Sometimes It's Hard to be a Grown Up

I know that I still haven't shared the "fun" that was our family vacation (though I probably shouldn't put my sarcastic fun in quotes when the trip itself was fun, just the getting there and getting back were not so much) but I thought after being 6 weeks behind on the last post, I'd make this one more topical.

Being a grown up sucks. 

Sorry to be so blunt in my language, but this past Wednesday I went back to work.  I struggled with the decision in the spring - I really wanted a part time job to the point where I had resumes in yellow folders ready to send out to various principals in the Ashburn area.  Then I found out that part time jobs were going to be exceptionally difficult to come by to the point where most part time teachers that weren't grandfathered in were going to have to be part time at two schools, the worst of both worlds.  So I cried and whined and decided that the financial security of having two paychecks was worth going back to a job that I loved.  If I wasn't at the AOS I wouldn't be working right now - but it wasn't just any job that I was leaving, it really would have been leaving my ideal teaching job.

Leaving Sarah in February was hard.  I was sad to go back, but I left a baby who mostly slept, ate, and pooped.  Going back last week was far harder.  Now I left a rapidly growing up child who played with me, who laughed, found joy in crawling up stairs, splashing in water bowls or taking the books and DVDs off of the bottom shelf as fast as I could put them back on.  Who recognizes string cheese when I bring it near here and screams with displeasure if I don't rip it up quick enough.  Though she is still not verbal, she communicates now.  She curls into my shoulder when someone she doesn't know comes near, and she lets out a gleeful giggle in the morning when she first sees the dogs.  When we were in Florida, T.J. and I took turns playing in the waves and holding Sarah, and whenever she saw the frolicking parent returning she would laugh and laugh and laugh.  She knows me.  And she knew I was leaving her.

Am I making the wrong decision?  T.J. constantly reminds me that there is no wrong decision - there are pros and cons to both.  I'm not normally the best person at time managemnt at work - after 3 hours of kids in the morning, I used to take my planning and catch up on email because I was too burnt out to grade or plan.  This year, I am planning to use my planning to its fullest.  Because this year I have a reason to chase the kids out of the building.  Not just because I want to get home and catch up on whatever is saved on the DVR (because let's be honest, that doesn't occur until after Sarah goes to bed) but because I have a little girl who still squeals when I walk up to her. I know this pure, unadulterated love will not last forever.  Eventually Sarah will grow up and instead of a happy dance I'll get a sarcastically toned "moommmmm".   But not yet.

So why do I potentially regret going back?  I love the intellectual stimulation, I wouldn't take forever off, I would only want a couple years, and then I would have regretted leaving this job.  But the one thing I can't get back is time.  And considering that she crawls faster than I do, cruises around furniture and takes confident steps holding onto my fingers, I suspect my little princess will be walking before I know it.  And I will most likely miss her first steps.  Might I miss them if I were home?  Perhaps, but I would be there fore the second and third and fourth. 

So for now, I'm sorry if I don't do as many things on the weekends as I used to.  There are only so many more days that I can lay down, hold Sarah close to me and take our 9am nap together.  I might have lost my everyday access to my favorite part of the day, but there are always Saturdays and Sundays (and snow days!).