Transition to unrequested Stay at Home Momness
Disclaimer: this is not anti-SAHM in any way. I know a woman--childless not really by choice--who wrote a long blog post about why women shouldn't leave the workforce. It's one of my favorite things--because moms telling other moms what to do and shaming them just wasn't enough, let's call in those who have no children and who imagine (as if...I'm sorry but you don't close to get it. You can't. It's like me trying to understand the Nigerian lifestyle by watching a National Geographic marathon) who imagine they know. Let's all gang up on each other then go home and cry into our wine and chocolate bars. Excellent. This isn't that. This is me, who is having a decision about my life and my life alone made for me. My journey. We shall see.
I've been thinking of this week as sort of my transition into SAHM--like Clark Kent entering the phone booth. Only way less exciting.
I never thought I'd be a SAHM (side note: this acronym is already getting annoying. It beats writing out Stay at Home Mom but feels like an annoying alternate spelling of Sam, a name which has positive (boy) and negative (girl) connotations for me. Also, what the hell is the Stay at Home thing? I'm a parent, not an agoraphobic shut in. I'll have to work on semantics later.) When WAOD (Work At Office Dad) and I were dating, we thought if ever we had kids and one of us had to stay home it would be him. He's the more nurturing, playful one, with more patience. Of course, things change. Also, I realize if he were at home laundry would end up in little confusing piles everywhere and we couldn't find the vacuum beneath the clutter and every diaper bag would be short an essential, like, for example, diapers. Anyhow, here I am, I reluctant...mom without a job (almost).
For years I've been successful as a freelancer, but things have shifted in the last couple years with The Economy (business catch-all excuse) and work is now being done more and more in India and other places where They can get away with paying a non-living wage. The rates have dropped so low that at times I'm losing money by working and laying for child care. So why don't I go work in child care?! Oh right, I don't really want to be a caregiver to my own lovely offspring full time. Plus, I've met some of PAFYA (preschool attending four year old)'s classmates and...no. Rough crowd.
It now looks like I'll have work until around my birthday. Oddly fitting as I'll be leaving one demographic and crossing over into the next. From working lady who has it all (ha! Working mom split six ways) to, whatever it is my new title will be. While I didn't choose this, there are definitely parts I'm looking forward to. I hate having my attention divided so much. I long for the chance to be present where I am rather than wishing I were able to get some work done or wishing I could clear out the guest room or wishing I could play stuff the fake ikea food in your mouth and laugh crazily with my daughter without every other to do list crowding in on me. This will be one less to do list. Sort of.
I say sort of because unlike the non working mom (oh that just sounds worse doesn't it?) scenario I imagine, where I am choosing not to work and spending time with my kid and having help with house cleaning and groceries and home projects and my twice a week charitable work (ug, I'm starting to hate the spoiled butch I'm conjuring here. Jealous? Perhaps. Any mom with perfectly manicure nails makes me stabby)--unlike that I am having to take on a new full time job of scrimped, saver, deal-hunter to cope with the loss of income. All while raising 2 kids. Neat!
For day one I thought I'd treat myself to a Zumba class--what had this world come to when that is a treat? But I know exercise helps my brain and it needs all the help it can get. So PAHT (play at home toddler, who has an alter ego of Whine at Home Toddler) got to visit with her buds in the coolest child area I've seen while I went to class. I returned sweaty with a sports bra over my nursing tank (fashionista!) to her fussing and reports that she had been signing more and milk for the last half hour. See? I'm great at this mom crap.
I nurse her and let her play in the family room for a few and then we head out. I buckle her into the car (Oh no! Then end of days! Why do you hate me mama?! whines Whine In The Car Toddler. "Home soon sweetie!" I promise. You'd think I could keep that promise.
Car won't start. I blame the cold. Call AAA. 45 minutes later I get a jump, car starts, hooray! Yes dear, nap time, I know. Tow truck leaves as I buckle her in Why must you destroy my spirit with this car seat?! "Home soon sweetie." I should define soon. We back out, a zillion light come on, powers steering goes wonky, and the car stops a few few later. Won't start. I call the garage, pretty sure the tow truck is still on the property. Nope. He is on another call. I have to call AAA and start over.
More walking up and down the hallway, getting more and more exhausted (her too) while I wait for next truck. Phone (lifeline) down to 4%. I call Local Wonderful WAHD ("work" at home dad) but he's out running errands. But his super awesome wife is home sick-ish. But not too sick. Call her. So I do, and she saves the day, coming with the essentials:
* phone charger
* goldfish
* car seat (just assuming the tow truck doesn't have one)
* company
We hang out and wait for the truck. They sent a van this time. Nice guy with no tow. Ok, he jumps the car. Then he waits. Same thing--car craps out seconds later. He pushes me to a parking spot. I put EWAINST (Exhausted Why Am I Not Sleeping Toddler) in other Mama's car. Toddler is rewarded for her 4 1/2 hour trip to the gym with a front-facing ride home. It's like her limo.
I put her down for a nap, shower my stanky self, and try and figure how I'll clip enough coupons to pay for whatever catastrophic illness has smacked my car down.
Day 1:
World 1
Me zip
Hoping I get better at this.