Every so often I sit back and in grass-is-greener moments wonder if I’ve made the right decision to be a work-at-home mama.
Maybe it would be nice to get dressed in office attire again. Maybe it would be nice to have actual real-life conversations. Maybe it would be nice to leave the domestic duties to someone else. Maybe it would be nice to be able to work between 3:30 and 5pm without The 3:30pm Dictator making an appearance. Maybe it would be nice to avoid that morning rush—to not have to make the school lunches. Maybe it would be nice to drop my work at my desk at night and not think about it again until the morning. Maybe it would be nice to have some extra income coming in. Maybe it would be nice to have vacation days. Maybe it would be nice to have more time to work on my exciting and awesome growing photography business. Maybe it would be nice to not have to just run to school to bring a child a forgotten pair of gym shorts pretty please Mama.
I know I have made the right decision.
A short while ago, I entertained a job interview. It went as far as a phone interview. I hung up with my brain swirling with many thoughts.
And then about 8 minutes after I hung up I got a phone call from a very sick boy. “Please come and pick me up from school. I really don’t feel well. I need you.”
I need you.
And that was that.
He needed me. They need me. There are so many stresses in my life right now. Money, time, attempts at trying to find some sort of balance. But, truth be told, there will always be stresses—they just might be dressed up in business casual office wear. They are still there, just different.
Emily came home one day this week after having had a particularly upsetting day. I was working on my bed on my laptop — because I had to rewatch the mid-season finale of Mad Men while I edited a piece of content — and she came in the room, dropped her bags, and put her head down in my lap. We discussed her day. I kissed the top of her head and listened as she talked.
It’s so very hard to see your children sad, upset, frustrated. It so very, very hard. It physically hurts my heart. But on the other hand, I’m so thankful that they come home to ME when they are sad, upset, frustrated.
These are the right stresses for me. For my lot.
Now if there could just stop being so much stinkin’ laundry.