Little Bits of Pixie Dust

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thourougly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!!"

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Q & A

After the whole job debacle, in a fit of motivation, I fired off a couple of resumes without really expecting anything back. But then someone got back to me that very day, and asked me to come in for an interview. This job would be full time, which means that I would have to leave the Peanut all day. It got me thinking...

When the Peanut was first born, and I was in the deepest depths of PPD and couldn't see any light at the end of the tunnel, I told myself desperately that I would soon get a job again. In the real world, where I could talk to adults and wouldn't have to worry about being with this brand new baby that I had no idea what to do with. I actually looked forward to it, because it would mean more than eight hours a day out of the house. And, if I'm being completely honest, away from the baby. I was so anxious and strung out about everything, going to work for eight hours seemed like it would be a break.

But the depression eventually lifted, and I got a little bit better at the baby stuff. I had work as a home health aide, so I was still bringing in some money, but we didn't have to pay anyone to watch the Peanut, as he could come with me. Still, I do enjoy feeling like I'm contributing, and I was going off of my previous feelings. I thought it might be nice to have a reason to put on something other than sweats and talk about things other than poop or teeth that may or may not even be there.

When I got the email requesting that I come in for an interview, my eyes welled up before I was even done reading. All of a sudden, I had to seriously think about this, and what I kept coming back to was that someone else would be playing with the Peanut all day. Getting those huge gummy smiles while drool runs down his chin. Hearing those giggles. Granted, yes, also hearing some screaming and dealing with a pissed off kid sometimes. But soon he will be sitting up, and then crawling, and then WALKING, and what if I miss it? What if I miss hearing that little voice say its first word, when I've been putting in the babble time for months?

My fingers hovered above the keyboard, my stomach churning. What did I really want? The Peanut squeals in delight from his bouncy seat, and I think that I know the answer.


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