A Normal Job

Over the last few days of returning to the classroom, I have been thinking about my job. I absolutely love teaching, I am in my element during class - I love helping kids learn and making them smile. But sometimes, a teeny tiny part of me wishes for a "normal" job. What is a normal job, you ask? A job that you start at 9am and finish at 5pm and get to come home and NOT do work. And what do you do on the weekends when you have a normal job? Well anything you want to! You certainly don't grade assignments, plan for the next week's classes, and respond to parent emails. You just get to spend a little you time doing you stuff (or friend stuff, or couple stuff, or anything but work stuff). I have only a slight idea of what that kind of job feels like.


When I worked as an Americorps volunteer I started at the school at 9am, and finished around 6:30. Sometimes I helped the teachers grade papers, but overall, I got home and was free from any other responsibilities. I wasn't taking graduate courses or working any other part-time job. All my free time was mine. I loved lazy summer afternoons (or evenings) lounging by the pool or meeting friends for happy hour. I liked getting home and being able to cook myself something nice then relaxing into a good book. I suspect now, with taking care of my apartment, cooking, graduate work, and still working on a new marriage a little free time would be good every now and then. But I have chosen the role of teacher and free time is almost non-existant. There is always, ALWAYS something that needs to be done.


Could I make it easier on myself? Probably. I could be one of the many sub-par teachers at Champittet that works page by page through a workbook and never tries to extends the lessons or challenge the students. I could just pretend to check their homework, or not keep my website up-to-date. But I think that all of these things make me a better teacher and help my students learn. I don't want to do anything half way - I'd rather go 110% (such is the curse of an overachiever).


So for today, I will have to enjoy the fact that it was a 3-day weekend and I was able to take just one day for myself. I worked my bottom off Friday and Saturday to be able to have a little me time today. And that is exactly what I got to do. I can't even recall the last time I was able to paint, or play an hour of guitar, all on the same day. I even danced around my apartment singing to some very bad country songs! My "me" activities were only broken up by moving the clothes from the washer to the dryer. Oh well, I can't win everything (and I needed clean socks!)

Life Goes On

It's been 5 days since I returned from Chicago, and I am finally ready to think about it again. It seems to me that the way I have been dealing with my grandpa's passing is by avoiding thinking about it completely. It seems to work, and although it may not be the healthiest of things, it is better than crying all the time. 


Upon arriving in Chicago (and picked up by my wheelchair) I was immediately whisked to dinner with the cousins, aunts, uncles and grandma. There were a lot of us there, one of the few days we would all be in town. At several points I felt very strange - eating dinner with my cousins, catching up on life, joking and laughing - just like any other Blair family reunion. 


I was in Chicago for another 6 days. We went to grandpa's memorial and I was able to speak. We watched a beautiful video about my grandpa and his life. We cried and hugged others who were also struggling through this loss. Not everything was like usual. But I find you can't talk about the sadness all the time. It will close in on you from all side and overwhelm you until you aren't able to think or breathe or move. But those are moments that come and pass (as long as I avoid them).


One of the evenings we were receiving condolences at Blair Castle, and by 8pm no one else was coming. Most of the cousins went out together for drinks. Now that I am no longer a child (although still the youngest cousin) it is great to get to know my much older cousin like a real person, like an adult. I find I actually quite like my cousins. And again, life continued on much like it normally does. Laughing, joking, telling stories, sharing food, sharing company. It just marches on and on, not seeming to care that we have lost someone so important. 

A visit with my favorite guy in 2010

What is the solution to this? I don't think there is one. That's just life isn't it? Even though we all know it, I am still a bit shocked sometimes. Something this devastating surely should make the world pause - right? Even if just for a moment, out of respect. Sometimes it feels like the world has stopped, when I remember grandpa, all bright and vibrant and strong. I remember him telling me stories about meeting grandma or WW2, and this bright light would shine in his eyes. He was sharp and funny and such a loving and caring man. Everything is very still and I can hear the blood thumping in my ears. Then something from life breaks through and there it is again. Life goes on. 

Me and Grandpa on a visit in 2004

Blindsided

I'll start with a line from my favorite song -

"Don't worry about the future. Or know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindsides you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday"


Or in my case, at 5pm on an Idle Friday, and then again on Sunday. It all started with a quick run up a steep hill to catch a bus that doesn't run often. I had just spent 12 hours prepping for classes that were starting on Monday. I was excited to get back to normal life, normal classes, a routine and a schedule. Then I ran up that hill and a terrible pain shot through my lower abdomen. Of course, I had missed the bus. I hobbled to the bus stop and waited uncomfortably for 15 minutes until the next bus. The normally short walk to my apartment from the bus stop was interminal. I got home with tears in my eyes. Paul and my two flatmates wanted to take me to the hospital. I completely refused, as I remembered how expensive and pointless the last trip to the CHUV had been. I slept precariously that night, ready to start some more prepping the next day.


