Where Cori Begins and Mother Ends

I started out this morning, writing a very introspective piece about the winter blues. But, as the words flowed from my mind to my fingertips, the theme slowly shifted to another battle that I have within myself.

I struggle with being an individual and being a mother. Most of the time, I don’t feel like I can be both at once.

If you were to run into me today and ask me what my purpose in life is, my focus, my end-game, I would say that I just wanted to raise my children to be good people. 

I spend about 90% of my day thinking about, or doing things for, my children. I open my eyes every morning to the face of one of my kids staring back at me, and I go to sleep every night asking God to be with them. Even things that are seemingly for me, I do to make our routine smoother or to make my little family happy or proud. Cleaning the house, cooking, organizing, working, it’s not just for me anymore. And, as I think about my purpose, even if I circle away from being a mother just once, it comes back around to just that. The children are such a huge part of my life right now, embedded within almost every single activity of my day. It’s near impossible not to focus on that aspect of my life.

In fact, how many mothers out there noticed that I didn’t include the role of “wife” within this post yet? If you did, good for you. If you didn’t, I get it! Because, Heath and I, at some point, put our relationship on the backburner and moved the kids right up to the front. It’s not something we discussed or did intentionally. It just happened. Just as, the day I saw two lines on that pregnancy test, “individual Cori” packed up her skinny clothes, expensive shoes, impractical bras and underwear, and waved goodbye. Mother Cori moved in – with her dark circles, mom-bod issues, and quick fuse for things that she can’t control. She may have also brought several pairs of black tights, t-shirts, and sweatshirts. It is what it is…

There have been points in my motherhood, thus far, when I was so wrapped up in the children that I completely lost sight of myself – and certainly lost sight of Heath (unless it was to beckon him for assistance with the kids). One day, however, the kids were slow getting around for the day, came home to just complain about being bored, and then wouldn’t eat what I cooked for supper. Feelings, that I wasn’t quite aware of, or had been ignoring, just came bubbling out. I started in on a lecture about how spoiled they were, how they take everything they have and everything I do for granted, how I give, give, and give some more, and they don’t appreciate it. I quickly realized that I was resentful. To no fault of my children, I put all of my focus and energy in them, and was mad that they didn’t appreciate it. Of course they didn’t. They didn’t even notice that I was pouring my being into them. How could they?

I knew then that I had to start doing things for myself again. It wasn’t just an excuse for “unmotherly” behavior. It was to make me a better mom. I didn’t want to feel resentful. It made me grumpy and irritable, and I wasn’t being a good role model to the kids. What is it that they always say? You can’t pour from an empty cup? Well, yeah, and in my version, my cup was empty and theirs were overflowing onto the floor. Then, of course, I was having to clean up the mess.

It is an active effort to make time for myself. I try to schedule girls’ nights out, try to do an activity each week that is something that I want to do, take at least an hour in the evening to watch TV or read a book. But, it is a constant struggle. There is a lot of guilt involved. And when you don’t feel like you need to be doing something for the kids, you feel like you need to be doing something for your husband. The balancing act is extremely difficult and I suck at it the majority of the time. 

My cycle is this: give, give, give, get angry, be selfish, restart.

And, it is truly no one’s fault but my own. I do it to myself. I keep thinking that I can give, give, give, and then not be affected by it. Until, I am. Then, I’m reminded to focus on me a little too. In fact, when I get my head out of the Lucy, Olive, and Henry clouds, I kind of panic. If I lose sight of myself while raising children, what is going to happen when they’re all out of the house? Will I even know myself? Will Heath even know me anymore?

I have to make time for me. And, to step up onto a soapbox for a second, we have to stop making moms feel guilty about that. 

Take your friend up on the invitation to go out. Don’t feel bad for getting a sitter two weekends in a row. Buy the outfit. Go workout for half an hour. Don’t shame another mom because she is having a beer while cooking dinner. Do the thing, say yes to the thing, enjoy the thing. Focus on you.

If you do it, then I will be reminded to do it too. 

And, if you do it, I will grasp the value in it again. 

And, if you do it, then I won’t feel so guilty choosing me every once in a while as well. 

See how that works? (Stepping down from my soapbox now.)

I’ve seen someone compare motherhood to the oxygen masks on planes. You are supposed to put yours on first. Then, help the person next to you. While I completely understand and respect this concept, I wonder about actually experiencing this scenario. How many of you, in a state of panic, would totally start to put your child’s on first? I am almost certain that I would at least reach for theirs before reminding myself to “follow the rules.” 

