And So It Goes, Again

As with with all new things, there comes a time to “pause.” Because of this very tea bag above, one I pulled from a box of “Breathe Easy” tea last night, I am moving on to a new site. It was time. I like moving forward, and changing blogs is a small way to make something new in my life.

I have had this rather subtle epiphany in recent days of early summer. Firstly, let me explain that I have had an awful time this past year as a working mom. I am not nearly as happy in my home life as I was when I was a SAMH. However, I am full of joy and electricity when I am in the classroom. The energy of the room and the wonder of getting to share knowledge with others lights my fire. This is why I must keep teaching despite the difficulties that working and mommying have brought.

Don’t for a second think that my home life is poor now. Quite the contrary. If you have been reading about my little life, you already know this, but it is quite fun to imagine a new audience. There could be someone out there reading who knows nothing about me, right?

Moving on, a sweet person I know posted something on Facebook recently about the “F@*!ing” Fours. I had not known that this was a “thing,” you see. I thought I was suffering silently because it is what I do or because my child was in the wrong school or because I went back to work last year. I thought it was just us, basically. Or that maybe his school was dementing his mind.

It seems rather irresponsible of me, I admit, not to have done further investigating or researching about what FOUR was going to be like. I just took it upon faith and believed the good mamas in the world who always told me, “it gets better and better.” Well, that’s just not true.

And the good thing is, it’s OK. My boy is amazing, creative, intelligent, funny, and charming. My husband and I are still starstruck. Life is good.

But I am coming out of this delusional period in which I frankly didn’t have much time to look up to consider reality. I had papers to grade all year! And lessons to plan! Darn it! How was I supposed to get through being a professional teacher once again and figure out the ins and outs of whatever tantrums were going on at home. It was tough, and now things are changing.

The fact that we can just “pause,” like that, and take a different exit, choose reading instead of folding, or eating out instead of forcibly pushing vegetables around a saute pan is remarkable.  I welcome you to “pause” with me. Here we go again.

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It took me a long while to consider the title for this blog. I wanted something that defined me both as a person and a writer. A name that would also perhaps speak to a particular audience. Why “The Astronaut Wife?” Since my early days of blogging, I have leaned toward more of a confessional style of writing, to some degree. I write as much truth as I can muster at each phase of life. In addition, I also come from a conservative Southern family, and I have grown very far from those roots. You could say I have rocketed to the moon in terms of my upbringing. I have rocketed away from debilitating family dynamics, from worldviews that held me beneath a rock. In my thirties, and now my early to mid-forties, I have learned to live more comfortably with both sides of the moon and write just as much about the raw, dark places as the light ones. Don’t quote me on that, though. It’s quite likely I will lean more heavily toward one or the other depending on which way the wind is blowing. Then, we get to the wife part, and quite frankly, this is where the feminist in me bucked and brayed. Identifying myself as “wife” has felt simply stymieing, particularly since becoming a mother six and a half years ago. But if the truth is going to be told, being a wife to my particular husband has altered my entire shape and has given voice to much of the inner deep. So in fact, becoming a wife was the singular most life-changing moment for me in my journey to the moon and back. Fellow travelers, you can feel safe and comfortable here. What matters more than what you might “get” about me is what you might take for yourself.

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