My First Day of Being a Stay-at-Home Mom
Today, my alarm would’ve blared at the ungodly hour of 4:45 am (although, I wouldn’t have gotten up until 5). My car would’ve pulled out of the driveway at 5:45 to beat the morning commuters on the interstate, and would’ve parked in its designated parking spot at 6:15, ready to welcome this dreaded, yet satisfying September day.
I would’ve greeted my colleagues with a smile, refreshed from the summer’s short, yet relaxing glow. I would’ve asked how their children are doing, how the lovely, carefree days of the summer treated them, and if they’re ready to get back into classroom routines, curriculum discussions, and lesson planning.
I would be dressed professionally, but comfortably, with broken-in heels I purchased weeks ago, and an outfit that I’ve had planned (and re-planned) months before that. This is, after all, the first day, and first impressions, even to 12 and 13 year olds are everything. I would pace back and forth in my classroom, as nervous as the students who will soon occupy it, going over today’s modified schedule, and making sure my group gets to practice with their lockers at least once before dismissal. I would check and double check that my desk is in order, making sure that rosters are up-to-date and seating charts are arranged accordingly, insuring my day to run as smoothly as it can.
My day would whiz by in a whirlwind of meetings, rephrasing of directions, and welcoming and dismissal bells. It would be filled with mispronounced names and distributed forms ready for parent and guardian signatures. And by the end of my ten hour day, my feet will ache (despite those broken in shoes), and my eyes would beg for some rest. But it’ll be another hour and a half before I can indulge, because after my prospects have been dismissed and loaded into buses, I have two meetings to attend and one to conduct.
By 4:00 pm, I would be pulling into my driveway in extreme exhaustion. My feet would scream for a massage, my body would scream for a rest. And I would answer its plea, and prepare for another day of it tomorrow. Only 182 more of these days to go.
Today was supposed to mark my first day back at work since my maternity leave—my seventh year as a teacher, my third year as a team leader, my fifth year as a curriculum liaison.
Today, I would’ve met my 340 students; the ones I will teach and learn from this school year. Today would’ve marked day 1 out of the 183 days I would spend planning, meeting, and enriching for the only school I’ve had the pleasure of working since I graduated college.
Instead, by the grace of fates, today marks my first September as a stay-at-home mom.
Today, instead of 340 children, I am in charge of one, but she is the most important. She is almost two, a great cuddler, and very vocal; she’s persistent and determined; mobile and quick—certainly giving me a run for my money.
She is gracious enough to let me sleep in until 5. And on some days, she even allows me to fit my 2 mile walk before waking. Instead of meetings and 40 minute lessons, now my days are now filled with Elmo sing-alongs, naptimes with a bear, and the occasional tea parties with both. My best laid plans often go awry, and my patience is tested almost every hour.
My guilt plagues me occasionally and exhaustion more so, but I’ve never felt more satisfied; never felt more purposeful than I do now.
So, indeed, my job as a teacher was supposed to start today, but it’ll have to wait. Instead, motherhood knocked on my doorstep, and not a day goes by that I don’t think myself lucky that I was able to answer its call.
I miss teaching, yes, but I find comfort in knowing it’ll be there when I’m ready to return. Textbooks may be traded in for tablets, and standardized testing may be more rigorous, but the essence of it will never change. There will always be students ready to be challenged, innovating instruction to discover; there will still be a curriculum to follow and code of conduct to uphold; teaching is teaching no matter what.
Moments with my daughter, however, are fleeting. I can’t replay her milestones or pause her growth. I can’t return to her days of infancy and relive her progress over and over. Unlike the school year, I only get one shot to raise her. There’s no fall recess or winter break. No summer with a promise of a fresh start in September. I am a parent for eternity; no do-overs or reboots.
So, while I can, I’ll forgo enriching the minds of many children, so I can hone and shape my child’s own. While I can, I will enjoy her little moments of triumphs, and witness her big discoveries up close. While I can, I will watch her grow; she’s only young once, after all.
Like the first day of school, these moments are short-lived. And though I have plenty of time to be a teacher I only have one lifetime to be a mother. So, for now, parenting is my priority; for now, it’s the most worthy of my time.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Maria is a mother, a wife, and a writer. She’s an avid collector of life’s little and big moments, and enjoys chronicling her first time parenting adventures on her blog, Collecting Moments. In between play groups and nap times, she spends her time wishing for more sleep and willing time to slow down just a bit (she’s yet to be successful at either). You can follow Maria on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Google+.
