Eddie: “Miss Kelly, Eddie doesn’t exist anymore. I’m a sandwich.” Nate: “Miss Kelly, are you married to my dad?” Me: “Uh…nope.” Nate: “Phew, that was a close one!” Later on.. Nate: “Miss Kelly, is that your son?” Me: “No, I don’t have any children.” Nate: “But you’re just so old!” Little #1: Sometimes I fly like an eagle. Little #2: Well, my grandma can talk to bugs.
Sometimes I wish I could quit my job, but days like today help me remember how much joy I get out of these littles.
Some days it’s hard to have patience, and I wonder what these parents do at home… if anything at all.
If they truly understood how crucial their role is, they wouldn’t leave their children from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m.
Twelve, long, grueling hours.
Playing with recycled toys gets old, and snack time will never compare to being at home with mom.
But then I wonder if I’ll ever be one of those parents – working two jobs so that my child can have new shoes or a new ballet tutu, or something as simple and necessary as a home-cooked meal, and relying on daycare for peace of mind.
Lord, I hope not.
Putting myself in their shoes makes me feel bad for being judgmental, and I attempt to muster up as much grace as I can. This could be me, and I am sure these parents would rather be home with their children instead of working twelve, long, grueling hours with their respective employers. But it’s not, and I am grateful.
I will be honest and admit that my frustrations and stress about this job often have little or nothing to do with the children and their quirks, or the parents that tend to pick up their children way too late, but rather the people I work with; people that don’t care as much as they should, and don’t really want to be there.
Everything within me wants to scream:
“Leave! Take your bitterness away from these little hearts and minds.”
I love these littles, and every time I begin to dread going to work (sleeping in every morning sounds so much better), I remember that they need me.
They need me to speak love, and joy, and peace, and life into their lives, because Lord only knows what they are being told at home. I wonder if anyone tells these tiny humans that they are loved, and that they matter. I wonder if they know how much potential they have, and that their dreams, and goals, and desires are valid, even if they have only lived four short years on this Earth.
I tend to forget that this job is temporary, and because of this, I need to make every second count.