The Working Momma
“Welcome back Ms. Townsend!”
“For me, being a mother made me a better professional because coming home every night to my girls reminded me what I was working for. And being a professional made me a better mother because by pursuing my dreams, I was modeling for my girls how to pursue their dreams. ”
There was a resounding clap around the room after my principal announced my return after my five months of leave. I really wasn’t sure if I should clap with them, stand up and take a bow or just smile and give a subtle wave. I did the latter. It felt the most natural. It was weird because I’m not used to people at my job being that nice. No one gets welcomed back.
Even still, with the warm welcome, I was sad. I was not ready to depart from my baby so soon. As I boarded the elevator back to my room, people asked “how’s the baby?” to which I replied that he was “great.” I knew that he was, but I wasn’t. No one really cared about how I was feeling so I coasted. Once I made it upstairs someone actually did ask about me. I didn’t hold back. “I am not o.k. I miss my baby.“ I thought about telling them about the water works just before making it into the building. I kept it to myself instead. Upon welcoming the students into the classroom, they in turn welcomed me back with gasps, looks of disbelief and tons of warm hugs. I was surprised. I did not think these kids would remember me. After all, I was only their teacher for two weeks before I went on my five month long hiatus. We carved out the first fifteen minutes of the day for them to ask me all of the questions they had been holding in over the past few months.
“Where is your baby?”
“"How is your baby?”
“How did it feel to be at home with your baby?”
The variety in the questioning was …vast…
“What is your baby’s name?”
“Can he talk?”
“Can he walk?”
Oh but this one was my favorite. Just before gathering on the rug, a scholar doubles back to me after already greeting me with a hug. “How old is your baby?”
“9.” He walks away, only to come right back.
“So, he’s nine years old?”
“Yup.” He stands there staring blankly.
“Wow! He’s my age!” He walks away again. Then, one more retreat.
“Wait, how can he be nine years old . . . my same age?”
I shrug. I, then, flash a smile.
“He’s not nine!”
“O.k. then how old do you think he is?”
“Uuuhh I don’t know. Maybe one or two?”
I simply smiled.
So the day continues. I have moments. Flashback moments of me crying the week before when I came to terms with the fact that I’d be returning to working sooner than I planned. Flashbacks of that morning telling my boy how much I’d miss him between tears falling from my eyes. A flashback of me saying goodbye to him while trying not to cry. (It helped that he had no clue as to what was going on and barely looked my way.) A flashback of talking to my mom in the car and her asking me how I was feeling. I couldn’t even lie if I wanted to. My voice changed and a tear fell. “Not o.k.” She tried to draw up all of the most consoling words she had but I was still not o.k. Flashback of hopping in the carpool and my friend asking me if I cried yet, only for me to hold back tears while confirming that I was basically on a roll. One person warned me of how hard this would be but I wasn’t really prepared for this. They say it gets easier but only time will tell.
Once the work day came to a close and I was in the carpool on my way home, I felt like I had reached my happiest moment of the day. I couldn’t have gotten to my home quick enough to tell my “poppa” how much I missed him and plaster the juiciest kiss on his little chocolate cheeks. I was brimming with excitement to play with him and give him his bedtime bottle. I was happy I survived the day. Day 1 down…80 more to go.
How do other moms do this?; This whole working and momming thing? It is a lot. I, now have to merge my former life as a working woman with my new life as a mom together? The craziest part about it is … THIS IS THE NORM..?! It’s an adjustment just like the rest of this momming journey. I’ll be back around June to let you know how I’ve adjusted.
