Vomiting is not usually something that fills the heart with gratitude, but yesterday I found myself grateful for the respite it provided. I wasn’t ill and in need of respite, my daughter was ill and her illness provided me with a break when I took her home from school to recuperate. I was practically skipping down the hall, swinging my tote bag, as I left my own classroom in the hands of a substitute teacher who had never worked with my students before (“Oh, you’ll be fine. They’re great kids!” I chirped on my way out the door). I had no idea what had come over me. I had been looking forward to facilitating a fun lesson on figurative language. The one class I did teach had gone very well, and I was enjoying the day with my students. Then some switch flipped when I learned my daughter had just puked all over the nurse’s office. It was as if I had been given a “Get Out of Jail Free Card,” I was practically giddy about being able to leave work rather than being concerned about my kiddo’s well being.
I’m not sure what that says about me, but I know it can’t be good.