Sunday, January 4, 2009

Money Wars

Ah. The infamous dollar bill. The object we all allow ourselves to become slaves to. The dollar bill. The ruler of the world. The infinite matter in which we base many decisions on. The dollar bill.

So it is. Decisions are to be made, in a time when I am simply not ready to make any decisions at all. The dollar bill. Can't get it out of my head. Should I, shouldn't I? The question weighing on my mind so heavily is one which every mother goes through....should I return to work? Baby will be eight months old this month. Before he was here, I thought eight months was pretty old for a baby, a perfect time to think about going to work part time. But he is so small still. Still so dependent on one constant factor in his life: Me. His mommy. We can hardly stand being away from each other for more than an hour.

The dollar bill. The monetary objects we all strive for, whether we admit it or not. Would I like to buy a house? Yes. Would I like $50 jeans from Lucky Lu Lu's? Yes. Would I like to splurge on matching Enduro mothercycles for the Mr. and Mrs.? Yes. Would I like to give my baby everything he wants? Yes. But at what price? Am I willing to trade this for that? With tons and tons of hard thinking the answer is clear. Vincent doesn't care about the number of toys he has sprawled on the floor and he certainly doesn't care whether I'm wearing designer clothes. And frankly, when would the Mr. and Mrs. ever have the time or opportunity to ride around on our matching bikes? Am I willing to trade such valuable time for some ridiculous price tag or even more ridiculous mortgage? No. I look at him and I couldn't bare to miss one second of his tender little life. He needs me now just as much as he did when we left the hospital. I am not ready to go back, and I don't know when I'll ever be.

I'm taking it one day at a time, but for now, the answer is simple. I choose him. I choose him over anything else that has a pricetag. He is priceless. His gorgeous little face is more valuable to me than the face of any dead president. Hands Down.