When the Working Day is Done

My new job is like a double-crack latte sometimes, and I mean that in the best of ways. I love it. Even the really tough days are such a charge. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t fall back asleep because I’m full of ideas for the next day. Sometimes these ideas fall flat, and sometimes they absolutely soar. Sometimes I come home and find myself exhausted and extremely short on patience. But, more often than not, I find myself over-energized and…seeking.

There’s no school this whole week for parent-teacher conferences. “Welcome to Miller Time,” said I, tearing into my delicious Friday with joyous abandon. By Monday, though, I found myself outside in the relentless early morning November rain in my Crocs and jammies, desperately raking soggy leaves off the sidewalk for sheet mulching.

Mr. Black was still in bed when I dragged my drenched self back inside. I tried to make light of it.

“Ever notice that whenever I’m not at school, I’m doing some crazy gardening project?” I said with a smile.

Oh, he’d noticed, all right. Lucky for both of us, he finds it endearing. But I wonder how long before the cuteness wears off.

The wild energy doesn’t just pour itself into home improvement projects. It seeks fun, too. Not sex/drugs/rock-and-roll per se, but whatever the geeky forty-something mom version of that might be. I yearn for a social life that’s every bit as vibrant and over-stimulating as my work life, and it’s simply not available to me anymore.

Sure, there’s Facebook and the occasional meet-up with friends. There are date nights and pillow talk with my sweet honey. There’s lots of raucous horseplay and general silliness with the kiddos, which probably comes the closest to meeting this newfound need for speed.

But I miss happy hours that lasted all night and ended with diner breakfasts and falling asleep on each other’s floors. I miss how forthcoming we used to be about our hopes and fears. I miss ill-advised drunken kisses and crushes where you actually had the option of telling the other person how you felt. I miss my old friends.

I kind of miss my new friends, too. We’re all so busy, so partitioned off from each other with our families at our centers. That’s as it should be, of course. But I can’t help it. I miss other grown ups. I just do.

I’m sure I’ll be feeling more at ease next week when work starts up again and I can pour all this energy where it belongs. For now, though, I wouldn’t say no to a little responsible-version-of-fun. Friends, you know where to reach me.