Once upon a time, I was a working mother. Long hours at work, longer hours at home. The house was a mess, the kid was a mess, the husband was a mess, and I was certainly a mess. The company I worked for was flexible, loving, and very small – I knew how to do everything in the place, and usually at some point had to. I was one with my job; it took over all my waking thoughts and haunted my sleepless nights. And I was good at everything I did. At the ripe old age of twenty-seven, I was at the top.
And then came child #2.
Working for a small company meant my income was…limited. Daycare costs for one already stretched us quite thin. Daycare for two would mean working my current job plus getting a second, just so someone else could watch my children grow up. So with lots of prayer, luck, and finger-crossing, I am now home with two kids – a preschooler and an infant.
Most days are mediocre, at best. I am constantly faced with the reality that child-rearing is not my forte nor my desire, but in my deepest of hearts, at least for now [I *hope* only for now] I know that it is my calling. I pride myself on efficiency and productivity, but as anyone with children can tell you, neither is in supply anywhere near here. I want to be successful, but success in family matters cannot be gauged in the day-in, day-out. I want to take over the world, but I need to be fully and mindfully present in my kids’ lives. Every day, every minute is a battle between my working mother mind and my stay-at-home mom life. Perhaps one day I will get the hang of it. But for now, the house is still a mess, the kids are both a mess, the husband is sometimes a mess, and I am certainly a mess. Herein lies our adventure…