I think the sentence I most often hear is some variation on, "How do you manage?" It refers to the handling of four children, I guess. I hear it more often now, that one of the kids is my own, on top of the brood at work. I routinely answer that I'm handling it fine, and that's truth. Once you're used to more than one, up to a point
what doesn't kill you makes you stronger
it's not that hard to add another every once in a while.
What I find hardest in my particular situation is the length of the workday. I work 8:30am to 7:00pm. Before Felix, I had my time to myself during naps or while various kids were at various schools and activities, but that is, of course, no longer the case. So, I work a ten and a half hour day, with no guarantee of a break, and I commute and hour and a half to two hours round trip, so I'm pretty much never home, and that's a strain. It's worth it to me at this point for a number of reasons (health care, two incomes and no daycare costs, the love of J, E, & O), but sometimes I wish I worked nine to five (or another eight hour day), so that
I could put my feet up after dinner
our son could spend more time with his Dad. It's exhausting, getting out of the car after almost thirteen hours of work, having to get dinner together (even with the help and support of my beloved Mr. MoMP), get Felix settled, and have time to pat my dogs, and maybe watch something on the DVR, before it's time to get in bed at 10:00pm, so that I've had enough sleep to do it all again.
I know that I chose this, and I find it great work. I love all my kids, and someday, when I have that nine-to-fiver, I'll miss them terribly. Everyone gets tired every once in a while, though, right?
I was talking today with one of O's preschool teachers, who's a part time nanny on top of teaching. She's just been offered a full time teaching position of next year, and she was rejoicing that she'd now have time to eat meals at home, go to the gym, maybe meet someone
, and I nearly cried, so intense was the sudden jealousy. It passed, as did the urge to sob, but in that moment of weakness, I also had a moment of clarity. Whatever I do next, I will not
work these kinds of hours.
Labels: The Carpet Bag