It's Spring Break 'round these parts and we've been fortunate to have decent weather. It has been cold, but not entirely uninviting. Today it has warmed up quite a bit and I'm expecting it to stay this way for the rest of the week.
My sister came to visit, and it was a good thing. I think I needed to see her as much as she needed to see me. It's harder being away from my wombmate than my other sisters- not because I don't love them, just because it is.
And like parenthesis, our week is being punctuated at the end and beginning by a visit from Josh's parents, which causes all sorts of excitement around here.
And I'm getting ready for the garden. I need to get the spinach in the ground and I've started the tomatoes. In a few days I'll start a few more things. I'm not the world's best gardener, but, like Josh, I'm enthusiastic.
My first real garden was planted the summer that I graduated college. I lived in a house with my sister, and we lived next door to Josh and his roommate, and John Wilson. We spent lots of time out in the dirt when we weren't working, and it was deeply rewarding to eat our own okra and... well I don't remember if anything else really came up. Thinking of gardening always makes me think of Josh.
I met Josh at Freed-Hardeman University in 2001. We had seen each other around a bit because he did several theatre productions with my younger sister, Laura, but we'd never really spoken. I still remember going to visit Tara one weekend and hearing about how he was finally dating someone and how they should have been dating forever ago. It was just another passing conversation at the time.
I transferred to FHU after a difficult fall semester and a bad break-up. I needed a change of scenery and All three of my sisters were there. It was a no-brainer. A couple of weeks into school I was sitting at dinner in Gano with a bunch of Tara's friends and he came in. He was flirty with everyone, and paid attention to the girl he had been dating (they'd since broken up) so after he left, everyone commented how nice it was that he was so nice to her. But we'd made eye contact and part of me hoped he wasn't still interested in her.
I'd see him in chapel, usually wearing pajama bottoms. He sat about 15 rows in front of me and I could pick out the back of his head. Cause he was balding. I didn't care. I still don't.
It's funny how warm days like today can make me think about those things. They make me think about how much it meant to me that he waited until we'd been dating 8 months to even kiss me. Once warm night we finally kissed and something in me has never been the same. We've had ups and downs and I'm sure we'll have more int he future, but spring makes it all feel new again.
Wednesday, March 16
Monday, March 7
1000 gifts, post #4
63. Having the internet at home.
64. Having my internet cut off for a few days.
65. Home made granola
66. Getting a night off at Apples of Gold
67. My Mom
68. Tara coming to visit
69. Pinterest
70. Prayer
71. Nights when Josh has class.
72. My rocking chair
73. Spring
74. Yard work
75. hyacinths
76. Baby giggles
77. Being able to teach part-time
78. New opportunities
79. Watching my children grow
80. Laughing with my husband
81. My kind in-laws
82. The power of God
64. Having my internet cut off for a few days.
65. Home made granola
66. Getting a night off at Apples of Gold
67. My Mom
68. Tara coming to visit
69. Pinterest
70. Prayer
71. Nights when Josh has class.
72. My rocking chair
73. Spring
74. Yard work
75. hyacinths
76. Baby giggles
77. Being able to teach part-time
78. New opportunities
79. Watching my children grow
80. Laughing with my husband
81. My kind in-laws
82. The power of God
at
3/07/2011
Tuesday, March 1
A Guilty Breath
Last night I sat down and made a ridiculous list of things that i would accomplish today. I didn't really accomplish any of them, but today made me feel good. Guilty, but good.
Last year at this time I was teaching at Sonshine School (a mother's day out program at our church) and at OCU on alternating days, while pregnant. Needless to say, I only had one child at the time but I was exhausted. The mother's would come to drop their children off for five hours and I would resent them. I would hate them. I would envy them beyond any measure that is normal. There was never a day when I would be able to drop my child off and spend a few hours doing grocery shopping or laundry or nap. And I loved my naps when I was pregnant.
But about a month before Sweet Caroline was born I quit. I quit working at Sonshine School, and OCU let out. And i kept sending Jonah to school. When I worked at SSS Jonah had (more or less) free tuition and the social interaction was good for him, so it made sense for him to be there. When I quit we had to pay for it. And I didn't have other obligations to blame on sending him. I spent time wandering around Target and looking at fabric in Hancock's. I napped.
We sent Jonah through the summer so that I could spend a little uninterrupted time with Caroline, but really it was that blessed magical time before Caroline and after quitting that I remember so well. The freedom that I had during that time was familiar. It was like having shackles removed. I didn't have to convince a preschooler to obey, or carry large and heavy bags everywhere that I went.
But I felt guilty, just as I did today when I dropped Jonah off at SSS again. Caroline and I had the day to wander Target, run errands that weren't that pressing, and take a nap. I was still carrying a baby, but I still felt so free... and so guilty.
