This little piggy. . .

I've been trying to write a post about our Winter Break in California but I've been struggling with it. It's not that we didn't have a good time, we did, but it was not exactly relaxing. Within the first full day we were in Sacramento, my grandfather (my mom's dad) was in the emergency room with irregular heartbeats, which isn't good for someone with his heart history. He ended up being fine-just the flu I guess. Luckily he was well enough to join us for Christmas Eve at my Aunt's house.
We had my (other) grandfather's memorial service the day after Christmas which was incredibly difficult to deal with and just being in his house for a few days was really hard. There's this green pig cookie jar that has ALWAYS had Oreos in it for as long as I can remember, and for the first time, it was empty when we arrived. I guess it must have been my Grandpa's job to pick up the Oreos. The next day when my mom and I went grocery shopping we bought Oreos and filled up the green pig.
We got home last Friday afternoon (wow only a week ago-it feels like a month ago!) and I went into the End-Of-Vacation-Depression like I always do. This time though, there was anxiety along with it. I wasn't *stressed* as much as anxious. I'm still not totally sure about what was going on but I think it was the combination of thinking about going back to work and knowing my students were still the same high-needs kids that I love but also suck every ounce of energy I ever thought I had, knowing I wouldn't see my family again for 6 or 7 months, thinking about living so far from the people I love the most, and the realization of my grandpa dying finally hitting me. It was just too much at once. It is days like that when I almost cry because I'm so thankful I have such a supportive husband. If he hadn't been there to hold my hand and wipe away my tears and calm down my racing heart, I think I would have gone to the ER thinking I was having a heart attack. Anxiety is so hard to describe to people who have never experienced it. I don't really want to write anymore about it. I'm done.
This past week back at work has been intense. I felt like I was starting over with my class, going back to the beginning of the year and teaching and reteaching my class expectations and teaching them how to treat each other (and me) like real human beings. I thought my third graders last year were talkative but they pale in comparison to this year's class. They do not stop talking unless there are serious threats of loosing recess (one of the things they truly value) or a phone call home. I make them call, by the way, and tell their parents what they were doing that was so inappropriate. Today was no exception. They talked. All day. From 8:35 when I picked them up on the playground in their line to the time I gave them high-fives at 3:10 as they walked out the door. THEY. TALKED. AND. TALKED. AND DIDN'T STOP. So what am I going to do right now? Watch mindless TV and mute it when I don't want to hear noise.