How I Feel About Being a Stay At Home Mom

I read a lot of articles and satire articles about what it’s like to be a stay at home mom. I am one so therefore I relate to them. 

They are often about how it’s tiring and rewarding all at the same time. That 4PM is kind of an evil hour, and it’s a “please bring me some wine hour”. I don’t really like wine unless it’s Rosé. If the day has been kind of bad then I’m more of a “please bring me some Red’s Apple ale, or Rum and Coke.” More likely though I’ll just beg to check out early, and go to bed at 7:30 PM. I’m always happy when my husband walks through the door regardless of how the day went though, probably a little bit more on bad days.

Then this morning I was lying in bed dozing before I actually had to get up. It’s that magic hour where everything is quiet, and I don’t have to quite get myself going. As I was lying there I suddenly thought to myself, “I like being home.” I’ve always liked being home. It’s something a lot of people don’t understand. I don’t actually care if I don’t make it out the door on some days. I don’t feel crazy if I don’t talk to an adult until almost 6pm.

If I weren’t a stay at home Mom I’d still want a job where I had to do very little interacting. In fact the job I had before I had my son I spent most of it behind a computer monitor, and most of my conversations were via email. I wasn’t fond of that job, but I liked that I had very little interaction with the public. It was all interoffice, and I absolutely loved my coworkers. I was good at it too, and so that also made me feel good about it. At the end of the day though, I’d rather be at home in my pajamas.

.There are days where I am running around doing errands, going to the gym, house chores, playing with my kid, and sometimes I’m just present with him. I always shower at night, and so I don’t fall into the non-showering spectrum of being a stay at home mom. Then there are those days where I really do watch TV all day because I’m exhausted.

I like being a stay at home mom. It’s hard. I complain a lot. Especially when my kid has turned into a threenager in more ways then one. (I.E. the power struggle with a toddler is real.) It is tough. Some days end in crying. Some days as I said before end early and I go to bed at 7:30 because I can’t imagine facing the day any more. Some days can be wonderful. Some days are full of good conversation. They are full of laughter, and end with a good book, movie or This Is Us. I write all the different kinds of days down in my journal. It’s good to have the bad so you can appreciate the good. It helps to see what you can truly be grateful for.

If I were to really get down to the nitty gritty of it all, being home is easier on me for my generalized anxiety disorder. I knew a long time ago I wanted to be a stay at home mom if it was ever going to be possible. It is hard to be a mom with anxiety and some times depression. I’ve learned how to function with it, but it can still be hard.

I tried working part time while being a mom, and I found I was more stressed and anxious.  It wasn’t greener on the other side for me. I felt like I was missing things with my just turned one year old. He was learning so much, and I wanted to be there.  So we made the decision that I would go back to being home with him. It was the best decision I ever made for myself. I wouldn’t change it.

I don’t just like being a stay home mom. I love it, even with all the hardships that come along with it.

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Building Up

If I were being honest, aside from my family*, I often feel lonely. Sometimes even alone.

I have friends. I get to see them sometimes. I know they care and love me, but as you get older every day life begins to happen. We’re not always in the same place in life, and we struggle with things differently. I Know I can talk to them at any time, but thing is…

The thing IS;

Well back when I first had my son I was fine. I was happy. I loved being his mama. It was my world. I didn’t know. I didn’t know there was a whole outside to this little world that I was acquainted with.

Back then the worst thing would have been spilling my large Diet Coke from McDonald’s. I probably would have cried, ok exaggerating here. I wouldn’t have cried, but it sure would have made the day feel sour.

Now when I spill it, I see it as a thing. I see it as something that while I’m annoyed about, I am just numb to it. I say oh shit, and then clean it up, and hope my kid doesn’t start running around saying “oh shit”. I’m a little sad because I only have half of it left, but it doesn’t matter

I’ve lost far greater things.

Of course I texted a couple people about the incident, but not because I was upset about it. I texted them because I actually thought to myself and saw it happening as I was walking in holding it in a precarious manner. I didn’t spill it in the way I visualized. I spilled it in a completely different way. I said to My son”well that was weird”.

He laughed. I laughed, and said “see we all spill things sometimes, even mama.” Then I cleaned it up and was annoyed because uh it was soda from McDonald’s. They have the most delicious soda ever.

But I brushed it off, because I’ve felt worse.

I don’t mean to take away from anyone that doesn’t know what I’m talking about. I can’t degrade anyone’s pain. We are all struggling with something some days. It’s just some days I feel awfully lonely. I struggle.

I struggle because even though I know I have people that care about what happens to me, but I am still genuinely afraid of rejection.

I’m afraid to ask to make plans. I’d  blame it on being an introvert, but also I just get anxious about everything.

I know a lot of this is my fault. I closed in on myself. I didn’t want to care. I wanted to take an eternal nap, or watch every single episode of The Middle in an entire week.

I’m trying now though, taking baby steps, and they frighten me. I feel lonely. I don’t know how to begin to try again. I don’t know where I stand

I just have to keep building up again.

*the one I grew up with, and the one I married in to.