FIVE more days of Summer.
Where has the time gone?
One month ago, Luke changed his mind about going to Kentucky and decided to spend the month of July with us. We got our house project finished, replacing all of the siding on the house, painting the trim, and putting in a new patio door.
Two months ago, I got that sweet taste of freedom, a.k.a. summer vacation as I stood in front of the buses and waved "buh bye" to 600 elementary kids with my fellow staff.
Now it's all over (k, dramatic...) and a new chapter is beginning. This chapter is called, "How to be a working mom and not cry hysterically when you drop your kid off at day care." Catchy, right?
A few days ago, I went to Target (where else?) to get Noelle's "things" for day care. I had to get new diapers and wipes, Kleenx, a spare pacifier, etc. I got teary eyed in the diaper aisle because I realized this was the baby girl's first school supply list.
Today, I dropped off those supplies and some additional paperwork to the day care. As I brought Noelle into the room where she would be spending 8 hours a day in for the next 9 months, I got choked up again. Her beautiful name was written in letters on the wall, on her cubby drawer, and on a name tag above the crib that would be hers. She wasn't phased by any of this, but I just couldn't help but feel sad. One of the girls working there was holding a little guy, maybe about 10-11 months old, rocking him because he was sad and missing his mommy & daddy. I just wanted to pick him up and hold him. I couldn't help thinking that this could be my little girl in a week...missing me, and me not being able to do anything about it.
It's so bittersweet to be a working mom. Right now, it is not an option. I am a provider for my family. I am THE provider for my family. And to be honest, that sucks. I want to be taken care of. Never in my youngster fairy tale dreams did I fantasize about being the breadwinner on a teacher's salary. However, I know that this is a means to an end, and it won't be like this forever (this has become our motto in our house). I know that Luke is working so hard, and I know he feels bad that he doesn't bring in any income. I know that we are 10 months away from him graduating, which will be here before we know it. I know that in one week, I must put on pants that have a button and a zipper for the first time all summer, and I will be grateful because I have a job...a job that many, many people would want...and a job that provides for my family.
However, knowing that a side effect of this job is giving up my baby girl feels like getting punched in the stomach. I LOVE that baby girl. I know her better than anyone. I know her cries. I know what she needs. I know how to make her smile. I know that her toes rarely uncurl and her belly button is a half-innie, half-outie. I know how many hairs are on her head and that the one freckle on her whole body is on her right leg. I know how many rolls are on her chubby thighs and that she giggles when you sing her the theme song from "The Hills." I pray it isn't long before the people at the day care begin to know all the things that make her so special.
I am worried she will become needy for attention. I am worried she will be scared and not know where I am. I am worried she will get sick. I am worried she will think I abandoned her. I am your typical first-time mom, about to trust other people with her child...and I am worried, but I know I made a good decision...and she will be OK.
I love my job. I am proud of what I do. I am proud of my degree and that I use it every day. Teaching makes me a better person for me and for my family. But I am most proud of that little nugget sleeping in her crib right now...and proud of who she already is and of who she will be in the days and years to come.
New chapter, you better be a good one.
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