When I was 14, I wanted to get a job. In the state of Washington I couldn't actually do that, so I started volunteering. I volunteered 15 hours a week - after school and on weekends. When I was 15 1/2 I was able to start working. I was so excited. I was finally earning my own money.
From about 16 on I worked as close to full time as I possibly could. I paid my own way for most things and I relished the responsibility. Yes, I'm one of those sick people that likes tasks, responsibility and honestly, work. I actually like work. I'm sure if I never married I'd have become a workaholic.
Missionary. English Teacher. History Teacher. Manager. Business-woman....
In 3-days, I will be "unemployed" for the first time in 22 years. I am so excited about all of the possibilities that await me. I'm so thrilled to have a single minded purpose at home with the kids.
There is also this unknowable. This nameless anxiety. I can't totally put my finger on it.
It's fear. Fear that I won't be good at it. I'm really good at being a teacher. I was really good in the business world. I'm really good at everything I have set my mind at doing.
What if I'm not good at this? What if things don't work like I planned/hoped? What if we can't afford to live without my income? What if I don't know who I am without a title? What if people don't respect me as much?
I'm sure I'm not the first SAHM to feel these things. I won't be the last either.
Here's what I know for sure. There is nothing I'd rather do that pour all of my gifts and talents into the three little people that have been entrusted to me. There is no place I'd rather be than home, managing my home, marriage and family. That is a full-time job, and one that I have not been doing well.
So...no more babysitters. No more splitting time between my kids and a job I don't love. No more deciding whether to do laundry, wrestle with the boys or finish up the papers I need to grade. No more working until 11pm and waking up at 6am so that I can have a few afternoon hours with the boys.
More saying yes to play-dates. More reading books on the couch. More keeping up with household chores. More crafts with the boys. More listening to their stories and more saying yes to silly requests.
I'm open to the idea that this journey will be nothing I hoped for and everything I never expected. My sole purpose and desire is that in 20 years, my boys remember me playing with them and not me turning on the TV so that I could answer emails.
My Title - Mom. Momma. Mommy. to my boys. Sweetie to the man I love. And to every one else...it doesn't matter.