Inside my head ...or a stream of...

...random thoughts that swirl around me. I've been up, basically since 4:30 this morning. Chester is sleeping more only waking up at 3, 4:30, 5 and 5:30. Ann and I tag team it. I get up at 3 and 5:30 since 5:30 is my time to get up and make coffee and figure out what breakfast we should have (oatmeal, bagels, or cold cereal). Ann gets up at 4:30 and 5 and then sleeps while I putz in the kitchen, Chester begging at my side. This morning at 3 I realized I hadn't put my bike away, so I fell out of bed, put on my rubber clogs, and shalumped my way to the backyard where my bike sat in the rain. Chester peed, long and hot, steam rising from the grass like something from the moors of Sherlock Holmes. I heard Ann get up at 4:30 and then shalump back into bed, but from 4:30 to 5:30 I couldn't fall back to sleep. I kept thinking about crazy things all starting with "what if..." What if there aren't enough students next year and I have to teach alone? What if Chester has a seizure Thursday night and Ann and I both have big events on Friday that we really can't miss? What if I can't get the lightbulb on the back porch (that broke off while I was trying to change it) out of the socket using a potato like the neighbor suggested? What if my broken toe NEVER heals? What if the 10 pounds I've gained this year stays, just like the 10 pounds I gained when I turned 40 never left? What if I'm manic and this not sleeping is the first sign?

And Ann kept snoring, like a bear, against my back. And I kept whacking her gently on the shoulder though by the tenth time it wasn't so gentle. And finally, just as I started to let my mind stop drilling the same questions over and over, I fell asleep to the sound of the classical music on the alarm clock radio.

But I wasn't grumpy. Tired, but not grumpy. I even rode my bike though the moment I clicked into the pedals the sprinkle became rain and then the rain became a downpour and by the time I got to work I was soaked. But I didn't care because it's Wednesday and I don't really teach on Wednesday since the kids are in art class or in health and fitness class and my teaching partner and I get to work and plan and get semi-organized. We even had time to take our Dean of Faculty for coffee, though we walked in the rain and my hair got all curly and my shoes got all wet...still, I wasn't grumpy.

Am I manic? No, I'm just tired, I kept telling myself, and when I'm tired I try to will myself through the day on a manic breeze.

And when we got back into the classroom where the kids were making these amazing pieces of art I hear floating through the air, "I love you, Gretchen" and I mouth to the art teacher, "Who said that?" but I know who it is and she says, "D." which is exactly who I thought it was since she's had a crush on me since the beginning of the year and tells me on a daily basis how funny I am and asks "can I have a hug?" though I've limited her to one a day, which is so fun to watch as she tries to decide exactly when to ask for it, stalking my desk like a vulture waiting for rotten meat and then backing away because it's just not time, not yet. But the spontaneous "I love yous" have increased and I giggle and my teaching partner giggles and the art teacher giggles because she's not really in love with me, she's just got a crush and it's harmless and meaningful all at the same time.

And then we sit through a faculty meeting while the kids attend their internships--learning to bake bread, making pizza, cleaning up the local park, hip-hop dancing, mastering karate -- and even the faculty meeting can't overwhelm me or grump me out. And D. another teacher, makes me cookies to say thank you for helping her out and I eat three, trying not to be rude at the same time I'm trying not to feel guilty because three cookies means more calories and more calories means the ten extra pounds might be permanent. Still, they are the best homemade cookies and I pass them around to the faculty and staff and 10 minutes into the meeting the 2 dozen cookies are gone and someone breaks out yet another box of Girl Scout Cookies, though I don't have any of those because D's are so much better and I've already had 3 though I could've eaten 10.

At the end of the day, the kids return, some muddy from their park trip in the rain others covered in flour from their baking adventures. And the hallway smells like garlic and the parents are waiting by the front office and I see A. the 7 year old sister of one of my favorite students and she squeals with delight because I always tease her and then I see her mother, recently diagnosed with MS, looking healthy and positive and I give her a hug and then hug her again because she's alive. "What a ride," she tells me and I say, "Nothing like an illness to make you live in the now." And she says, "Ain't that the truth," and A, her young daugter repeats the phrase "Ain't that the truth" and then says, "But you said ain't mommy" and D. the student who has a crush on my comes up and asks, "Can I have my hug?" and I grab her tight and say, "You bet!" and then she asks, "Can I just have one more?" and I say yes, not because she needs to get it, but because I need to give it and she smiles and grabs her mom's hand and heads out into the rain.

I put on my soggy bike clothes, strap up my shoes and booties, and climb on my bike feeling not manic but tired, which is probably more the cookies than the lack of sleep, so I decide to forgo the gym and just ride home in the rain, full throttle in the stream of the now.