When I became a mom, I left my out-of-the-home employment and began clocking in and out at our home. Some days I delight in the fact that I can lay down on the couch and put my feet up when my daughter is sleeping, and if I want to I can wear my pajamas all day! The perks are numerous, but there are also drawbacks.
Sometimes it feels confining. There are days when it's a struggle to get out of the house between naps. I find myself running around trying to pack a diaper bag, find the missing shoe and gather my own belongings before we head out the door. Just as we're about to leave, there will be a diaper emergency or a hair emergency or we ran out of time to go and won't get back in time for the next nap. It's a LOT of time at home. I guess that's why they call it a stay-at-home-mom.
I miss my commute. When I worked outside the home at my two jobs, I had a commute between 10-25 minutes. That was great time to crank the music, process the day, and let go of work before getting home. I don't have that separation anymore, and it's hard for me to let go of the frustrating things from the day and hit the reset button when 5:00 rolls around. I'm trying out a few ways to make that separation, but I haven't found anything that's worked well yet.
I'm on call. All the time. And it would be so grand if I got paid like a doctor who's on call. There was one particularly trying day last week (read: awful, awful day) when both Feven and I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I can't remember why, but I had cried twice before 7:30am. Then just as I was in the middle of eating my breakfast, she - standing right beside me - began grunting and twisting up her face. Yep. Dirty diaper coming. It wouldn't be so bad, but she does this EVERY DAY when I'm eating my breakfast. It doesn't matter what time I feed her or what time I eat, she always poops while I'm eating. And I gotta tell you, my breakfast does NOT seem as appealing when I come back to it after changing one of her diapers. So I trudged into her bedroom and reluctantly peeled the diaper back. The anticipation is the worst. Except this time. The diaper was actually worse. Even though I tried to breathe only through my mouth like Zac taught me, I still caught a whiff. Incredibly awful. I thought to myself, "Okay, that's it. I'm taking a mental health day today. I'm calling in and I'll use one of my sick days and...wait a minute. I don't have time off! I can't call in sick. Ever!"
That's when I cried for the third time. Sheesh, it wasn't even 8am yet!
It hit me so hard. I can't take a break. This is my job. Every day. All day. There are no sick days, no mental health days, and no vacation days.
That day I felt stuck. I felt trapped. I just wanted off the ferris wheel.
Sometimes it feels confining. There are days when it's a struggle to get out of the house between naps. I find myself running around trying to pack a diaper bag, find the missing shoe and gather my own belongings before we head out the door. Just as we're about to leave, there will be a diaper emergency or a hair emergency or we ran out of time to go and won't get back in time for the next nap. It's a LOT of time at home. I guess that's why they call it a stay-at-home-mom.
I miss my commute. When I worked outside the home at my two jobs, I had a commute between 10-25 minutes. That was great time to crank the music, process the day, and let go of work before getting home. I don't have that separation anymore, and it's hard for me to let go of the frustrating things from the day and hit the reset button when 5:00 rolls around. I'm trying out a few ways to make that separation, but I haven't found anything that's worked well yet.
I'm on call. All the time. And it would be so grand if I got paid like a doctor who's on call. There was one particularly trying day last week (read: awful, awful day) when both Feven and I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I can't remember why, but I had cried twice before 7:30am. Then just as I was in the middle of eating my breakfast, she - standing right beside me - began grunting and twisting up her face. Yep. Dirty diaper coming. It wouldn't be so bad, but she does this EVERY DAY when I'm eating my breakfast. It doesn't matter what time I feed her or what time I eat, she always poops while I'm eating. And I gotta tell you, my breakfast does NOT seem as appealing when I come back to it after changing one of her diapers. So I trudged into her bedroom and reluctantly peeled the diaper back. The anticipation is the worst. Except this time. The diaper was actually worse. Even though I tried to breathe only through my mouth like Zac taught me, I still caught a whiff. Incredibly awful. I thought to myself, "Okay, that's it. I'm taking a mental health day today. I'm calling in and I'll use one of my sick days and...wait a minute. I don't have time off! I can't call in sick. Ever!"
That's when I cried for the third time. Sheesh, it wasn't even 8am yet!
It hit me so hard. I can't take a break. This is my job. Every day. All day. There are no sick days, no mental health days, and no vacation days.
That day I felt stuck. I felt trapped. I just wanted off the ferris wheel.
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