The Decision to be a Stay-At-Home Mom

I have been a stay-at-home mother (SAHM) for almost four years. That seems kind of crazy to even type. Four years. Wow. While I feel like I am finally getting the hang of being a SAHM, I also am not at all getting the hang of it. I am convinced that I may never be used to this ever-changing role that I have taken on. Life is that way, though, right? As soon as you feel like you have established some type of routine, you get that curve ball that resets everything.

(Type A cringe of grand proportion)

I have been wanting to address my/our decision for me to stay home ever since the decision was made. 

I’m telling you now, this post will be long - like six Word pages long. And, before I jump in, I am gonna say that I am in no way trying to guilt working mothers or convince them to stay home. I think you are amazing and I am in awe of you every day. I have been blessed to be both a working mother and a SAHM. Both are awesome and make me proud to be a woman/mother. As Beyonce would ask, "Who run the world?!"

The first time Heath and I discussed me becoming a stay-at-home mother, I had just had Lucy and was returning to work after an eight-week maternity leave. I struggled putting Lucy in daycare. If you at all read my blog back in 2011, you know how much I struggled. I just couldn’t get over it. But, many other apprehensions won out each time it was discussed and, well, I continued to work. With Olive’s birth, we visited the discussion again. At this point, we had become quite financially “comfortable,” and the idea seemed even further from a reality. I actually liked my job at that time and the people I worked with. The daycare was in my building and since Heath worked at the same place, we rode to and from work together. It really was a great situation for a working mother. It seemed stupid to walk away from something so seemingly ideal.

Then, without going into much detail, I became unhappy in my working role. It became very apparent to me, and every single person around me, that it was time for me to transition to something else. That very difficult point in my life was what pushed me to make the decision that I had been avoiding for many years – five years actually. I was pregnant with our youngest and again, Heath asked me, “Do you want to stay home?”

Every time I heard that question uttered, I immediately became nervous. I can distinctly recall moments in the car, on the way home from work, physically trembling with fear just talking about it. I had several concerns, and fears, and irrational worries. I have decided to share a few with you. Or, maybe ten...

1)      Money

The number one concern was an obvious one – money. We needed to figure out if we could even make it work, financially. I knew that we could, in a grand sense. However, we had certainly become accustomed to a certain lifestyle. Were we ready to take that cut?

Four years later…
I do not take this point of discussion lightly. Honestly, when it comes to a two-income family, having one of them stay at home is sometimes not even an option. The fact that it was even a consideration for us, was and is a blessing.

At first, it was a huge adjustment that we took on as a challenge. It was actually kind of fun. I took my monthly “allowance” and knew that with every dollar saved, I could celebrate with that money – a night out, a new gadget, some type of splurge, and so on. I wasn’t sure if I could keep up the momentum, but was willing to give it a go. Thankfully, we saved a lot of money right away. Daycare for three children was going to be about 30-40% of my salary anyway. So, there was a huge savings. And, I didn’t need to buy work clothes any longer. My dream of living in Target yoga pants and cheap sweatshirts was now a reality. But, most of all, we were no longer using our money to make us happy.

When I was working, I became extremely unhappy. I was stressed, and pregnant, and working in graduate school, and took my anger/sadness/discontentment home with me every single night. We got home at 5:30 PM, unloaded and settled in by 6 PM, and the last thing I wanted to do was put a meal on the table. So, we ordered out a lot. A lot. I mean, A LOT. I think we were spending almost $600 a month on just eating out. We would justify it with working so hard. We had also started justifying big splurges too. When you work your ass off and are unhappy, you buy things to try and fill your cup. You feel like you deserve it; you work all the time and deserve to use some of it on something that makes you happy, right?  Well, we immediately stopped doing that. Mostly because we had to; but, we soon realized that we didn’t need to anymore. With me staying home, we were now happy without the splurging; we were content.

I must also mention that we were very fortunate in our path. It wasn’t long after I started staying home that Heath applied for and received a new job. It has been an amazing blessing in our lives in so many ways. Moreover, it did relieve quite a bit of the financial strain as well. Then, I applied for and received the opportunity to teach online courses as an adjunct faculty member at a local institution. It is sporadic and not a guaranteed income, but it helps financially (and I love it and hope to elaborate more on that another time).

2)      Judgment from other People – Society

I kept wondering what other people might think about my decision. Would everyone think I was lazy? Would they think that I got fired? Would they think that I wasn’t smart enough? And also, for me, I was in the middle of a graduate program. The idea that I might start staying home and not “using” my degree, at least right away, seemed silly.

Four years later…
I still struggle with this. Because, let’s be honest, society is judgmental. SAHMs and working mothers both get judgement. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t. For me, I am very insecure about this point in particular. When I thought about people asking me what I did for a living, I would feel sick. How could I say, “I stay at home”? Looking back, I think I may have judged SAHMs a bit too. I don’t even know why exactly; I guess it felt like the “right side” to be on. I blame ignorance. 

The entire idea of being scared of what society might think makes me laugh now. As I have become more comfortable in this role, and found other BA SAHMs out there, I don’t feel embarrassed or apologetic. I feel empowered and ready to fight ‘em on it. I am not lazy. I am educated. I am organized. And, WE ARE HAPPY. Period. That is all that matters. It was right for our family. It isn’t right for everyone. But, for us, it is.

