My Complete Inability to Make a Commitment to My Job: How Busy Does This Little Bee Want to Be???

I took a day off work two days ago to BE. Just to be. With my sister. To talk and eat and laugh and BE. It was fantastic, even though my mind was muddy and felt quite separate from my body. It is absolutely amazing in every way that the body can produce so much mucus. I’ve decided that I would much rather wipe my kids’ noses and coax them to blow OUT than to be inconvenienced by my own cold. That’s just awful, isn’t it? Am I wishing sickness upon my kids? Well, no, of course not. It’s just that as the mom there is so much to be done and any illness or ache just SO impedes my ability to function. And the kids hardly seem bothered by snot dripping down their faces. Of course when there’s a fever or and ear ache or… then it’s a different story. But this isn’t even what I wanted to say. So there – I’m not required to explain that story.

So I will myself to work the next morning. No, I didn’t show up until 10, but I showed up dammit. And here it all goes again. Sarah, we need to know when you are going to be here. Whenever it is, it doesn’t really matter, whether 3 days or 5 days. We just need to know so we can know what to expect, etc etc etc. And it’s only fair, right? So why do I have such a problem making a commitment. A commitment to the amount of days, to which days, to in-times and out-times.

And then there’s the whole question of full-time work, and going on salary, and making the biggest work commitment of all. I swear his eyes lit up and twinkled for a split-second when I told my boss that I was wondering, just for the hell of it, if he’d want me full-time. “I’d love you full-time.” No, No, I mean he said something like, “I’d love you to WORK full-time.” Gosh, that first one just sounded creepy. Let me be CERTAIN to add that there are NO OFFICE ROMANCES INVOLVED HERE. Oh my, that’s just too creepy to fathom, especially if you knew my boss, and my workplace. Let’s just say it’s bizarre. Can’t go into it any more than that, I suppose.

So then I go on to say that Dan’s contemplating leaving his job, and if I work full-time my current hourly rate translated to salary @ 40 hours isn’t enough to support and would he consider giving me a raise??? (Jen, I know what you’re thinking. Okay, no I don’t but I know enough to say, “I know, right? Can you even believe I had this conversation with the big man? And what am I even doing or thinking HAVING such a conversation? Let’s just say it is wasn’t planned or anything, just one of those things…. and yes, yes, we’ll talk. :Oh my goodness, that was so Mom-ish with the YES,YES:)

So he looks at me rather uncomfortably, my boss, the big man, and then his eyes turn away almost embarrassingly as he says, “Yea, we’ll work it out.”

And then I’m sitting in my office furiously typing Dan trying to figure out what he thinks about this crazy idea I’ve had, trying to figure out what the hell I think of it all. I mean, work is so awful sometimes. Then there are other times that I look forward to the distraction it brings me from the kids. OH, the kids! They are SO messy and SO loud and SO damn infuriating at times that I imagine tossing them one at a time from the second story bathroom window instead of plunking them in the bath at night; BUT, they are also SO terrifically cute that my fantasy has them landing happily on Mr Bouncity Bounce and hip hop bouncing with all their cousins to the funky musical selections of their favorite babysitter (hear Hip Hop beats and Pop Tunes).

————Sidenote: What’s a girl gotta do to get these little ppl to take care of themselves for 10 minutes so I can finish this?! I understand it’s morning and breakfast time and all, but EAT little ppl, EAT, and leave Mommy to Momalom for 10 more minutes. Five? Two? Currently there is a little bee eraser dropping in on my keyboard over and over again as I say Sit DOWN, Sit DOWN, Get OFF The Table. (And yes, I am clearly speaking of Max)————————

So now I’ve just totally confused myself. I mean, it’s not as if I haven’t thought of this before, and what life would really be like if I were to work full-time. Where would the kids go between end of school day and Mommy arrival time? Who would watch them? Do I really really want to put myself in a position where I HAVE to be there every day, all day?? I have to carefully schedule all appointments and activities. I never have the afternoon just to take the kids to the park and loll. (Oh yeah right? Loll? That’s a laugh.) Anyway. I gripe about the three hours or so between picking the kids up every day and either Dan’s arrival home or the start of the bath/bed routine. That magical hour when I know it will all come to an end for another day and I’ll get a little peace ALONE until it all starts again in the morning. So I gripe about it till kingdom come, but would I really have it any other way? I mean, the weather is perking up, finally! And summer is on the way. And don’t I want to be able to take the kids to the pool and the lake? To do away with all my worries on those perfect days that I don’t have to go in to work and it’s not the weekend and just watch them in the yard with popsicle juice dripping down their faces for the third time that day?

I just don’t know. I’m struggling with these thoughts. Everything I’ve said is just so romantic. The truth is that I really can’t take them all to the pool. We could venture the baby pool, but then Jamis will be bored. He’s finally swimming and it’s just not fair to have to ask him to compromise YET AGAIN FOR THE LITTLE ONES. But we can’t go to the big pool either. A 2 year old and a 1 year old and me. It’s just not safe. (I should take the “and me” out of there. I’m rather safe, but with those two hanging on me I think we’d all go under.)

And days spent wiping sticky popsicle hands? Well, I could have two of those on the weekends alone. The routine of work would get tiring, I know. But the alternative of staying with the boys is exhausting just to think about. It’s not even 7:30 am here in our house and I’ve already left this computer like 35 times to break up fights, change diapers and re-fold an entire load of laundry that Max decided to massacre and throw at his brother, Ethan. I mean, 7:30! If I’m already anxiously awaiting Dan’s arrival after two or three hours of being with the kids ALONE in the afternoons, then what the hell kind of pressure am I going to put on him when it’s summer.

And then, I guess I should give a little back story – mostly to remind myself – that I truly didn’t want to work full-time. I wanted days off with my kids. Days to hang out and days to get stuff done. Days to actually do laundry and keep the kitchen clean and go to the grocery store. But I’ve found that those days can be just as difficult as the days I go to work. It’s not “staying home with you kid or your kids.” It’s being a MOTHER OF THREE! I Swear To You, It’s Jaw-Dropping, Head-Spinning what happens when you go from Two to Three!

So I negotiated from 5 days (part-time) to three days, or four days, or whatever I felt like that week. And that’s how it’s been for a while. And like he said, my boss doesn’t care how many days I come in cause he just loves me so damn much, but he just wants to know WHAT days. If I can’t commit to picking the days then how on earth would I commit to working full-time?

The whole OTHER SIDE of this story is the fact that Dan could leave his job and focus on his own business, which he’s very good at and has already developed quite well indeed! We’ve texted and emailed and briefly talked about this subject. He’s gone through the logistics somewhat, the Figuring Out What This Would Mean thing that Men Truly Love To Do – at least my man – and we’ve come to no conclusions. But we’re not really trying for conclusion at this point, it’s all conversation. But what he HASN’T talked or texted or emailed is how he FEELS about this. Of Course. Damn if he should engage in that whole phenomenon. Feelings.

So I suppose this is all TO BE CONTINUED. What shall be decided? I don’t know. I really don’t know. On the one hand, I wouldn’t have to be so stressed at work because I would actually have the time to accomplish all the work that I have. My boss and my husband would probably be rather happy. But what about me and the kids? Would we? We are at an optimal time for testing this all out – mostly because we have our fabulous babysitter back from college for the summer. I love her, the kids love her, and she’s part of the family. But then, it’s summer. And again, even if I’m wiping sticky popsicle hands for the third time, who cares? Wasn’t I the one who gave them the third popsicle anyway? Because it’s summer, and because they’re kids, and because all I want to do is let them feel the freedom that is a kid in summer. I want to be that kid again.

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