Working Mom Struggle: Lack of Change

I figure since I’m all out there about how I rock at parenting, how I fail at parenting, how I feel about my body, what I think about my childcare situation, and what I love and don’t love about my job and being away from my son, what’s one more tidbit of my life, right? That was a very long sentence. Don’t show my students.

Today, I finally got the courage to call the woman who interviewed me last week and told me I would hear something by the beginning of the following week. Well, Thursday isn’t the beginning of the week. I pretty much knew what I was going to hear, but I delayed the inevitable. You see, I love my job. When I say that, it comes with strings attached. I love my administration, my colleagues, and my students (most of the time), but I have a difficulty with the politics, the push for more standardized testing, and the whole being away from my son thing. Mostly the last of those factors. So I applied for a job opening I had been waiting and watching for for the last two years: a virtual teaching position. (You’re reading that “for for” thing over and over, aren’t you? It’s correct.)

I tried not to get my hopes up. Really, I tried. But then I started picturing the availability I’d have when my in-laws decide to up and go on vacation. I imagined the things I’d get to do around the house to prepare for the holidays because I’d be working there and forced to see it rather than ignore it. I thought about the time I would have to write. I envisioned calling and emailing parents and students—something I’m good at—and grading a curriculum that is set for me, instead of inventing units from scratch. I thought I would be a good fit. I care about students, and students who enroll in virtual school, a lot of times, need that extra care, communication, and push.

Well, I didn’t get the job. And even though I’m excited about the new year at a school where I’ve been since its doors opened, I can’t help but feel a little gypped. I’ve waited for this. I’m qualified. My son needs me around more often. Why couldn’t I have just gotten the damn job?

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. 

When I spoke to the principal’s secretary and got the news that another applicant had already been hired, I left for the gym. Normally, I would open up a pint of ice cream and devour it in five minutes flat or go straight to the store to buy a Twix, wallowing in self-pity. But, two weeks ago, I started using myfitnesspal.com to track my calorie intake and exercise regime. I have worked out for at least a half hour (usually more) every day for two weeks and have eaten fewer than 1,300 calories each day. I drove to the gym, worked out on the elliptical machine for 30 minutes, moving my legs until they hurt to take away the sting of the job rejection. Then I went to a “Butts and Gutts” class with two friends and basically did 45 minutes of intense ab and glute work out.

I came home feeling good. But the scale says I weigh the same.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.

I guess the moral here is to just keep on keepin’ on. I’m good at what I do in the classroom. Maybe it’s where I belong for another year. Maybe another kid needs some English tutoring or some encouragement. Maybe in a couple of weeks, I’ll start to see some pounds shed off this post-pregnancy body.

Maybe.