Time
When I was teaching full time I used to long for the freedom to set my own schedule, to craft my own days as I saw fit. Appointments... no problem. Chores.... not problem. Spend time with the kids.... no problem. Part of my determination to end the madness that was my "full time teacher running a small farm business" life was focused on this nirvana of freedom.
No more schedule driving me like some incarcerated chain-ganger, no more pressure to beat the minute hand to school... to my next class... to some pesky 10 minute appointment that takes on the magnitude of the hajj. So it has been some sort of revelation to find myself beating feet this winter to stay ahead of that minute hand.
I just don't know where the time goes. We plan, we schedule, we communicate, we parent, we cook, we clean, and then we look at the clock each and every day and go.... "How did it get to be 4:30? We JUST had lunch!" It kills me.
No more schedule driving me like some incarcerated chain-ganger, no more pressure to beat the minute hand to school... to my next class... to some pesky 10 minute appointment that takes on the magnitude of the hajj. So it has been some sort of revelation to find myself beating feet this winter to stay ahead of that minute hand.
I just don't know where the time goes. We plan, we schedule, we communicate, we parent, we cook, we clean, and then we look at the clock each and every day and go.... "How did it get to be 4:30? We JUST had lunch!" It kills me.