Friday, July 31

Here's the thing:

Normally, when I hear people say that being a stay-at-home-mom is hard, I kind of scoff. And snicker.

Because it's really not that hard.

Most of the time.

I mean, you don't have to rush to work.
Or deal with strangers.
Or report to a boss.
You get to set the rules, the schedule, the activities.
You get to snuggle when you're sad.
Choose outfits.
Experiment in the kitchen.
You get to see their little faces change, grow, learn, modify, experience, and love.

It's pretty great.

Most of the time.

Then you have those days.

You have to rush to get kids to school/sports/activities/friends houses. You are the chief car operating officer after all.
Sometimes your kids are strangers, odd little beings that defy every personality trait they've ever displayed.
Your boss is yourself, and you are your worst critic. And then sometimes you wish, oh so hard, for a boss to swoop in and rescue you because you are doing a terrible terrible terrible job.
You get to set the rules, but you have to live the with consequences of your own rules.
Your schedule does not always match the schedule of your little darlings and your activities often miss the mark.
Sometimes you're very sad and the little angels just don't want to snuggle, they want to scream. (And so do you.)
The cute little outfit you chose is now stained/ripped/vanished.
Your kitchen experiment is burning and, joy of joys, your budget is shot so you definitely aren't going out to eat - you must start again.
Your nap got interrupted because you suffered a heart attack when your darling dear dropped something then screamed "Mom!" all the way across the house - and you're sure his skull is cracked.
You get to see their little faces change, grow, learn, modify, experience, and love.

And it's happening way too fast.

Today I'm having the kind of day where my eyes are bugging out, my head hurts from yelling, my son jumped out of his skin when I called his name because (I'll admit) I sounded like a deranged banshee. Oh, and my daughter cried for 30 minutes straight. That was fun.

What was I thinking, exactly, when I took this job? The salary stinks, the perks are great but often get buried in day to day life (and my own lack of gratitude), there is no lunch break or off duty. It. never. ever. stops.

But then I remember the other night when Josh was curled up sleeping and he looked like he was auditioning for Madonna's "Vogue" video. Or I look over in the other chair and I see Carly snuggled under the quilt my mother made me when I was a baby.

And I feel my heart swell up.

And I remember why I do this.

Because they're worth it. Because I love them. Because I want to be part of their lives, as much as I can, for as long as I can. Because someday they'll grow up and leave me. And I want them to want to come back.

That's why I do it, just me. That's why I chose this job.


Anonymous said...

Sound like it has been a wrinkled forehead couple of days...

Sarah said...

You've got that right!

Heather said...

Yes! It's fabulous (not glamours, but fabulous) most of the time. And then one of those days occurs, but still worth it in the long run.