"You're a chicken." My husband says this to me as we're snuggling into bed, my 11 week-old daughter between the wall and me and Carlos on the other side.
"I'm a what?"
The last 11 weeks have been challenging, trying, let's say, at the very least. First the crazy, way off script, labor and birth, then a colicky baby, then adjusting to life as a stay-at-home mom.
Now, you might think, big deal, it can't really be hitting you yet, Shanna. Most women, even the most ambitious, career-minded, are home with their babies for the first few months.
But let me tell you, it's hitting me. At this time each year I would either be gearing up for massive amounts of summer school classes plus work or massive amounts of summer teaching. Currently, I'm preparing to work Saturdays and Sundays for the summer while my husband stays home with our daughter, so I can be home with her throughout the week.
Like many, many other things that I planned before delivering this beautiful little cherub, the reality is quite different. I planned to be a stay-at-home mom. I did. But my pre-baby definition of this was that I would teach one or two classes each semester somewhere, somehow. I'd hope for nights and weekends but worst case scenario, my daughter might be in on-campus daycare for, what, ten hours a week, max. Right?
Wrong.
After graduating with my Master's degree and before having my baby I had applied to two community colleges as an adjunct, temporary, English instructor, thinking along the above lines.
A few days ago, I received a rejection letter from one of those establishments.
And as I ran through the gamut of mixed emotions on being rejected (REJECTED!), I realized that aside from the ego crush, and the irritation that this was my own alma mater rejecting me, I was relieved.
Why?
Because I just can't imagine leaving the tiny little human I recently ejected from my body with strangers.
Hell, I don't even want to leave her with her father for the 10 weekends this summer that I will be teaching. And he's great with her!
"I'm telling you, Carlos, if anything ever happened to you, I would move right home with my mother, or down with my aunt and grandmother, so I could be home with Celaya as much as possible and have good, loving help with her. She needs me with her as much as possible," I say to him as we're our for a walk one night.
"Right, I get it Shanna. You've told me this a thousand times. I just want to know, why does something have to happen to me!?"
"Haha," I laugh. "I'm just sayin'."
So, I have come to the conclusion that writing, tutoring, and odd teaching jobs are what is best for me and my mini-family for the foreseeable future, and I have adjusted my (constant) planning and calculating accordingly. Apparently, when I said I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, I really meant it. If it isn't me or my husband watching Celaya, then it just doesn't work for me.
So, after going through all of this with my husband and him having watched me with our daughter for the last few months, this is what he comes up with at eleven o'clock at night.
"Dogs, they kinda just sit there and watch their puppies wander around, not hyper-focused, kinda lazy. I mean, yea, they jump up if they have to, but they definitely sit back and let the puppies do their thing.
"Cats, hey, once those kittens can walk, they lose interest altogether. They just seem really removed from their babies.
"Bears, same thing. Those little cubs are always wandering around pretty far from their mamas.
"In fact, I grew up around a lot of animals and they all seem to have this very removed attitude toward their young.
"But not chickens, man. Chickens are on constant guard with their chicks. And if you even think of getting close to one of those chicks, here comes mama clucking, with her feathers up, chasing after you like a crazy animal! Just to watch them walking anywhere, she's always got her chicks all in a row, she always knows where they are, and she's always checking to make sure they are where they should be."
"Hm." I say, falling asleep with my baby in the crook of my arm, getting the picture.
"That's you, babe. You're a chicken."
So. There you have it. I'm a chicken.
