graham cracker mornings

Whenever my phone rings and wakes me from whatever sleep I have managed to obtain in my frigid bedroom, it always takes me a few minutes to convince myself that it is, in fact, a phone call and NOT my alarm and therefore, I should answer it. So once I got that fact straightened out this morning, I heard the voice of one of my coworkers tell me that I needed to go into work and cover for her since her car wouldn't start. I yawned in the early morning darkness-- I swear I could see my breath, by the way-- and told her it would be no problem. Then I hung up the phone and contemplated my new reality of going in to work much earlier than anticipated. And get this... I was EXCITED.

What's not to like about a job where I can stumble in wearing pajamas, if I need to, and eat breakfast while I'm there? Where I get to say "Good Morning!" to kids who I have come to really love and care about? Where I can spend an hour getting beat at Mancala and playing a never-ending game of War, and it's my job? Seriously. If I have ever had a job that I don't mind spending extra unplanned hours at, this is it. As I said goodbye to the kids as they left this morning, adding the "See you after school!" tag (since I will), I felt very mother-ish. It is kind of an interesting responsibility to be the last one a kid sees before they go to school and the first one they see when they are done. It is a realm normally inhabited by parents, and I feel like it fits in a sort of "off" way-- like a jacket with shoulder pads, or something. But I like it, and I like these kids. And no matter how many hours I am NOT getting between my two jobs and how much economic logic dictates I should try to find one FULL time job that provides a more reliable income... I'm not leaving. Not yet. 

So to all of you with your office jobs and nice paychecks and business casual attire, I say this: Have fun with your swivelly desk chairs, and your computer monitors, and your coffee breaks. I'm happy spending my days sitting at a table covered in marker, eating graham crackers while I lose yet another game of Mancala to a nine-year-old.