It must be the season of discontent.
Case in point: I have wanted a new design for this blog for a while now. And now I have one. It is fairly generic but I wanted to be able to change the header with a new note and accompanying photo as I feel the need. Okay, it’s a little too generic but I think it will work for now. Yes?
I went home sick from work today. I woke up feeling crappy but, since they have a “must call in 2 hours before your shift” policy, I couldn’t very well call in sick. Despite the 100.8 fever. And the shakes. And the sore throat. And stiff neck. The morning, as you can imagine, went from bad to worse. I was originally told that I wouldn’t have a replacement available until 1pm. That’s when I fell apart at the seams. Unable to function. I finished breakfast dishes, set out snack and announced/demanded/begged that I needed to leave. Right now. Can’t. Possibly. Live. Past. Noon. And I left. I mean, I gave my notice 3 days ago anyway so who cares what anyone thinks.
Did I mention that? I quit. Because I did. Tuesday morning I sat down and explained that the schedule wasn’t working for me or my kids. My house? Is a mess. My body? Is a mess. My children? Are a mess. Something needed to change and the job was it. I can’t do it. It’s mostly the early mornings but it’s also the 9 hours a day, every day in daycare that really wasn’t working for the girls. Okay, mostly Amelia who is done for the week by about 9am on Wednesday. Ella is fine and is actually doing quite well. But Amelia is a mess.
I wonder, rhetorically, if I will ever be content in a job. I wonder if I will ever be NOT annoyed by co-workers or traffic or parking or uniform requirements. I wonder if I will always mourn the loss of my freedom and my time with my kids. Or, if this is something that will come along with the girls getting older? Like if they are in school all day…will it feel okay to hold a job?
Everybody does this. Working, I mean. That’s what we do as a part of society. We are expected to work and contribute and make our own way. So why is it so difficult to wrap my brain around having a real job? Is it because I have had only contract work for the last half decade? Is it guilt that I am somehow not a good mom when I work (because I decidedly am not)? Does everybody look out the window on a beautiful summer day and wish they could walk away from it all? Conversely, is there any kind of weather conducive to productivity and job contentment?
All I know is that I have great plans for the rest of the summer. Plans that don’t include a 5am alarm (and a 5:09, a 5:18 and a 5:27). My plans are also not really plans but that’s okay too. We’ll take it one day at a time. And I definitely have come to appreciate being home, even if I have to share it with messy children.
At least they are MY children.