I think, for a lot of us, our instincts tell us that our children come first. They are the most important. Who cares what happens to me?! Take care of my babies! Am I right?

But…if you are fighting for air, you can’t help your babies…

I know you wanna pour your cup into theirs, and reach for their masks first, because you love them more than anything in this entire world. But, remember yourself. Keep your eye on her. When you are balanced and happy, your home is balanced and happy.

This is your reminder. This is my reminder.

Bath-Robe & Slippers

My last post was about using a cleaning schedule. I noted in that post, that sometimes you get behind on things. Some days you miss tasks. Some weeks you miss tasks. And, some months are filled with idle days of recuperation.

That last one is about where I’m at these past few weeks. 

I am actually really great at giving advice on how to plan, organize, adjust, etc. But, I am also inherently lazy. So, sometimes I do not follow through with my own advice. The good thing I have going for me is that I eventually get out of my funk and get back on track. I consider that to be a win. After all, I truly do love to plan, organize, adjust, etc.

Now, let’s address the reason why I am writing today.

I drop my kids off for school in my bath robe and slippers.

To make matters worse, I have my pajamas (read tank top and athletic shorts) underneath said robe. I am not usually wearing a bra. My hair is unkempt, just thrown up into a messy bun or clip. And, I do not brush my teeth. 

If I were to get into a fender bender on the way to or from school drop-off,…knock on wood…I would run, guys. I would wave a sad, apologetic wave, and speed that minivan the hell out of there. Because, the state in which I drop the kids off for school is perhaps my worst look (maybe aside from freshman year photo day in H.S.). 

My “staying-at-home” didn’t start this way. In fact, in those days, I would have judged the crap out of me. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t be the mom in a robe, disheveled and scrambling to get the kids around. Why couldn’t she just put herself together? Why didn’t her vanity, or sense of self for goodness sake, motivate her to at least wash her face or brush her hair? And, a robe? It’s truly just fulfilling a stereotype.

The truth is, some of you are probably still judging me. I get it. From the outside in, I judge me too. I see plenty of stay-at-home moms who do the drop-off, who look fabulous. They stand tall and chit-chat with passers-by, while waving big at other parents. They are a far cry from me, who ducks my head and tries to hide behind anything and everything, as to not make eye-contact with anyone.

How I got here was a slow progression. It took me almost four years to perfect, in fact. And, not to brag, but I am killin’ it.

When I had one or two children to get around in the morning, I was managing to also spend some time on myself. Henry would be the one in his pajamas. He was a baby; it was expected. Some days I would choose to hit snooze one more time and forfeit make-up. And, some days, I would hit snooze two more times, and forfeit my makeup and hair. 

This may be a good time to remind you all that I hate mornings. I am not a morning person. I think my family members and particularly my husband thought that my disdain for mornings was just a juvenile phase in my life; that one of these days, I would grow-up and become a part of the morning society. Well, not so much. I am just a few days into 33, and well it’s looking like mornings are still the worst. Sorry, Husband.

In summation, when you hate mornings, making excuses to sleep a bit more is easy peasy. 

This year, everything changed. Yes, before now, I wouldn’t exactly want to see anyone at school drop-off. I certainly wasn’t ready for a close-up. But, it was manageable – not totally embarrassing. Perhaps everyone would think I was on my way to the gym or something. Then, all three of the kids were in school. 

Early in the year, I quickly realized that I had to get up significantly earlier to get us all around. In our house, it’s not as easy as waking them up, telling them to get dressed, and then going to get myself ready. My kids…they need constant supervision. It sucks to say that. But, it’s true. 

One time, I told Olive to brush her teeth and went to get ready. I checked on her 15 minutes later and she was dancing, half-naked in her room, and had still not brushed her stinkin’ teeth. Ugh. Unfortunately, my kids are only motivated by the continual barking of their mother. I mean, I am pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself.

So, leaving their side to go do other things for any extended period of time is out of the question. If I do anything, it has to be within ear-shot, so I can continue to sing my greatest hits: 

•  "Get ready!" 
• "We are gonna be late!
• "Fine. If you don't get around, you won't have time for breakfast."
• "If you want to be late, that's fine with me. It's up to you."
• "Leave each other alone!"
• "Don't look at each other; get dressed in separate rooms!"
• "Where are your shoes?"
• "Go find your shoes!"

