I’m writing this entry sandwiched between working furiously on some lesson plan stuff and a much-needed trip to Whole Foods. And excuse me, HOW is it August 10 already??? Does the calender not realize that not only do I have a million things to do before school starts, but my morning sickness seems to have been replaced almost entirely with what I can only describe as narcolepsy?
Although let me just take a moment to say: Four days without throwing up once. The sun is shining and the birds are singing, God is smiling upon me.
But. I went to my nice little teacher conference, and it was very Fun and Educational and Inspiring. And to all intents and purposes, it gave me an Existential Crisis. I will now stop Capitalizing Things. Ahem.
You would think that being inspired and excited, and having a thousand ideas for my classroom would just be good and uncomplicated and all. But I spent the first half of the conference going between frantically writing notes and pouting because, Crap! I won’t be teaching much longer!
And then a Fabulous Co-Worker, who could seriously solve any problem in the world (and this is quite a statement coming from me, for I am a notoriously persistent problem-haver, with untold skills in taking your solution and turning it into an even bigger problem) suggested a way that I could teach full-time and have the baby nearby or with me all day. The jerk. The co-worker, not the baby.
And the problem with THAT (see how I just did that?) is that I have always been firmly in the Stay At Home Mommy camp. Not so firmly that I think mommies who work are bad and evil, or anything of the sort. But firmly enough that I have never really considered any alternatives. I made it very clear to Joey when we got engaged that this was a HUGE priority for me, and he agreed.
Loving my career was never actually in my life plan, strange as that sounds. Having a career wasn’t, either. I chose to major in education because I already knew I liked working with children, but mostly because I thought it would be good preparation for motherhood whilst I pursued that all-important MRS degree.
Am not exaggerating. Ashamed, but not exaggerating.
But then I got into my education courses and my practicums and hands-on experiences, and further into educational theory and psychology, and those delicious hypothetical discussions of what would you do if x happened? And lesson plans. The list could go on and on, but the bottom line is that to my guilty surprise, I realized that I had accidentaly picked a major that I passionately loved. And I threw myself into it, whole-heartedly. I seriously love teaching. It hardly seems fair to note that I got married two weeks after graduation, but that’s how it happened.
Karmically, I think this would be a more balanced story if I devoted my life to teaching in impoverished and exotic locales, never married, and was modifying behavior and imparting knowledge with my dying breath. Which was my plan, actually, until I met Joey.
So cool, I love teaching. But I also know how draining and exhausting it can be, so I thought my original plan of being a stay-at-hom-mom was a pretty good one. Until I realized that I Just. Can’t. Give. It. Up. Somehow it became a huge part of me. In the ongoing theme of having my cake and eating it too, I’m going to try this. And if it isn’t an absolutely wonderful way for my baby to be raised, we’ll just make a different cake. Or something. Insert clever cake-metaphor here.