3)      Judgment from other People – Our Family

Thinking about how Heath’s family might react scared me. Would they think that I was “taking advantage” of him? Would they think I should be doing more, financially, to contribute? And, of course, would they think I was just being lazy?

Four years later…
I was absolutely terrified to tell our family that I was going to be staying home. I made Heath tell his parents. I stressed how important it was for him to let them know he was supportive of the idea. Because, that was KEY. If he didn’t support the idea, it wouldn’t work. While I “run the show” at home. None of this is even possible without Heath. I acknowledge that and probably don’t thank him enough for it. 

In the beginning, while everyone was nice about it, I could see the fear in their eyes. They were scared for us. We had a nice home, I was in graduate school, and we had a third baby on the way. No one really knew what our finances were; but, I’m sure it appeared scary from the outside! The fear was again reignited when we decided to take on a fixer-upper, and had two mortgages for a brief period.

You can really only do so much to give family comfort. It took time, I think, before they could see that we are doing alright. And, it took time to see how much happier we became. 

4)      What if I am not meant to be a SAHM?

What if the idea of staying home seems great, but I wasn’t meant for it? I am not much of a “kid person” - really. That sounds terrible; but, I’m not. I ruled out being an Elementary School Teacher many, many years ago. So, what if I was just not built for this? What if I quit my job and hated being at home? It’s not like you can just go back to your old job and be like, “Ooops. Never mind.” And, finding a new job that I liked and was paid similarly was not guaranteed. 

Four years later…
If I said that my first months were easy, I’d be lying. It takes some time to get used to being at home. I felt guilty for any second that I wasn’t doing something. I would basically follow the kids around, picking up anything and everything, making sure the house was spotless. Moments that I now realize are necessary for recharging and sanity, I would fill with multiple activities each day. While Heath never said a word to me about it, I always felt this immense pressure to have the house looking beautiful and have dinner on the table when he came home. That was my new job, right?

Heath has said many, many times that he doesn’t expect anything. And, thank the Lord for him, because you know what? Life still happens. Some days I don’t get everything done. And, sometimes things come up. And, sometimes the kids have bad days. And, sometimes I have bad days. And, sometimes we make frozen pizza for dinner. When I finally embraced that idea, I embraced the reason for staying home. The priority for me was the kids.

Yes, staying home has also allowed me to get more things done during the day, to allow for more family time in the evenings. It allows me to be more involved with the kids’ school lives. And, I could list about a billion other things it gives me the opportunity to do. Bottom line is: I gambled and I won. I love staying at home. And, also, after being at home…I’m still not a kid person. Turns out, you don’t have to be. I just have to be a “my kids” person.

5)      Adult Interaction

Being a working mother, you aren’t necessarily privy to all of the SAHM mother programs or activities, day-time volunteer opportunities, or who to even call for play-dates. Everyone I was really good friends with and all of my family, at that time, worked. I would be at home with a 2.5 year old and a baby full-time; my five year old would be there when not in school. Could Heath carry the entire load of my conversational yearning?

Four years later…
I struggled a lot in the first year. I had a newborn too; so, that may have been a lot of the issue. But, mostly, I was not familiar with the SAHM “scene.” Where do I meet other moms? Is there an app that will match me with them? Swipe left? Right?

It was a blessing that a friend of mine suggested our local MOPs group (Moms of Preschoolers). We meet once a month and I absolutely love it. I look so forward to the meetings; but, it has linked me to other SAHMs in the area. I now have a weekly women’s group I attend, and many numbers to text for impromptu play dates.

SAHM full-disclosure: playdates are totally not for the kids, y’all. They are for our sanity. And, maybe a tiny bit for the kids…I mean, they usually sleep better burning off all that energy...

I also decided to just be more open to social interaction. If another mom started up a conversation at t-ball practice, I welcomed it. I never had a reason to seek out new friendships before. Now, it seems like I have so many, and I have so many people to reach out to for anything. My support system grew considerably! 

I don’t like to give advice, but I’m gonna. (Actually, I love to give advice, but acknowledge, like, who am I to be giving advice? Anyway, here is my advice…) If you are invited to something, go. I mean, if the only thing that keeps you from going is social anxiety and the fear of being awkward, then please try it. I am SO awkward. You have no idea! And, I am so glad I chose to say yes and to go. The first couple of times are scary and weird; but, you WILL figure out who you have commonalities with. It won’t take long before you…dare I say it?... "find your tribe.”

6)      My Husband Might Resent Me

I worried that Heath my start to resent me at some point. The first time we had to say no to a purchase, because it wasn’t in the budget, would he be mad that I wasn’t working? Seeing other people go on expensive vacations or buying this or that, would he be upset with our decision? And, when I was able to sleep-in, or do something fun with the kids, would he be angry that I got to do it and not him? 

Four years later…
Heath truly might resent me. In the depths of his soul, there may be some resentment. I don’t know unless he tells me. And, I check in on it from time to time. Heath consistently tells me that he is happy with our set-up, that I can stay home with our children. He is happy with all of it. And, I believe him. I know that there is always the possibility that he may someday change his tune. So, I just make sure that I remember such. I try to make extra time for him. I try to be thoughtful. And, I say, “Yes, you deserve it,” when he suggests buying something for himself – most of the time that is…

7)      A Resume Gap

I had a big worry that I would have a resume gap, which I wasn’t even sure at that time how big of a gap that might be! I was concerned that when I decided to jump back into the workforce, people wouldn’t respect the gap and my reason for it – especially men. And, was I ready to start out at a base salary again, and being older this time around?

