I have been deliriously happy this week, and that makes me sad.
That seems a strange statement to make, but the more I think about what has made me so happy, the more I realize that I may be a terrible mother. I have had a great week at work. We started back to in-service this week, and I have been secretly loving every minute (everybody else was grumbling, so I sort of grumbled along, but I was really squirming in my chair with joy not boredom). I loved being at the school with the smells of floor wax and learning wafting down the halls. I wish I could bottle that smell. I loved walking briskly down the halls (Toni would call it the "teacher walk") toward my classroom-my little piece of the school. I LOVE my classroom with my personality saturating the walls. I am in a portable this year and I am adoring it! I even got to paint. It was very Trading Spaces. I love creating documents to hand out to my students. I love updating my website. I love talking with the other teachers. I love my job.
Because it was in-service week, I had to go all day everyday. My gig this year is part time so I can stay home with the babe in the mornings and she won't forget me. Because the way I have been working this week, I would not be surprised if she thought Kelly was her mom. However, as much as I have been working, I have not really missed what was going on at home. I was enjoying myself too much. As I was sitting at my desk at 8:00 last night, I realized, I did not miss bathing Zoey and putting her to bed, and that made me sad. What kind of mother enjoys working more than being at home? I was a little sad that I had not seen Zoey at all that day, but I felt like what I was doing at school was more productive than what I do at home. I mean, I am raising a child. What could be more meaningful than that? My mind knows that, but my heart can't seem to grasp it. The only explanation that I have seem to come up with is that the babies at school get to go home at the end of the day. Even though I play several roles to them including mom to some, the reality is that the weight of responsibility of teaching is so much lighter than parenting. And my shoulders have sure been sore this summer from bearing that load. My how the seasons have changed. Summer used to be my vacation time. Now it seems that my getaway is school. I guess I'll have to do some great mother loving today to make up for, well, life.