I'm antsy again. Brian came into our bedroom the other night to find me on the laptop very absorbed. He asked what I was doing.
Looking for a job.
Yes, a job.
Oh, uh...oookay. (aka-I'm not going to ask)
Of course I'm not in a position to have a career right now unless our mortagage and need for food require it. We have a new baby and a part-time kindergartener that I want to spend time with. But at the end of a day filled with diapers, time outs, dishes, missing socks, and messy snacks the idea of a career sounds so...well, glamourous.
I don't regret staying at home despite my need for accomplishment, feedback and a paycheck. I'm putting myself on hold for them. Call me a martyr. Of course, I'm sensible enough to know that if I worked I'd probably want to be at home. We always think the grass is greener. And we always want what we don't have. Or is this just me? If so,...how embarrassing. This is why purusing the help wanted ads satisfies some craving for me. It's like window shopping or walking through a beautiful showroom. I stroll through looking at all the wonderful things I could have- there's a little thrill or rush. The ideas, the changes, it's all so alluring. But when I calculate the price, I can't afford it. Emotionally, I can't afford it. And then I shut off the computer. I put the clothes in the dryer and let the dog out. I go upstairs and put my hand on each child's chest. I feel the up and down of their breathing and I know I am exactly where I need to be.