The World Of A SAHM

All I can say is being a Stay at Home Mother is hard work. It's been said before by so many people, and yet I say it again in hope, oh, I don't know..in hope of empathy, I suppose, and giving my own spin on the Stay at Home Mom scenario.

But what does "hard" mean?

I graduated high school at age 16. I worked "hard" and graduated with the senior class when I was just a junior. I continued on to college and finished graduate school, perhaps a bit younger than most, given my "hard" work and dedication. I took on managerial jobs and was considered a high potential employee with the likes of companies like General Electric. I earned a six figure income before I was thirty because I worked "hard". My peers were the majority men---older men--very often, condescending men--and that was "hard" to deal with. But, all in all, my accomplishments, my schooling, and my job....and all of that encompasses the "hard" work of these things, make me proud. They are part of MY identity.

The past two weeks for me have been very difficult and things will continue to be so for some time, I imagine. My son, Ian, is very active and social, and shortly after my daughter, Isabel, was born, we enrolled him in a preschool. It was wonderful because he loved it and took to it immediately. You may scoff because I put him into a school, and I am a "SAHM" (as that is my "role" and he should stay home with me, too). However, I am confident the decision improved my ability to care for Isabel, lessened Ian's "sibling" rivalry with Isabel, and most importantly, improved Ian's verbal skills.

Nevertheless, there was an issue at the beginning of the year, soon after we returned from Italy. About the second week back, Ian started becoming very clingy at home. He'd cry, scream and grab me when I'd try to drop him off at school. This is the kid who used to run out of the car and into the classroom yelling, "Play, Play!" in the past. He has never been a child who was afraid and didn't want to participate. The first day, I thought it was a fluke. As it continued that week, my intuition kicked in, and it didn't feel right. I sat in the classroom. That's where the "holy cow, I am grateful I am a stay at home mother" voices rang in my head once again.

That first day (it was a Tuesday) when Ian didn't want to go and clung to me, I didn't make him because it just didn't feel right. Call it intuition, but it just didn't feel like just a typical tantrum. He kept shouting "No school!" and so he stayed home with me. It wouldn't have been an option a working mom or dad would have had, and that would have been heart wrenching.

Like I said, things progressed, so when I tried to make him go a second day and I had to drag him into the classroom, I stayed with him awhile. Things were very tense in the classroom, and I could tell since there had been a teacher switch, the remaining old teacher (who had responsibility of training the new teacher and overseeing everything) was pretty stressed out. I could tell the new teacher was not helping out very much since she was in her first week or so, and wasn't too comfortable yet. Becca (old teacher) was snapping a bit at the kids.

Just by me being able to sit in the classroom for a couple days, I was able to figure out that the teacher switch was probably was what was disturbing Ian, and definitely this tension is what was bothering him. I couldn't have figured it out otherwise, and I would have been worrying myself sick thinking it could be anything...what was it? We don't yell much in this household unless absolutely warranted, so I think what happened is with all the stress there, he must have gotten snapped at...and it scared him a lot. He is the kind of kid that can run around the house, fall down hard, and not cry when you think he should be hysterical, but if someone yells at him for something relatively minor, then he will burst into tears.

He was so scared that I pulled him out of school. There is no reason to continue right now if it is making him feel that way. He was tossing and turning in bed that week and peeing himself during naps. He seems to be doing better now.

But that brings me back to me and the fact that I have both of them constantly now....

Hard Work.

You just can't compare staying at home with kids to a "real" job. You just can't. I mean, I know people do it to give women credit, so for that, wonderful. But come on? I think perhaps many people...and a lot of men and husbands don't understand! This is perhaps a total surrender of WHO WE ARE for quite awhile. This is a pretty selfless gift for our family. This is in many ways giving up part of our identities so we can shape the identities of our children.

Previously, I stated that my accomplishments and career were part of MY identity. I have no desire to go back to my career at the moment because this is the decision that I made for my family, for myself, and for my children. I also support all women who continue to work. I think that is also a very difficult balance. However, in choosing to not work, I believe I lose a part of who I am/was/had become. That makes me sad at times. Sometimes, I miss being that person. I miss that part of my identity. I think we make sacrifices for what is important to us.

In many ways being home is "hard" because it is not challenging...it is mindless at times. I can get so angry because my children test my patience to the limits. Being surrounded by children constantly can be a very lonely place. There are days that my husband can't come home until very late from work, and I need an adult to talk to. He does not understand the resentment that builds if that is a particularly bad day, and I know it is inappropriate to take it out on him....but some days the world of playdoh and babyfood and poopy diapers can make you feel really alone....

So, Ian's preschool did give me a bit of a break. I don't think you can say a Stay at Home Mother is a bad mother if she needs to put her child in childcare/preschool occasionally. It's like asking are you a bad Manager if you need to delegate occasionally? Usually it makes you a better one.