Bittersweet

Bittersweet. Reminds me of chocolate.. only that's more semisweet. As in chocolate, chocolate chips. The only chocolate I really ever have in my house. Good thing too, or else I'd probably be packing an extra 20 pounds or so..

And, yes, this may have been me on one occasion. Or two. Or more. Whatever.

I'm writing this post to talk about my (old) job. For the past five and a half years I've been working as a court reporter for one of the local district judges. Seriously, an amazing job. I would show up for court, but then for my transcript time (the majority of my work) I was able to really set my own hours. It rocked. It gave me the flexibility to work (mostly) when my kids were sleeping or when the hubs had them and really gave me the feeling like I was sort of a stay-at-home mom...at least 80% of the time. The job gave my family benefits and a great enough paycheck that my better half could go to school full-time and really only work during the summer to pay for his tuition. Sweet deal.

There were very few times when I would feel that I really didn't want to go to work. Admittedly, trials weren't (and still aren't) my absolute favorite things in the whole wide world (especially civil ones.. bleh), but it can be interesting to hear a case from beginning to end, get the verdict, and participate in the whole courtroom shebang. Olive it.

And then I put in my resignation notice.

Whhhhaaaaaatttttt?????? (Feel free to act super surprised here, even if you've already known for the past couple months that I was quitting slash have now officially quit. Exaggerated facial expressions preferred.)

It's sadly true. It all happened when I realized that, as much as I would love to,

I have finally accepted the fact that I'm not superwoman.

I know you're surprised and was secretly hoping one of your very own friends was the woman behind the mask (does she even normally wear a mask? No idea. She's not on The Avengers) saving the world one day at a time.

So here's the dealeo: I was feeling a bit like my life was turning into THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY!

Hurry up! Move that thing! And. . . that other thing! Move it!

Up at 6:00, working like crazy (at my job and the massive influx of transcript I was having ordered), working like crazy (at my faux going back to school learning about all things to do with Addy and her diagnosis), trying to squeeze a workout in here and there (so I didn't have a true psychological breakdown), trying to spend quality time with the kiddos (especially when the hubs was gone), keeping food in the house, bills paid, cleaning when I couldn't stand the messiness or clutter anymore, washing and drying clothes (usually to realize nothing was actually getting put away and consequently we were all starting to look like we belonged on episodes of What Not to Wear), and maybe a few other things thrown in here and there. I'd go to bed between midnight and 2:00 a.m. only to wake up at 6:00 a.m. and still find I was falling behind in every. aspect. of. my life. Enter: Cliffs of Insanity Every. day.

I was on the verge of an MMM, Major Mommy Meltdown, when it hit me. Like a bucketload of bricks to my head. Quit. I need to quit something. I went over my options: Quit the home stuff (aka laundry, grocery shopping & finances). Sounds peachy but perhaps it would not be so delightful to have the good ole Department of Health and Welfare knocking my door down to come reclaim my starving dirty children. Out. Quit working out. My only source of stress relief, and that just seemed like a bad idea. Quality time with the kids. Out. It came down to keeping my job or giving my daughter the best autism intervention I possibly could. The choice was made. When it comes right down to it, of course I'll be choosing my family over anything.. especially a job.

So I quit. And I almost cried about four times the day I submitted my resignation. Literally. And here we are. Stay-at-home mom and advocate is my job now. It doesn't pay as well, but the benefits are unquestionably better.

I'm so grateful though for the things that I've learned working in court. I sure have learned a lot more than how to write fast and what to avoid doing if I were to ever be arrested :) I'm afraid that when I started working in court I was terribly judgmental. The defendants who came into the courtroom I would think of as terrible people making terrible choices. What I've come to realize, however, is how blessed I've been to be raised by parents who taught me right from wrong, who loved and cared about me, what it's like to have positive role models in my life, to not be laden with life-controlling addictions. It's true that most every defendant who comes into that courtroom is there because of a bad choice (or usually a series of bad choices) that they've made throughout their lives. At the same time, most of them have not been raised in the same circumstances I have been, and many have not been taught the same things that I was taught growing up. Who am I to judge? We each have our different devils and weaknesses that we struggle with. Mine happen to not be quite as illegal as others, but I know I sure wouldn't want to trade places.

On a completely unrelated note, since Addy chopped her hair in lovely random places she is now sporting shoulder-length hair with a nice comb-over of her bangs. But I think it'll be okay. Better than last time at least :)

Thanks for reading.