March 27th - Figures & Self Control

I figured out something:

Drop-off at 7:15, pick up no later than 4:15. 9 hours a day at Shannon's, hopefully a minimum of 2 hours of naptime a day there, so 7 waking hours a day a Shannon's, times 5 days a week = 35 waking hours a week at her sitter's.

1/2 hour awake time every morning (more probably, but I'll be conservative) with us before we leave. 4 hours (4pm - 8pm) in the evening. 4.5 hours a day time 5 days a week = 22.5 hours on the weekdays ...

Awake on weekends aprox. 11 hours (13-14 hours a day, plus 2 hours of naptime, minimum). 2 days of this = 22 hours on weekends. 22 + 22.5 = 44.5.

Maddie is with us more hours than she's with her sitter. Victory, baby.

Plus we have Spring Break coming up. And SUMMER.
Ok, I feel better now.

I haven't worked in almost 5 months. It'll be 5 months next Tuesday. I can't think of a longer period of time that I haven't been working somewhere since I was 16. Of course I wasn't working for a while in college - well, I was working my butt off there, I was just paying instead, of being paid. Didn't work for 5 months. And really it's been the hardest 5 months of my life, and the best. Heck, it's definitely been the most exhausting 5 months on record. Well, onto a new balance in life, I guess. Going to be a working mamma, having it all, career and family.

Truthfully you can't come up with a better non-home-based career than teaching if you're going to be a mom. First of all, it's centered around children. They know kids, and they understand all the truly bonkers things they do - and understand why you might be late because there was gum in your car's ignition, and so on. Or that you had to change your shirt 4 times because baby spit-up just doesn't smell all that great after the sun hits it. But you also get decent hours - a tad early for my taste. I don't think we should start till 9:30. But that's my lazy butt for ya. And you have breaks, summer, etc. It's the good life.

It's not like I have a choice. Our mortgage payment says I have to go back to work. There's just other worries, too. See, you can feel simultaneously judged for having a job that gives you so much time to be with your kid (lazy teachers!) and judged for wanting to have that job and not stay home with your kid (selfish mother!). It's the good life.

Sorry, being meladramatic, but if you read this regularly you know I swing that way. I'm going to blame the hormones as long as I can, screw it. But oh, the worries: Will she be ok? Will she eat for Shannon? Will she take naps? Will Shannon's willful 3 year-old bounce toys off Maddie's soft spot like she was attempting to do yesterday? Only time will tell.

Will I be ok? After I drop her off, put up a good impression of holding it together until I drive away, cry probably most of the way through Lindenwold...yeah, I probably will be ok. It'll get easier every mile, and by the time I hit Marlton I'll probably have mentally dug out and dusted off my "Mrs. D." hat, and let the "Mommy" one have the day off for a change. I'm really looking forward to teaching again. I'm also looking forward to the units I've planned, the school events, my friends, and my students. Pathetic as it sounds, I'm looking forward to having somewhere definite to go every morning. That bugged me like crazy for the last few months. And I'm really looking forward to being around lots of people all day again. I celebrate my neediness. My kid will probably enjoy some one else's constant chatter for a change, come to think of it.

And to those of you who are thinking "Good LORD you're a mess! Why such a big deal about going back to work? You'll see the baby when you get home, geez!" (I do a pretty good impression, no?) I restate the words I scoffed at before I had a kid: You never understand until you have one of your own. I used to think that was crap. Now I think it's gospel. That sweet baby smell, that warm heavy softness on your arm, those feather-curls against your cheek as she rests her head on your shoulder... you think of that as you drive away, and unless you excercise a great deal of self-control, you'll rush back to whatever daycare arrangement you have and cancel it forever on the first day you finally go back to the working world. That baby is the most important thing you've ever done, every bit of your life, energy, and love gets poured into her every day. And you're handing her over to a well-meaning person who's basically a stranger. Self-control...

It's getting late, and *gasp!* tonight's a school night. Well, my bags are packed (I'm ready to go, I'm standin' here outside your door. I hate to wake you up to say goodbyeeeeee...). My rolling crate is full of pictures, pens, and the spinny desk organizer thing I got at Staples. Ready to go? Um, no, not really. But I think I'll be pretty good when I get there.

Wish me self-control.