The Fumble

So, I dropped the ball. Because for one year, I was writing a post every Friday about my newest find of the week.

And this week? I didn’t.

I know what I wanted to write about–I found a few records indicating that one of my relatives spent the last years of his life in an asylum–but Thursday night rolled around and I was tired. Capital T. I have never been that exhausted and stressed and overwhelmed in my life, and I’m not sure that feeling is going away.

Why? I finally got that job I’ve been interviewing for: I’m a second grade teacher. I spent the past week at eight-hour curriculum trainings, setting up my unintentionally watercolor-themed classroom and learning everything there is to know about my new school and administration. On top of that, I have coursework due every week, dinner to make and lessons to plan. There aren’t enough hours in the day, and I don’t know how to get it all done.

But I will. Here’s the catch, though: when Thursday night rolled around, I decided I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t keep up. I dropped the ball. It was my first fumble: The Fumble. And I missed that weekly Friday post.

So here’s what I can promise: two posts a week, one Wordless Wednesday, and one family story. And if I miss one, I give you my full blessing to roast me on Twitter or Instagram or your social media platform of choice. But Friday posts? I can’t.

And I’m sorry, too. But this first year teacher is navigating the new need for time management, and two posts a week seem daunting and impossible. I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it at some point–I’ll one day be able to have spare time outside of school again–but that’s not happening for a while.

So please accept my apologies for The Fumble. I love genealogy and writing and this blog and all of you, and I promise you’ll see me every week. But just not twice.

And now I’m off to buy book bins for my leveled books. This is a sentence I say now–wish me luck!

Talk to you soon–