Next time I think it would be fun to have a writing intensive exam late on Thursday afternoon when grades are due Monday at COB after a fun-filled magical holiday weekend, which was high on the family/grownup fun and red wine and low on the working, someone tell me that it is a completely moronic idea and that I might want to find a job at a university that uses Scantrons.
Also, you know that thing where you actually have to finish your grades, not by 5:00, but by 2:30 so you can go pick up all the kids, attend a preschool Christmas party, take someone to piano, and host a small family dinner party for someone's birthday and you sit down to enter the exam grades at one o'clock and instead of numbers appearing on the screen the little cursor box just hops all over the freaking webpage and you shout to your empty house "WHO THE EFF TURNED OFF MY NUMLOCK?!" I probably drank too much coffee this morning, but honestly, when you're grading forty-three essays about deforestation (after staying up until after midnight grading forty-three times four short answer questions) is there really such a thing as too much coffee?
Grading on Friday would have been intelligent, but I was busy dealing with a small kerfluffle at work which required me to get out of the building and eat a meatball sub and a ginormous iced tea before my head exploded all over the new drywall in the hallway.
Speaking of Friday, Friday was the annual Nativity play and you can bet our family was there with period costumes on!
Because I like to tempt fate and also because by the time I remembered to sign up there were no more shepherd spots, I signed Charley, Wes, and James up to be the Three Kings. This is a fun job because you get to wear a crown and carry a present for the newborn king. Sadly, there were no swords; these were learned men, not Roman soldiers, Charley. The role is to walk in from stage right, pointing at Yonder Star with amazement, then kneel in front of the manger, drop off the gifts, then walk back to a nearby hay bale to wait out the rest of the story.
I sat in the audience with my mom and hoped for the best, which means I was hoping they would not come to blows in the middle of all that holy stillness. The three of them came parading in right on cue, pointing at the star. Here they are honoring the baby with gold and frankincense. Wait a minute, where's myrrh? Oh, there he is, back by the lamb enclosure.
This is when people began to giggle because James was wandering around by himself, staring directly into the audience with big, confused eyeballs. Eventually he turned around and Charley and Wes started gesticulating wildly and mouthing "GIFT. BABY JESUS. TAKE. THE GIFT. TOBABYJESUS."
Finally, slooooowly, James wandered over to Baby Jesus and carefully laid the gift on the hay. Then he went to sit on the hay bale with the other kings.
We did one more show so Mary could participate because she luuurrves staying up late and wearing costumes.
And just when I was starting to think about getting in the car and heading for home Wes chirped "I'm going to be an angel next!!" and disappeared into the costume room before we knew what was happening.
Other than that we laid low this weekend, since four of us are on antibiotics for strep (Charley, me, Ryan) and strep-accessories (Wes). By the time we gathered for dinner Sunday night the only thing everyone was capable of was a thousand yard stare. Peppermint ice cream and my neighbor's pizzelles helped, but still bedtime was done with by six thirty and then I spent six hours grading exams. Womp womp. But the important thing is that I AM ON CHRISTMAS "BREAK".