Tag Archives: SAHM

{MINDFUL MONDAY} Adventures Of A Working Mom Staying At Home: Weeks Three to Five

15 Aug

Looking back, Weeks One and Two were seriously hectic.  Luckily, we were on vacation for Weeks Three and Four.

Even though it technically wasn’t a “vacation” vacation – more a visit home to the in-laws’ – it was wonderful to get away from our routine and put some distance between working life and my new life at home with the kids.

In fact, our holiday turned out to be just what I needed to clear my head and get a grasp of what it is to be with family and focus on being together.

Last week, Week Five, ended up being my first real taste of what it is to be a stay-at-home-mom.

And you know what?  I loved it.  Jet lagged babies and all.

No interesting thoughts or details or stories to share with you, unfortunately, because seven days of warm, peaceful, contentment doesn’t make for much in the way of a blog post.


Adventures Of A Working Mom Staying At Home {Week Two}

18 Jul

I’ve quit the law, if you didn’t already know.  As in I’m not practicing it, not that I’m not following it.

My first week as a stay-at-home mom was a little messy.  But thankfully, this week was bleach-free and everything landed where it was supposed to (well, almost).

Here’s the summary of Week Two by emotional highlight of each day:

Day One

Day Two

  • Pleased to finally spend some quality time with the kids and Uncle B during his visit home.

Day Three

  • Scared to bits by Super 8; shocked that I actually made it to the movies (it’s been a year almost to the date).

Day Four

  • Ecstatic that one of my dear friends got engaged and happy to have the time to bake Gingerbread Sweetheart Cakes to celebrate, despite Jane’s refusal to nap.

Day Five

  • Regret having celebrated my friend’s engagement with a “Scorpion Bowl” (in addition to the glasses of wine imbibed prior to said “Scorpion Bowl”).

Day Six

  • Astounded to discover irrefutable proof that a universal standard of beauty exists.

Jane  – Mommy, who’s that?

Me – Brad Pitt.

Jane – Brad Pitt is beautiful.

{Image via NewsMania}

Day Seven

  • Dumbfounded when I find Sam hunched nose-first over the kitchen floor mat, until I realize that he is trying to re-ingest his regurgitated dinner cat-style.

Adventures Of A Working Mom Staying At Home {Week One}

11 Jul

Well, I made it through my first official week as a stay-at-home mom.

How did I fare in my new role?

Day One

Day Two

  • Scrape poop out of the bathtub.  Bleach bathtub.
  • Wonder how to manage without an Outlook calendar or time to check e-mail, make phone calls or blog.

Day Three

  • Scoop poop out of child’s pants.  Bleach child’s pants.
  • Scrape bouncing poop off of my big toe.  Bleach toe.
  • Meet with startup regarding possible job opportunity.
  • Participate in 1 hour call in my brand new role as a VP on the Board of a local non-profit after kids are asleep (aka during what I thought would be my “me time”).
  • Wonder why I still have meetings and appointments and less downtime than if I were at the office.

Day Four

  • Scrape poop off of floor.  Bleach floor.
  • Take kids to doctor and then to buy them new shoes.
  • Participate in another 1 hour evening call for the non-profit gig during my “me time.”
  • Wonder why I have had two days and two evenings in a row dedicated to things/people other than me when this is supposed to be my “time off.”

Day Five

  • Scrape poop off my forearm.  Bleach forearm.
  • Spend the morning reviewing documents and answering e-mails for the new-but-now-getting-old-supposed-to-help-me-fill-my-supposed-free-time-non-profit-gig.
  • Wonder why these children poop so much and why it doesn’t land in a diaper or the potty.

Day Six

  • Escape to a wine country wedding without the kids.
  • Someone escapes with my iPhone.
  • Wine obliterates the capacity to wonder about anything.

Day Seven

  • Try to avoid cleaning any dirty diapers, but end up having to get rid of mouse droppings.  Prefer cleaning the kids’ poop.
  • Mourn the loss of two years of photos and videos of the kids.
  • Wonder why I have less time for myself when I’m not even working. Wonder whether I should consider going back to work again in the near future. Wonder if I started working again, would I have more time to blog. Wonder why blogging helped me make the decision to stay at home, but now that I’m home, I can barely get a post together or participate in any link parties. Almost wonder why I quit my job to stay-at-home … but don’t:

Quittin’ Time {100th Post}

5 Jul

Today marks the first day of my permanent weekend.

