Do you remember that bridge I was telling you about in my last letter, the one I would cross when I came to it? Well sweetheart, I've come to it. I didn't think I'd be here so soon, but I was informed the other day that the bridge needs to be crossed by January 15, in fact. The clock is ticking.
There are two roads on the other side of that bridge. One road will bring me back to my classroom, where I've spent my days for the last ten years. My source of energy, creativity, friendship, purpose and pride. My definition of me. Hello, my name is Andra, Mrs. C., First Grade Teacher.
But where would that road put you? In the care of somebody else. Somebody else who isn't me.
Millions of women choose that road. And I give them all the credit in the world. But I don't want to.
And the other road? Well, that road would keep me here with you.
If only things were that simple, Avery. But as you'll find out for yourself one day, nothing in adulthood is that simple. It's quite complicated actually. Money doesn't grow on trees, especially not these days. Daddy and I have worked so hard to build a life for you that is comfortable and secure, with food on the table, diapers on your bottom and a beautiful home for you to always call your own. Right now, Daddy's the only one working. And boy does he work hard for us! I've never known a man who works harder than your daddy. But the reality is these are hard times. And we have to keep on working. Daddy more than me. But I've got to pitch in too.
So to choose the road to you, I need to do two things. I need to let go of my career. And I need to find a job. Neither of which are easy.
Yesterday I started my search for a waitressing job. I got out of my mommy sweatpants, put on some makeup and threw on my high-heeled boots. Daddy even told me I looked hot. But guess what? Nobody even wanted to talk to me. They just told me to fill out an application. Easy, right? Nope. I walked in there with a master's degree and the confidence of a 32-year-old woman trying to do the best for her family. And I walked out feeling like an idiot. Do I know all the different brands of scotch and whiskey??? No, honey, I don't.
I haven't given up though. And I won't. I've got other job options in the works. Finding a job won't be the hardest part.
Letting go of myself as a teacher will. I've always been proud to tell people what I do. Will I be proud to tell them I wait tables? I doubt it. But that's the vanity in me talking. Maybe it's time for me to swallow my pride.
At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what I tell people or what they think of me or what my job is. What matters is that I'm your mother.
And I've never been more proud of anything else in my life.
Love,
Mommy
No comments:
Post a Comment