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| male bonding. (or perhaps something nefarious. i'm still learning.) |
when i worked full-time in an office, i really hated leaving
home most mornings. (most, not all—there were definitely days when i felt like
i'd dodged a bullet, even if it meant time spent on the PATH.) i hated the rush
of getting out, and then the rush of getting home, the knowledge that i was
spending far more time behind a desk than with my kids, the guilt if i left
work early to spend more time with them, and the guilt i felt if i didn't.... i
had a nice paycheck, sure, and technically i was doing what i'd spent four
years in college learning to do, but i couldn't get past the sense that i was
not doing my most important work.
well, funny how life can change on a dime. now here i am, a
mama full-time, no office or desk to speak of, no to-do list that doesn't
include groceries or "call pediatrician" or "show-and-tell on
Thursday." i am more exhausted at the end of a day now than i was even on
my most stressful day at work, and often getting from breakfast to bedtime
requires many deep breaths.
it ain't easy, people.
but i never thought it would be. i never once thought
staying home would be the easier route—just the more rewarding one. and the
rewards, i'm realizing, are subtle. small things, simple things. there are no
reviews or raises or kudos from a higher-up. yet i'm thrilled that i get to
take Matthew to preschool twice a week and
pick him up. i'm elated that i've gotten to know Gavin so much better in
the month or so that i've been free of a job-job (so you're my second baby! you're pretty awesome!). i've been able to make dinner again, and
bake again, and take walks and go to parks and shop for
groceries...staggeringly chic, i know, but these are all things i felt like i
wanted to be doing and should be
doing, but who had the time?
but it all takes a lot of patience, and faith, and
perspective. there's always going to be a dozen things i didn't get to on any
given day. (from sneaking out for a manicure to folding the laundry to dusting
that damn bookcase i keep forgetting about.) the simultaneous naps (during
which i get to sit down, eat a proper lunch, perhaps write a blog post or watch Meredith Vieira) will only
happen once or twice a week; most of my time will be spent fulfilling non-stop
requests, cleaning up sticky messes (and hands and faces), having a
conversation about not hitting one's brother for the zillionth time, etc.
i will read not several chapters of a book each day (oh,
annoying commute with too many people pressed up against me, how i took you for
granted all those years!) but—on a good night—just four or five pages, before zonking out.
when i set my alarm clock for 6 a.m. in order to take a
normal-length shower, or finish a full cup of coffee, or do some personal work
on the computer, one boy or the other will decide it's the ideal morning to be
an early riser.
it's just how life is right now. which is where the faith
and perspective come in. this time is not forever. on certain days, when no one
naps and no one listens and a quick trip for groceries turns into a mutiny by
the time we reach the checkout aisle, it feels
like forever. but it's not. the growing is happening every day, every second,
and (here's where the faith is helpful), how lucky am i to be able to be here
now for so much of it? to put in the time, to pay the attention, to give the
hugs and kisses and high-fives i wished i was giving while sitting at my desk
all those hours every day? this is my most important work right now. it's where i'm supposed to be.
what inspired me to write this is another article i read this
morning, via Facebook, about stay-at-home-moms. it's one of many i've read in
recent weeks, from the perspective of "i think i made a mistake staying
home," and frankly, i think they're getting pretty tiresome. i'm not saying we
full-time mamas have to pretend it's remotely glamorous, or that we love every
minute of it (or even half of it, some days), but the complaining feels
excessive. indulgent. can't anyone be content with where they are anymore? why are we all
convinced the next person has it better? or that the decision we made was the
wrong one? or that your life is easier than my life, poor me?
all this hand-wringing and sideways glancing and
second-guessing accomplishes nothing but time-wasting. and, really, who among
us—at home or at the office—has all that time to waste?
mbm
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