I hate mornings like this one. I hate that I have to get up and make my kids leave me when they clearly don’t want to. I hate hearing my kids beg to stay at home because they don’t want me to go to work.
I hate not having the option to stay home.
Without my job, we couldn’t pay our bills. There’s no amount of things we could cut out that would allow us to pay our bills. Our mortgage isn’t changing anytime soon, and we all know the economy isn’t what it was 8 years ago when we took out a mortgage on this little piece of paradise. Add to it the costs associated with having two children, one of which is in elementary school (and holy cow – school is expensive! There’s always $$ needed for something) and it’s Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Off to work I go.
I’ve always worked. I got my first job before I could drive a car and the only time I’ve not worked since was when the company I was working for in 2009 shut down (that’s what happens when you work for a small builder in the middle of a housing crisis.) I’ve never wanted to just be at home. Anyone that knows me knows that I’m never idle. And, generally speaking, tantrums from my children don’t elicit much sympathy from me either. Except these. These always break my heart.
I wish I could say ‘Sure! We can stay at home. What do you want to do today?’
That’s not reality.
Sometime reality sucks. Today is one of those day.
So, for today I will drag my children out of the house (one of them quite literally), send one off to school and one off to very capable caregivers, then drive myself 45 minutes to the other side of the next county to sit behind a desk and think about my kids all day.
They’ll forget about me in 15 minutes.
Why was I feeling guilty again?