Until last week, I imagined I would not be going back to teaching until I had earned the Dr. in front of my name (or the Ed.D. behind it, depending on how you look at it), but in some weird conversation twist, the hub and I discussed the possibility of me going back to work next school year. Mostly the benefits seem to be obvious, more money (maybe we could actually make those hurricane repairs to the house before the next hurricane season), I'd finally be chipping away at those "years of experience" that the persnickety academicians require before you are allowed or invited to join their "Dr." club, and the opportunity to receive the outside stimulation for which my subconscious has been begging over the last eight years.
Really the only hang up is the kids, those pesky little offspring that need to be taken care of. My oldest two aren't an issue, they will be in school. Dealing with them will just be all logistics because my work day (assuming I get a job) will be about the same length as their school day.
My biggest issue is with my (almost) 2 year old.....I feel like I'm throwing him to the wolves.
"Sorry kid you were born too late", "Mommy is brain fried from too much breeding" or "Mommy's got to go now, but I hope you win big" I keep saying all these things to him in my head, how can I be so ready to go back to work, when the thought of putting his older brother's in day care used to leave me in a sloppy heap in the corner? See, it isn't so much the fact that we are putting him childcare that is bothering me, it is the fact that I couldn't even fathom doing it to his brothers. I feel guilty that I can't seem to guilt myself out of wanting to do this. (Are you starting to get why I call myself psychotic?) The irony is that he is the baby that we had to try so hard to have. We went through SO much to get him here and now I feel like were saying "Syonara SUCKER"
I don't know, I am sure my perspective is all wrong. There really is so much to be gained from taking on a second income, especially while we sit and watch others ,who work in the same industry as my husband, losing their jobs at a ridiculously fast pace. We would be foolish to sit here with our fingers crossed hoping we'll make it through, when I could have a perfectly good opportunity to provide us a little breathing room in the worst case (financial) scenario.
The "mom guilt" just really makes me want to vomit. See how twisted this is? I know I should feel bad, but I don't, then I start to feel bad because I don't feel bad, then I get pissed off that I"m feeling bad about not feeling bad. Seriously?
I surrender, its time for an adult beverage...
We're off to Remember the Alamo for Spring Break! I'm sure I'll return with tales to tell.