A SAHM I Will Never Be...

My mother was a stay-at-home-mom. My dad worked three jobs at one point while he was earning his masters degree, but my mom did not work outside the house. Even after my brother and I were in school, my mom stayed at home. That will never be me. I love my son, but I was never cut out for the hausfrau life.

For one thing, I am a terrible housekeeper. I start one cleaning task, only to see three more than need to be done. Or I start a job and then get distracted by something and forget to finish. Or I decide to clean out a closet and then spend all day going through every single box and traveling down memory lane instead of tossing things out. I doubt that this would improve if I were at home. In fact, it would likely get worse.

Second, I am barely a passable cook. After two or three horrific adventures as a child, my mother essentially banned me from using her kitchen(to be fair, she never was able to get those stains off of the ceiling). I can follow a recipe, but any attempt on my part to deviate from the plan usually results in a less than palatable meal that my husband refuses to even fake eat. Maybe my culinary skills would improve if I were to devote more time to them, but who needs that kind of pressure, especially with a very active child underfoot?

Third, I know myself very well, and I know that if left to my own devices, I would curl up somewhere with a good book and forget about most things. When I am engrossed in reading, I tend to hear nothing and see nothing around me. This is not a good idea with a three year old boy who likes to climb as high as possible and jump off into the stratosphere. And I have to face it, Zane is an extremely active, inquisitive child who needs consistent structure from someone much younger, more active, and less distractible than me.

No, the reality is that I wasn't meant to be a stay-at-home-mom. At the end of the day, I don't do well with too much time on my hands; after my miscarriage in 2003, the deep dark pit of despair I fell into was made much, much, worse by the fact that I really had nothing to do for an entire month before I could go back to work. I unabashedly admit that I live entirely too much in my head most of the time, and time at home would not help. Being at work gets me thinking about other things that are not me and my little troubles. So while I admire those who choose to stay at home with their little ones, and occasionally wish I could spend more time with Zane, I am more than happy to work.