I just got a call. Hubby is very frustrated. Another piece of lab equipment broke at work, so it's me and baby having dinner alone again. Oh, well. At least today I was out and about and not at home. Saturday or Sunday when he was working, he didn't come home until 12:30am. I was home alone and bored. You can't do to much when your 8 months preggo. It's the crunch before the baby storm. Hubby has been working nearly every day. He stayed home for Thanksgiving, our last one alone. And I made him stay home during Black Friday. I have no desire to become a pregnant widow. He works most weekends. And just in case you were wondering, my hubby and I are evil going to hell people because we lied about hubby's religion (well we fudged and were never asked). Hubby doesn't have one. But that's another blog.
Anyway...Why being a new parent isn't so new is really the topic for this blog. I've mentioned that I've worked with every age level imaginable. My degree is in music education and because it is so specific you float around trying your hand at every grade and age. I've taught some college, high school, junior high, and elementary and I've worked at a day care. I decided that I liked the day care better. Seems silly to become an educated person to work at a day care, but it's my niche. Every teacher has a niche. I've already told hubby that I would like to back to school and get an additional certification for elementary ed and early ed. I still like music ed but it has draw backs. If you work at a higher level, you spend all your time away from home. There are contests, festivals, concerts, football games, etc. For those who work at the elementary level, to get a decent full-time position a lot of districts make you float. You may float pushing a cart between classrooms and you make end up driving around to various schools. For some odd reason, people think that meeting your music teacher once a week for an hour is enough music education. That's barely enough time to teach children a song let along music terminology, music history, how to read music, or play children designed instruments. I want my own classroom and for children to get to know me. I also want to be able to go home and spend time with my family. This is why I got into day care.
Believe it or not, I got paid a lot more working in a day care. I also got to go home after 8 hours of work. My salary would be more as a teacher, but unfortunately I'd be bringing work home with me or spending more time away from home so I would essentially be making less. My doctor told me that as a resident she earned about 2 dollars an hour. It's like that for teachers and many other salary positions. But I digress.
I've basically been teaching people my whole life. As soon as you develop some amount of talent as a musician you end up teaching other people. I was a late bloomer. I started learning music at age 10, but I also baby sat a lot too. So between the teaching and baby sitting and day care, I've been training for my biggest job yet: Mom.
I know how to feed em, bath em, put em to bed. I know 1st aid and cpr and how to child proof a room. I know when a sneeze is allergies and when it is not. I know when someone is crying because they're really hurt or really mad. I know developmental milestones from infancy to adulthood. I've potty trained a ton of children that the people at work called me the expert whenever parents came to visit our school/day care. I've changed thousands of diapers. I've wiped noses hundreds of times. I fixed owies. I've taken temperatures. I could drone on and on and on.
The only difference between me and others who are moms are that I've never had to take a child home with me. No one has made me do that yet. No child has legitimately called me mom. I've been called mom many times before even though the only person who can truly say I'm mom has not inhaled air yet. And I've never had "the privilege" of child birth or labor pains.
So my poor son is in for it. I've decided that I'm either going to be obnoxious and act like super mom who knows everything. Or my poor hubby, an only child, will wonder why I'm not doing anything about a situation say throwing fits in public because I will be more hands off and less worried. Although many other people in the grocery store will give me the evil eye for allowing my child to create a public display, I'm going to let him. Sorry I can't understand why the lady at the super market keeps saying "please, sweetie, sit down. Please sweetie don't touch that. Sshhhh!!!" The kid was bored, lady, give him a toy. And stop saying please. It's like asking him. My kid wants to throw a fit fine. I'm not going to ask him to stop. He'll stop eventually when he's not so angry or bored. Which after he's figured out that he hasn't got my attention anymore will last all of ten minutes. Kids really do have short attention spans. Works like a charm at the day care. They call it redirection. We're not allowed to use time outs anymore. We have to redirect the children. In other words, distract them.
Speaking of distractions, my cat has climbed into the chair with me.
Okay. So I'm jaded about being parent. I know it's a miracle and a blessing and a gift. I also know that it's a job and jobs require work. I'm not overly thrilled probably because it really isn't something new. Yes, I'm a little nutty and study over my collection of onesies. But I chalk it up to boredom and ready to get this show on the road. I really hate pregnancy. Can we move on to the interesting part where I get to actually be a mom instead of playing a mom? I've been playing the part of mom for so long that it's become a role I've locked myself into and see no end in sight. I'd rather not be in a role; I'd rather be the thing itself.
These last two months to go are going to be torture. I'm all about telling the doctor to induce at 39 weeks to cut things short. My excuse is that my son is already huge. He weights about 5 pounds and he has eight weeks to go. I don't want to squeeze out a 10 pound baby. And I don't want to pretend to be mom any longer than I have to so let's get this show on the road.
It's sad when you know how many more weeks you have versus how many weeks you are at. I keep thinking well the baby will be full term in about five weeks. Just hold on. Maybe he'll come out early.
Okay, now I'm ranting aimlessly. Oh well. I'm tired. This insomnia is awful and I need to eat. More on why I hate pregnancy when I've had more sleep so I can collect my thoughts.