Disclaimer: I love my job. I love my students. I don't think I could ever do anything else for a living. I have spent more nights lying awake and trying to think of ways to fix things, fix my students, than I'd like to try and count. I've sat in my assistant principal's office in tears because I hurt for my students and I feel helpless. I forgo my lunch half the time so I can work with my students and help them. I find enormous joy and learning most of the days I spend in the classroom. I love what I do, and I was born to do it.
That said, summer is a bittersweet time for me. I'm pretty sure I could never be a housewife--one of those women who stay at home after the kids are all off at school. I want to teach. But more than that, I want to be home. I want to be with my son. Two years later it still hurts to leave him. He is well cared for and loved, and he will grow up fully functional and attached. But I miss him when I work. So this is my bittersweet summer: I soak in every moment, I drink in the hugs, the kisses, the playtime. Sure, we have rough days. A couple of days ago I opened my door because I heard Brandi outside, and I offered her my child. There are days when (and here's that unfortunate honesty, again--avert your eyes if you can't take it) I don't like being a mom. Careful--I'm not saying I don't love my son. There is never a moment when that's true. But there are days when parenting is work, it feels like an exhausting job, and I'd like to clock out for a bit. So sure, it would be nice to take a little vacation from motherhood at times. But on the whole--this is where my heart is. And I leave a chunk of it behind in September.
For anyone judging me because I yearn for summer during the school year, or because sometimes I say I'd rather be home than listening to adolescent whining, I'd love to remind you that I have yet to meet the person who doesn't get excited about not going to work and going on a vacation for a while. It's fair. We all have bad days at work, and we all have pieces of our jobs that are unpleasant. That's fair. But at the end of the day, I love teaching. And while I'd prefer to not be a working mom, if I'm going to be one, I've got it pretty good. I love what I do, my hours are perfect, and I have a lot of time off throughout the year. I can't imagine leaving my little man behind to go to a job I don't like nine hours a day, five days a week, twelve months a year.
This is clearly diverged into a discussion that I was not intending. Sorry for the treatise. I shouldn't have to defend myself, or make my blog private, or try to avoid the occasional messy emotional rant. But I guess I do it anyway.
But here's what I wanted to say: I'm just about at the halfway point of my summer, and I'm already just about to break down in tears at the thought that it will end. It doesn't have anything to do with the work to which I'm returning--it has everything to do with one of the two greatest loves of my life, and my complete devastation that our Adventure will ever draw to a close. I know, of course, that the Adventure doesn't end in September. And I think I do a pretty good job of sucking the marrow out of my limited McNugget time during the school year. But I will miss him from 7:30-3:30.
Until then, I will drink in every sweet and sour moment I can.
"Life is like playing a violin in public and learning the instrument as one goes on."--Samuel Butler
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