Hating My Job

It is one of those days today. We barely made it out of the house and when we finally did the girls were more irritable and tired after playtime than they had been before. Of course they didn't nap and now they are hanging on me like monkeys demanding one more hug, cracker, episode of the Wonder Pets, etc. I am literally holding them off with my elbow while I try to type this in.

At this moment I am sure you are thinking, well then why don't you get yourself off the computer and play with your kids! Isn't that why you stay home?! And you're right. Except that I have already played several games of dress up, read ten books, prepared two meals and two snacks, built with blocks, broken up fights, enforced time outs, and picked up the house only to have it completely destroyed again. Frankly, I am done.

It's days like this that I think I need to go back to work.

Except that I have no idea what I would do. With two non potty trained kids the same age, I have to make a more than decent salary to make going back to work financially worth it. And I couldn't go back to my old career because the hours were crazy and totally unpredictable. I did it for a few months when the girls were fifteen months and it was exhausting. Not to mention that there would be some days that I wouldn't see the girls for more then ten minutes or so.

And I don't think that working again would be fulfilling for me, at least not more fulfilling than raising my kids. I've never been one of the people that takes pride in a job well done or the satisfaction. I am more of a "work hard while I am here and then walk out the door with a paycheck" kind of gal. My motto about work it: they pay me to be here.

So here I sit, loving every thirty minutes or so of it. Begging the kids to leave me alone for just a minute. Waiting for the opening of the garage door so I can check out. And by checking out, I mean clean up and make dinner, enhanced by a glass of wine. Still wondering what I am going to do when I grow up.