Long absences.

When I started as a substitute teacher in January, I dreamed about the extra cash, and the revitalization of a career that had been DOA for six years. I gleefully looked forward to every day in the classroom, since it meant I would not be stuck at home alone while my only child is in school.

Six weeks after the fact, I've come to realize that others expectations have not changed since I resumed working.

Old friends still call for "happy hour" after work, thinking as long as it is at a kid-friendly place I have all the time & energy in the world to attend. They don't seem to understand that I just spent all day on my feet with elementary schoolchildren, and the last thing I want is to be social. I want to try to reconnect with MYSELF first, my family second, and then I become the social creature everyone loves. I love my family, friends & the kiddos in the classroom, but I need a little recovery time where I reclaim myself after giving so much to others.

The other expectation is what I have heard working women everywhere saying but I never thought it would apply to me. My mother-in-law asked how am I keeping up with housework now that I'm working. Personally I wanted to tell her to jump off a cliff, but in the interest of keeping the peace I said, "I manage." Honestly, the housework has gone to shit. Dishes get washed when I have time to load the machine, and a small third-world country could eat for a week off the crumbs on the floors. Laundry is piling up and I can't find the balance to get it all done.

I have a good husband, but like most men I've known he is oblivious to the mess until he needs to explain it to a visitor. He tries, bless his heart, but the small contributions he makes just aren't enough to keep ahead of the clutter. His idea of unloading the dishwasher is to put all the clean dishes on the kitchen counter.

So I am finding out that after six years as a stay-at-home mom, housewife, chauffeur and maid...I still have those jobs and put elementary school teacher on top of it all. No wonder working moms need to be excellent organizers. Or else they have to have a raging case of denial about it all.

I choose denial for now.