Four years later…
As mentioned, I was fortunate enough to eventually start a part-time gig. But, before that, I decided to keep my resume alive by volunteering. I was able to apply for and get a position on a local board for a non-profit organization. It was something that related to my work experience, was something that I was passionate about, and gave me an outlet for that yearning to work. That last part probably sounds silly. But, after my first couple of meetings, I told Heath, I just liked the strategic thought and being able to use my work experience and degree in some way. It was a nice fulfillment for me. I got to be successful outside the home as well.

I have also become so comfortable in my role at home that I've become quite defiant about it. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. The more you love your decisions, the less you care what other people think about them. So, if you stay home and you have a resume gap, and a potential boss doesn’t respect it, then what does that say about them? It would indicate that they aren’t going to be A) a decent person to work for, or B) understanding when it comes to family needs. So, maybe you don’t want to work for them anyway… 

8)      I Cheated My Older Children

Since I didn’t make this decision earlier, when my girls were born, if I stayed home with the youngest, did I cheat the others? Will this make me even sadder about missing out on the time my girls spent at daycare? 

Four years later…
I don’t know if I can or will ever overcome this insecurity. Because it is just that. It is something that I personally deal with. I know other mothers who did the opposite of me; they stayed home with older children and then worked while the younger ones went to daycare. And, what it comes down to is doing what is right for our families. I believe in God’s plan and His timing. We weren’t necessarily in the position for me to stay home before, and I don’t know if I would appreciate staying home as much had I not experienced what I did. God is in control and I’ll know if and when it’s time to make another shift.

9)      Am I Thickening that Glass Ceiling?

I had previously experienced outright sexism in the workplace, more than once. I won’t go into details; but, I was told that since I was a female and someone else was a male, that [this] is how it was going to be. If I quit, was I just perpetuating the stereo-type? It felt like by staying home, I was telling everyone that I “wasn’t right for the workplace” and “my place was at home.” 

Four years later…
Turns out, my place is at home - but, not for the reasons that sexist turd-bag implied…

I don’t believe that SAHMs are “less-than.” And, maybe I am perpetuating some stereo-type by staying home. But, I believe that I could become the first female president tomorrow, and those stereo-types will still exist. All I can do is continue to fight for women who want to do more, and empower my girls. We don’t have to do ALL things that men do. But, we should be able try, if we want, right? And, it goes the other way too, men. Stay-at-home Dads, are ya with me?!

10)   Independence

If I stayed home, I would be 100% financially dependent on Heath. I trust my husband. I do. Really. But, giving up all independence is kinda terrifying. What if I stay home, face many of the aforementioned concerns, and then Heath finds himself a 20-something-hottie to leave me for? To Heath, this concept is laughable. Literally, every time I have mentioned this idea, he laughs at me. I didn’t, or don’t, truly believe it would happen. But, I mean…I am a realist as well and I am not going to say that it is impossible. I would be trying to jump back into the work-force and adjusting to my own, likely lower than before, female (78 cents on the dollar) salary - all while adjusting to all the other issues a separation brings. 

It was a very small, in the depths of my mind, concern.

Four years later…
I have to trust Heath. I have to let go and let God. There are some things you just can’t obsess about. This, coming from someone who obsesses about everything! But, really, I can’t dwell on an insecurity. If I continue to work on my marriage, and just keep trying, then I can feel content with my efforts. You can only do so much; I am not in control of other people’s actions, and I never will be – no matter how much I would like to be sometimes. So, I try my best and that’s all I can do. And, I respect that.

_____________________________________________

It might be time, or age. But, I am finding comfort and contentment with my decisions. My life. My thoughts. All of it. I know that our life can turn upside down at any minute. I’ve witnessed it. I just continue to have faith in my family, my support system, myself, and most importantly, God. 

And again, working moms, you are killin' it. The grass is green over here. But, your grass is green too. Different greens, but both green. I promise.

Type A, for Anxious

Let’s talk about something…

As I’ve mentioned before, I am a Type A person. I have a Type A personality - To. The. Core.

Most of the time, I speak those words with confidence and pride. It is directly related to my organization, problem-solving, and planning skills. I feel like it allows me to simplify things – processes, plans, even thoughts. I believe it pushes me to be more assertive, and passionate, and strong-willed. It’s what makes me chant, “Girls!” right along with Beyoncé, when she asks, “Who run the world?”

But, medically speaking, a Type A person is not the most desirable of personalities. We are uptight and particular. Things, like straying from our plans or outlines, can upset us - physically. We get stressed easily and wear it longer. We have high blood pressure and a prevalence of heart issues. We are more prone to anxiety disorders, and thank God we find people to put up with us…

Our laid-back counterparts, with Type B personalities, live much longer. They can go with the flow and let things roll off their backs. They have simply mastered the “subtle art of not giving a f*ck.” In so many ways, I am envious. I want to let go of things. I want Heath to put a cup on the back of the sink and for my brain to tell me, “that’s alright; it’s no big deal.” Instead, I have a little itch in the back of my mind that continues, until I move that stupid cup. Ugh…

The particularity was certainly something that I was gifted by my father. I once made fun of how he stacked the mail, next to the toaster, biggest envelopes on bottom and smallest on top. Or, how he would neatly fold his paper towel, to set underneath his cup of iced water. Or, how all the items in the center compartment of his truck have a place, and are not to be touched. Today, that is me. And, thankfully, over time, I have watched some of my father’s particularities fade; there is hope for me yet!

