Day 1 down... only 43 more to go

That was the jist of my status earlier this evening. 43 days till what, you well may ask. Why, 43 schools days till the next holiday, of course!

This is the first time in a long time that I've started the term feeling so rubbish. And by long time, I mean, LOOOOONG time. Years. I'm not talking about my grief levels (they were obviously bad in 2007 when I started the 3rd term). I'm talking about just generally feeling rubbish. I'm sick. I'm tired. I need a holiday.

I know - you're thinking it, I know. Those blimming teachers, forever on holiday, and here she is whining about needing yet another one. (On a tangent, I once calculated that if I add in all the 'extra' unpaid hours I put in - which I feel are necessary to just get the job done properly - I actually only get about 21 days holiday in a year, and teaching is a HANG of a lot more energy demanding than most jobs.)

The fact is though, that I am seriously sleep deprived and my body is starting to pay the price. I'm sleep deprived, not because of lots of canoodelling, sadly. (In fact, I think I'm too tired to even want to canoodle at this point.) I'm sleep deprived because my son keeps waking us up at all hours. The little terror (he isn't really - he's an adorable angel most of the time and I love him to bits) doesn't suffer, because he gets to have a midday nap. But for those of us monkeys who actually have to work, there are no such pleasures.

I lost my voice today, not because I'm unaccustomed to teaching again (although that is true after 3 weeks of not using my voice in the same way). I lost my voice because I'm sick. And I'm sick because I'm tired. And I'm tired because I have a small child who doesn't sleep well.

And before you say that I should have slept on my holiday, let me ask you this - do YOU have small children? Do you KNOW what it's like being on "holiday" with small kids? You don't get to lie around in the sun for hours, reading books. Nor do you get to lie in front of the TV for hours, watching your favourite series that you just ripped off your friend's illegal copy bought. Look, I'm not saying that I didn't have fun on my holiday. I did. I'm not saying I didn't get to read books. I did. I'm just saying that being on holiday with small kids is exhausting because they need constant or frequent input from parents, and that unless you want to go to bed at 8pm every night, you're going to get tired. And in my case, sick.

Both of which I am.

Of course, I have no-one to blame but myself. I shouldn't have walked the kids to nursery in the mist. I know better. My lungs don't do mist at the best of times. I should have worn a face mask. I didn't. I was stupid, and now I'm paying for it. I KNOW all that. But self-blame isn't going to rectify this problem. So let's just move on, shall we?

What I need is just 5 days with no kids and no pets. 5 days to sleep late. 5 days to stay in bed and not have to get up for ANYTHING I don't want to. 5 days to live in my pj's if I want to, or walk around starkers if I want to, or even just walk on the beach without having to constantly be on my guard against the waves, strange dogs, or the kids throwing sand into each other's eyes or hitting each other with sticks. 5 days to recharge and heal.

What has me particularly worried at this stage is that when I lie down at night, my lungs bubble. That's not a good sign. The last time that happened to me, I wound up with bronchitis, pneumonia and pleurisy (and yes, pretty much all at the same time) and so sick that my doc warned me I would be dead in a matter of weeks if I didn't get some proper bed rest. (And that's not an exaggeration - he really did say that.) For weeks, I had to sleep sitting up because of the amount of fluid in my lungs. My lungs have never fully recovered from that episode of illness. It caused my asthma to recur, and it took me MONTHS to heal. I can't go through that again.

I need rest. Not just sleep. Proper. Rest.

And so I'm counting the school days until I can be on holiday again. Because next holiday I'm going to send the kids away. They're going to have sleepovers with any family member or friend I can organise to take them. It's only 43 school days. 9 weeks. I can make it till then, right? I hope so. (If my lungs get any worse, I might have to take some time off work if I even want to make it to the end of term.)

I hate feeling this way. I love my job. I love the kids I teach. I love the people I work with. It's one of the best jobs in the world.

But today, I'm feeling the need to count, because right at this point in time, all I want - all I need - is a proper holiday. Only 43 days to go.