Hi! My name is Amanda and I am a former teacher, a current stay-at-home mom and a writer. I’ve taught Kindergarten, middle school English/Literature and technology for grades 3-8. I love to blog and write all sorts of things. I love bring crafty, DIY projects and cooking. I miss hiking, cycling, softball and hockey, but my kids won’t be little forever!
A little background on how I got here….
Being a stay-at-home mom is a very different experience from being a working mom. It’s a mixed bag most days. The decision to stay home was sort of thrust upon us right when the school year was about to start – we lost our day care placement. We had been on the waiting list for 7 months, since even before the twins were half-baked. The spots opened up in the summertime and because we didn’t start right when the spots opened, they were given away. It was at an area YWCA, and the only option that wouldn’t take up the entirety of my private school paycheck. Most of it, but not all. Why didn’t we send them? Neither one of us were working in the summer, and therefore, no one was getting paid. My husband had just ended two part-time teaching jobs (no benefits because of the part-time status) and lined up a permanent full-time for the fall. I stopped getting paid when I was pulled out on medical leave at 24 weeks.
There was another side, too. I returned to work the fall after my first was born, at a new school. It was a place where I never felt truly welcome. Being out for a couple weeks in September due to a herniated disc and then having to inform my principal soon after that my doc was pulling me out at Christmas may have contributed. It was an old school, with most of the teachers there for decades. Mistrusting of newbies, or some such nonsense. But what was the most difficult was leaving school at the end of the day and going to pick up my daughter. Any parent of littles can tell you that the hours around dinner time are generally the worst. The witching hour, it’s called. Tired, cranky, hungry, who knows. But Evelyn would be miserable coming home. And then it was dinner, bath, story and bed. The little time I had with her during the week was distressing. Weekends were full of errands so even then there wasn’t much time for play.
It wasn’t hard for me to see our lost day care placement as a sign that I should be home with my girls. Growing up I LOVED that my mother was home with us. Sure, we didn’t have as much money as some of the kids I went to school with, but it meant that I got to spend that much more time with my mom before losing her when I was 17. I will return to teaching when the girls go to school. But for now, I get to have those midday cuddles and those trips to the museum and the park and the library.