You know, some days, I feel like I should be doing more with my life than sitting here in my house, playing ponies and princesses and cooking dinners and folding clothes. Some days, I wish I could go back to school and have a career and make my own money to do whatever I want with.
It's funny, but when I was working after I got married, I remember salivating for the day that I got pregnant and could quit work. It wasn't an option. We decided early on that I'd stay home with the kids and I just couldn't wait for that day.
Now, 2 kids and 6 years later, I want the exact opposite. I'm waiting for the day that I can go on to something useful to ME once the kids are off to school on the bus. I don't know what that is yet. School, a job, my own thing...who knows. All I know is that it's time for me to become a whole person again. Not just wife, not just Mommy. I love being those things, but they can't be ALL that I am anymore.
It makes me feel bad sometimes, though. I struggle with those feelings. On one hand, I've wanted to be one of those women who is satisfied with being defined by those terms...wife, mother...and are happy and fulfilled by such. On the other hand, I know I have the brain to be more, to do more. I squandered college the first time. Maybe the second time I could make a go of it.
Been thinking a lot lately about something I used to want to do. At one time, my ambition in life was to be a Professor of American History. History is my passion, next to music, and since I'm realistic enough to know I don't have the chops to be a professional musician, history is the next best thing. I'd love to teach it and relate the excitement I feel when I learn and educate myself. I think that would be fun. A lot of hard work, but fun. I could do it if I wanted to.
I really could.
Today, I played doggies and ponies. We painted. We played outside. We talked about school and little league. I loved it. I truly did. I wouldn't miss any of it for the world. They need me. I need them. We need each other.
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1 comment:
Great work.
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