publicly thanking my husband.

I love my job.

I’m so grateful.  

So grateful I didn’t renew my teaching contract ten years ago.

Said “no” to the pleas of several of my favorite students to just stay “one more year” to see them through until graduation.

Those same students who are marrying and giving birth to babies and who will begin to understand why I chose “no”.

I was covered in leaking breast milk and projectile spit up while my former co-workers were mapping out lesson plans and sharing inside jokes and inspiring future writers and thinkers.

I would still make the same choice.

We’ve known seasons of low income and sharing one car and eating peanut butter on spoons when there was no bread in the house.

We’ve stayed home from trips because the gas tank was on empty and our kids wear clothes bought almost exclusively at thrift stores.

But I’m so glad I chose home.

(This isn’t an indictment and I’m not tossing around blame or pointing fingers.  I don’t even know why I make that disclaimer.  I’ve never written to try to appease people’s consciences.  I guess I won’t start now.)

I’m saying this:

the struggle has always been worth the prize.

Looking at what was and what is – I still feel like the winner.

It’s a partnership and I’m wildly pleased at which side my lot has fallen.

There are days that Kevin eats lunch at restaurants I have long wanted to try.  Pictures of his delectable sandwiches and fresh hot french fries pop up on my Instagram feed while I’m eating a graham cracker smeared with peanut butter.  (True story.  Happened today.)  And there have certainly been days, moments and seasons, that I want to snap my fingers and trade places with him.  I’ve struggled through jealousy and frustration and questioning these roles we’ve chosen for our family.

But mostly, when my heart posture is pure, when my vision isn’t blurry and my pride is in check, I can say, “Thank you, Kevin.”

Thank you for getting up every day and struggling to leave this happy little chaotic mess of a home and working hard.

Thank you for putting in long hours in sometimes stressful situations.

Thank you for the role you play that lets me perform the best job I have ever known.  Better than teaching poetry to junior high students.  Better than directing high school theatre.  Better than writing articles and taking photographs for a newspaper.

Thank you for enabling me to make motherhood my number one priority.

My full time pastime.

My opus.