I work hard every day, I just don't get paid for it. Not in money anyway. My currency is hugs and kisses, tears and tantrums. There are days where I feel as rich as the Queen of England and days where I my overdraft has an overdraft. It can be an unstable economy with my two kids. The 1980s boom with its big shoulder pads can quickly morf into the recession of the early 1990s, grunge skaters and all.
And yet I love it.
I have decided that being a stay at home mom is better then my last paid job. At least now I love the person screaming at me. Somehow yelling in much more forgivable in a three year old then a forty year old. Even lying is more forgivable in an almost four year old who is really just hoping that if she says it out loud it will become the truth. That doesn't work so well when you are pretending to have met with your clients or written a report.
I would happily continue to manage my two kids day in and day out, or more accurately, let them manage me, but I can see the end coming. I am supposed to return to work in the fall. That's what the paper work says anyway. I have a small reprieve given that I will be going back to a new job, one that I haven't found yet. I am filled with a bit of joy that my return could be delayed, but the joy is offset by the work that will be involved in looking for a new job.
I occasionally fantasize about chucking it all and never going back to work, but a plan is a plan and we have one of those. My turn at home is almost up and the husband's is about to begin. When I go back to work he will be taking leave for two years until the boy starts kindergarten. Providing we don't run out of money of coarse.
I am excited for the husband. He was at home with the girl for a year between my maternity leaves with both kids. It was good for him to understand what it was like to be the primary caregiver. It was good for the girl to spend so much time with her dad. It was good, I know that.
But the thought of it makes me sad. Sad for the moments I will miss. The firsts and the seconds and even the twelfths.
It will be fine. I will be fine. I will get used to it. And I will enjoy the kisses and hugs, tears and tantrums while I can.