Nevertheless, this personality of mine has always made me a bit, what I lovingly call, “crazy.” I assess things, I over-think, and I base my decisions off all of these emotions. This has made me a bit overwhelming, for lack of a better word, in the past. As you might remember from previous ramblings of mine, I have frequently obsessed about being away from my kids, the risks of SIDS, and many other things. I would dump those concerns on anyone with ears who made eye contact with me. Spewing my apprehensions made me feel comforted and more in control. That was really what my obsession was about – having control. Kids seemed to take that concept away from me. Once you have children, you quickly learn how not in control you are. You think things will go a certain way, and HA! Yeah….no, kids have their own agendas. And, ultimately, God runs the show.

For several years, I tried to explain to Heath how anxious I could get, over seemingly not very big things. I mean, everyone around me was telling me that I was over-thinking. I would agree, but couldn’t stop. 

“I’m just an uptight person.”

“It isn’t hurting anyone, by taking extra precautions.”

“I just get nervous.”

“I can keep it under control.”

"I can control it."

I seriously could control it, for several years. That is, until I couldn’t.

Almost two years ago, we made a very impulsive decision to buy a new home. We walked into a home, not planning on buying it, and then made an offer on it just three days later. The whole thing was a whirlwind, and so very much not like me. Many nights, I cried, thinking we made a huge mistake. We had three kids, and then we added another mortgage. We spent about six months showing our previous home. That meant, to this Type A woman, I spent six months cleaning the house like a crazy person, limiting the kids’ activities, and keeping them contained to particular rooms. We simplified, and organized, and planned for our uncertain future. And, I cried. I cried a lot. Honestly, I didn’t know what else to do. I was, to put it bluntly, “freaking out.” I like plans. I like knowing what the next step is. I like familiarity. The lack of control was draining me. Several evenings I would sneak out of bed, go to the living room, do fire-breaths, write in a journal, and cry. I tried so hard to control it. If I could just have a good cry, I would be fine the next day. 

One particular night, I was sitting on the couch, writing in my journal about my neurosis. I had tears streaming down my face. I was just…worrying…about nothing, and everything. I didn’t know what to think about our future. I was overwhelmed, and stressed, and tired. Heath came out from the bedroom and saw me. I tried to dismiss him, telling him that I was just a bit overwhelmed. 

This was the first time that Heath suggested that I talk to my doctor.

“I can control it,” I told him. “I’m fine.”

More months passed by. We sold our home, and decided to move into the fixer-upper that we bought. When I say fixer-upper, I can’t even begin to explain to you what that meant. We set up a temporary living situation in the lower-level of the home, with a very make-shift, but functioning kitchen. The upstairs living area, we gutted down to the studs. The environment was unorganized, hectic, and…made me crazy. I hated living in such an unorganized mess. Even better, I work part-time from home, so I got to be in this mess all day, every day – just looking around at all the things that needed to be done.

Within all of this, my brain decided to focus my worry, anxiety, and apprehensions on the safety of the kids. I mostly blame it on the unfamiliarity of the house, the walls, the layout – it didn’t feel like “home.” I still believe I have a somewhat rational fear for the safety of my kids. I mean, what mom doesn’t worry about her children constantly? But, it got to be too much. I started obsessing over it. I tried to control it. I tried to vent my way through it. One morning, I couldn’t stop my thoughts, and I actually became physically ill, worrying about the kids. Just worrying…

I couldn’t control it after all...

I called Heath and told him, “I need to talk to Dr. B.”

I imagine he was silently praising the Lord, thankful that I finally swallowed my pride.

When the words poured from my mouth, and into Dr. B’s ears, she immediately responded with, “I knew it was only a matter of time before you talked to me about this.” Unlike me, she wasn’t dismissing all of my rants. She was taking note, knowing that one day I would be ready for, well, help.

I was prescribed anxiety medicine. I was told that it may just be this season of my life, and I may find a time in my life that I can stop taking it – once again being able to control my thoughts a bit. But, for now, why fight it? Why suffer? Why cry my eyes out with worry?

So, I left the doctor’s office to go pick up my prescription. I was, ironically, anxious. Ridiculous, right? I called Heath, doing what you ask? Crying. Of course, I was. I’m going to be on meds. I was going to be taking a pill daily. There would be side-effects. What if they changed me? What if I could never go back off of them? What if? What if? What if?

I drove right passed the pharmacy that evening and didn’t fill my prescription.

The next day, I called the doctor’s office, basically asking the nurse to talk me into taking the medicine. And, she did. I went and bought them, and took them, and prayed. 

Then…I felt better. I felt so much better. I didn’t realize how “out of hand” it had gotten, until I was no longer dealing with it. That was when I decided that I wanted to talk to my family about it. It wasn’t until after I spoke about my experiences that I found out - both sides of my family have a history of anxiety. One family member, never really knew why she had anxiety and fought it her whole life (back in the “olden days,” before we understood). It made me sad.

So, I started talking about it to everyone who was willing to listen.