While typing this, I had the epiphany to just record myself saying these things. I could get up and play it on a loop throughout the house. Hmmmm...perhaps this could streamline things…

Anyway, these hectic mornings of supervision taught me two things. I would either have to get up super early, before waking my kids, to get around for drop-off. Or, if I tried to get ready at the same time as my kids, I was rushed and cranky, and the mornings were miserable.

To make matters worse, after I do drop-off, I generally come home to sit down at my computer. I pay bills, put things on our calendars, send cards, buy gifts, work on my classes, or write blogs. So, I’d be sitting at the computer, by myself, with makeup on, after having rushed around, yelling at my kids, just to come back home. In those moments, I would reflect on how I’m doing as a parent and the time I had after drop-off to get around. Why did I rush to do it in such a short period of time, when I could just do it afterward, when I was alone?

I had decided that I wasn’t going to worry about my hair or makeup before school anymore.

And, as long as I was staying in the car the whole time…I decided not to brush my teeth either. The thing with that is… I don’t like the way my coffee tastes after I brush my teeth. So, I drink my coffee beforehand. Really, this is just a PSA; keep back at least three feet until after I’ve had my coffee (or am forced to actually go somewhere). 

Then, for Christmas, I asked for a robe and slippers. Letting the dogs out without them was mighty cold. Thankfully, I got both this year! I live in love them. 

But, little did my husband or father and step-mother know, they were enabling me. The robe and slippers became the first things I slipped on in the morning. And, I realized that I didn’t even have to put on a bra! I should…but, I don’t have to…so…ya know…I don’t.

And, so, the evolution was complete. Well, I think it is. I don’t know how it could get any worse, really. So, I think it is complete.

I think it is important for me to talk about this. It’s not because I feel the need to justify my actions. Although, I think it is good for some people to read about how I got this way. Ha ha. But, also, I think it is important for people to know that you choose your battles. I decided, I like the mornings a whole lot more when I don’t stress myself out about getting around. I focus on the kids, and on making coffee while they eat breakfast, and I worry about myself after 8 am. After drop-off, I take a deep breath and remember that I am also a person separate from being a mom. But, until that finish-line of drop-off, I am all-in with the morning routine.

Yes – many, many other parents manage to get all of their kids (more than three sometimes!) to school on time, while looking great, and presentable, and like they have it all together. And, they actually might. And, so many parents manage to get everyone in their house around for drop-off on their way to work – or get their kids to the bus stop. I applaud them. I really do. And, for the record, I was once one of them…

But, mornings were an absolute sh*t show at our house. And, for us, for our situation, I was always angry and lecturing, and it was no way to start the day – for any of us. So, I said, something’s gotta give. I can get up earlier, or worry less about the way I look. And, I chose to hit snooze two more times and say, to heck with my looks! (Secretly praying that I don’t actually run into anyone!)

That’s how I became the stay-at-home mom, who drops her kids off for school in a robe and slippers.

Sorry, kids! Maybe when you listen better, I will be more “put-together,” as to not embarrass you. Someday…

Sacrifice

We aren’t supposed to talk about the sacrifices we make to be mothers.

Yes – we will acknowledge that we give up our bodies (ugh!), our money, and our free-time. And, of course, we follow up any complaint with, “But, I’d do it all again for those beautiful babies!”

And, that last part is true.

Well, it’s true for me, and I think most mothers. You love those babies so much it hurts. The thought of losing them cuts deep, deep into your soul; it takes you to such a dark place that you can’t even fathom the possibility of it. 

But, at the risk of sounding ungrateful, I’m going to talk about the other sacrifices we make as mothers. 

When I considered having children, people would drop little hints of the unknown sacrifices. But, with a huge smile on their face and a giggle, they would say, “But, it is the most wonderful thing in the world!” Which, it really is the most wonderful thing in the world…Yet, I soon realized that the snicker, that little laugh, that was a tiny concealed glimpse into reality. They giggled, because it’s hell, and you just may lose yourself in the process. 

