Monday dawned a two-hour delay.
I knew about this Sunday night and had prepared myself for it mentally. In my world a two-hour delay is only different in how the school morning is structured. I still clock in at the regular time.
I woke, did twenty minutes of yoga to get the body moving, then retreated to my corner for a few minutes of quiet reflection. That’s when I heard the buzz.
City schools are now closed.
That was the game-changer. When city schools close, and our grade school, as well, I stay home with my own children.
There are times when this last-minute closing has happened after I was already at work, and Steve has kept the kids and worked from home, but as a general rule, I am the home parent.
It is a different kind of work. A different disruption.
I sat in that space with mixed feelings. My heart struggled with the reality that it’s really not my circumstances but my heart that is disruptive.
I would be complaining if school were open. I don’t want to complain now that it is closed.
I voiced these thoughts and feelings to Steve who listened graciously and reminded me to be kind to myself and take it easy. He knows me too well. Knows that I stress and put pressure on places that only I see.
Today can I take the pressure off? Enjoy the kids? Embrace the gift of this day amidst the pattering of feet and frenzied excitement?
And so Monday dawned snowless but with great anticipation. Siblings picked episodes and bonded and argued and played together and eagerly watched out the window for the first flakes to fall.
It was hard. A different kind of hard than our school day routine but still hard. It didn’t feel restful much, but in the moments when I stopped and took a breath, I was able to receive rest.
And it was a good thing.