I once shied away from the topic, or felt the need to justify it. I know how important mental health is (obviously! Psych background!). But, having to be on this side of it, when you feel like the spotlight is on you, is not as easy as it is taught. Nevertheless, as time goes on, I become more confident in myself. I feel this weird sense of responsibility to talk about my anxiety. I hope I can make others feel more comfortable with their own struggles, and perhaps encourage them to talk to their doctor. It is not uncommon. It is not weird. It isn’t something that we all need to whisper about behind closed doors.

I know, for some, me talking about this makes them feel uncomfortable. Sorry, but really…I’m not sorry. This is the reality for some of us – more of us, I think, than you realize. 

I wanted to tell you all, because if you want to know much more about my journey in this life, you have to know this integral part of who I am. 

I have anxiety. And, I take medicine for it. And, that is okay.

Thank You, Husband

Today is Heath's birthday.

If he ever has a hard time getting older, he doesn't let on much. He has this amazingly optimistic outlook on life, more often than not. He told me that he is just thankful to be here another birthday and that he doesn't want a thing to celebrate it. Well, I do have a surprise for him, that I won't spoil here. However, I think one of the most important things I can do for him is to tell him that I love him, and "Thank you!"

Honestly, I don't even know where to begin. Heath does so much for me and is such a part of me that I honestly forget that he is another person sometimes. I sometimes think of him as just an extension of me. He is just always there, and I know how he thinks and feels (usually), without him even having to tell me. We truly grew up together - forming our personalities, values, morals, etc., all along side each other. He is my confidant, and the person I pick my zits in front of, who sees me without makeup and without a bra - standing! (Yes, it's a big deal to me, because these babies are sad, sad, sad...)

I often stumble into the bathroom after a hard nights sleep, wiping the drool off my cheek, and leaving the door wide open to pee. When I finally catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, I wonder why Heath isn't half-way to Mexico, to find himself some hot seniorita. Instead, he is stuck with me. In fact, he chooses to be with me. I don't mean to be self-deprecating; but, I think several of us wonder how our families put up with us most of the time.

Heath truly puts me and the kids above himself. It is an envious trait. He rarely does anything selfish, and I mean that. If he does, you can guarantee that it was unintentional. Every morning he thinks about what he can do to make all of us happy, healthy, and feel loved. It makes him a wonderful husband and father. He is truly one of the best dads out there; fight me on it.

Now, I may suck at apologizing. I really do. But, I say "thank you" a lot. I think I say it so much that it has started to lose its value. Just yesterday, Henry and I decided to go get chips and guacamole from the local Mexican food place. I sent Heath a photo of Henry and later called him to tell him, "Thank you." You see, Heath is in the middle of a very stressful season at work. This past couple of weeks have been the most stressful and exhausting for him at this company. We have all been a bit grumpier, sleepier, and snappier. So, for me to be able to stay at home with Henry, and even go out for chips and guacamole in the middle of the afternoon, could easily make Heath envious, or even bitter. I am sure that he was a bit envious, I mean he is only human; but, his only comment was, "I'm glad that you guys are able to go do stuff like that."

I truly owe my happiness to him.

Me staying at home and teaching online part-time - that was all a very big decision for us to make as a family. It was a decision that I struggled with and will probably address more as time goes on. But, I never take a second of it for granted. In the past three years, I am happier than I ever have been in my adult life. I know that it is because Heath has helped me make several of my dreams come true.

So, Heath, thank you for putting up with me. With us. With my love for dogs, and for not taking my shoes off when I come in the house. And, thank you for putting up with my love for cheese on all of our meals, and the dollars I spend on coffee creamer. Thank you for letting me sleep in on the weekend, even if it is only for a couple of hours (wink). Thank you for cleaning the hair balls out of the shower drain, and telling me that I look beautiful when my eczema flairs up. Thank you for accepting my mom-bod, and for letting me be the most uptight person you know. Thank you for so, so much.

I love you. Thank you for choosing me.

Responsibility Advice

I recently had a mother of one contact me about going to grad-school and parenting. She wanted to know "how I do it." I laughed. Who the hell am I to be giving any advice? For all she knows I go home, starve the girls, and lock them in their rooms...but, I was humbled. I didn't really know what to say. I let the email sit in my inbox for a couple of days before replying. When I did reply, this is what I said...

---------------------------

It is great to hear from you. And, when it comes to being a multi-tasking mom, I seriously hear you! I had such a hard time transitioning to my "new life" and that was back when I wasn't going to school. So, having a second baby and then applying to Grad School was basically terrifying. I completely understand your concern! I do have some advice, but I want to make sure I am completely clear - I still fail. I try. I try to be the best at everything that I can. But, some days the house is a complete wreck. Some days I order a pizza and don't cook supper. Some days I am so stressed to the max that I get short with Lucy and Olive, cry in the corner, and then beg for forgiveness. It is tough. I just don't think that we can be "the best" at it all. I've tried several times and I have failed every single time. Just when I think I am getting into the swing of things, I realize that my relationship with Heath is suffering, or my friendships. Or, that I can't find time to just sleep, or think, or be by myself for two seconds!

I digress...

So, here is my advice and feel free to ignore me.

1) Forget your life pre-baby
I think my greatest milestone as a new mom was finally letting go of my "old life." I had a hard time. I kept thinking that everything was going to be the same, just with a baby. It literally took me about 2.5 years to figure this out. Things will have to be adjusted and concessions will be made.

