The Pioneer Woman

Disclaimer: This is me whining about having to go back to work. Because this blog is for me and my own therapy. And I need some.

In case you don't know The Pioneer Woman, here she is. I'd never heard of her before yesterday. I swear. Because I blog, you'd think I would have read her blog. But no. I have not. Or at least not before this morning (well yesterday afternoon). Apparently she's like SUPER FAMOUS (making my little baby blog seem pretty silly). My friend Staci pointed me in her direction (as she was encouraging me, in the way only my sweet Staci does, to start a professional blog) and I admit I was drawn right in. Her blog is fantastic. I mean really. She's got photos and contests and recipes and crafts. She's like the wonder woman of blogging. However, as far as my own personal blogging is concerned, I feel like the internet is pretty saturated with blogs and people trying to make money that way. It's all been done, as they say. I have nothing unique or new or fresh to offer the world. Not when there are Pioneer Women out there that are the epitome of amazing.

However, that said, if I could quit working in the sense that I put on clothes and my badge and stethoscope and go out into the world every day to care for the sick and dying, then I would. I'd miss being able to give to society in the way I feel I do in my job as a nurse. I'd miss my patients and their families fiercely. I'd miss the nurses I work with. But... you really wouldn't have to ask me twice. In fact you would even have to ask me one half of once. If I could make a living at home blogging/cooking/crocheting/ knitting (ok I probably couldn't make a living knitting cause I suck at it)/watching TV professionally/babysitting other women's children/baking cookies/, I totally would. I went to school for like EVER to become a RN (ok it was only a few years but still, nursing school is stressful) but I'd still put all that on hold to see my little baby grow.

I'm pained by the thought of leaving Ella.

Like pained pained. It's the elephant in the room for me right now (which is why it deserved it's own line). Oh sure I can conceptualize the thought of getting dressed and driving to my office and going to meetings and going to patient's homes every day. But when I REALLY think about it, dropping Ella off at someone else's door, pumping during the day, not carrying her around in the sling, not seeing her smiles and giggles, my heart wants to break into a hundred million tiny pieces. I just don't wanna do it. Like throw a temper tantrum on the floor kicking and screaming and make an absurd scene don't wanna do it.

Since I've started looking for childcare options my desire to throw a tantrum is growing stronger. Must. Kick. And. Scream. I know I'm not alone. I think statistically something like 58% percent of women would rather work outside the home. Yeah. No thank you. Not this momma. I'm perfectly content to cook and clean and care for children. I'd darn socks and make dresses and bake my own bread. I'd get spit up on ad pooped on all day. I'd scrub floors and toilets (when I wasn't gazing at my sweet baby). I'd do it. I swear. And I'd never ever ever complain (well maybe a little bit when I missed adult conversation). I was born to be domestic.

When I had my first sweet screaming baby girl my mom gave me this sage advice, she said, "Oh honey by the time that baby is 6 weeks old you'll be DYING to get back to work." She lied. She totally lied (it's not the first time either, sorry if you're reading this mom, you're a really good cook, just so you know). Liar. I took Kelsey to the sitter (who was my friend ever) and then I cried. And when I say cried I don't mean blotted my eyes with a tissue and silently sniffled, I mean ugly sobbing snarfy cry. You know the one I'm talking about. I did it every day for months and months. It was torture. But I had to work. And I have to work now.

There was a point where I didn't work. It didn't make sense to put 2 kids in daycare (and then 3 kids in daycare) on the salary I made then but you know living is like expensive man. Expensive. And we've got 4 kids. And the two in the middle eat enough that I have to work just to feed them (Ella only drinks boobie which I can make for free, thank goodness). Also my 12 and 10 year old boys have both already grown out of the pants I bought them when school started (which was, in case you aren't keeping track, like 2 months ago). And. And. And. Kids are expensive too.

Anyway, the point being, I need to work, and I'm working on getting ok with it. My sweet husband is working his hiney off trying to find a way for me not to work. Bless his talented pea picking heart. But alas, I am skilled. I have a degree and I should probably use it, even if I'm totally not in the 58% mentioned above. Frown.

Suggestions are welcomed and encouraged from all you working mommas.

Pumpkin head :)