This isn't what I wanted for my kids.
I wanted them to have a stay at home mom. The June Cleaver type whose make up was immaculate with freshly baked cookies sitting on the counter. I wanted them to have a mom whose crafty antics made the higher powers at Pinterest jealous. I wanted them to have me as their Cub scout mom, their Girl Scout leader, their room mom, and their mom as President of the PTSA. I was going to fabulous at staying home. I was going to take it to another level. I was going to be the stay at home mom who put all the other stay at home moms to shame.
Then one night my husband (affectionately known as K from here on after) and I sat down and gave our budget a good, hard look. There was just no way. There was no feasible way for me to stay at home and be our children's caretaker and cheerleader without the finances going drier than the Sahara Desert. I'd have to start looking for jobs. Something, ANYTHING, to help get us out of the mess we had inadvertently put ourselves in. I put in applications everywhere I could think of : Fast food joints, restaurants, day care centers, old high school hang outs (I'm looking at you Hot Topic and Wet Seal). And nothing. I wasn't qualified for even the most basic of part time jobs that most sixteen year old kids get without even really trying.
Then one night my husband (affectionately known as K from here on after) and I sat down and gave our budget a good, hard look. There was just no way. There was no feasible way for me to stay at home and be our children's caretaker and cheerleader without the finances going drier than the Sahara Desert. I'd have to start looking for jobs. Something, ANYTHING, to help get us out of the mess we had inadvertently put ourselves in. I put in applications everywhere I could think of : Fast food joints, restaurants, day care centers, old high school hang outs (I'm looking at you Hot Topic and Wet Seal). And nothing. I wasn't qualified for even the most basic of part time jobs that most sixteen year old kids get without even really trying.
I had never felt so depressed, desperate and unwanted in my entire life.
Silly, isn't it? You'd think that I'd be able to take stock and look at my life as though not being able to get a job wasn't that big of a deal. I had a wonderful marriage, a loving husband, three beautiful children whom I adored with all my being. I had (and continue to have) loyal friendships, incredible relationships with my Church family, and plenty of love and support from my parents. I shouldn't have let my inability to get a minimum wage job affect me so much. And yet it did. After all, if I couldn't even get an interview for the most basic of jobs that didn't even require a High School Diploma, how the heck could I even begin to hope for a job that would cover insurance or (dare I reach too high in this hope) retirement savings? I started giving up. I stopped looking, and made up excuses to K whenever he asked. It was beginning to take a toll on the both of us, and I knew it.
Silly, isn't it? You'd think that I'd be able to take stock and look at my life as though not being able to get a job wasn't that big of a deal. I had a wonderful marriage, a loving husband, three beautiful children whom I adored with all my being. I had (and continue to have) loyal friendships, incredible relationships with my Church family, and plenty of love and support from my parents. I shouldn't have let my inability to get a minimum wage job affect me so much. And yet it did. After all, if I couldn't even get an interview for the most basic of jobs that didn't even require a High School Diploma, how the heck could I even begin to hope for a job that would cover insurance or (dare I reach too high in this hope) retirement savings? I started giving up. I stopped looking, and made up excuses to K whenever he asked. It was beginning to take a toll on the both of us, and I knew it.
I was being selfish. Despite the looming shadow of going broker than broke, I lived in the world I had wanted my children to have. I continued trying to be the perfect mom. I continued trying to best those who were better at managing their homeschooling, or their Sunday school lessons. But it had lost its allure. Its promise. I was sinking my family in troubles the more and more I ignored it. I knew it. K knew it. I just refused to accept it.
But I was back out in the field, opening myself up for disappointment. MUSC, the Medical University near Hometown, was hiring for housekeeping. Surely being a stay at home mom, I was more than qualified to clean toilets and mop up bodily fluids? After all, that had been my resume for the past three years. I didn't get the job. I didn't even get into housekeeping. Miraculously enough, I was offered something better. Engineering, they promised. I thought they were joking. But that was in September of last year, and here I am: typing out this piece from my office as it looks out over Johnathan Lucas with ambulances whizzing past every three or four minutes.
My children have a working mother now. I don't have the time nor energy to devote my entire existance to them, but I think working has endeared me to them. No longer are they annoyed with my hugs, or my kisses, or my horribly puntastic puns. Instead, they are just as excited to see me as they are to go on adventures. They're just as content to cuddle in my lap as I struggle not to fall asleep as they are with me leading them in a crafting extravaganza.
This isn't what I wanted for my children. But this is what they needed from me, and what kind of mother would I be if I didn't give them what they need?
But I was back out in the field, opening myself up for disappointment. MUSC, the Medical University near Hometown, was hiring for housekeeping. Surely being a stay at home mom, I was more than qualified to clean toilets and mop up bodily fluids? After all, that had been my resume for the past three years. I didn't get the job. I didn't even get into housekeeping. Miraculously enough, I was offered something better. Engineering, they promised. I thought they were joking. But that was in September of last year, and here I am: typing out this piece from my office as it looks out over Johnathan Lucas with ambulances whizzing past every three or four minutes.
My children have a working mother now. I don't have the time nor energy to devote my entire existance to them, but I think working has endeared me to them. No longer are they annoyed with my hugs, or my kisses, or my horribly puntastic puns. Instead, they are just as excited to see me as they are to go on adventures. They're just as content to cuddle in my lap as I struggle not to fall asleep as they are with me leading them in a crafting extravaganza.
This isn't what I wanted for my children. But this is what they needed from me, and what kind of mother would I be if I didn't give them what they need?
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