So I've been quiet here on the blogging front because I've been thick in the process of stewing.
I was, crazily enough, offered a job. Out of the blue. Which brought me a tremendous amount of excitement because I would be teaching again on a part-time basis.
Within 10-12 hours, however, the excitement and enthusiasm was diminished greatly because by that time I was sitting in a vat of hot guilt.
Sometimes I think life gives you exactly what you want just to show you what a dumb-ass you were for wanting what you said you wanted. Oh, and to make you a better, stronger person. But mostly the first thing.
I wanted 3 kids, and I got 3 kids, and I love my 3 kids, but I am.....9 years into this stay-at-home mothering gig.....almost SICK TO DEATH OF IT!
I am experiencing full-throttle burn-out.
I'm tired of being with at least 1 of my children constantly. Every single day. From sun-up until sun-down.
I'm tired of not having enough time to complete small projects.
I'm tired of grocery shopping at 10 pm on the weekend just so I can avoid shopping with kids in tow (and spending 25% more of my budget just because of their incessant haranguing).
I'm tired of being in the MOMS Club and doing play dates and playing Lego each and every day.
I'm tired of talking to perfect strangers like they are long-lost friends because they might be the only adult I've chatted with in 7 hours.
I'm tired of feeling guilty going to get a haircut or doing anything that is not in some way chore-related.
And yet, as tired as I am of this, when offered a job I declined to take it.
(Smack your hand to your forehead, if you feel the need. I'll pause.)
Because to do so would mean I would be away from M during his last 2 years before he begins elementary school.
Because to do so would mean I wouldn't have spent a full 5 years with him, as I have with N and G.
Because even considering doing so made me feel stressed and angry and guilty.
Because if I live to be 90 and I look back on my life, I might regret not having that time with him. What if he dies at age 7? (God-forbid, but what if?)
I made my choice to stay-at-home with my kids. For better or worse. Right now, I'm in that worse spot. It seems likely that I've been here before (although I don't really remember because chronic sleep deprivation does that to a person).
A valley. There will be a peak.
I think it will begin on M's first day of preschool when I have some much-needed and long-awaited time to myself.
(And then once I have all three kids in full-time school, you better believe I'm going to start rediscovering the creative, awesome professional Carrie.)
I was, crazily enough, offered a job. Out of the blue. Which brought me a tremendous amount of excitement because I would be teaching again on a part-time basis.
Within 10-12 hours, however, the excitement and enthusiasm was diminished greatly because by that time I was sitting in a vat of hot guilt.
Sometimes I think life gives you exactly what you want just to show you what a dumb-ass you were for wanting what you said you wanted. Oh, and to make you a better, stronger person. But mostly the first thing.
I wanted 3 kids, and I got 3 kids, and I love my 3 kids, but I am.....9 years into this stay-at-home mothering gig.....almost SICK TO DEATH OF IT!
I am experiencing full-throttle burn-out.
I'm tired of being with at least 1 of my children constantly. Every single day. From sun-up until sun-down.
I'm tired of not having enough time to complete small projects.
I'm tired of grocery shopping at 10 pm on the weekend just so I can avoid shopping with kids in tow (and spending 25% more of my budget just because of their incessant haranguing).
I'm tired of being in the MOMS Club and doing play dates and playing Lego each and every day.
I'm tired of talking to perfect strangers like they are long-lost friends because they might be the only adult I've chatted with in 7 hours.
I'm tired of feeling guilty going to get a haircut or doing anything that is not in some way chore-related.
And yet, as tired as I am of this, when offered a job I declined to take it.
(Smack your hand to your forehead, if you feel the need. I'll pause.)
Because to do so would mean I would be away from M during his last 2 years before he begins elementary school.
Because to do so would mean I wouldn't have spent a full 5 years with him, as I have with N and G.
Because even considering doing so made me feel stressed and angry and guilty.
Because if I live to be 90 and I look back on my life, I might regret not having that time with him. What if he dies at age 7? (God-forbid, but what if?)
I made my choice to stay-at-home with my kids. For better or worse. Right now, I'm in that worse spot. It seems likely that I've been here before (although I don't really remember because chronic sleep deprivation does that to a person).
A valley. There will be a peak.
I think it will begin on M's first day of preschool when I have some much-needed and long-awaited time to myself.
(And then once I have all three kids in full-time school, you better believe I'm going to start rediscovering the creative, awesome professional Carrie.)
1 comment:
I understand and may have made same choice. I also feel same way about carrying through my intention to be a mom and raise my kids. I also encourage you to think of life as seasons and not as all or never (which you are already doing well) and so honking that this pattern that is not fun and endless will actually end and I will be 50 and there will be no Legos or breastfeeding on sight and I can teach at a college and sip tea before it goes cold.
Post a Comment