Alright. Before I made the decision to stay home with my girls full time almost five months ago, my SAHM friends tried to warn me. They told me how hard it was to live on a frayed shoestring budget, never get a sick day, be with your kids from sunup to sundown and the kicker? Nobody really appreciates you for it. While I never thought for a second that this job would be easy, I had NO idea how hard it would be. No idea. I work so hard…for no money.
They appreciate me, right? Right?! I sure appreciate them.
But it’s not just about the money. I left a career I was good at. Really good at. But I was in the right place at the wrong time in my life. And time was …
At 4 a.m., I saw my husband off to work. I made him a cup of coffee to go, and watched him drive away on a 1.5 hour commute to his job site. A job site where he would be outdoors nearly all day in 100 plus degree heat, only to take short breaks in the air conditioned job trailer before heading back out into the blistering sun. He’s a hard worker, as hard as they come. I’m sure he would have loved to outsource part of his job today…like I did.
That’s right. I took my toddler to her old daycare, and kept the baby home with me. So technically, I outsourced half of my job. Why? Because I felt it was the best thing for my family, to give her …
She’s real. And she lives in West Wichita.
There she was, in real life, tall, bottle blonde, tan and wearing spandex as it was meant to be worn. She had pep in her step, pearls for teeth and a perkiness that indicated silicone (if you catch my drift). She emerged from the church carefree and unburdened as I was walking in with a baby slung up on one hip, and a toddler gripping my free hand. I was schlepping, she was practically bouncing. She had style, she had grace, I probably had graham cracker on my face. (No, seriously, Erica had been munching on them on the way in.)
So what was she doing here, at this mega-lo-church, where I was dropping off my kiddos for four hours of social interaction? I was already a bit …
I’m not sure who was more excited about the Summer Reading Program Pajama Party at our local library, me or my three year old. (Ok, probably me.) After all, this was the stuff of working mom fantasies, spending quality time with your child in a fun, educational environment, watching them soak up knowledge and life experience for the first time, instead of hearing about it secondhand. I was pumped, I mean pumped! about going, and had built it up in her crazily-creative little mind as the best day ever!
She wore boots with her Jessie the Cowgirl jammies (that’s my girl), perfect for photo ops for momma’s blog (because I totally wanted to write a feel-good post about the merits of being present and accounted for at moments like this). She was a bit intimidated by …
Yes, these two are actually a full-time job.
These are actual things that people have asked me since I decided to stay home with my girls a little less than two months ago. I’m getting a little tired of pushing my right eye back into my head (it pops out a little when I get angry), so I decided to provide some “education” to those who may come into contact with a SAHM, WAHM, SAHD, WAHD, or whatever term you prefer.
Please, please, please don’t ask me:
1. How are you enjoying your retirement?
My response: “How are you enjoying your ignorance?”
Retirement? Are you kidding? Staying home with your kids is really no different than having a full-time job outside of the home. And why is it that if you have the title “daycare provider,” people understand what you …
THESE are the moments I need to remember.
No, this isn’t another mom blog tirade on the recent boobirific Time magazine cover. There are plenty of good ones out there, though.
This is a heart-on-my-sleeve post about some thoughts that were going through my head today. I imagine I’m not the only one who feels this way. If I’m not, then I could use some words of encouragement. If I am, then I’d like a prize for “most unique mommy meltdown.”
Here’s a little gem that popped into my head today: What the hell am I doing here?
You see, this question goes both ways. There are days when I admit I feel highly over-qualified for this job. I’m sorry if that offends anyone, but it’s the truth. After spending an hour scraping gooey, matted banana …