April 26, 2012

 Since long work days and a four hour commute have taken their toll on my husband, he opted to stay in a hotel last night.  We understood.  Coming home at 11 pm. and returning at 3:30 am was not an option.  Once the kids were asleep, I called him back and we talked about our days.  I think I was going down the list of things we had accomplished in a short six hour span since the kids had come home from school, when he interrupted teasingly, "What are you going to do when you only work one day a week?"

Immediately, several things came to mind.  Just that day I had sent an email to the Faith Formation Leader at church asking what days classes would be held next year so that I could hopefully volunteer.  Then there is that Parent Participation pre-school I always wanted to send the kids to, but never could because I worked mornings.  I also plan on doing a bible study because that is something I have always wanted to do but never can seem to fit it in --with my morning hours and the fact that evenings aren't an option with Ernie's schedule, then there's that Etsy shop I promised to help mom with...

But I think it's the little things that I am most looking forward to.  Making breakfast, doing hair, getting up and putting on my workout clothes, doing my workout after I've walked the kids across the street--before I get myself all ready for the day.  Then there is the volunteering in the classroom I hope to do if grandma will help out with the baby. Oh, wait--the baby will be ready for preschool twice a week after November!! How did that happen!?

How is it that I have already worked part time for five years?  Five years ago, taking that leap seemed unfathomable--we didn't know financially how it was going to happen but we did it.  It seems to me in the past few years our perspectives have shifted from what the world deems as important or status symbols to what we believe to be the most important: raising our kids.  Even harder?  Raising them  in a world that is more focused on keeping up with the Jones'.  Itty bitty bits of that creep in (his Porsche dream) but ultimately, we don't need multiple residences, luxurious vacations, or designer clothes to make us happy.  Happiness is being together, living within our means and knowing that we are doing our best with raising our kids.

Does it take sacrifice?  Yes. Does it take patience.  Yes, some days a lot more than others.  Does it take relying on my Heavenly Father to lead us?  Absolutely.  And that right there does not come easily.  Some mornings, I want to keep pressing the snooze button instead of spending time in the word.  Some Sundays (especially if E is working), I don't want to go to church and wrangle a two-year-old through the hour and twenty minute service.  And sometimes, when this friend is returning full time, or that friend is going part time--and I'm listening and conversing and trying to be actively engaged in the conversation, until I realize: no, I don't get it. I don't want to get it.  I choose this life for us for now. . .and then I feel kind of bad about it because not so long ago, I really did get it.

But then again, . . .maybe I never really did after all. Because I have always wanted to stay home--even when I knew it was not an option.  When I got pregnant with our first, I knew that I had to go back to work.  And I accepted that.  And I did my job really well, but in my heart I still desired to be home. . .somewhere down the road.

I grew up with a mom that always worked full time. She still managed to make dinners and we had home made lunches some kids were envious of, but I can't recall her ever being a part of our holiday parties, or helping in the classroom, or waiting in the pick up line for us.  My proudest days were when she would come to the school and give these awesome presentations about the importance of keeping our teeth healthy. That was my mom up there!  But I also recall feeling so carefree and happy in the seventh grade when she gave birth to my little brother.  She took an extended leave and I remember coming home to a house full of baking smells and the dishwasher had already been emptied and there wasn't laundry I had to fold.  I didn't have to pull as much weight because my mom was home. There was just something comforting about knowing she was there.

Thank God, I am here on this road where mom being home is an option.  Being home with these kids, raising them, investing in their hearts and souls is not a responsibility I take lightly.  I think the bad days come as a result of feeling my failures as a mom.  Maybe I was impatient, mean, or unwilling to take the time to really listen. . .it could be any or all three on any given day. And then I question if this place is the right place for me.  Wouldn't the classroom be so much easier?  For a while, maybe.  But that too, would chip away at my energy, my patience, my enthusiasm and I might only have morsels to bring home to my own little ones. Perhaps.

I am feeling so blessed for this opportunity to breathe into my daughters that they can be anything they want to be.  My job here at home is as important as the one that requires my college and master's degrees (if not more so--my own opinion).  Both are hard. Both require a ton of time, dedication, and energy.  Both are possible. . .somewhere down the road.