{Last Day of Work Card lovingly addressed by Hubby}

After our pirate party was featured five times (here, here, here, here and here), I joked that I would quit my day job to be a stay-at-home crafter, baker, toddler activity extraordinairess.

Little did y’all know that I would make good on my promise.

It’s been two years and five months in the making, but it’s now official.  I’m a – dare I say it – SAHM.

And my blog is 100 posts old.

I might be a “Quitter,” but at least The Outlaw Mom is going strong.  And so is my family.

I think that’s winning.  Actually, it’s probably even “bi-winning.”  (Couldn’t resist).

The Good Mother: Selfless or Selfish

20 Jun

Most parents lashed out at Rahna Reiko Rizzuto when she confessed that she left her children in order to pursue her own dreams and find herself after five years of motherhood.  Readers practically flayed her on the stake, condemning her for choosing herself over her children.  Was it really necessary to accuse her of being “worse than Hitler“?  Does being a good mother really mean we have to give up being ourselves, sacrificing our identities at all costs?

Before children, I had always been somebody, whoever that somebody might have been: the ugly duckling (towering two feet above my still-prepubescent second grade classmates with startling B-cups, braces, coke-bottle glasses, and a hideous Dorothy Hamil do), the funny one (to compensate for the unattractiveness), the pretty one (the universe works in mysterious ways), the brain (until being out-nerded a hundred fold at an academic college), the flirt (*ahem* the slut), the trusty best friend (except that one time I was a boyfriend-stealing backstabber) and the ambitious career woman (temporarily on hold).

At every stage, regardless whether I hated it or milked every second, I knew who I was and I was free to be “me.”

But after my first, Jane, was born, I stopped being anyone or anything that I used to know.  For three months, I was what can only be described as a giant udder of liquid sustenance, good for nothing more than a sleepless shoulder to spit up on and an all-night eardrum to wail into.  Any semblance of my former selves were gone.

Pretty?  Sure – if you consider 30 pounds of mushy mom weight, blood-shot eyes and blotchy, sleep-deprived skin attractive.  Brainy?  Definitely – if you’re talking a “mom brain” that boasts a two-second maximum short term recall and makes me put bananas in the freezer, socks in the microwave and the kettle in the fridge.  Funny?  Well, at most, maybe funny-looking.

But I thought to myself,

“Okay, this is motherhood.  I’m a mom, and I’ll take that any day over a shiny blowout, skinny jeans without a muffin top, and alone time for myself.”

Then just as I had gotten used to the idea of being a mother:  *poof* it vanished.  A stranger came to my house every day to be a surrogate mother to my little girl while I dragged my zombie-self to work.

My colleagues (all men) had bets going on whether I would return after maternity leave and if I would continue working full-time.  Desperately hanging on to my old workaholic self, I set out to prove them wrong and to prove to myself that I hadn’t become any “less” of a lawyer or a “worthless” mom in the workplace.  Even after getting knocked up three months back to work, suffering through six months of morning sickness and taking care of Jane – not yet even a year old, I kept grinding day and night and telling myself, “I’m a lawyer dammit; it’s what I do; it’s who I am.”

But when Sam was born and the sleeplessness and stress multiplied exponentially, I realized:  something had to give.  I couldn’t be the old career only-focused “me” anymore.  I was a mom now, too – whatever that meant.

So I scaled back to a part-time schedule and gave up my hard-driving professional identity to focus more on my new emerging self:  a combination of part mom, part lawyer and random parts of my pre-children identities.  (No; none of the interesting ones like the backstabbing slut have made a reappearance!).

I still struggle to figure out how to be the best mom, the best attorney and the best “me,” after Jane and Sam blew my vision of who “I” was to smithereens.  There are days I wholeheartedly embrace my motherhood and would give anything to be a SAHM.  And then there are days I wish I could do exactly what Rizzuto did – reclaim my pre-babies life or be “that 1950s mother we idealize who was waiting in an apron with fresh cookies when we got off the school bus and wasn’t too busy for anything we needed until we went to bed,” like the part-time mom whom Rizzuto describes.

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