So How Do You Like It? - Part 3

Being a stay at home mom is hard.

It seems like you should be able to get a ton done...

...you know, since you're home all day.

right?

right.

Except that I can't seem to have more than 10 minutes when I don't have someone either:
a) pooping their diaper
b) wanting to eat
c) screaming about something or another
d) all of the above

The house is messier. Because it's *never* empty.

I do laundry...CON.STANT.LY.

Constantly.

More dishes to do since there are now three meals a day prepared.

Which leads to more dish towels to wash.

More napkins to throw away.

More crap that falls to the floor...

...only to be ground in by the constant parade of feet.

I don't have time for sewing, reading, or otherwise doing anything besides basically...

...well, just making sure someone isn't crying.

(Strangely enough, any "projects" I manage to do are done on the weekends when Andy is home to help keep an eye on little ones.)

The hardest part though, so far, is how it just kinda keeps going on and on and on.

Don't get me wrong. There's no such thing as a day off when you work full time either.

In fact, frankly, it's worse in most ways.

You put in a long day or week and then you come home and still have to be mom. You still have dishes and laundry and groceries and scraped knees and all that other stuff. Weekends are not time off...they're just time to get all that house business taken care of.

And that's been the biggest thing for me to adjust to just the same.

While I never got a weekend "off"...something *changed*.

I was busy as ever, but at least I didn't have to go to the office. I didn't have to get all dolled up. I didn't have to rush around in the morning.

There was a paradigm shift. Saturdays and Sundays just felt different.

I wasn't "off", but there was a distinct beginning and ending to weeks, months, years.

I find myself a bit put off on Saturdays that I have to make lunch for everyone. Not because I didn't make lunches on Saturdays before...just that now...well...

I DON'T WANT TO MAKE LUNCH BECAUSE I'VE MADE LUNCHES FOR THE LAST 64 DAYS STRAIGHT!

And frankly, I'm sick of making lunches. I don't want to make lunches. I want to do something different today because it's the weekend for Pete's Sake!

Does that make sense?

Nothing really changes. Except of course, that Andy is home, which is nice and does provide some change. But my daily tasks are the same regardless of the day.

I don't want to call it tedious, because that carries such a negative conotation...and so far, I'm not wanting it to be negative. It's just the fact of the matter.

The dishes are the same. The laundry is the same. The stupid lunches are the same.

But the kids are different every. single. day.

And in the end, that's the best part.

I get to watch the changes first hand.

Even if it means that I have to make yet another PB&J...you know, for the 546th time.

So How Do You Like It? - Part 2

Guilt.

Loads of it.

Carried it around.

Was always, and I mean *always* aware of it.

Both self-imposed and doled out by others.

I think all working moms carry around a lot of guilt. Even if they prefer working to being home full time.

Actually, let me re-phrase that: I think all moms carry around a lot of guilt. Working or not. We all have these pre-conceived notions of what motherhood and womanhood should look like, and somehow it always includes some level of relative perfection. Of which, none of us can master.

Add to that personal masochism, going to work and being away from home (and subsequently your kids) 50-60 hours per week. (Remember, work days are 8-5...plus travel times...that works out to be more than the 40 hours you pull on your paycheck.)

I always felt so guilty. Leaving my little boy at someone else's house.

Wondering if he behaved...how did he play with the others?...did he get a good nap todaay?...did he have any "firsts" today?...

Guilty that I was inevitably missing something.

Maybe everything.

Guilty that I wasn't being a good mom.

Terrified that he might like the daycare provider more than he liked me.

Worried that the values and morals I wanted instilled were going to have to happen by osmosis, because Lord knows I didn't see my kid as much as I did my co-workers.

So. much. guilt.

Dropping him off never got easier.

The only difference was that I quit crying after a while.

But my heart still ached.

As if that weren't enough, there was the judgment from others.

Maybe it was my paranoia. Maybe I was overly-sensitive.

Probably to some extent.

But I know that some of it was certainly real.

A sense of "I cannot believe you work! Ugh!"

Sometimes it was said with words.

"oh."

Most times with raised eyebrows and a disapproving look.

Many times by sheer virtue that most of the women's bible studies and events happened in the middle of the week during the middle of the day.

Almost always by the topics and speakers selected for women's conferences.

As if I don't dole out enough guilt on myself, I felt like every other woman I knew secretly (or not so secretly) disapproved...and by disapproving...labeled me a bad mom.

At the very least...a less than good mom.

I've had moms in hushed tones admit that they wished they could afford to work.

Hushed because it is frowned upon.

I heard the word "choices" a lot. And without literally pulling out my checking account, going over every detail of my personal finances, and then moving to a single wide in Arkansas...I could never explain to anyone how this was a choice that while heart-wrenching, was the right choice for us at the time.

And while finances were one of the reasons, it wasn't all about dollars and cents.

There was more to it.

Much more.

It wasn't an easy decision, but it was the decision. The right one. The hard one. The one I anguished over. The one that everytime I prayed, God whispered "not yet..patience..."

A friend recently asked if I feel isolated being home all day with the kids.

No.

In fact, now that I think of it, I felt isolated working full time.

Funny how that is sometimes.