Let’s talk a little more about how you sacrifice your time. No, not just that the hours you used to spend watching television or going out. You give up every single minute of every single day. If you aren’t with the kids, you are cleaning up after them, washing their clothes, preparing snacks for school, washing jerseys, laying out clothes for tomorrow, and so on. You try to have adult conversations with your husband, but even those will be interrupted with multiple taps on the hip or a billion, “Mamma. Mamma. Mammas.” Even sleeping is not safe. You will find yourself getting angrily shaken awake multiple times a night, and no night’s sleep is ever guaranteed.

And, in your sleepless state, you will sacrifice your mind. The kids have made me a bit crazy, yes. However, what I mean is: you never think the same way again. The world becomes so much more terrifying. The metal slide you once looked at with nostalgia, has become a tetanus nightmare of heat and sharp edges. That weird old man that you’d just walk by with a nod and a half-smile…is a potential child-abductor. And, anytime you watch the news, you get sick to your stomach thinking about raising your children in this world we live in.  And, if your perspectives haven’t changed, then your thoughts have. Because, once you have kids, every second of every single day (broken record!), you think about them. It’s not obsessive. But, everything you do is in consideration of them. Even planning a night out…where will the kids go? Are they all healthy? Will the sleep well? What should I pack? Should I send snacks with them? What time do I have to be back to pick them up? Should we leave their car seats? Will they be able to get ahold of us? Should we not drink, just in case there is an emergency?

Sometimes, instead of the planning, you sacrifice your plans. I think this one is probably pretty taboo to even mention. And, it is very likely that I am just a selfish person, which I wouldn’t completely disagree with…

Not too long ago, we had some friends getting together. It’s the middle of winter; so, we all have a bit of cabin-fever. Heath and I were feeling overwhelmed with the house, our work, the kids’ winter craziness, and so on. Going out with some friends and having a laugh sounded great. But, we couldn’t find a sitter. We had to bow out, while other friends still got together. And…it made me mad. I was mad that we couldn’t go.

I was ever madder that no one ever told me that I would feel that way. I knew that I had to give up going out, unless I found a sitter. But, no one said, “You are really going to need a break, and sometimes you just won’t be able to do anything that you want to do, and it sucks.” Because, that’s true. There are days, weeks even, that I don’t do anything that I want to do. Most days I can squeeze in some of my garbage television programs or some Pinterest surfing after bedtime. But, other days I do nothing “for me.” 

And, as far as Heath goes? Ha! Heath who? Oh, the guy I wake up every night, when crawling into bed late, because I insist on staying up to have five seconds to myself? Oh, yeah, that guy. I wouldn’t know, because I have sacrificed my relationship too – or, at least parts of it. That may be a bit dramatic. But, I believe it to be mostly true. We have to literally work on ways to connect. We have to make effort to even have conversations! We have to have date nights, and daily texts, just to feel like we are doing more than co-parenting as really great roommates. And, full-disclosure, sex becomes this quiet, rushed thing, which happens in the same place, behind a locked door. Anything more is just gonna have to wait until the kids are out of the house, or we’re 50…

Now, this isn’t supposed to be a “don’t have kids” post. Because, they are wonderful and they make my heart so incredibly full, and I seriously would do it again. But….we have to stop making it seem easy. I feel like our generation is the first to stand up and be like, hey! WTF? This is way harder than anyone said it was going to be and anyone else made it look. Everyone has been hiding the work, the difficulty, the struggle. It isn’t realistic, and exactly who are we hiding it for?

It is hard. It is so hard. It’s time. It’s money. It’s work. It’s patience. And, it is a lot of sacrifice.

I’d do it again. Yes. But, I’d be lying if I wasn’t mad sometimes about how much I have to give. I give, and I give, and I give. And, sometimes, I just want to do what I want to do. And, sometimes, I get mad that I can’t. And, that’s okay. It is okay to feel selfish. We signed up for this, yes. But, we didn’t decide to bottle our feelings and pretend they don’t exist.

So, let’s stop pretending that we’re all happy to give our everything. Because, I for one, struggle with it sometimes. And, I can’t be the only one…

(Oh, and, a little thank you from the kids would help too. That should happen sometime…hmmm…never.)

One of those Mornings...

Remember how I mentioned in my last post that sometimes I have bad days? And, sometimes the kids have bad days? Well, I just sat down with my first cup of coffee and it seems as though an entire “bad day” has already taken place. 

I want to preface the morning with a description of my mood. 

