Slap Her, She's French

I just finished watching a movie by this name for no real reason except that it happened to be on and I happened to need to chill for an hour and a half before getting back to the grind. I was in the mood for something silly and it did not disappoint. If anything, it was too silly, but I'm not complaining. Later, when mom asked me how the movie was, I found myself saying: Well, there was a lot of slapping.
And yeah there was. What do you know, violence is making its way even in those pointless silly movies. And suddenly I have an inexplicable urge to slap something. Okay maybe not too inexplicable.

This daily "chill time" of mine is what's been keeping me sane. It starts the minute I enter the house, hug mom, toss my 10++ kilo load off my aching shoulders, change and sit with mom on the lunch table. There would be a HUGE bowl of salady goodness waiting for me. Fresh, cold, crunchy and with an extra sour lemony dressing to make my taste buds go "Hallelujah". I love anything and everything that has lemon in it. Completely and utterly dig it. Not sure it's a good thing though, since during my last visit to the dentist she told me (after a long dreaded pause as she stared intently at the contents of my mouth): "Do you like lemon?"

Back to lunch. So its a salad then a nice hot meal, as my mom and I exchange the highlights of our mornings and noons. Her adventures at our next door supermarket never fail to throw me into fits of giggles. Although her "interesting" news (carefully handpicked from our local paper) unfortunately do not carry the same effect. You don't wanna know. On my part, I spill out whatever anecdotes I have from my day at school. Every now and then, one of us would say something really deep (okay okay so it's always mom who does, not for lack of trying from my part:P).

Once lunch is over, I pounce on the couch, grab the throw, complain about living in the north pole, then turn on the tube to see what's on. At that point, my standards are very low. It just has to be light, funny, and silly. Nothing depressing. Once in a while, usually after an exceptionally mentally stimulating lunch conversation, I'd choose to watch something worthwhile on Discovery or the History channel.

Once my chill time is over, I feel energized and can actually see myself reuniting with my piles of teacher editions and dear old PC. And I usually do. Except of course when I start blogging instead. Not unlike this very moment. Yikes.

I must admit though, whenever I'm snuggled on the couch, relaxed and having a laugh, I can't but feel a tad guilty as I imagine what the majority of the other teachers at school are probably doing. Cooking? Washing dishes? Refereeing a fight between two of their kids? Helping them with homework? Tidying the house? Trying to have an actual meaningful conversation with their husbands? Catching up on the piles of overdue school work? Having a nervous breakdown from all the pressure?

I get overwhelmed at the thought. Those mothers/wives/teachers are heroes. I get hyperventilation and exhaustion fits from the mere thought. How am I ever going to be able to do that? Scary thoughts I tell you. But they usually only last as long as it takes for me to perfect the angle of all the cushions, make sure the blanket covers my toes so I don't lose them to frostbites, and watch something like "Slap Her She's French". Works likes a charm.