This morning, the Princess asked me why I had to go to work.
Her: Why can’t you stay here with me?
Me: Why don’t you ask your father that?
Him: I have to earn money.
Her: So, why do you have to go to work?
Me (feebly): Because I like it.
And that’s the truth. Of course, I hate it sometimes, but generally I do like going to work. I am fond of my colleagues and my work is interesting. We could easily survive on my husband’s salary, especially, if we removed childcare expenses.
Of course, I’d prefer to spend all my time having fun, but in the absence of that option, I quite like the challenge of going to work, getting things done, learning new things and talking to other grown-ups. That doesn’t mean I don’t love my children, it just means that I don’t want to spend all my time with them. My husband feels exactly the same. Except he doesn’t feel guilty about it.
NaBloPoMo – X is for Xenophon. Well, it is. No, I have not read any Xenophon.
Say amen, somebody!
Amen! And I presume you don’t mean Xenophon. Who?
I wouldn’t want to spend to spend all my time with ANYONE – why should I feel differently about my children. Besides, it’s not good for them to be trapped at home with a parent or grandparent 24/7? They need to get out and socialise or they’ll just end up odd. Like that kid in your class at school who always wore slightly-too-old-for-them clothing. Babysat by Grandma – guarantee it.