Bumps in the road

It’s plural because it’s not the first and realistically it won’t be the last.  One of my husband’s real estate deals has gone sideways. Not collapsed at least, but sideways. A closing is delayed significantly due to issues with the bank, issues my husband has no control over.  Certainly not ideal news to start the weekend off.  Not the end of the world either, but it’s hard not to start thinking ‘is this really going to work?’  The reality is that the one income we will soon be dependent upon is commission-only, and as such, not guaranteed.  Days like this make me feel as if my plans to stay home are not something I’m doing for my family as much as to it.

Then the ifs and buts come flooding in, and I’m overcome by the fear of late mortgage payments, empty college funds, and dropping my kids off at daycare again. And now that we’ve committed to this plan, there’s more at stake.  I’ve put it out there to my friends, family, here.  I’ve promised myself, my children. I’ve checked out at work as much as I can let myself, and started to envision myself in this new role, embrace it.

The closer I get to being home with my children, the harder the daily grind is, and the more devastated I feel when we face a setback like this closing being delayed. The longer it takes us to save our cushion, the longer I have to wait to quit work and the more likely it is that it will never happen. I’m filled with sadness at the idea of missing more time with them my kids, more of this important, fleeting time. I’ve already been back at work longer than I was home with my second baby and in total, longer than I’ve stayed home with both of my children.  My oldest turns 3 next month and he’s been in daycare the majority of his life. I have less than 2 years left to be at home with him before he starts school. And my youngest will be walking before I quit work. Each day at work I miss them more and more, find myself daydreaming about them during meetings more often, and yearning for that final day of work more than ever.

I pray, beg God to let this happen, and still fear that it may never.  I know we’ll get over this bump, and others. At least I hope.  We have to.


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