Becoming a SAHM

Without a doubt being a stay-at-home mom has made me a worse mom.

I was not always a SAHM. I used to work as a paraprofessional at a special needs school (meaning all of our students in the building were in need of special education). I loved my job. And I was good at my job. I felt like I was making a difference and I like to think that I was. Even though I was working with kids who tested my patience every five minutes, who made me want to scream in frustration or who literally physically harmed me, I loved going to work. And it made me a better mom.

I can say without a doubt that working where I was and with the other teachers and paras as well as the students not only made me a better mom but a better woman. Even though they tested my patience, they helped me keep my patience and learned to remain calm even when ignored for an hour or asked the same question all day long. They taught me how to see the world from a child’s perspective again and to smile at the little things and to take pleasure in every good moment because you do not know how frequent those moments will be.

I would come home from work exhausted, scratched, bitten, and, sometimes, in tears. But then I would see my kids, see their happy faces and be rejuvenated. I would play with them, laugh with them, and know that I was blessed to have these moments with them. I had been away from them all day and could not wait to hear every last detail of what they had done and accomplished while we were apart. We had a few precious hours together before they had to go to bed and we relished every second. I loved it and even though I felt a tiny bit of mother’s guilt for being away from them all day, I knew it was the best for me and for them.

Then I became a stay-at-home mom and everything changed.

If you are a parent, you know how ridiculously expensive daycare costs are, especially for newborns. Once I became pregnant, Matt and I knew that we would be unable to afford a newborn and a toddler in daycare. Unfortunately, I was unable to finish the remainder of the school year as a para as I had horrible morning sickness. May 1 began my adventure as a stay-at-home mom. And at first it was not that bad. The fact that I still did not feel well was a hindrance but I only had Lucy to take care and as far as two year olds go, she was easy (at least at that time). We would walk Talan to school every morning then pick him up at 2:45. It was great and I thought that I could easily adapt to being at home.

Then summer came and with it the end of patience. Having both kids at home, constantly, seven days a week has made me a horrible mother. I no longer cherish every moment together because I know that for the foreseeable future, every moment will be spent together. I no longer have patience for my children or their constant bickering or their constant questions or their loud voices or backtalk. Instead of running towards my kids to embrace, I’m (metaphorically) running away from them and hoping they turn towards their dad instead.

I’m sure not all stay-at-home moms are like me. I’m sure there are women (and men) out there who love staying home with their children. They love being there for every milestone and hiccup. They love being able to attend all of their kids’ activities and to volunteer whenever necessary. I, however, am not one of those parents.

I need to get out of the house every morning. I need adult interaction. I need to have conversations that revolve around politics, the environment and actual news as opposed to conversations dealing with Daniel Tiger and Sophia the First. I need a purpose other than changing my daughter’s diaper and listening to my son explain The Avengers to me.

Don’t get me wrong, I love and adore my children. I would do anything for them and I truly admire parents who chose to stay at home and care for them without going insane. The thing for me is, it was not a choice. I was forced into staying at home. I would love to be able to afford to stay at home and only work on a part-time basis or a volunteer basis but I would still send my kids to daycare. Lucy loved her daycare and still asks if she can go back. The interaction with her peers did wonders for her and her attitude. She learned more at her Montessori preschool then I have or will be able to teach her. She did well being away from me for eight hours every day. It was good for both of us as we each had more patience for the other.

Every time I hear myself yell at my kids or feel my sanity run away, I envy working parents. I envy them their chance to escape from imaginary play, boogers, “why”s, and the lot. I envy them their chance to be excited when they see their kids at the end of the day and have their kids be excited to see them.

My hope is that things will be better when Talan goes to first grade this Fall. That will give me roughly three and a half months with Lucy before the baby comes. Then, once again, all Hell will surely break loose.