At this point, I'm glad I didn't marry a prospective lawyer or doctor (my kudos to Holly and Eliza...not sure how you girls do it!). A two-year, part-time Masters of Accounting program and or MBA is sounding like plenty enough school to put my husband through at the moment.
While Scott is busy getting started on the road to a career, I'm...well...I guess I'm doing the same thing. At home.
Raising my daughter is my career now. And you know what? I'm not sad about it. Yes, I get cabin fever quite often. And on days like yesterday, when Kevin and I are both sickly and Scott is gone from 7:45 am until 10:30 pm with only an hour break for dinner around 4:00, it means I want to pull my hair out.
Only I don't have very much hair, so I refrain from doing that.
He sends me texts during class, just to check on his girls. He took the iPod, so he can chat with me and it ends in pep talks that we give each other. This was last night's:
.
Scott: I miss both of you
Tonight is torture
me: Yeah...what would you know about it?
7:07 PM Scott: Business tax
Ugh
Missing my girls...
me: Crying baby. Dirty dishes. Inside of an apartment that I haven't left in 24 hours.
7:08 PM Scott: You win. Sorry babe
7:09 PM Want me to come home early?
7:12 PM I take that as a yes
7:14 PM me: no
we can't get into that habit
7:15 PM Scott: I know. I'll do my best
me: this sucks
7:16 PM Scott: I know it does babe
:(
me: bad
7:17 PM Scott: You should get a little ice cream and put on a movie
7:18 PM me: already did
Scott: Which movie?
7:22 PM Is baby super cranky ?
7:26 PM me: YES
7:27 PM Scott: That makes me so sad
me: Nothing is helping and she won't let me put her to bed...I think she is missing you.
7:28 PM Scott: I can come home after this class
me: You need to stay for your other class babe. We'll survive.
Somehow.
7:29 PM Scott: What If I don't make it that long?
me: you have to
7:30 PM Scott: It's not fair to you. You are stuck with cranky pants all the time
me: I'm her mom. I signed up for this.
7:31 PM Scott: I still don't feel it's fair
| 6 minutes |
7:37 PM Scott: Thank you for the sacrifices that you make for our family. I feel like you have to sacrifice so much.
| 32 minutes |
8:10 PM me: I don't have to sacrifice anything. The worst sacrifice would be to let someone else raise my baby while I worked at some job I hated. Staying home with her is no sacrifice at all.
It seems to me that the days and weeks are getting longer, but the months are going faster.
Even when the long days end in exhaustion and begin in fatigue, I am so grateful to be where I am right now. Before my daughter was born, I got a lot of flack from my professors for "putting my dreams" on hold in order to raise my family. I think that in today's society there is the misunderstanding that you can have your cake and eat it too--a woman shouldn't have to put career goals on hold "just" for a family. Who knows? Maybe another woman can have a family and a career at the same time. In fact, some of my very best friends are doing just that. I have learned, however, that this is not the case for me. In my mind, finding a career other than the one I am pursuing right now means that I have two smaller pieces of cake instead of a big piece with the possibility of seconds later.
It's interesting to me how being a stay-at-home mom has become somewhat of a controversial topic in today's society. There are times that I hold my tongue in a church discussion or a conversation with friends because I know that what I believe deep in my heart might not be a welcome comment. It's not that I think my mom friends who work love their children any less. I know they love their babies as much as I love mine. And it's not that the decision to work isn't right for them. I'm in no position to say whether it is or it isn't. All I can say is what I feel is right for me. And what I feel, right now, is this:
If I were to pursue another career right now, I would have to miss out on those sweet little somethings that make all this worth it day in and day out. Something like the look on my baby's face when she wakes up from her morning nap (or the look on her face after 15 minutes of crying and you go to rescue her because you've both figured out she isn't going down for a nap right now). Something like reading One Fish, Two Fish and Goodnight Moon for the hundreth time in a week. Something like sleep training and food training. Something like that loneliness that comes when your main interaction for the day is with a child so young she can barely form syllables and even those aren't on purpose. Something like working on tummy time and sitting time and teaching the very basic of the basics--this is how you swallow solid food, this is how you roll over, this is how you grab a toy, this is what the toy is for, this is how you smile, this is a reason to smile. Something like realizing that she has the same look on her face that you have on yours when her daddy finally walks through the door. Something like a quiet moment of eye contact as she finishes yet another bottle and you realize that you can see your reflection in her eyes just like you can see it when you look into her dad's eyes. Something like realizing you are what makes both of those sets of eyes sparkle.
The time is going to pass anyway. Someday I will get a master's degree and write a best-seller. It doesn't matter whether I do that at 25 or 45 or 65, the accomplishment will be the same. The opportunity will be there. But these first five years of my daughter's life? They will go away. Quickly. So I will hold on to this time and prepare both her and myself for the day when things have to be different. I will not give up my opportunity to instill in her a solid foundation that will help her make her way in this world. How can I expect my children to function in a world as dangerous as today's if I don't spend every day dedicating myself first and foremost to helping them build their armor? I simply don't trust anyone else to do this job.
So we'll keep plugging along through the lonely weeknights and busy weekends and sinks full of dishes and rooms full of messes and schedules full of making baby food and picking up toys and driving Daddy to class and singing lullabies and never having time to shower properly.
This is my piece of cake.
It is huge.
And it is delicious.
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