I have been fighting a stomach bug of some sort for a while now. I think I may have gotten whatever tummy stuff is going around; but, my body is doing an okay job of fighting it. I’m avoiding the vomiting, but got all the other fun stuff a sickness brings. I am also particularly moody this week, if ya know what I mean (today is day 3). And, I have been having a hard time adjusting to a regular sleep schedule again; this means that I hit snooze a total of….six times this morning. Overall, I’m a freaking peach. 

The kids were fairly cooperative at least. They got out of bed and got dressed at a decent pace. Olive did wander around, sleepy-eyed, wrapped in a blanket much longer than I would have preferred, asking, “What do I wear?” (as she stood right next to the clothes I had laid out for her). But, it wasn’t much of an irregular morning at that point.

Then, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach that doubled me over. I realized that I should probably not go to my MOPS meeting scheduled for this morning. I wanted to go. But, I get livid when people knowingly share their germs/sickness with others. And, I have another Christmas this weekend; so, I’m trying to get better and stay as healthy as possible. The idea of missing the meeting bummed me out. We only get to go to meetings once a month and I truly enjoy them.

I continued on.

It didn’t take long before I noticed that Olive had a sore of some type between her nose and mouth. I don’t get cold sores (knock-on-wood); so, I wasn’t sure if that was all it was or not. I decided to ask her about it.

“Did you scratch your face?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does this hurt?”

“What?”

“You have a sore on your face. Do you know anything about it?”

“Momma, don’t touch it.”

So, things were going well. I was gathering a lot of helpful information.

I began a short, but civil lecture about washing hands and touching faces, etc. I then told her to wash her hands with soap and water. It turned out to be an impossible task, which was easier to lie about than actually do. After a bit of back-and-forth, I finally got her to wash her hands – I’m a horrid mother, I know. I then wet a wash cloth with the intention of cleaning her face.

This was at about 7:35 AM, everybody. So, if you heard the blood curdling screams, that was coming from our house.

You would have thought that I wiped her face with sand paper. So, after the one wipe, I left the scene to throw the washcloth into the laundry room. Walking back past Olive, I just turned my head and threw my hands in the air.

I made my way to the kitchen, meeting the blank stares of the other two kids. They were sitting at the island, eating their breakfast. That is when I made the grand statement of how stupid the situation was – one of my prouder moments of the morning. I then started rummaging through our “pain reliever” container, looking for some triple antibiotic. Olive appeared at my side, and quickly realized what I was doing. She started pleading, “Momma, no!”

Over her yelling, I tried to explain that it wasn’t a painful medicine. But, just her luck, I couldn’t find it. I let out a huff and put the container back in the cabinet. While there, I saw the dogs’ Heartguard that I was supposed to give them yesterday – oops. To remember, I took the box out and threw it on the counter. That act was enough to send Olive over the edge. She collapsed on the floor and started to wail.

This was when I made the second “this whole thing is so stupid” declaration of the day. 

After getting Olive composed and cleaned up, I threw a snack cake at her and begged everyone to load up. We were now running late.

Six out of the eight blocks to school were filled with my huffs and statements of anger. Literally, I just repeated, “Ugh. I’m so mad.” - switching out the “ughs” for sighs or huffs, and switching out “mad” for “angry” or “frustrated,” whichever synonym came to mind. 

I don’t know why I do it. I guess it is part to make me feel better and part to ‘bring Olive to the realization that her behavior is irrational and unwarranted, making us all a bit grumpier and late this morning, when all I was trying to do was help her and keep her healthy.’ You know, as one could infer…

It was on block seven that I realized that we didn’t have Henry’s winter coat, just a light fleece. He didn’t even have gloves or a stocking cap. As I whirled around to look for it on the floor of the car, I almost clipped another car who was turning onto my street. I immediately mouthed, “Sorry!” to the other driver. I think I knew her too…dammit.

The coat is not there and I was well on my way to ‘Mother of the Year.’

I finally pulled up to the curb. The kids barreled out. And, I yelled, “I love you!” in their general direction, as they ran up the sidewalk. I watched until they were safely inside.

I then closed the van door, locking in the silence of my solitude. I took a deep breath.

“What in the hell…” I whispered to myself.

Now, on with the day…

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.

Disclaimer of an Insecure Person

I literally closed my browser, with my work page staring me in the face, to open this page. I have a table full of Christmas decorations that need to be packed, just over my left shoulder. But, as I spend the late morning sorting and folding laundry, wiping down counters, and doing dishes, I have been in my head a lot. When that happens, I am inspired to pour thoughts out, and here is where I do so. 

