
Anyone who knows me knows how much I want to stay at home with the kids. I never expected I would be a working mom, long before I had kids. I never envisioned anything else besides staying at home. I was young, and oh, so naive. My mom stayed home with us, and I just expected I would too.
When Nicolette was born, we tried to make it work, but it just wasn't in the cards. Jon worked in sales at the time, and a lot of his salary was commission, and we just couldn't do a never-know-what-you're-going-to-get salary. So, back to work I went. I held onto hope that when the next baby came, we would make it work. Low and behold, just 7 short months later we found out we were expecting, and there wansn't time to make things work for our family. Heck, it was not even four months after I went back to work.
So here I sit, on my precious weekend days off, counting down the days till summer vacation, just like I've done every spring since I was five. Counting the days till I get over two, uninteruppted, months off to bask in the sunshine with my littles and play till we can't keep our eyes open any longer. Two months to teach them about the world, and all the things they will need to know when they are "big". Two months to make up for all the days I was at work and wasn't able to kiss them and hug them all day long or have picnics in the yard. Two months to take them to the library, and the zoo, and all the other fun places we missed out on during the last ten months of the year.
You might think I am being a bit dramatic, but it's hard to let go of a dream, one I want more than anything else. Yes, I know I am providing for my kids by working and yes, they are getting "great socialization", but people, they are years and moments I can never get back. One day, hopefully not soon, they will not long for their mommy and they will have friends to be their companions.
I have such guilt for working, even though I know I have to work and it's what is best for our family right now. I know I have a great job- only working 35 hours a week, having 26+/- days off in addition to summer vacation, and I am grateful. I don't want to take that for granted. In some respects, I feel a lot luckier than most, for many reasons, but that doesn't mean I don't feel the guilt. Because of it, I try my hardest to love my kids better when I am home, hug them more, make them laugh more and squeeze in all the things we would be doing if I was at home. It's just never enough though. There is never enough time in the day to make that happen and that's when it hurts. I, at times, try to rationalize it all my head, but I always come back to the guilt. As if moms who stay home are somehow better moms to their kids. Of course I know I am a fabulous mom (love that word, btw), but I feel like my kids are getting cheated by me not being home. In the fall, Nicolette will go to pre-school three days a week. I will never get to take her there, or pick her up. I'm happy Jon will get that job, and we're lucky that he will be able to do it, but I secretly (or maybe not a secret anymore... lol) wish it were me. Instead I will be taking care of other people's kids. It doesn't seem fair, and it's just not the same.
I have such a hard time with this. I feel jealous of all moms who get to stay at home. I hate that I feel jealousy and envy, and I am trying to "heal" myself. Posting this, for instance, I'm hoping, will help me to heal my broken heart- the dream I am still holding onto. I grew up learning to never give up on my dreams. Lets see, I have three more years to make something happen and maybe that dream will become a reality. We will see...
I do feel slightly better, just for letting it all out. The guilt will continue, I'm sure, because as I am writing this, my kids are playing alone and I feel bad. Playing alone can be a good thing, right?? I must get going, to read books to the munchkins!