I still have one shelf to go of the pantry moth project which I have managed to put off for about 2 weeks now. Bins of food double-bagged, tied and further corralled in plastic are all over the kitchen. I have been watching the genius invention hanging in my pantry for over a week now: lady moth hormones, hot to those moth dudes and pressed into a little patch, are placed on fly paper,hanging from the ceiling. And now covered with eternally slumbering moths. This is the second batch, and they seem to be slowing down.
The leaves are finally popping out on the trees and New Hampshire is doing spring well this year. The trees are all blossoming, the forsythia is in full golden bloom, and daffodils have popped up in clumps all over the front garden. This is the only season that I look on my yard with fondness coming up the driveway--all the flowers and colors distract my eye from the special needs situation of the rest of my landscaping. But for now (other than the first time in winter it is all mercifully covered with snow!) I can enjoy it.
But am I outside enjoying it? No. I am sitting here again bemoaning the state of my life as a stay at home mom. Staying at home beyond my welcome as my kids are 13 and 10. Which is almost 14 and 11, far beyond the time that most semi-reluctant stay at home moms have moved past their ambivalence and self-questioning and gotten the "moving back into the career path" job that leads them onward.
Don't get me wrong, I love being with my kids when they are home, even the driving around, helping with homework and cooking endless meals part. I could do without the cleaning part, was just telling a friend that I would like to have the money for a maid to run ahead of me into a room just to make sure its straightened. I do have serious fantasies about someone cleaning my floors.
No, its the hours in between that drag on and on. I can't do enough to fill them despite my volunteering, Bible studies, working out, walking the dog, leading Destination and FIRST teams, prayer groups, lunches and errands with friends, ethnic cooking extravaganzas, blah blah blah. Every time I look for a job, there is something about it that doesn't seem right. I don't want to work in my former career as a clinical social worker in prisons and psych hospitals, as it is too all-consuming and potentially dangerous. I want something "fun" that can lead me on in a future of excitement and mind-challenge. Super convenient and high paying, of course. I have looked into new careers as a teacher, nurse administrator, sociologist, prison bible study leader, domestic violence advocate, author, artist, journalist, librarian, naturopath, holistic nutrition educator, chef, school counselor, personal shopper, bakery owner, on and on.
None of them seem right, although briefly I am always sure that this is the career path for me! I research schools or jobs, send emails, plan commutes and incomes, even interview, and always stop before I move on. I know the reality is that I feel obligated to be there for my kids when they're sick, have a snow day, on vacations, weekends, evenings and summer. My husband can't fill in the gaps for me and we don't have family around to help. And even though my kids are old enough to come home for an hour or two on their own, I just can't stomach the idea of that. I've worked so long and hard to get my kids to the point that they're both doing relatively well. I don't want to make myself unavailable to them. I know how much they both need me when they need me, although those times are getting less often.
So I'm still here even though I know its probably not the best use of my time. And a lot of it I feel like I'm sitting around waiting to be needed. Which frankly seems like a silly occupation but someone has to do it. I keep praying that God will pop the perfect job or pastime into my lap and He doesn't. Or maybe He really already has...
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