Work has taken on a whole new meaning for me lately. I've made the transition, you see, between working in the workplace to working IN the home. I love that phrase, 'I work in the home' versus 'I work outside the home'. I'm not sure which frustrated woman started this, but if I could thank her I would. I remember hearing this phrase a lifetime ago, and I must admit I probably chuckled a little bit. 'Oh here we go, this woman doesn't want ANYONE to dare think she's not working hard so she has to use that friggin' phrase. God forbid someone doesn't give her credit for changing diapers and washing dishes.'
I'm really sorry. I was 23. I couldn't help it.
So, I have a whole new appreciation for the phrase now. Because it IS work. Lordy lordy, is it ever. I've never multi-tasked like this. I've never balanced and managed quite like this. And I've never been so friggin' tired. Ever. My husband, bless his heart, knows how hard it is. Or at least he pretends to know. He even says, 'I have it easy, going to work everyday. It's like a vacation compared to what you do here all day long.' See? So smart. I don't even care if he's buttering me up. I don't even care if he's saying to ensure that he'll get some lovin' now and again. I really don't. I just like hearing it.
I actually thought about my OLD workday, as a school teacher. Rigorous, absolutely. Days included working in classrooms, small group instruction, departmental meetings, team meetings, administrative meetings, after school meetings, writing education plans, collaboration with other teachers, lunch duty, cafeteria duty, bus duty, parent meetings, and progress report writing. I'm forgetting many things, I'm sure, but that's ballpark. It was work, but it was fun! I got to work with great children and great adults, and my day was peppered with many laughs and many opportunities to go potty on my own, have a snack when I wanted, and strolls down the hall to think about my next step, my next meeting, my after-school plans.
Here's how it went today: 2:30 am, nurse the baby, bottle feed to top her off. 5:30 am, ditto. 8:30 (I know, it seems super late but I'll take sleep in pretty much any form these days) the whole house is awake, and diaper duty starts. Breakfast prepared for toddler with finicky desires and Celiac Disease (started out as gluten free cocoa krispies with soy milk, quickly de-escalated to a Hebrew National hotdog and sauteed potatoes and broccoli from the night before), I eat (shovel) and baby gets her favorite boob/bottle combo. Pack small diaper bag for 'Mother Goose is on the Loose' story hour, planning for toddler snacks, bottles for infant, water for me. Manage hungry toddler through aforementioned story hour (especially when she has full-bodied tantrum because I dare put her snack away so she can bang on the drum, or wave the scarf or pretend to be a monkey), manage further another child who is obsessed with the buckle of my youngest daughter's seat, apologize to other mothers because I have snacks and they don't and their kids want some, and then pile children back into car. And that's all before 11:30. I'll stop there. You get the picture.
Don't misunderstand; it's the best job I've ever had. Highest job satisfaction rate I can imagine. Bonus hugs aplenty. And then perks I could never have envisioned before, like riding back from a story hour and seeing that my two girls are looking at each other and smiling, the oldest one reaching over to her baby sister.
So yes, I miss the hustle and bustle of work life, and the different identity it gave me. But this? I wouldn't miss this for the world, and I'm lucky I don't have to.
