Tuesday, June 10, 2003
Heather: I've done my good deed for the day.
On my way in this morning, I saw a red minivan headed southbound in the median. The driver got out and it looked like an older lady with the fake orangey-brown hair. What did I do? I got out the cell phone and called it in. I was so proud of myself that I even knew it was south of 26 Mile Road. That's why you have a cell phone.
Today is the last day of school. It could be, if I get my way, my last day of working outside the home for the forseeable future. I miss my kids. My heart wasn't in it this year but I tried. I'm willing to live without all kinds of things and I'm a good enough cook that we won't starve, either. Fruit, veggies, pasta and rice aren't that expensive. We'll manage.
These seven days have given me a chance to say goodbye, to be sure of my feelings. Get my yearbook and collect my desk paraphernalia. There are some aspects I know I'll miss, like being with adults daily. Some people I know I'll miss more than others, but none are a particular thorn in my side.
It seems ironic to me that this job, the one that I was so grateful to have four years ago, that I pined for and dreamt of for four and a half years after graduating from college, has become something akin to a burden. Two years ago I loved it. I still enjoy it but something (motherhood) has bumped it from the top spot.
I asked my mother if she missed work after she started having kids (she'd been a secretary--hey, it was the late '60's). The tone in which she said "No" wasn't wistful; it bordered on contempt. Absolutely not.
My sister is a stay-at-home mom; my brother's wife has the day-care at home so she's able to stay home with their daughter. I've been looking forward to this summer since July, when I recall saying, "125 more days of leaving my daughter! The school year is 185, but 60 I'll be off on maternity leave! Hooray!"
The numbers are going to get crunched this Friday night. Say a prayer for us.
On my way in this morning, I saw a red minivan headed southbound in the median. The driver got out and it looked like an older lady with the fake orangey-brown hair. What did I do? I got out the cell phone and called it in. I was so proud of myself that I even knew it was south of 26 Mile Road. That's why you have a cell phone.
Today is the last day of school. It could be, if I get my way, my last day of working outside the home for the forseeable future. I miss my kids. My heart wasn't in it this year but I tried. I'm willing to live without all kinds of things and I'm a good enough cook that we won't starve, either. Fruit, veggies, pasta and rice aren't that expensive. We'll manage.
These seven days have given me a chance to say goodbye, to be sure of my feelings. Get my yearbook and collect my desk paraphernalia. There are some aspects I know I'll miss, like being with adults daily. Some people I know I'll miss more than others, but none are a particular thorn in my side.
It seems ironic to me that this job, the one that I was so grateful to have four years ago, that I pined for and dreamt of for four and a half years after graduating from college, has become something akin to a burden. Two years ago I loved it. I still enjoy it but something (motherhood) has bumped it from the top spot.
I asked my mother if she missed work after she started having kids (she'd been a secretary--hey, it was the late '60's). The tone in which she said "No" wasn't wistful; it bordered on contempt. Absolutely not.
My sister is a stay-at-home mom; my brother's wife has the day-care at home so she's able to stay home with their daughter. I've been looking forward to this summer since July, when I recall saying, "125 more days of leaving my daughter! The school year is 185, but 60 I'll be off on maternity leave! Hooray!"
The numbers are going to get crunched this Friday night. Say a prayer for us.
