My first year of teaching was a perpetual countdown. Every Monday morning, my roommates and I would greet each other over breakfast with, "Only 5 more days until the weekend!", and continued our countdown until Friday. We even purchased a wall calendar for the sole purpose of being able to physically cross off days leading up to major holidays, breaks, and self-created "mental health days".
My second year, we welcomed a new roommate who brought a refreshing perspective to the breakfast table every Monday morning: "Only 4 more days of waking up early this week!"
She fit right in.
As exhausting and challenging as the week was, I couldn't help but feel a little guilty for always "working for the weekend". Many times I asked myself, "Is this what I'm working for - the weekend?" It's often what it felt like. I don't remember if I shared this concern through a blog or if it came up in conversation, but I do remember that my dad was the one who eased my mind about it. "Everybody works for the weekend, Court."
He told me that even though he likes his job and the people he works with, he still always looks forward to the weekend. And for some reason, knowing that my hard-working, honest, and genuine father feels the same way made all the difference in the world. Thanks, Dad.
Now in my third year of teaching, I know exactly why we work for the weekends. They are well-deserved. They are brimming with possibility. They are restorative. They are just plain glorious.
I've had some of the best weekends I can remember in the past month or so. My birthday weekend was rather underwhelming, but it was long and restful and fine for my 24th year. I celebrated with a few friends with dinner, margaritas, and gourmet ice cream, after treating myself to spur-of-the-moment haircut (one of my favorite things).
The following weekend, my parents came to visit for the first time since they moved me in. My dad had carefully mapped out a list of things to do and places to eat, and we kicked off the weekend with a delicious breakfast at an East Nashville restaurant that I didn't even know existed. A mere mile from my apartment, it's a quaint one-room cafe, with a friendly staff and specialty dishes, including the banana and nutella french-toast-wrapped-in-pancakes that Dad ordered. That evening, we visited the Nashville classic Bluebird Cafe for live music and drinks, and I was completely blown away by the talent that is tucked into every pocket of Music City.
After a visit to a local cupcake shop Sunday morning, we walked the 0.9 mile to LP field, where we watched Tom Brady and the Patriots breeze past the Tennessee Titans. My first-ever NFL game, and hopefully not my last! It was a beautiful Indian summer day, and I woke up Monday morning with sunburn and a renewed soul for the week ahead.
The next weekend, a co-worker and I went back to the Bluebird Cafe to see Josh Kelley, a pop-turned-country artist who is the true definition of an "entertainer". Hilarious and incredibly talented, it was well worth standing in line for 30 minutes and sitting at the bar rather than one of the reserved table seats. We sat next to an established songwriter and her husband, chatting about her experiences writing for Reba and JoDee Messina and traveling back and forth between LA and Nashville to continue her work. How cool?
Last weekend, a group of us from work drove 30 minutes out to Arrington Vineyards, the winery owned by Brooks of Brooks & Dunn. The gorgeous cabin hosts a free wine-tasting and a wine shop, where you can buy your libations for the evening. There is a tent with live music, and the beautiful grounds are speckled with wooden picnic tables that are open to anyone. We snagged a table, laid out a spread of snacks, passed around a bottle of Arrington wine, and enjoyed a night of conversation that had nothing to do with work.
Saturday night, a couple of co-workers and I went to a local East Nashville coffee shop to see more live music, followed by a gourmet ice cream and a cocktail at a local restaurant. I truly felt like an "East Nashvillian" that night, as I discovered some of the hidden treasures of my new town.
As I'm settling into my new job and my new city, carving out routines and making new friends, it's becoming more and more obvious why I work for the weekends. I love my kids, and on a good day I love my job, but we need a break. Our lives can't revolve around work, or we lose ourselves and our sanity. The weekend is my time to recharge and re-energize, to take a break and to do something for me. I no longer feel guilty about looking forward to weekends, because I've seen just how vital they are to maintaining my sanity and to preparing me for the week ahead.
This weekend's activities require a post of their own, so be on the lookout.
