Hiding

I wish I were in hiding about now. I wanted to be at Hildegard's tonight, but grading has to come first so report cards can go home.

I was at a workshop on Friday, and afterward I needed to get the work done while I was away. I wanted to hide and skulk around corners lest anyone see me and point accusingly at me while whispering and shaking their heads at the behavior of my kids. Well my students. I felt lucky I am at an end and can go in to the room without passing another class. Sad huh? Obviously no teacher would have done what I envisioned, but the behavior of at least a couple of the little darlings told me my instincts about misbehavior were on the mark.

Now I shift my thoughts away from class. It feels like having a new born. All of a sudden there is this little person living with you. You rarely go out, and when you do, all talk revolves around that person. My classroom feels like that right now.

So, onto my real kids, the ones that I can never hide, and in defense they remain visible to me. I remember when they were small. Peek-a-boo games. As long as they could not see me, they imagined they were invisible too. When did that idea go away, what is it that makes us realize that permanence is a safe place?

Our oldest son just got married, but I still want to hide and peek, see what is going on, keep him safe. The other two are at home, their wings are flapping gentle breezes, trying to fly off, but not quite ready for the final push. Neither am I.

Other ways we hide, the phone rings, we check caller ID, door bells ring, and we peek around curtain edges. I think the best way we hide is in the open. We walk with our heads down and eyes averted, maybe we still think if we can't see them, they can't see us.
I suppose I better go hide again. All is quiet here right now. Kids and hubby at the coaches show.