This will be my 8th year teaching. Most days I love it...but some days I just tolerate it. I mean, I could be at home with my own kids rather than hanging out with other peoples. But...we'd be super poor and eating fish sticks & that makes me want to puke. And I think I'd be insane cause I love my kids...but I love being out in the world too. Eli's almost 5 and I still struggle with the guilt. Does it ever go away? I'm beginning to think no. Even though I know they're happy & loved and safe and having a great time without me all day. And that they'd rather me be halfway sane by leaving them 5 days a week for 10 months of the year than be out of my mind and staying home with them.
At least I have the summers. :) It's in the summer that I get to breathe them in all.day.long. I get to sleep in with them or get up early with them...always their choice. I get to take them swimming and play in the sprinkler. I get to read to them in the middle of the day and make them peanutbutter&shelly samiches (as Luci calls them). I get to nap with them (or not.) I get to watch movies with them and chill out and not worry about the 21 kids I'm going to face the next day. I get to watch them grow.
And then at the end of the summer I cry. Because I see that they're getting older and that next summer will be very different from this one because they'll be one year older. And so right now I'm in mourning. (Which totally isn't helping the funk I've been in lately.) But I'm pushing through. I'm smiling for another summer we've had together. I'm laughing at Luci's amazing vocabulary and Eli's sudden older sense of humor. I'm thankful that God gave me a job where I get to stop and breathe every now and again.
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