Mommy/Teacher

I had to start a blog when I was getting my credential... it was for my technology class. I had to show that I was capable of turning on the computer before I could teach the very people who are the most technology capable on the planet - teenagers.

Be that as it may, I never actually posted anything (it wasn't part of the assignment). So my blog floated around in Internet space, blank and forgotten. I never knew what to say... besides, who would bother to read what I wrote? Who cared? It all seemed very narcissistic to me.

Then I had children.

I'm embarrassed to admit that my daughter is two and my son is turning one on Thursday, but I am just now starting my blog. Why, you may ask?

Well, because I'm a narcissist.

I'm kidding.

Sort of.

Lately I've been struggling with the idea of being a stay at home mom (or a SAHM for those of you not up with cool mommy lingo). And I decided to post my confusion out in Internet space in case anyone did care and could offer me some insight.

Ever since my beautiful, intelligent daughter was born, I was chomping at the bit to go back to work. She was planned perfectly - I'm a teacher, I got pregnant in September, she was born in June. I only missed two weeks of school. And come September, armed with a picture of my infant daughter for my desk, I went back to school. I'm not saying it wasn't hard - it was. The first day I left her with the nanny, I sat in the car and cried for 15 minutes. It took all of my will power (and my husband driving away) to not charge back into the house and scoop her up where I knew she would be safe.

But with time, it got easier. Our nanny was wonderful - I knew my daughter was safe. And work was understanding about the fact that I had a new baby - I could bring her to work occasionally, could leave easily when she was sick, and, as a teacher, I had time off at Christmas, spring, and of course, all summer.

And then I got pregnant with my son.

To say he was unplanned would be like saying that the Titanic sort of sank. I took five pregnancy tests. I was leaving to go by more when my husband came home and asked me why I was crying and drinking water (so I could pee more). Our daughter was only 9 months old when I got pregnant - so NOT planned, as my daughter was. But my husband was ecstatic and, after I calmed down, I was too.

My first pregnancy was easy. My second was not. Spotting, cramping, and insulin dependent, gestational diabetes had me in the doctor's office 5 days a week for the third trimester. But thankfully, my son was born perfectly healthy in December.

I settled in as a SAHM for 8 weeks of maternity leave, secretly counting the days until my son was old enough to go to daycare and I could go back to work.

I absolutely hated it.

I was miserable. My son was colicky, I had a severe case of postpartum depression, and I had an 18 month old at home. I would call my husband at work during his lunch break and curse at him because HE got a break. I contacted my work, to see if I could come back early, but daycare wouldn't take my son until he was 6 weeks old.

And then my son got sick.

I don't mean oh poor baby, he got the sniffles. He got SICK. RSV. Pneumonia. Respiratory distress. Ambulance. And, perhaps worst of all, ventilator.

My son was on a ventilator for 5 days. I cried for 4 of them; I only stopped when I found out he would be coming off of the ventilator. I felt so guilty... wanting to go back to work, and not wanting to be around my son. I felt like God was punishing me.

Thank God my son turned out to be fine. Asthmatic, but fine. We left the hospital after a week with a healthy boy and two exhausted parents while my daughter was furious at having been abandoned by her mother for a week. (She got over it with the help of a new Elmo doll.)

The doctors wanted my son to stay out of daycare until he was three months old. For the first time in my adult life, I began to consider being a SAHM. I had worked since I was 15. I had a degree from one of the top universities in California. I had two teaching credentials, and was in my MA program, set to graduate in May. But I was willing to walk away from all of it to stay home with my children.

I knew I was considering it for the wrong reason - guilt, not want. And I was secretly relieved when our accountant told my husband and I that it wouldn't be feasible. I felt I was too selfish a person to stay home with my kids - work was my break, my intellectual stimulation, my sense of SELF. I did not want to give that up to change diapers and deal with temper tantrums. So I headed back to work, convincing myself that sending my son to day care when he was 2 months instead of 3 months would not be the end of the world

But something had happened when I was out on maternity leave. Work was no longer the happy place I remembered - the sense of community that I had missed had been replaced with a sense of cold, hard business. The economy had collapsed, and as a private school, we were feeling the hit. I no longer felt appreciated at work, and the students seemed to get more and more arrogant.

Work started laying off teachers, and I began to feel as though I needed to stay, that I should be grateful to have a job. I was one of the teachers who was "safe," and I went into summer vacation knowing I would have a job in September.

September rolled around, and I thought I would be happy to send my now 2 year old daughter and 8 month old son back to daycare. I wasn't. I was resentful. We had an awesome summer... played, went to the beach, read together... my daughter was holding conversations now, and my son would smile and clap whenever he saw me, shouting "MOMMA!" I hated having to leave them to go to a job where I didn't fill fulfilled.

The final straw came last week when I gave two students detentions for being tardy to my class. My professional judgement was questioned -for the first time ever. I had it. I went home and burst into tears. After an hour of crying, my husband gave me the greatest gift he could give me:

"Honey, you can quit. We will find a way to make it work."

And I realized he was right. We WOULD find a way to make it work. I can tutor or teach college classes nights and weekends (if I can find a job in this economy). But the question now is: do I want to?

I want to be home with my kids. I want to see my son take his first steps, and watch my daughter and son continue to grow. I want to be the one to teach them to read and count and their colors. I want to get to play with them and have them with me. I don't want to miss their childhood.

But I also don't want to miss myself.

So.... Mommy? Or teacher?

Maybe I can work from home. Even be an online teacher. After all, I know how to create a blog.