Dear Mothers #5

For Tired-Teacher Mama

Dear Mothers,

I am a mom to four children ages 8, 6, 4, and 20 months. Baby 5 is due this April. My husband is incredible and we are very much a team in all aspects of parenting and home maintenance. My husband works remotely from home, and I am a middle-school Spanish teacher. I have taught in the same amazing district for eleven years.

Problem: I am so freakin’ tired by the end of the work day. My tank is empty. All of my patience has been used up on mischievous 7th grade boys, and there is none to spare for the children that mean the most to me. I look forward to my kids’ bedtime and then miss them terribly when I fall into my bed an hour later. I snap when they ask questions when we’re reading before bed. I’m cranky when bath time leaves the bathroom sopping wet. I yell when the kids complain about the dinner that’s been prepared. This is not the mom I want to be. I don’t want my kids to remember me as short-tempered, exhausted and always in a rush.

I leave for school at 6:45 and zip out the school doors before the buses pull out of the parking lot, walking in my front door around 3:10. Our baby-sitter leaves and then it’s absolute madness until my husband finishes work at 5:30. The toddler wants to nurse, my preschooler wants 100% of my attention, the big kids have homework that needs to be done and checked, there are lunch boxes to unpack, folders to empty, forms to sign, snacks and lunches to be packed, dinner to be prepped, a never-ending laundry cycle, etc. etc. Weekends don’t feel like a “break” in any capacity. Saturdays are spent deep-cleaning the house and then we are busy with ballet, soccer practice, and birthday parties. Sundays are all about trying to get ahead on the upcoming week by meal prepping, lesson planning, setting out kids’ outfits, and so on. It’s just so draining. Life should be more than this, right?

My husband and I are thinking it’s best for me to resign from my teaching position come April. Our budget will be extremely tight, but it’s feasible. Just barely feasible. I am so nervous, however, to make this leap. I can’t even articulate why. Yes, I want to stay home with my kids. Yes, I know this will greatly improve the quality of our day-to-day lives and give me back the connection with my kids and peace that I crave. On the flip side, I do really love teaching and thinking about one day starting over in a brand-new district one day sounds miserable. I have worked so hard to develop my curriculum, and I work with the best administrators and colleagues imaginable. A teacher’s schedule is a perfect pairing for family life, right? Why am I so scared to turn in my resignation letter? Will I really regret this? Will we be just one emergency away from serious financial ruin?

Signed,

Tired-Teacher Mama

Dear Tired-Teacher Mama, 

I am sitting in my office at Concordia University responding to a work satisfaction survey when a woman who teaches at the school walks into Human Resources to hand in her resignation letter. Three months ago, she became a mother.

The survey I’m responding to asks me questions pertaining to work-life balance: Does this job—I’m the assistant to the registrar—consume me? No. Can I leave work at work? Yes. Does this job make it so I can’t enjoy, or attend, other activities? No. Am I using my gifts and talents in this job?

No.

My office is in the Student Services suite—a space that’s made up of the Registrar, Billing, Financial Aid, and Human Resources. All of us are mothers. Between the five of us, we have 13 children, and one on the way, ages 0-25. Every day at 1 p.m., we go for a walk around campus. Every month, usually on Mondays, we have a themed potluck. November’s was appetizers, for example. We are on a text thread with more funny gifs than I knew existed, but we also exchange messages like, “Gonna be late #becausechildren.” Once, one of us texted that she would be in late because her son slipped on the ice while driving into school and ended up in a ditch. “Take your time,” we said. “Oh my goodness, is he OK?” we said. “Praying,” we said. 

The woman who works in HR knows why the soon-to-be-former professor is here. Still, the new mama’s voice is apologetic, shaky, uncertain. “I love this job,” she says. “I love the students. I love to teach, but… ”

But the grading.

But the prep.

But the meetings.

“I can’t get a handle on it, and be a mother,” she says. Listening to her, my breathing is uneven, and I feel a sting in my eyes.