Tonight marks the end of what I have been thinking of as Primary Boot Camp.

I was called as our ward Primary president the week before Christmas.  As many of you know, all the Primary children switch up to the next class at the beginning of the New Year, so this is a time of much scrambling to get kids placed into the correct new class with the least amount of confusion possible.  Our ward is very large (150 Primary-aged kids) and I know almost none of them, since we are still relatively new in our ward.  The previous presidency expected to be released in November, so they hadn't done much in the way of preparing for the January craziness.

So, my counselors and I were in panic-mode for the last couple of weeks in December (which is a time of built-in crazy anyway).  We had several classes that needed new teachers, so on top of trying to sort out all the children, we were trying to figure out who could teach them.  Again, I don't know many people in the ward, so I was relying on my counselors' advice and good, old-fashioned faith that we'd call the right people.

Well, we survived the first few weeks of January, no children need therapy (that we know of), and we have called eight new teachers that seem just awesome.  And tonight, we knocked out the only two meetings we are required to hold for the year--Eight is Great and Priesthood Preview--which we held back-to-back at the church.

When I plunked this box of meeting props on my counter tonight at 8:30, I heaved a big sigh of relief.  I told myself back in December that if I could just get through January, the rest of my Primary year would be a breeze.

Of course, I may be singing a different tune come Fall when the Primary Sacrament Meeting  Program is upon us, but tonight, I feel pretty good.  Now, I can put on my jammies and go upstairs to watch Lady Sybil die after having her baby.  I've earned a good cry.