I got a call from a a friend who with very few words was able to convince me to go to see a doctor. With another friend's help, we visited a clinic and saw a doctor. The news was not good- a 6cm cyst had formed in my ovary and twisting my fallopian tube. The doctor wanted to operate that day. After a few quick phone calls to Paul and the insurance company, we agreed and made the appointment.


At 5pm I was all checked in and prepped for surgery. I said a good bye to Paul and headed to the operating theater. I tried to make a few jokes, was given "big warm socks" to keep my legs warm, and they started the anestesia. Two hours later I woke up fine - no complications. They had made 4 holes in my abdomen and through my muscles. Moving was difficult. I spent 2 days in the hospital with my nice, coughing, grandmas and then I was ready to move home. I thought it would all get better from there.


On Sunday my parents called me at an unusually early hour in California. I was playing Guillatine with Matt and Paul and absolutely whopping them. The number came in as "blocked" and I almost didn't answer it. My parents were on the phone together. They started with, "We have some bad news...." a phrase no one ever wants to hear. They kept talking but I couldn't breathe. I must have been hyperventilating. I eventually shuffled to my bedroom to cry somewhere private. All I could do was think about how I had thought seriously about flying in just after New Years to surprise grandpa, but that I had been exhausted, I had a lot of work to do, and it was expensive. Paul said if I wanted to go he would support me. He had even asked, "Will you regret if you don't go?" My answer was 100%. I regret it now more than ever. 


My parents told me they were flying in that day, and would let me know as soon as they had a date. They told me to get better so I could fly. I stifled my crying and agreed to get better. The next evening and day were unbearable - I was in physical pain from the surgery, and emotional pain from my grandpa's passing. Finally I was given a date - be in by Tuesday. I booked a flight immediately and packed my things. I got clearance from my doctor to fly, picked up more pain meds, and just waited for the day to go.


Tuesday morning came early, and with a ride to the train station, I made it on my train to Zurich airport. I checked my bag, and asked about early boarding. I explained that I had just had surgery, but because of a death in the family I was traveling. She explained how to ask at the gate and I walked away. Then I heard heels clicking on the floor behind me. The nice lady chased me down, and asked if I needed a wheel chair. I definitely did. She set everything up, and led me to a waiting area. From there, I made it through the airport via cart & wheelchair, much quicker and with less hassel than ever before. 


The plane ride was quick and easy - I had a bulkhead seat next to a window and a very nice, helpful girl next to me. I tried not to move much, and reclining made it almost comfortable. In Chicago they were waiting with a wheelchair. I got into America quickly and met my parents. It felt good to be back in their company, but we were all sad for the reason we were there. I've got 6 days here, and I hope to do some recovering from everything that blindsided me. I guess it is really true - there is no reason to worry, because you never know what's coming for you. You just have to deal with things as they come, one after another. 

New Year's Eve and Growing Up

Guess where I am? In the kitchen waiting for my Tajine de Poulet to finish cooking. So I figured I had a few minutes to put up a post that I have been thinking about for a few days.


This year for New Years, like the previous 2 years, we joined several of our other friends who live all around Switzerland to eat, drink, and play games. The last 2 New years everyone has slept over (no designated drivers!) and my New Year's Day has always been a little rough. This New Year's Eve diverged from that formula, and I had to ask myself - is this what it is like to get old?


We arrived as our friends were setting food on the table. One of my friends showed me the new pot he and Amanda had just bought. I was actually excited about it - clue #1.


The dinner was amazing, my friends Amanda and Jonas are great cooks and we always end up with something delicious. We had a glass of wine with dinner - the beginning of a great night. After dinner we helped clean then sprawled around the apartment to chat to various friends who we hadn't seen for varying amounts of time. We eventually played a dancing game (maybe we aren't getting old?) that was quite a lot of fun.


Before we knew it, it was 11:53. Almost midnight! We poured champagne, and missed the midnight countdown by a few minutes because someone was playing the dancing game. We cheered and hugged and I gave my sweetie a kiss. 


Not soon after, my roomie, his girlfriend and Paul decided to call it a night. One of our friends, Heather, had decided not to drink. So they drove home and I stayed with my friends at the house. I still kind of felt like the party was over. The rest of us stayed up and played, talked, and drank a bit more (bit not much). My liver gets tired too easily. 


We went to bed about 4am - not bad - and we were all up by 10ish the next morning. No hangover in sight. That is good news, but also a little bit of sadness. As my youth moves further and further in my rearview mirror, I am torn between emotions. I am sad that I am getting what I deem as "old". I am also excited about all the exciting "adult" moments I get that are coming up in the future. I guess I should keep my eyes on the road and remember that no matter how much I want things to stay the same, life will always be changing. 

Christmas in Newcastle

So I've been back from Newcastle for a few days now and thought it was about time to write about my experiences. It was my first Christmas away from home and definitely a new experience. So how did I end up in Newcastle for Christmas? Apparently, when you get married, you have to split your time between families. So the same day that school ended, I hopped on a plane to Newcastle. 


