A phone call from my former boss asking if I was ready to come back to work has ignited several days of soul searching. Six-and-a-half years have passed since I traded my career at GE Consumer Finance to be a stay-at-home mom.  Back then, I had just received the highest possible performance rating of  “Top Talent” and was set to receive a sizable raise. I loved what I did, and I was good at it. I don’t say this to boast or brag. I just think it’s important for my children to know these things. I want them to learn that love requires sacrifice.

Even though Tad gives me his highest possible performance rating of “The Best Mom He’s Ever Had,” most days I feel like I’m failing. Our grout is grungy and you could write the Magna Carte with your finger on the dusty surfaces of our home. Like the 80 yards of slipcover fabric stashed in the corner of my craft room, I do not feel like I am fulfilling the full measure of my creation. I am a mediocre mom and housewife, and I hope it’s not wrong to long for accomplishment, appreciation, and excellence. Nevertheless, earlier today I declined a wonderful job opportunity because, although somewhat flexible, it would require me to be away from home during the after-school hours a few days a week.

Tonight, I selfishly allow myself to wish for the best of both worlds, shed some tears of self-pity, and feel grateful that someone still thinks me employable. In the morning, I’ll put on a happy face and be genuinely grateful that we are all healthy and that I have the blessing to be home with my kids while they are little.

Sometimes even the right decision is hard.