makes for one real crabby mama. I knew long before Henry was born that I would be a “working mom”. That term in and of itself is funny to me…as if any mom isn’t “working” with or without air quotes ALL THE FREAKING TIME. #feminist
Anyways I work full time because like the majority of American families, we need the double income. But I don’t just work….I have a career; one that I was at one time very passionate about. You know this “teaching” thing that I’ve written some real sassy blog posts about? Yeah that’s been like my thing; it’s how I identified myself after I FINALLY graduated from college.
Side note I was not a fifth year senior; I was just a passionate idiot about French…so much so that I got my masters in it….dummy. Seriously, every time I tell this story I feel like bitch slapping myself across the face because…..I spent three years reading literature written in the 16th, 17th (Vive Molière! -sorry French joke), 18th, and 19th centuries. I watched all my friends get jobs, start their lives, etc while I sat in a corner and read Molière with a GIANT French-French dictionary on one side of me and a GIANT French to English dictionary on the other side … and post-its and papers and different color highlighters and popcorn and candy wrappers littered across my room. Oh and my French boyfriend in the other room whining about his tennis elbow….more on that later. Oh and my bottle of Adderall and my other bottle of Xanax on my dresser….uh oh…too real for you? I mean who can honestly say they read, analyzed, and wrote about French literature for 3 (really 4 if you count my last year of undergrad) years without developing some sort of social anxiety/ADHD disorder?
My point is…I was so damn passionate about French, that I had to get my Masters in it, and when it came time to get a job, I was in the same pay “lane” as someone who had a Masters in Curriculum and Instruction. No offense to those who hold this degree, but LBR (let’s be real), they’re not the same thing. #whycan’tIevertaketheeasyroute
And that is why teaching French has been my thing…..my whole being has been focused on that for so much of my life that when we had a baby, I was like WHAT THE FRENCH? I love this baby more than teaching? And there are not enough hours in the day to be equally passionate about your career and your kid??? You’ve got to be FRENCHING kidding me!!??!! Thus, like every new mommy, the struggle began and the internal monologue went something like this…
Plan A ~ Lesson plan/grade during nap time after I wake up from my own nap, or maybe I don’t have to stare at him and talk to him during every free moment; maybe he can just look at the millions of visual stimuli that are surrounding him…but can he even see? oh wait…I actually prefer to stare at him because he’s literally a beautiful miracle and I/we made him. And I’m secretly afraid he’s going to die at any minute because I’m a terrible mother and didn’t breastfeed and ate hot dogs while pregnant. Also I cut his finger when trying to trim his nails and it bled a lot, so now he’s going to bleed out. Or he got a sunburn when I took him outside for 10 minutes so that we both could breathe fresh air, but then I got scared that it was too much fresh air, so we came back in. P.S. none of these thoughts are jokes – they are true things that went through my head during those first 3 months of motherhood; even the part about the hot dogs. 😦 Don’t judge. You should have seen me when his little circumcision ring and his belly button fell off at the same moment, in the same DAY. I almost called an ambulance.
Ok, new Plan B ~ …lesson plan after husband comes home and then I can really focus; oh wait…I’m exhausted and I haven’t seen my husband all day (or talked to another adult for that matter or maybe I haven’t even spoken?) so I need/want to talk to him too. Oh and now the baby’s awake and my husband’s home, so what a cute family we are on the couch watching the Cubs! Did I mention I’m exhausted? Also, who’s making dinner?
Ok, Plan C ~ ….F**k the lesson planning, there are thousands of teachers out there who don’t work nearly as hard as I do, and their students are fine. Mine will survive as well. Besides, it’s about damn time I focus on myself and my family………but I’ll just cut out these puzzles while he’s napping.
And then TWO came…….he hates naps now, so I survive the post day-care witching hours of 4-6 p.m. with him and lesson plan/grade when he goes to bed early at 7…oh wait….it’s now 8 p.m. and he is still refusing to brush his teeth. I’m doing all the things …. “Henry, it makes Mommy sad when you don’t listen.”, “Henry, look Mommy’s brushing her teeth and it’s so fun! Wanna join?”, “Henry, you have 5 seconds to start brushing your teeth or you have a time out……side note – time outs are usually in his room, where he is going anyway after he brushes his teeth…clearly I have not thought this one through. And finally the frustration mounts and I feel my dad’s temper burning inside me screaming to be let out….”HENRY BRUSH YOUR DAMN TEETH!” Yes, it happened …. I swore at my child and I yelled, both actions that are considered fairly poor parenting according to literally ALL the books. And guess what …. he still didn’t brush his teeth. I ended up cradling his body, holding his arms down, and pushing the toothbrush through his pursed lips in the hopes that some of the “pea-sized amount” of toothpaste would make it to his teeth. And if you’re wondering if he swallowed the toothpaste, he did and it contained fluoride and I was so pissed at the time that it probably was more than the suggested “pea-sized amount”. Sometimes peas can be different sizes?!?! Also, if he gets a tummy ache, he deserves it; that’s what he gets for waging WWIII on me! Uh-oh those are not appropriate thoughts…..definitely frowned upon by society.
He falls asleep half an hour later, after a book, some snuggles, and 18 kisses because HELLO?!? I love him – he’s my beautiful miracle that I/we made, and honestly even if he was an actual watermelon like my pregnancy app said right before he was born, when you carry someone for 10 months (it’s really 10), then labor for 30 hours and finally push a human out of your body and then recover physically from it, even though you’re never quite emotionally “right” …. you f*cking love that watermelon in spite of yourself. Did I lesson plan that night? What do you think?
The score now: HENRY: 2 MY CAREER: 0.
Midlife Yogi 