2) Lean on your hubby
Heath is fantastic. But, I like to take a little bit of credit for getting him there. :) I am always an open book with him. I tell him when I am reaching my limit. He has really helped me pick up the slack and has come to know what really bothers me. I can't stand dishes in the sink; but, dust can wait until I have time...That kind of stuff. He has learned that there will be concessions when it comes to housework. So, a few rooms in our house (our bedroom and the toy room) will never be clean. We have finally come to terms with this.

3) Schedule "you" time
When I was a new mom I felt like if I wasn't spending every second of my free-time with Lucy, then I was a bad mother. I was so upset that I was already missing out on so much during the day, with her at daycare. But, I soon realized that I was having major burnout. I would try to do too much and then get short with Lucy. I was with her, but the shared time wasn't good. So, I schedule homework days, or homework nights, or even days away. Don't ever feel guilty for doing this - ever. It's not the quantity of time, it is the quality of time.

4) Schedule "us" time
Seriously, along with the previous one, take time to spend with your hubby. It is amazing how silly "the dishes" or "taking out the trash" can seem when you both are in good graces. But, if you are both stressed, you will end up bickering about something silly, something not even worth fighting about. So, once a week, if possible, take a night to go out, or order a movie, or something with just the two of you. It will make the household chores seem like less of a priority, which really, aren't they?

5) Remember this: When you die, no one will remember you for how clean your house was
You will be remembered as a wife, a mom, and so on. I learned this from my Uncle Matt and it is so true! Pick your battles and try to remember what really matters.

6) Indulge

Get that coffee from Starbucks. Buy those earrings. Every once in a while, we all need something to keep our sanity. Mine is the sweet, sweet flavors of a large diet-coke with vanilla from Sonic. :) It fuels me to get homework done. Seriously.

7) June Cleaver doesn't exist!

I kept thinking I should be able to do it all. But, to be honest, I don't think it is possible. I seriously don't. Something has GOT to give. Mine is the housework and sleep. Yes - I still get overwhelmed with it and hate when people come over and things aren't perfect. But, I have just learned what really gets under my skin and what doesn't, and prioritize accordingly. During the week, no housework gets done. I cook supper, do dishes, and try to pick-up the girls' rooms. The weekend is for housework and maybe not all of it. These Pinterest and Blogging moms are struggling too, they just aren't as honest (or they don't work full-time, or go to school). Sleep? Well, I love it so much. I catch up on the weekends or take naps with the girls. :)

9) Also, remember this: You are not alone. 

And, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Before we know it, our kids will be big and we won't know what to do with ourselves.

10) Having two is not much more work than one, as long as your husband helps out. Keep that in mind for future babies. :) The biggest obstacle is going back to those toddler days, where you can't take them anywhere for long periods of time (grocery shopping sucks, etc.).

I hope I helped in some way. Those are the things getting me by. But, my classes started up again this week and I'm already stressing. That's okay; I will just pick up my Sonic drink on the way home and wait until the girls go to sleep until I start homework.



Heath is also fantastic. He really is. I could never do any of this without him. He is a great husband and father. He supports me emotionally and he supports my education. He picks up so much of my slack. I am forever grateful for him. I hope that everyone has that type of support!

You will do great. If not, you will figure it out. I promise. I am always here to listen.

------------------------------

Any advice that any other parents would give to a new mother, trying to take on other responsibilities? Besides calling them crazy... :)

Peek into Our Home

Family arrives home from the movies. It's late. The girls should have been in bed an hour ago and morning is going to come way too early.

Mom and Dad dump themselves out of the vehicle. Mom lets out a slight huff, thinking about carrying in all of the stuff and children from the car. She grabs her purse, half-empty fountain drink, and stands next to the car. Dad lets the toddler out of the car and goes to grab the baby. He hands the diaper bag to mom and they both trudge inside.  Dad sings a song to the chihuahuas as he lets them outside to go to the bathroom.

"Who wants ta go potttttaaay? Whhhooooo wants ta go Potttaaay?"

The toddler bops her head to the tune, as she steps heavily up each stair, as she refuses to use the rail for assistance.

Mom drops all of her stuff on the kitchen table, since that seems to be where all things gather. She promptly goes to the bathroom to relieve her child-ruined bladder.

Dad comes upstairs and walks by said bathroom. Mom sees him since the door has been left wide open.

He lays the baby down in the hallway, facing mom's tennis shoes in the bathroom. Mom and baby exchange a few words and coos of nonsense.

Procrastinating putting baby or toddler to sleep, mom lays down on the hallway floor with baby. Remembering how much weight she needs to lose, mom starts doing crunches and leg lifts.

At some point dad and toddler end up in the kitchen, eating left-over banana nut muffins.

Dad runs around the house being hyperactive per usual. He is downstairs, in the kitchen, in the bedroom...all while chomping on a banana nut muffin he ate in two bites.

Mom hears gurgle from baby. After lifting her head, she sees a small pile of sweet potatoes, baby's dinner, on the beige carpet. Mom yells for dad while running to the kitchen for a towel, "She threw up a little bit!"

With this announcement, the toddler comes running from the kitchen, muffin in her mouth, yelling, "She frew up a lettle bit?"

Dad laughs and yells, "Oh, don't worry about it, hun. She is smashing it into the carpet."

