For over eight years, I had the opportunity to work part time, and sometimes, at my own convenience. I worked for a great company, who afforded me such luxuries, and whom I enjoyed working for. I met fabulous people there, and made life-long friendships. I was able to work and be productive in a grown-up environment, while still being able to be home in a family-environment when my family needed me the most. But like many things in life, things change.
Late last year, I found myself looking for new employment. And just to make things more interesting, Vince was in the middle of finalizing his exit from the corporate world to the self-employed world.
Things got hairy in December.
And then they got worse in January.
But things looked up in February when I got hired on by another fabulous company.
Except that they offered me full time employment.
Maybe even, double gulp.
The bright side was that it was a full time contract position. In other words, it was a great way to test whether or not my family, especially me, would survive me working full time.
With my new job, I got my very own desk and office space. I even got my very own phone with my very own extension and my very own name displayed on it. My very own pens, pencils, highlighters and notebooks! I love all things office supplies, so this was a dream come true.
I’m enjoying the benefit of a steady paycheque in a household that is now under the self-employed tax bracket, and enjoying the new people I’ve met. I’m in love with my new boss, but don’t tell her, because that would make things weird, probably. She’s so fun, and awesome, and puts family first in the world of corporate, which is awesome, and not as rare as I once thought it was. Did I mention she’s awesome? And my new co-workers? They’re super fab too. They’re really nice and constantly order lunch from fun places like Popeye’s and East Side Mario’s. Who doesn’t love a good lunch order?
But my family is suffering.
No wait, did I say my family?
I meant me. I’m suffering. I mean, sure, my boys are missing me, but not in a their-whole-world-is-falling-apart kind of way. Just in a it-would-be-nice-to-have-you-walk-us-to-school-but-daddy-is-doing-a-good-job kind of way.
Because Vince has really stepped it up.
He’s always been a hands-on dad, whatever that means.
For the past two months, he’s been doing school drop offs and figuring out school pick up, while working and promoting his new business. He’s been walking and feeding the dog, and occasionally remembers to feed the kids too. Just kidding. He waits for me to feed the kids. He’s taken on some new responsibilities with grace and humour, and the occasional f-bomb, but Vince is Vince after all. He does the best he can under all circumstances. That’s just who he is.
Me? I haven’t fared as well.
I’ve had a hard time letting go. A hard time not being there.
Where exactly? I don’t know.
You see, I’ve never been the most domestic, as exhibited by the state of my home. I don’t enjoy cleaning; I don’t enjoy making beds, folding laundry and vacuuming.Vince and I always joked that maybe he should have been the one to stay home, since he’s better at all that than me.
But what I do love, is being the one to walk the boys to school. I do love being able to say ‘good morning’ to their teachers. I do love being able to say ‘I love you, have a great day!’ as they walk off to their friends and classrooms. I do love being able to say a silent prayer for safety over them and their entire school every morning. I do love being there at pick up time to say ‘hi buddy! I’m happy to see you.’ I do love the talks we have as we walk home together. I do love that they both tell me all about their day, the good, the bad and the challenges. I do love the days I spend serving our school community. I do love the connections I’ve made with my little superstar reading program buddies. I do love seeing my boys’ faces after a long day at school, and I do, most certainly love the ‘I love yous’ I constantly hear, and never, ever, take for granted. I do love going for a pretend-run with the new puppy. (It’s pretend, because I don’t really run, but I totally gear up for it, so I feel good about it)I do love making dinner for my family. I do love gathering up our soccer, karate, dog park, gear on any given night and heading out the door as we go off to enjoy our programs. I do love being there.
So that’s where.
I miss being there.
It’s a confusing time for me.
I’m enjoying contributing to society in this new working way, but I’m missing contributing to my little society at home in my usual way.
I’m enjoying this new way of being useful, but I’m missing the old way I made myself useful.
I’m enjoying knowing that with full time work the possibility of private school for my boys could once again be a reality, but I’m missing the way Vince used to say ‘umm, no’.
I’m not missing that at all!
What I do know for sure, however, is that it’s during these confusing times that I am most clear about one very important thing – God is in control. All I need to do, is admit that I can’t go at this alone, and open up my heart to God’s guidance and will.
I know that like most things in my life, this feeling of fear and doubt shall pass, and things will work themselves out. I’m going to have to be a grown up and really figure out how I’m going to make being employed and family work for me again. I’m going to have to let go.
Not in a Frozen, kill me, kind of way. But in a this is real life kind of way.
I’m a control freak. No, really? You say.
If being a Christian and a control freak, sounds like an oxy-moron to you, it’s because it is. I’m just a
stubborn slow learner.
I have a very hard time letting Jesus take the wheel, if you will. But in the end, as all of my life experiences have proven to me time and time again, if I let go, things work out in the end. Not always in the most pleasant way, but in the way they were meant to.
So all this rambling to say, this is a new journey for me and my family.
It will all work out in the end.
I just need to let it go.
Because, truth be told, the cold never really bothered me anyway.
Sorry, I couldn’t resist.
And that’s a lie.
I hate the cold.