Things were a bit hectic at first. Paul and I borrowed a car from Paul's mom and drove to Edinburgh to see some friends. It was a lovely night in with some absolutely delicious lasagna, good wine, and comfortable conversation. We also got a few presents and I took a little nap (see pictures below). All I can say is that I LOVE this cuddly chair!

Paul had a bit to much cider, but otherwise it was a good, relaxing break. Unfortunately we couldn't stay longer because of family obligations, but it is always good to call on friends when possible. 


The next few days passed together quickly. Paul and I had dinner with family, we visited Durham (and a place where they filmed Harry Potter!), I saw the Angel of the North, and we did a bit of shopping/movie watching. As I said before, Paul and I don't get a great deal of alone time, so it was a nice little break.


 


   

 

 

 

 

 

 


                         
Before I know it it was Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve for me normally consists of going to our family friend's house, the Hawkins, for an early family gift exchange, egg nog and brandy, and good company. I get to see everyone I haven't seen all year, and it is a great time to catch up. After one too many glasses of wine, some of us stumble, er, walk to church for midnight mass. I LOVE singing Christmas songs, so I join in for all my favorite ones, and enjoy the company of my second family. After services I make it home to sleep - luckily the church is right across from my house.



The next morning I get woken up by excited family members singing me annoying songs (Good Morning! Good Morning! The little bird says!) Then we all troop downstairs. We open our stockings filled with chewing gum, toothbrushes, floss, socks, and sometimes chocolate. Santa cares about our dental health. Then we find all the presents that are under the tree and distribute them one by one to each person - so we all have little piles of presents. We take turns opening presents, trying out the new things, exclaiming with excitement. Then when all the presents are opened and Shelby is happily chewing on a bone, we do the Kircher Family Christmas video. We tell about what we got, new things that happened in the family, and make bad jokes. Then mom makes breakfast and dad and I start on the Mimosas. I absolutely love my family and I love my Christmases.


This brings us back to Christmas Eve of this year. About 8:30 we met my brother-in-law, Mark, and his girlfriend, Stephanie, at a pub. We had a drink there before it closed. We then wandered around for a while trying to find something open. We had no luck and decided to take a taxi home. On our way, we saw several open bars. We stopped the taxi driver and had a few more drinks together. Around midnight Paul and I said goodnight and went home. After spending a few minutes stuffing each other's stockings, we hung them up on the hangers in the hotel room then went to sleep. The next day was Christmas!

 

 

We got up in time to have breakfast at the hotel. Not the best breakfast I have ever had, but it was better than nothing. It was then time to open some presents, so we hurried back upstairs to open our stockings. Paul had thoughtfully given me a toothbrush, floss, toothpaste, gum, and a few other little treats. I got Paul similarly small things - a flashlight, a shirt, shaving oil, chocolates, etc. In a few minutes the Christmas opening was done. 


 
 

            


We took our own little Christmas video, then there wasn't much else to do. Paul napped and I finished the book I was reading. I watched The Family Stone - a Christmas movie I watched with my mom a few times. By the time the movie finished it was time to go and meet with Paul's family.




We showered and headed out, arriving a bit late, but still in time to help. I cut a turnip and Paul prepared the brussel sprouts (as he asked, "Does anyone even LIKE brussel sprouts?") Before we knew it, dinner was ready and it was delicious. 


  
 
 

I have never really had a big Christmas meal - Thanksgiving is traditionally the big meal of the year. I got to open Christmas crackers and I Skyped my parents. We even took a little picture together!

 

After food we played a bit of taboo. Mark, Steph, Paul's mom and dad and gran were all there. The game was fun and before we knew it, it was almost 11pm. Paul and I said our goodbyes and took his gran back to her home before heading to the hotel. We were all tuckered out too. So not the usual Christmas, but still nice.


We spent boxing day (a national holiday!) shopping, drinking, watching another movie, and meeting Steph and Mark for one more round of drinks. 


 

On our last day we visited an old friend of Paul's who has just recently had a baby. After a few glasses of bubbly wine we said our goodbyes and headed off to get ready for the big family party.

  

Oh did I not mention this? Well because we got married in America, it was very difficult for all of Paul's friends and family to attend. Instead we had a little gathering with everyone to catch up and celebrate. It was nice to have everyone all in one place so we didn't spend our entire vacation going back and forth between homes visiting. I caught up with his cousins, aunts and uncles, and met some new people. It was a great night but I was pretty exhausted by the end of it. Paul and I went home to pack - it was going to be an early morning!

We flew out the next day without incident. Although it was not my usual Christmas, it was still a nice experience. I think I am just a bit sad sometimes that I am "growing up" and things are changing. I love my family and I love Christmas with them. I think part of me just wants to continue with everything staying the same, always. But the Hawkins were away from Torrance this year so there was no Christmas Eve party. Dad and Chris are grumpy (or so mom says) so they apparently had "canceled" Christmas. Things change - and although it may be hard to let go of something that I love and enjoy - it isn't really a choice. Things we always change as life continues to march forward. What will change next?