I have been absent lately, and I have decided to not apologize for it. I write this for me. If I start to put these arbitrary deadlines of when “I need to post a blog,” then I will be forcing thoughts and ideas. I want this to be for my enjoyment, and for my expression. I want it to be a stress-free place and experience. 

All that being said, I have been extremely busy with the holidays. And, Heath took some time off to be home with me and the kids. So, I actually had someone to talk to about complex things…basically, someone to talk to that was over the age of eight. That certainly does take away some motivation to write. But, mostly, any time I had something on my heart, I felt like I would have to tip-toe around the subject.  It’s not like I wanted to vent about politics (eye-roll!), abortion, or capital punishment – things that are actually controversial. I wanted to talk about everyday things. Yet, judgement still comes…

I wanted to talk about my anxiety medication. I wanted to talk about my insecurities as a mother. My insecurities with my looks and aging. I want to talk about how marriage is both extremely easy and extremely hard. My pets. Our home renovations. Stay-at-home mothers. Working mothers. Etc.

But, every time I had thoughts racing through my head, I would decide not to post it here. I thought to myself, “I can only talk like that to my good friends and family. I can only say those things to people who won’t judge me – people who won’t twist my words and take them out of context.” I hate that every single time that I write about something, I have to remind everyone that I have “first-world problems” and that I realize how incredibly blessed I am. I know that there are millions upon millions who have it worse than me; I am not naïve or uneducated. But, does that belittle my daily struggles? While someone might find the things that take over my mind to be stupid or unwarranted, it doesn’t mean that they don’t affect me. These are things that mean something to me.

I am not saying that everyone is judgmental. Although, I think that everyone is; some people just decide to share it with the world, while others decide to push those thoughts aside. If you are here and you catch yourself identifying with me at all – thank you. There is so much comfort in knowing that you are not alone in your struggles, even though you know that sometimes they are stupid, and superficial, and not worthy of your time. It just feels like there is always at least one person. One person who has a nasty thought, not worth saying, and decides that they need to share it with the world. Thankfully, I haven’t had anyone make a comment like that to me yet, on this newer blog. Nevertheless, it feels impending.

Truth is…I am an insanely judgmental person. So, I know it exists and I am quite good at running through all of the horrible scenarios in my head, of what people might say. However, I have truly tried to take steps to be more positive and caring. I do believe that it is something that you have to work at and make a conscious decision about. I hope that those around me notice that I have tried in the years past, and I am a much happier person because of it. Sadly, a nasty comment still escapes my mouth from time to time. All of you should find comfort in knowing that with my anxiety, I obsess over the comment for days at a time, even weeks. And, whenever a memory is sparked, I still think about things I said almost 20 years ago and die a little. But, I am working on it and so can everyone.

Therefore, this is my disclaimer. 

If you are anti-medication…

If you hate listening to people talk about negative body image…

If you don’t completely flip out on your children and then lie in bed at night crying about how you are screwing them up…

If you think that stay-at-home mothers are lazy…

If you think that doing a home renovation, while trying to raise three children is taking on too much…

If you think I’m too whiny and complainy…

If you think I am at all being dishonest or putting on a show for the internet…

If you think I am just seeking attention…

If you think that I am making poor decisions as a mom…

If you think that I am not seriously trying, I mean really trying…

Then, close this page. I don’t want or need those kinds of attitudes here. Negative people drain me, and bring out the worst in me. I hate it and always feel like garbage after being around them. 

I expect to get a lot of reactions similar to, “Who cares what other people think?! Just write and screw everyone else.”

While those are not untrue statements, I think we all know it isn’t that easy. I am about 50% “I care what others think” and about 50% “IDGAF,” and, as we all know, 100% anxious about both emotions.

In summation, I am gonna open up my brain and let things flow. I don’t want to preface every single post with how neurotic I am, and state that I am aware of my privileges and blessings. I know. Seriously, I do. But, I still have stress and sadness, and very obviously, several insecurities. I believe that many others share in my feelings. I think it is okay to talk about it. To some people, it may seem silly; but, to others, it feels like the weight of the world. We are never alone in our thoughts. Not one single person is alone with their thoughts; I promise you, there are others thinking the same way – no matter how ridiculous or neurotic, or even terrible, those thoughts are. 

Take care, and I hope to post again soon.