It was the best of times, it was, well, you know. . . .

Sometimes it feels like this.

Sometimes it feels like this.

I have an awful confession to make. It’s horrible.  Get ready to hate me. Put on your judging pants.

I don’t love being a stay at home mom all the time. In fact, sometimes I don’t like it at all.

Go ahead and call child services, or the pound or whoever. I’ll wait.

This is something that is not supposed to happen to stay at home moms. They are supposed to be full of gratitude and joy for all the special moments, boogers, rainbows, smeared peanut butter, and glitter that their children offer them every day.

But me? There are days when we walk by a ground floor conference room in our neighborhood where a meeting is going on and I want to smash down the door and sit down in front of that PowerPoint, eager to take notes on the sales goals of some random industry, rather than go home and play Chuggington again.

Bad Mommy, right?

See, I stay at home with the boys (Or boy, I guess, seeing as how one is in school all day). And really, when I made the choice to leave my job, it was a no brainer for me at the time. But I wish I had known a little more about what it would do to me, before I jumped into it.

Like I wish I had known that having a job makes you feel like a person, a contributing to society person, an economically empowered person, a thinking person, a skilled person. Because I didn’t realize having a job gave me all that until I didn’t have any of it.

I also didn’t know just how absorbing and all consuming being a stay at home mom could be. I figured I would take care of the boys and we would play and do fun stuff and then I’d have time to do my own stuff, you know, fun stuff for moms like vacuuming and calling to make doctor’s appointments. Nope let me tell you, these bosses are demanding. Being at home with them means being At Home. With Them. And if I am in the same room (and since this is the Fun Apartment, pretty much anything outside of the bathroom constitutes being in the same room) then I am on duty. It might be heavy duty, or it might be light duty, but it’s ON.

And it’s that ON-ness that’s so wearing. Because I’m ON for everything. My boys are actually pretty independent, but even so, there’s just so much needing going on. Sometimes, horrible mother that I am, I just want to be by myself. I don’t want to be Miss Bossyboots. I’m tired of feeling like the kitchen staff on Downton Abbey. I want to walk up the stairs without UN level negotiations. I don’t want my purse to contain enough snacks, toys, and books to teach six months of kindergarten. I want to be a person people listen to.

Am I saying that I wish I hadn’t chosen to stay home? No, I don’t think I’m saying that. I just wish someone had sat me down and told me honestly what staying at home with two kids in a tiny apartment would really look and feel like. Then I would have stocked up on more box wine. So, my Present Self is telling my Past Self. However, I’m starting to think that my Past Self may have been a little slow on the uptake. . . .

Am I saying that I want to go back to work tomorrow? Well, not tomorrow. But next week sometime, maybe. I would kind of like to go to a meeting once in a while. I’ve got this exciting new skill set, you know. (I am, of course, convinced I will never work again. Maybe you could chime in here, Future Self?)

For now, I suppose Present Self had better quit moaning about the life choice she was lucky to have and get back to it. After all, fun doesn’t make itself happen here at the Fun Apartment. It’s time to kick back and eat bonbons.

Now for the obligatory disclaimers:

1. Of course I love my kids. I love them beyond all reason. A hummingbird of joy flies between my heart and my throat as I watch them sleep. But why do I even have to say this?

2. Working moms have it even harder. And they are all awesome, way more than me (I?) But I am sometimes insanely jealous of them, because someone thinks they have value and expertise beyond wiping dirty orifices. And they pay them for it!

3. As I have drafted and rewritten this over the last couple days, the boys have been perfect angels and the fun at the Fun Apartment has reached record levels. Hypocrite much?

4. HR has announced that Stay at Home Moms Company Holiday Party will be held at the pub round the corner from the Fun Apartment again this year. Hope to see you all there. I’ll be the one in sequins with the feather boa that has peanut butter on it.

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7 Comments

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7 responses to “It was the best of times, it was, well, you know. . . .

  1. I love this, and I love you for writing this. Bless you. Truly.

  2. Cristina

    You are spot on and hilarious! If it makes you feel any better, I felt the same way when I was home with the boys. And even though we had a house with rooms and doors that lock, it came with the same guilt….I mean, is it ok to hide in the guest room closet or pretend to be looking for something in the basement just to be alone? And then pause before answering them when they are roaming through the house yelling “mommy, where are you?” Just to get that extra 15 seconds alone? I guess what I’m saying is, I feel your pain sister! As soon as they are both in school full time you will wonder where the time went as you get dressed and head out the door to work, because yes, you are full of skills and knowledge that is an asset to your lucky future employer. So, have another glass of boxed wine and savor it, high school is just a blink away.

  3. When I was at Penn Press, I was filled with terrible guilt feelings about not being home with my boys!! So, I suppose there are pros and cons to both. I definitely hear you about wanting to contribute to society…but try to remember, in the midst of the laundry and boogers, that’s exactly what you’re doing by investing time in your kids. I know it’s weird and hard. Also, in a few short years when your kids are in school, you’ll be delightfully smug, knowing that you put in the time.

  4. Pingback: Firsts and Lasts | The Fun Apartment

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