Chapter 14 #2
With each step I took deeper into the school, my chest tightened. I wanted nothing more than to grab my kids and run home.
We’d just put all the backpacks away and finished morning circle time when my phone buzzed on my desk.
It was a photo of Wayne lying on my front porch, blocking the door.
Josh
Wayne’s on guard duty. He’s taking it very seriously.
While my students got settled in their designated centers, I quickly responded.
Celine
I’ll make him fresh bacon tomorrow.
Josh
Already got a text from Ellie asking me to share my Netflix password and not to tell you.
I laughed. Okay, she was definitely feeling better.
I’d cut all nonessentials a while back and Ellie was dying to watch a show all the kids at school had been talking about.
I’d disappointed her when I told her I couldn’t waste money on Netflix and I didn’t want her watching something I hadn’t vetted yet.
It figured that she’d seen Josh as a potential patsy who’d let her watch The Summer I Turned Pretty without Mom’s approval.
Celine
Thanks to you both.
And just like that, I breathed a bit easier.
My kindergarten classroom could be described as controlled chaos on a good day. On a day when my oldest child was home alone sick and I’d heard from my evil ex-mother-in-law, it was an exercise in compartmentalization. One I should have earned a medal for.
I sang songs, tied shoes, and mediated a dramatic dispute over a purple crayon. I praised good listening and redirected big feelings.
By lunch. I had texts from both Ellie and Josh.
Josh
She’s requested soup and is watching Family Feud.
I sighed. Good. Ellie’s message put me even more at ease.
Ellie
I’m alive. Feel gross but not terrible. Wayne is here and Josh is bringing me soup.
Celine
Please rest.
Ellie
I’d feel a lot more rested if we had Netflix. Maybe you can make an account during your lunch break?
Celine
Not a chance.
Not long after lunch, the exhaustion hit me like a tsunami.
When Callie walked into the teacher work room during my planning period, I realized I’d been staring blankly at the copier and that my stack of papers was waiting for me in the tray.
With a sympathetic frown, she steered me into her office.
The moment my butt hit the seat across from her desk, I burst into tears.
She slid a box of tissues at me. “You’ve got 21 minutes before music class ends. Start talking.”
I blew my nose, trying to tamp down all the thoughts and feelings coursing through me.
“I can’t do it all,” I said, sniffling.
She laced her fingers on her desktop. “No one can.”
“But I have to,” I explained. “If I drop one ball, everything falls apart. I’m tired and cranky and anxious all the time.” A hiccup escaped me. “I love them so much, but I’m a terrible mother. I’m destroying their childhood.”
She stood abruptly and rounded her desk. Sitting next to me, she squeezed my hand like this wasn’t the first time she’d seen a breakdown like this here. “You’re doing too much.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“You do,” she urged. “You just haven’t learned to accept help yet. But you will.”
I laughed, my nose still running. “Bullshit.”
When I looked over at her, she was smiling, and that only made me laugh more. I was having an honest-to-God breakdown in my boss’s office. Excellent work. A-fucking-plus, Celine.
She took a deep breath and squeezed my hand again. “You got yourself and three kids out. I don’t know many details, but what I do know tells me how brave and capable you are.”
I swallowed thickly, emotion clogging my throat. Yes, Callie knew some hazy details. My ex-husband’s rap sheet was public record, and she knew I’d taken many years off from teaching. I’d filled in a few blanks as vaguely as I could when I interviewed, and she hadn’t pushed much.
But like most teachers, she was perceptive. Maybe more perceptive than I’d realized.
“You moved states. You went back to work and got a job so you could provide for your kids. You’ve kept everyone alive while also meeting their complex needs. That’s not failure. That’s hero-level exhaustion.”
I wiped my face. “Ellie’s sick, and I left her home alone.”
Head tilted, she remained silent, like she knew that wasn’t the full story.
“Josh has been checking on her,” I admitted. “She’s making him run around for soup and trying to blackmail him into sharing his Netflix password.”
She broke into a wide smile. “Then she’s on the mend.” With a chuckle, she shook her head.
I sniffled, blotting my nose with a clean tissue. “I feel so guilty.”
“Don’t. Kids get sick, and she’s old enough to take care of herself in these situations. On top of that, you’ve got a trustworthy person checking on her. That’s called problem-solving.”
My phone buzzed, on cue, and a notification appeared, alerting me to a new text from Josh.
This time it was a photo of Ellie, sprawled out on my couch, a bottle of red Gatorade next to her that Josh must have given her, and Wayne snuggled into her side.
Damn, the dog was as long as she was. I couldn’t help but giggle at the image.
Callie leaned over. “See? That’s community.
That’s help. Ask for it. Come in here and vent.
I’ll help. Ask Josh to bring your kid soup,” she commanded.
“Come in late or take your PTO, hire a babysitter and give yourself breaks. This town is filled with people willing to help. But you’ve got to be willing to ask. ”
Later that afternoon, as I herded small humans toward backpacks and bus lines, I caught myself smiling. The day had brightened considerably since my meltdown.
I’d accepted help. It hadn’t cost me anything, and I wouldn’t be punished or shamed.
Phyllis had tried to ruin my day. But she hadn’t.
It was okay.
I was okay.
And that felt like progress.