Mommy Guilt

See this photo.

It makes me feel all lit up inside – I can’t believe that there are people out there who call me Professor Rawlings.  (In fact, I just have them call me Erin because Professor Rawlings makes it sound like I should sitting in a library filled with leather-bound books while I drink scotch and smoke a pipe).

I cannot believe that I am teaching again.  And not teaching English to a bunch of teenagers who could care less, but social media strategy to students that pay to be there.

Seriously?  Mind. Blown.

I took the job with much trepidation because I didn’t want anything to get in my way of being a good mom.  I was afraid to be committed to anything else but my kids. 

I was so nervous that I think I made up my mind not to love it before it even started.  If I loved something like a job, wouldn’t that take away my love that I have for my kids?  Wouldn’t it take up time that was meant for them? 

Well, after beginning my third semester a few weeks ago, I have to admit that I am really enjoying teaching again.  And it seems like the administration likes me since they have asked me to develop additional curriculum.  Not only do I like teaching, but it also gives me some sort of structure to get my blogging stuff done.  I do believe that this will help me achieve my goal of world domination while still wearing my pajamas.

I think I would be totally soaking up all this happiness and accomplishment if I didn’t feel so damn guilty about devoting time to something other than my kids.

In my mind, I was going to be a stay-at-home mom until Thomas was in kindergarten.  This stuff wasn’t supposed to happen this soon. 

I think my preconceived notion of what I thought motherhood would be like is the main factor of this particular brand of mommy guilt.  Kids are all consuming, but if you do your job right, they leave the nest - not all at once, but in little steps. I don’t want to be left wondering who I am if my whole identity is tied exclusively to being “Marie and Thomas’s Mom.”   On the flip side, I feel that I could totally get sucked into teaching and all the opportunities that come along with it.

So maybe the true factor in alleviating this mommy guilt is to find balance.  I so badly want to find the magic equation that will balance motherhood and career, but if I have learned anything, balance is all about trial and error.  Getting it right one day doesn’t mean I have figured out the secret code. 

How do you strike that balance between motherhood and whatever else makes you happy?  I could you a little pep talk . . .

Growing Up and 4th of July Traditions

When I was a kid, I LOVED the 4th of July.  My family would get together with my aunt, uncle, and cousins.  We anxiously awaited until it finally became dark since my Dad and his brother were way into pyrotechnics and *may* had procured some illegal fireworks.

This one time, they lit up a firework that spun in super fast circles, like a whirling dervish.  In it’s little dance, the wheel of fire spiraled up a car and over the roof, where it landed under the car.  We squealed in equal parts of delight and sheer terror.  Would the car explode?   Would the whole neighborhood go up in flames?  (Spoiler - no, the firework just stopped.  Totally anticlimactic).

My brother, cousins, and I wanted in on this action so when we were allowed to hold sparklers and “play with fire,”  it was like, the best thing ever!  Better than eating s’mores until the break of dawn.  Better than unlimited popsicles.

These memories are the blueprints for my 4th of July celebrations, however, I am the only person out of my brother and that set of cousins that still lives here.  Even though the “adults” still get together, we’ve slowly formed our own 4th of July traditions to ensure Marie and Thomas have their own blueprints that are filled with fun times with their friends.  

Growing up, I always thought that things would always be the same, traditions and family would never change.  

They never do stay the same.  And that is bittersweet.

Sometimes things work out in ways that you could never imagine.

And that is incredible.

Hope you had a happy holiday!

I die of cuteness.

The Gang

So excited to play with fire.

This. Is. Happening.

Writing her name in fire.  Kind of like Katniss.

About 30 seconds before his sparkler went rogue and the sparks
ended up on his hand. He now has blisters.
And I will be collecting my Mother of the Year award.

The Girls.