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| at the end of the day, i just want to be a good, solid example for this girl. |
so, here's a funny story: i almost took the SAT last week.
yep, that SAT.
i bailed.
let me back up a bit: it has recently become unavoidably
apparent that living on one income is not for us. we can survive, technically.
but Michael and i enjoy living. we don't like to have things, but we like to do
things. with the kids, without the kids. day trips, getaways, little
adventures, spontaneous exploring. (we also occasionally love food that we
don't have to prepare, and drinks someone else pours.)
i really, really wish i could get paid for being at home
with the kids, because if the job did pay,
either hourly or on some kind of scale that rewarded maximum effort, i'd be
rich. i am a lapsed Catholic with a Protestant work ethic at home. i don't
think i've ever worked so hard in my life—in fact i know i haven't. i take it very
seriously, because i decided about a year ago that if i'm not contributing to
our family financially, i better well contribute in every other way possible.
which is not to say my house is spotless and an elaborate dinner is on the
table every night at 6 o'clock on the dot. (please. i'm not a robot.) i just
mean i never sit down. if the kids are napping, i'm folding laundry or sweeping
up messes or trimming shrubs or filling the dishwasher or organizing the
playroom (or, on rare occasions like today, writing my blog). if the kids are
awake, i'm changing a diaper, wiping a face, mediating a toy-fight, pushing a
stroller, buckling a car seat, making a bottle, unwrapping a cheese stick. you get
the idea.
i think, deep down, i haven't ever wanted it to seem like
i'm not working, if that makes any
sense. i don't take for granted that i'm not stuck in an office anymore,
relegated to breakfast and bedtime with my kids. i don't take for granted that
i've been able to be with Molly so much for this amazing first year of her
life. i never, ever take an ounce of any of it for granted.
the problem is, although the kisses and hugs and giggles and
cuddles i get from my wee ones are worth more than gold, they can't be
deposited in a bank and withdrawn from the ATM or used to pay a few bills.
my original plan—the one i envisioned before we ever
moved—was to freelance full-time as a writer and editor. i haven't given up on that
dream by any stretch, but the last several months have shown me that it's not
nearly as easy as i thought it would be to get regular clients or to steal blocks of time in which to
actually write. i decided to put that plan on the backburner just for now and
instead look for part-time work that would give us a little financial padding
but not disrupt our lives completely.
last week i found a listing online for a tutor at one of
those places that help kids prepare for the SAT. it said the job was perfect
for a writer/editor. i immediately applied. helping kids with vocab and essay
writing? sign me up! an hour later, i was on the phone with the director of the
place, a nice enough guy who seemed slightly wary of my interest and abilities,
but nevertheless explained the gig to me and gave me all the details.
then he told me the next part of the screening process was
having me sit for the verbal part of the SAT.
of course it makes sense—how could i help anyone prepare for
something i couldn't handle myself?—but my stomach knotted up instantly. i am
not a test-taker. never have been. i can write a term paper that will knock
your socks off, an essay that will bring tears to your eyes, but pleasepleaseplease don't ask me to do multiple
choice while the clock is ticking. i can't handle it. i get overwhelmed. i
second guess myself. i third guess
myself. and then i just give up. (this happened about 10 years ago when i sat
for the GRE; after a while, i just started filling in letter "C" for
everything.)
anyway. i scheduled a day and time for my SAT redux and hung
up the phone. and then i started thinking.
to land this gig, i'd have to take the SAT. assuming i did
okay, then i'd have to train for a month. and then i'd start to work with students and get paid—twelve dollars an
hour. (which is not nothing, i know. to many it's everything, and i understand
and respect that. but for me, to leave my children, to miss dinners and
bedtimes, it's not enough.)
before i was home with the kids full-time, i was always at
the mercy of one supervisor or another, most of whom were jerks. i was almost
always operating from a place of insecurity and uncertainty. even though
money's been tight for the last year, one of the more beautiful things about
not being in an office has been finding my self-worth again, that deep-down confidence
that comes from doing hard work, knowing in my bones i'm doing the best that i
can, and believing in what i'm doing.
i'm going to be thirty-nine years old in two months. the
last thing i want to do now is take a step backward and sell myself short. SO:
i settled on something entirely different, a venture i'd contemplated for a
while but i needed to figure out a way to make it my own. i'm still not sure it
will work, but i'm committed to giving it a try.
and i didn't have to take a standardized test to get
started.
stay tuned for more details...!
mbm
