortunately. I WAS going to ask this lovely world of WordPress what I should name my three little ducks, but I no longer have three to name. I only have two. And this is because my mother’s dog broke through the fence and got one, after only having them for ONE day 😦 I cried about losing that duck. Maybe I cried as I did because, let’s face it, I’ve been pretty emotionally unstable the past week or so, but still, I would have been horribly upset had I been over the moon beforehand. It hadn’t even been named, poor thing 😦 And, may I just take this opportunity to say that MY dog, darling Kodi, is an angel and not, say, a duck-killer.
These are the two remaining ducks – and don’t mind the chicken strutting around in the back. I’m normally fine with naming things, and I’m normally quite funny about people suggesting names to me, but this time I guess I’m a little bit stumped. Nothing is calling out to me. So, if you have any suggestions for my TWO little ducks, feel free to tell me. I should probably mention that they’re girls. I should also probably mention that I often choose weird/stupid names for my animals, and thus, am more inclined to choose stranger names… Such as Peekley and Dawes for my gerbils (there is a story behind that one, actually), and Sheep and Baa, and Juniper and Wibble and Bunny for my rabbits… And my hamster was called Dippy, and my guinea pigs were called Parsley, Thyme and Rosemary… You get the idea.
I should call one Road (they’re Indian Runner ducks).
Or Abbs and Babs.
Or Orange and Sauce (only joking, that’s cruel)
But, on the plus side, this week has been far better for me, and I had such a precious moment at the Easter church service the school attended (CoE school, in case you’re wondering and I didn’t mention it before), I cannot accurately express it. I did start my week the same as last week (i.e. foul), but this moment in church really, truly picked my spirits up, and I’ve been happily pondering over it ever since. Maybe I’ll write a post about it at some point.
But is it not remarkable how the smallest things can change your outlook, and your mood, entirely? And how, because of that, all of a sudden everything in your life that was once a mountain seems only to be a pebble?
So, the duck death was the grave. But what of the past? Well, there was one other highlight to my previous week, but it was so unbelievably fantastic I may have to say it has been the highlight of my entire year so far – and given this is me we’re talking about, it’s likely to be the most fabulous thing throughout my entire year. This post dedicated to me by Old Man / Grandpa / Uncle / Stevick / Steven / Prince of Norway / Nick-lover / how-many-names-does-he-want was just… Honestly, thank you so much for it, you truly made me beam in the middle of my miserable week. And, as my heartfelt thank you, I promise I will write you a poem at some point, Steven. There, I have declared it to the world. I can’t back out of it now 🙂
But anyway, this section is specifically for my SS pals – that is, Steven and Sherri – but, of course, it is open for everyone. We three were talking about drawing on Steven’s post, and how Sherri and I used to draw horses when we were younger. I said I’d dig out some of my old drawings to show them; unfortunately, I was unable to locate the original drawings, but I did find old photos I had taken of a few, so these will have to do. So, the following drawings are ones I did years ago now, because I don’t really draw anymore…