freeze time

I�had a thought today as I�was driving home from my parentsapos; house: the new math teacher, Ms. Phillips, must think Iapos;m at worst semi-insane and, at least, partially incompetent.� I met her at the end of August when I was neck-deep in my grandfatherapos;s cancer treatment.� I still remember our seventh grade team meeting: a morning when�I was half-awake and only vaguely concerned about the decision making that was occurring.� This is the year that my teaching has taken second place to my life.� When Iapos;m at school, at COURSE I worry about the children.� But thatapos;s the extent: the children.� Not the curriculum, particularly.� Not lesson planning.� Not the ridiculous hand-outs weapos;re supposed to distribute.� Not my colleagues.� All year long, I�have gone to school with the mentally of "Okay ... Letapos;s push through eight hours of this and then get back to more important matters."� And that is SO�contrary to who Iapos;ve been as a person prior to this past summer.

But, naturally, this is not something I�could or would even want to explain to a near stranger.� How would that conversation go?� "No, really," I might say, "Iapos;m usually very responsible and on the ball.� Itapos;s just that Iapos;ve been caring for my ailing grandfather who has died, and my grandmother only knows who I am about half of the time, and Iapos;m in a complete rush to have a baby before sheapos;s incapable of understanding in any capacity that itapos;s her great-grandchild, and thatapos;s not going well AT�ALL ... And itapos;s making me a little mad."� And a little mad is an understatement, really.� The other day I stood in the teacherapos;s lounge with a yogurt, a stack of lunch cards, and a paycheck in my hand, just staring at the refrigerator.� I�couldnapos;t figure out which item should go in and which I�should take upstairs.� Ludicrous, I�tell you

I feel a lot of generalized anxiety this evening.� Iapos;m not exactly certain what Iapos;m so nervous about, but I feel very on edge.� Itapos;s like I�expect someone to jump out at me and start screaming accusations.� Are these GRIEF�stages some psychiatrist failed to document?� Along with denial and anger, am I supposed to be cycling through forgetfulness and paranoia?� A student gave me a bag of 3 Muskateers bars for my candy bucket today, and I almost cried with gratefulness.� When WInnie left my side to lie with Jason, I�felt so jealous I could barely stand it.� I�want to hug my bunny, get drunk, lie in bed with a hot washcloth over my eyes -- Thereapos;s a parent Iapos;ve been meaning to call since before the funeral, and now whenever I�pick up the phone, I feel teary eyed and have to slam it down before it begins ringing.� Iapos;m simply not myself this year.

freeze time, freeze the amish friendship bread starter, freeze thawing, freeze thaw weathering diagram.