The family all meets in the hallway, circling baby. Baby is, indeed, smashing the orange slime into the carpet. She is very proud of herself.

Toddler declares, "Oh, crap!"

With further review, mom decides she actually said, "Oh, crack!" But, with the same intention.

........................................................


Announcer voice: "Check back, next month, for another Peek into Our Home." ;)

27 is the New Cool

I'm getting old.

I literally feel it. No - I'm not talking about my achy bones, my need for more fiber in my diet, or the wrinkles on my forehead. Although, my hip does hurt sometimes, fiber would do me some good, and my forehead is totally wrinkling. But, that is all beside the point.

I look at Lucy and Olive. Lucy is almost three. I. Am. Getting. Old.

I'm a mother of two. I am co-raising two children. We are talking about getting a minivan. I seriously wake up in the morning and think about what would be comfortable and sensible to wear, not what would look best.

I remember being a little kid and celebrating my dad's 30th birthday. Was that young in my eyes? No. Do I ever remember a time that I thought my parents were young? Never.

But, to a 4 year old, 30 is old. No offense, Dad.

So, I have decided instead of being all complainy, which is easy to do, I would celebrate being "old." What makes being (almost) 27 cool? Well, let me tell you...

1) I can tell you when a storm is coming because my hip aches, like arthritis or something.

2) I can dress up for an 80s party based on memory, not pictures from the internet.

3) I can sing songs from the early 2000s in the hall at work, and I'm the only one who knows all the lyrics.

4) My cell phone is not always in my hand. Therefore, if I am slow replying to texts, I can't be blamed.

5) If I'm out past midnight on the weekend, and get pulled over, it's no automatically assumed that I'm coming home from a party.

6) I drive a "family vehicle" and never get pulled over (knock on wood).

7) I get to plan all the meals of the household. What's for dinner? Whatever I want to cook...

8) I get to finally share my worldly wisdom with teenagers. And, they roll their eyes at me, just the same..

9) Heath lets me spend more money on makeup, push-up bras, and tanning lotion since I'm basically falling apart.

10) I am finally in tune with the news and pop culture enough that I get all (or most) of the jokes on Saturday Night Live.

11) Heath and I can basically be as careless as we want with birth control. Not that we want a third necessarily, or right now for the matter. But, it's not like we're too young, or too old. It's like Goldilocks; my age is "just right."

12) I appreciate how fast the internet is today. When I was 15, I used dial-up to download songs from Napster!

13) I have become supernatural. I have the ability to kiss boo-boos and cure them instantly, I can look at food and gain weight, and my body can sense when it's out of caffeine.

14) When I talk about my "high school days," I'm no longer lame. It's me being nostalgic.

15) Let be honest, stubbing your toe just doesn't hurt quite as bad. Or, perhaps it's being able to cuss at the top of your lungs that relieves all that pain...hmmm...

Now, don't you wish you were 27? It's pretty damn cool.

Dear...

Dear Readers...I promise, I will totally get back into the hang of things here pretty soon. Tell my hubby that I need a netbook, or a keyboard for the girls' ipad, or something of the sort. :)

Dear Lucy...you have to do nothing more in the mornings than to just look at me, to brighten my day. Your bed-head is enough to make me smile.

Dear Winter...where is the snow? I work at an educational institution. Therefore, you are to give me at least one snow day a year. Is that too much to ask? Come on Jack Frost! Help me out!

Dear Chico...sorry, bud. Olive isn't eating solids yet. It's going to be a while before food gets thrown from the highchair. 

Dear 2012...thank you so much for giving me my second baby girl; but, seriously, you could have kept that extra 30 lbs. (I miss warm, chocolate-chip cookies straight from the oven. Mmmm...)

Dear Lucy...I love that you throw yourself up against the wall, when I ask you to pose for a picture - so, so dramatic.


Dear Doctors and Nurses...thank you. Thank the Lord that someone around here doesn't mind blood, or other bodily functions, and isn't a creeper at the same time.


Dear Walmart...although it appears that you are taking all of our money...

 

every time I price match and use coupons, I feel like I gain a little bit back. Muah-ha-ha.

 

Yes. That is $300. I am that crazy lady at Walmart who should really be using two carts. However, I usually only make one trip a month! And, diapers and formula are expensive...bah...

Dear Christmas stuff that still isn't put away...I love you; I promise. I'm just lazy...er...I mean sidetracked...and haven't put you away yet. It's nothing personal.

Dear Lucy...you think Olive doesn't sit still? You should try doing your hair!

Dear Hunny...I sure do love you.

Have a wonderful weekend, all! :)

Birth Story: Part 1

September 6th - Induction day!

Following what was arguably the longest day at work ever, I said farewell to my co-workers and giddily got into our car for home. I was antsy to say the least. I just wanted to get the show on the road. I was so ready in all senses of the word. Ready to meet her. Ready for newborn cuddles. Ready to take 8 weeks off work. Ready to bend over and tie my shoes again. Ready, ready, ready.

We got home and tried to go about our usual business. Heath fed Lucy supper while I took a shower. Our bags were already packed - had been for over a week. I checked my list for last minute items to add. Phone, phone charger, makeup, etc. Check. I was ready. We took one last photo of our family of three, knowing that it would never again be the same. Life changes were happening. :)

We hopped into the car to take Lucy out to my mom's house. We were on time, for once, and were scheduled to arrive at the hospital about ten minutes before 8 pm. We said a quick goodbye to Lucy and told her that we were on our way to "go get" Olive. She was basically oblivious to the whole idea and was completely fine with us leaving her.

