Who am I kidding, I do not even have a real purse anymore.
I traded that in for a backpack, which is a very functional thing when you are hanging out with little kids all day. You can store away snacks, diapers, toys, and hooks that you have to uses on the grocery cart to lug your bags out of the store with,because your actual shopping cart is full of children.
I have spent many moments in the car with a crying baby, and chatty toddler fantasizing about driving far away, or sending them to daycare and getting a 9-5. Those terrible days when it takes every ounce of everything you have to not slam on the breaks and tell them to shut the fuck up.
Kids take, and when there is nothing else to take, they take more.
If you have seen The Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood you know there is a part when one of the Moms loses her shit and whips her children with a belt in the front lawn. I had no children the first time I watched that movie. Now I know exactly how things like that happen.
Kids require you to be your best self as close to all the time as possible, but shit that is impossible, unless you are lucky enough to have nannies, chefs, gardeners, drivers and maids on staff to give you a break.
Gone are the days when the village helped.
The village is busy with their own lives.
Having kids in modern times is lonely.
The plural matters here because one kid is much easier to find baby sitting for then four
One kid is far easier in every aspect then four kids.
The more kids you have the harder it gets. I have not been away from my children for more than a few hours in a year.
My Only child self is constantly pissed off.
Some times your best self is buried under four days of terrible kid naps, two weeks straight of non stop crying on every car ride, days of a shitty toddler busting every door open including the front door just because she can.
Your best self is hiding under smelly hair, and two days straight of being the on duty parent because your husband has to work to support your dreams of being a stay at home Mom.
Sometimes you just don’t have your best self available, because you are prone to seasonal depression the days and your temper are getting shorter.
Sometimes it is so heavy that you think to yourself freaking out with a belt on the front lawn would probably get you a few nights away in a psych ward, and that might be better than one more day of sleepless nap times.
Instead of this you go cry in the bathroom during nap time while your baby who is on a sleep strike bangs shit around in his crib.
You figure it out because you have too, because it is unfair not to mention unacceptable to burden your little people with this shit.
They didn’t ask to be born, but you asked for this.
Mothering is hard as fuck, and it isn’t because of how expensive it is.
It is hard because you always have to give yourself away. Even when you don’t have it. Even when you are a hormonal maniac on the verge of a rampage.
The money might make it easier to hire you some help when you morph into an emotional wreck, but it isn’t as necessary as self awareness.
Sometimes you have to tell yourself a glass of wine at 10am is better than a nervous breakdown. A glass of wine at 10am should actually be considered a perk of the Stay at Home Mom job.
This will make you feel considerably bad for all day care workers who are not allowed to partake in 10 am fermented grape juice.
You will feel like this, and it’s normal.
It is the same way you feel on any given day, at any given job.
If someone looks at you funny when you tell them you want to pop your childs head off their neck and use it to smack your other child then they should not have the pleasure of your presence.
(Unless you’re postpartum and they are just trying to help. That shit happens you know.)
Sometimes you are crying in the bathroom, and other times you are sitting around with your hands in finger paints, singing toddler songs.
Living the dream.
My advice to the aspiring Stay at Home Moms is this:
This time has been the most wonderful, and most trying. It is a perfect paradox, and I would not trade it on it’s worst day for anything else…..
(ok, maybe just for one day I would like to sit on a blanket on a brisk fall day at the park with my legs wrapped up in the Hubbs with a good book, or be a basketball teams physical therapist, but you get what I’m saying.)
Cheers My Darlings.