What is it about wanting time away from him that makes me feel so guilty? The knowledge that I can watch him, but would rather have a nice long break, doesn't mean that I don't love my child. We've made a lot of financial sacrifices so that I don't have to work a full-time job, so that I CAN be home with him all the time. If I really want to be away form him, why don't I get a real job?
Oh, how I rail against the bars of my own self-made prison... or so it seems.
But you already understand- needing a break doesn't mean I don't want to be with him. It doesn't mean I should give up being a mostly-stay-at-home-mom. It means I'm human. It means I'm a woman who desires some personal fulfillment.
I've put myself on the waiting list for a copy of "The Feminine Mystique" from the local library. Apparently, there are a lot of us waiting for it. I heard an interview on NPR about it recently, which is what sparked my interest. The interviewee was pointing out that the book was written for upper/middle class women who had plenty of money, good families and technically very little to complain about, except that they were unhappy. Most of them had some sort of higher education and they were asking themselves, "Is this all there is?" It recognized a fundamental truth- That women need to feel a higher purpose for their lives, just the same as men. We need to feel a sense of accomplishment and the ability to exercise our brains and unleash our curiosity in order to be happy.
I do not feel that I am imprisoned in my home by my family. I choose to love them and work for them. However, I also want to follow my own pursuits. I need to follow my own pursuits in order to be happy. Sometimes that means learning to sew, or reading a book, or leaving the house to go run.
So why do I feel guilty? Maybe it's because we have sacrificed financially for me to stay home, and it costs us a lot to pay someone else to watch him. Maybe it's because I feel so relaxed after I leave. Maybe it's because I think I'm supposed to feel angst at leaving him and I don't.
Maybe it's just what come with being a mother.
Last year at this time I was teaching at Sonshine School (a mother's day out program at our church) and at OCU on alternating days, while pregnant. Needless to say, I only had one child at the time but I was exhausted. The mother's would come to drop their children off for five hours and I would resent them. I would hate them. I would envy them beyond any measure that is normal. There was never a day when I would be able to drop my child off and spend a few hours doing grocery shopping or laundry or nap. And I loved my naps when I was pregnant.
But about a month before Sweet Caroline was born I quit. I quit working at Sonshine School, and OCU let out. And i kept sending Jonah to school. When I worked at SSS Jonah had (more or less) free tuition and the social interaction was good for him, so it made sense for him to be there. When I quit we had to pay for it. And I didn't have other obligations to blame on sending him. I spent time wandering around Target and looking at fabric in Hancock's. I napped.
We sent Jonah through the summer so that I could spend a little uninterrupted time with Caroline, but really it was that blessed magical time before Caroline and after quitting that I remember so well. The freedom that I had during that time was familiar. It was like having shackles removed. I didn't have to convince a preschooler to obey, or carry large and heavy bags everywhere that I went.
But I felt guilty, just as I did today when I dropped Jonah off at SSS again. Caroline and I had the day to wander Target, run errands that weren't that pressing, and take a nap. I was still carrying a baby, but I still felt so free... and so guilty.
What is it about wanting time away from him that makes me feel so guilty? The knowledge that I can watch him, but would rather have a nice long break, doesn't mean that I don't love my child. We've made a lot of financial sacrifices so that I don't have to work a full-time job, so that I CAN be home with him all the time. If I really want to be away form him, why don't I get a real job?
Oh, how I rail against the bars of my own self-made prison... or so it seems.
But you already understand- needing a break doesn't mean I don't want to be with him. It doesn't mean I should give up being a mostly-stay-at-home-mom. It means I'm human. It means I'm a woman who desires some personal fulfillment.
I've put myself on the waiting list for a copy of "The Feminine Mystique" from the local library. Apparently, there are a lot of us waiting for it. I heard an interview on NPR about it recently, which is what sparked my interest. The interviewee was pointing out that the book was written for upper/middle class women who had plenty of money, good families and technically very little to complain about, except that they were unhappy. Most of them had some sort of higher education and they were asking themselves, "Is this all there is?" It recognized a fundamental truth- That women need to feel a higher purpose for their lives, just the same as men. We need to feel a sense of accomplishment and the ability to exercise our brains and unleash our curiosity in order to be happy.
I do not feel that I am imprisoned in my home by my family. I choose to love them and work for them. However, I also want to follow my own pursuits. I need to follow my own pursuits in order to be happy. Sometimes that means learning to sew, or reading a book, or leaving the house to go run.
So why do I feel guilty? Maybe it's because we have sacrificed financially for me to stay home, and it costs us a lot to pay someone else to watch him. Maybe it's because I feel so relaxed after I leave. Maybe it's because I think I'm supposed to feel angst at leaving him and I don't.
Maybe it's just what come with being a mother.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)