Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.
So, first the Eldest got his manager job for North Face up in Seattle. He’s moving next week. She may wait a month or two, or not. It’s up in the air.
They’ve already figured out when they’ll be back in town for wedding stuff, which is handy. As of an hour ago, they got their house rental, and I think the move is going into overdrive.
So I have my head wrapped around this, no problem, and arrive home to the news that the youngest child is also moving.
To Sonora. Or maybe it’s Sonoma. I’m still in stun mode and can’t remember, and she’s not home to discuss the whole thing. But she’s gotten a temporary job in the federal parks system for the next four to six months or so. It’s her foot in the door–although she’ll be cleaning restrooms and doing whatever else her job requires. I don’t even know what the job is exactly–I don’t think it’s ranger. At least not yet.
She’s leaving in three weeks.
So we’ll be empty nesters for a while, at least, and just in time for summer vacation. (Which doesn’t appear to be much of a vacation this summer based on what I have to do in order to move and what the district needs done for a grade level, and oh, by the way, who’s going to teach kinder boot camp this summer? Since I don’t want to because wedding. D’oh.)
Eighteen more days to go, and after yesterday’s insanity–the much-admired sub from hell in the room next door, and the chaos that resulted–I need alcohol. Again.
Note: It is never a good sign when small children speak glowingly of a sub and include the words “lets you do anything you want.” Just sayin’. (Of course, the first sign that something was rotten was the parade along a four-foot high wall with the sub leading and a trail of thirty-four ducklings right behind him.)
The DO’s response to our principal’s complaint about the sub? Funny, the middle school didn’t want him back ever again, too.
Eye-rolling commences now.