On the way to Sonic to pick up one last 32 ounce, iced water, my phone rang. Another woman was currently delivering a baby and they had to move me back "a few hours." The nurse told me that it might be closer to 11 pm before we were asked to come in.

I cried.

I had anticipated this moment and just wanted to be at the hospital, feeling like it was at least coming! Heath tried to make me feel better. I was just so disappointed that I would have to wait even longer. We went back to the house and thank goodness my sister came over to keep us company. It helped pass the time.

At 11 pm I called the hospital to see what was going on. The nurse told me to go ahead and come on in. I was ready and about to fall asleep. I couldn't even tell you the last time I had been up until 11 pm! A smart mommy-to-be would have taken a nap.

I arrived in good spirits. I filled out all of the appropriate paperwork, put my gown on, got weighed (under my goal weight - whoo-hoo!), and got my IV. Heath and my sister sat nearby, sleepily. I was finally ready to go around 1 am. Before giving me Cytotec to soften my cervix, the nurse checked my progress. I was certain that I had surpassed 2 cm, since I had been having a lot of Braxton-Hicks contractions all week. I was completely disappointed when she said that I was still at 2 cm. However, I was only 2 cm when I came to the hospital with Lucy. So, I was hopeful!

At this point I was already having Braxton-Hicks that were showing up on the contraction monitor. Dr. B had told me that the Cytotec might possibly be enough to send me into labor, especially since I was a second-time mother. That it did...

Just 20 minutes or so after getting it, my contractions became somewhat consistent. By 2 am I was having considerable contractions that were about 5 minutes apart and realized at that point that I would not be sleeping for the night. By 4 am, I was having to "breath" through them and couldn't talk. I was in pain.

When the nurse checked me again, I was certain that I would at least be at 3 cm or more. I was just holding on through those contractions, thinking that an epidural would be coming soon. She checked and I was still 2 cm. What?! I couldn't believe it. I teared up, trying not to be an emotional, sleepy mess. I couldn't believe that I wasn't making progress. The contractions continued.

I walked. I lunged. I did squats. I sat and bounced on a ball. I changed positions. I rocked in a rocking chair. All of this made the contractions stronger and hurt more. I had to be getting somewhere!

I was checked again right about the time the sun came back up. Still no progress. I was crushed. This time, the nurse couldn't even reach my cervix; it was obvious that Olive's head was no longer down. I felt that all of the "work" that my body was doing and the pain I was feeling was literally for nothing. It was so frustrating.

Dr. B came in around 7:15 am. She felt my stomach and checked me. No progress. She couldn't reach my cervix either. She told me that she thought Olive had flipped and was was breach. The nursing team brought in an ultrasound machine to make sure. Dr. B and another doctor both said it looked like she was breach. They called in an ultrasound tech to make sure. While we were waiting, she explained the c-section process to me. I had already come to terms with it. I was experiencing painful contractions and had been for about five hours. Dr. B explained that she didn't think I was progressing because the baby's head pushing down on my cervix is what causes dilation. Since her head wasn't engaged, I wasn't progressing.

I had rolled over while waiting for the tech. Apparently Olive took that opportunity to move again. By time the tech arrived, Olive was head down again. She still wasn't engaged; but, she was in the right direction. We were back on for a vaginal delivery. I admit it; I cried again. I was tired and not getting anywhere. I was heartbroken, thinking that I was going to have to endure the pain even longer and was scared that I still wouldn't have any progress. Dr. B was very supportive though and said we had to focus on getting Olive to move down. I knew that I preferred a vaginally birth, as did Heath; so, I sucked it up and decided to "push on."

The contractions continued as they decided to go ahead with the Pitocin. They thought that the Pitocin might make my uterus contract harder and push Olive down. It only made the contractions more frequent. The nurse checked me again before noon. I was prepared for her to say that there was still no progress. The pessimistic outlook made the news easier to swallow. My dad and step-mom showed up soon after and served as good distractions from the pain and disappointment of no progress.

At 4 pm, I looked at the clock. I had been having these painful contractions for over 12 hours now. I was exhausted. I felt like it was never going to end. The nurse checked me again - nothing. They couldn't break my water either, because Olive's head wasn't engaged. So, we couldn't take the risk of the umbilical cord coming out first. They just kept increasing the Pitocin.

Dr. B finally returned around 5:30 pm. We talked and she gave me the option of either a c-section or going home and trying another day. I was convinced that I would continue to have the contractions at home, on my own. I had been all night. Plus, I was not at all mentally prepared to experience this all again. I was in low, low spirits at this point. I agreed to the c-section. Dr. B asked several times if I was sure, since I had not wanted a c-section.

I was ready though. Ready, ready, ready. I was also exhausted. I was finally taken to the surgery room around 6:30 pm. Heath was taken to the prep room. Unfortunately my sister couldn't be in the room. I asked if she could be dressed and ready though, just in case Heath's Xanax didn't kick in. (He did great though.)

As soon as they took me off that damn Pitocin, I was doing much better! I was still having contractions; but, they were much farther apart. I was ready for my spinal and to meet my baby girl! I was actually smiling, knowing that the time had finally come!

 - To Be Continued -