James is sick. It's not the flu or strep throat, but he's running fever, achy, sore throat, sniffles. Your garden-variety cold. I stayed home with him yesterday and today and will again tomorrow trying to get him fever-free for 24 hours.
But as I was taking our afternoon rest yesterday, I realized something. I was blissfully happy. I had dusted and vacuumed the downstairs, done the dishes and set up dinner. We'd eaten lunch and were lying on my bed reading. It was a beautiful, sunny, warm fall day. The windows were open and the breeze was blowing the curtains nicely. The neighbor's wind chimes were providing some lovely background music. Oh how I would love to be a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) again.
Today...the weather has changed. It's a blustery, rainy, getting-chillier-by-the-minute fall day. And again...I'm loving it! I had to close the windows because it was starting to rain in, but I can still hear the rain outside. The dog is making quite a bit of noise chewing on his rawhide bone--but that keeps him from being bored and wanting to go in and out constantly in the rain. I decided not to mop the floors today--for the exact reason of the dog and the rain. (I'm never going to get them mopped if this keeps up!) We'll have some lunch soon, take a little rest and then bake some cookies. I'll still have time to pay the bills (yuck) and put together dinner. I might even vacuum and dust upstairs. Maybe.
It's not financially possible for me to be a SAHM. It's just not. And that's okay. My job as a teacher is the next best thing. I'm home when the boys are home usually. We're gone together usually. But...staying home this week with my sick boy (who's not so sick that he can't play on the computer or other video games--he's not tied to me 24/7) has reminded me of what my true calling is. I am a mother in Zion. I'm raising three stripling warriors. The pressures of working and running the home are crazy and I've learned to give where I can and need to. Maybe the floors don't get mopped, but the boys get fed, homework gets done, prayers get said. We play a game. We watch a movie. Or...we hang out in separate rooms of the house, but they know I'm here if they need or want me.
But this...today...this week...this is my dream. Maybe I'll run out and buy just one lottery ticket.
No comments:
Post a Comment