Do I Have What it Takes to Be a SAHM?

For a multitude of reasons, my husband and I have decided it might be best if I become a stay-at-home mom.

And for a multitude of reasons, I am excited, nervous, and eager about the possibility of beginning this very new, very important chapter of my life.

I’m kind of panicking, to be honest. I mean, I want very badly to be THE BEST SAHM the world has ever known. Yes, I know it’s an impossibility, and that putting that kind of pressure on myself is ridiculous. But really, truly, I want to do a DAMN good job as a full-time mommy. In preparation for the transition, I’ve created schedules, ordered educational toys and materials, joined a handful of mommy groups, and mapped out lots of different local attractions and activities I can use for our daily outings. I’m taking this whole thing very seriously. Maybe a bit TOO seriously.

To lighten the mood in my brain, I’ve been fantasizing about what it would be like if I actually had to have a job interview with my kiddos. Granted, my son is only six months old, and my daughter is only two and a half, so some of the imagined conversation is a bit contrived, but it makes me laugh, and that’s really all that matters.

Allow me to share.

Scene: A fluorescent-lit meeting room with one of those very long, very intimidating meeting room tables. My daughter is sitting at the far end, in a booster seat that makes her head just peek out over the top of the table. To her immediate right, my son is sitting in a noisy swing, swinging back and forth, teething on his favorite chew toy.

Emmy: Good morning, mama. So you’ve come to interview for the position of Stay at Home Mom?

Me: Yes, good morning. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I really appreciate the opportunity.

Emmy: Of course. It’s our pleasure. Have a seat.

(Emmy points to the seat at the far opposite end of the table. I take a seat)

Emmy: We’ve looked at your resume. We haven’t read it, because we can’t read, but we’ve looked at it. Tell me, why have you decided to apply for this position?

Me: Well, in a nut shell, I’ve decided that being a good mommy to you and Baby O is my number one priority right now, and other things can wait. I want to provide both of you with a loving, consistent environment that fosters your growth and development.

Emmy: That’s all well and good, mama, theoretically speaking. But let’s talk about your qualifications. Are you familiar with “Ring Around the Rosie?”

Me: Of course, yes. I’m very familiar with “Ring Around the Rosie.”

Emmy: How many times IN A ROW would you say you’d be willing to play “Ring Around the Rosie”?

Me: Um, off the top of my head? Maybe FOUR times?

(Baby O stops teething and looks at me with horror)

Emmy: FOUR times? Just FOUR times?

Me: Ok, maybe FIVE times?

Emmy: That will NEVER do. We’re going to need you to play “Ring Around the Rosie” at least eighteen times in a row, mama. With enthusiasm. No excuses. Do you think you can do that?

Me: (with some very acute hesitation) Sure. Yeah. I can do that. Eighteen times, huh?

Emmy: And none of that pseudo “ooh, I’m falling down” charade. You can’t just SQUAT and call it “falling down.” You’re going to need to fall ALL THE WAY DOWN.

Me: I can do it. I can.

Emmy: Moving on. Let’s talk about lunch. Lunch is very important around here. How good are you at making chicky sammiches?

Me: I’m REALLY GOOD at making chicky sammiches, Emmy. I use just the right amount of turkey, and your favorite kind of bread…

Emmy: Do you cut the sandwich into squares or triangles?

Me: Generally speaking, squares…

Emmy: (thinking) uh huh… any other shapes?

Me: Well, I tried to make a star-shaped sandwich once.

Emmy: Yeah, we all know how THAT turned out. It was a disaster. It didn’t even look like a star. It looked like a HOUSE.

Me: I promise I will work on my sammich shape repertoire. Through this job, I will hone my sammich-making skills.

Emmy: And how long would you say it takes you to eat lunch?

Me: I’m a quick eater. I need MAYBE ten minutes, tops.

(Baby O chokes on his teething toy)

Emmy: Ten MINUTES? Mama, we have a VERY STRICT lunch break policy around here. You’re gonna get 20 seconds.

Me: Did you just say twenty SECONDS?

Emmy: Yes, you’ll have twenty seconds to wolf down the crusts I have left over from my sammich. I may also leave you an ounce of juice in my sippy cup, if you are lucky.

Me: I guess I’ll have to make it work.

Emmy: Should we talk about attire? What you have on now is completely inappropriate.

Me: Oh? How so?

Emmy: Way too formal. We like to call our dress code around here “functional princess” attire.

Me: What is “functional princess” attire?

Emmy: Jogging pants, an old t-shirt, and a tutu. You can’t wear anything you wouldn’t want to get stained. It’s GONNA GET STAINED. But you should also always look like a ballerina princess so we can twirl around and twirl around and twirl around until we get dizzy and fall on the floor.

Me: I’ve got some jogging pants. And I’ll borrow dada’s t-shirts.

Emmy: Moving on. I’m going to give you a scenario, and you tell me what you would do in that scenario, ok?

Me: Uh-huh.

Emmy: You’re nursing baby brother, and I’m reading a book, when suddenly I start SCREAMING at the top of my lungs that I have to go potty. How do you handle this?

Me: Um, I take you to the potty with one arm WHILE nursing baby brother in my other arm?

Emmy: Ewww. Gross. And it won’t work. I need you to hug me while I am on the potty.

Me: You need me to HUG you while you are on the potty? Um.. ok. Then I would put Baby O down for a minute and take you to the potty?

Emmy: Probably a better idea, mama.

Me: I’ll work on my mommy instincts.

Emmy: Do you love to be hugged?

Me: Oh, yes.

Emmy: And kissed?

Me: Definitely!

Emmy: And sneezed on?

Me: Um…

Emmy: How many band-aids are you willing to let us wear in one 24 hour period?

(Baby O looks at me and grins his mischievous grin)

Me: One band-aid, Emmy. MAYBE two if you are really bleeding. We’ve talked about this before.

Emmy: Would you consider upping that to maybe FOURTEEN band-aids?

Me: Never. Ever.

Emmy: It was worth a shot. Ok, mama. After much consideration, it seems we have no choice BUT to hire you for this position.

Me: That’s great news! Thank you! You’ll be so happy you chose me. I won’t let you down, I swear.

Emmy: Sure, sure. Just remember: Anything you do could potentially scar us for the rest of our lives. And our bones are very fragile.

Me: Thank you for your encouraging words.

End scene.

So yeah, I’m nervous. But also totally happy. But also REALLY nervous.

If you have any advice, or experience you would like to share with this possibly-soon-to-be-SAHM, I would love to hear it. 

There's Never a Good Time

I am not a “by-the-book” mom. If you asked me what method of child-rearing I use to make sure my daughter is not being totally traumatized by her early years, I wouldn’t be able to name an “ism,” or refer you to a doctor or parenting guru. For the most part, I’m just parenting “from the hip,” the way my gut tells me to. I’ve been using my instincts as my compass, and hoping for the best. When I run into a real parenting fix, I have a wise older sister who I consult, as well as many online parenting forums that will either tell me I am doing a horrible or super job, depending on their perspective.

So I’ve made some major parenting decisions over the past 17 months, not because I read about them being amazingly beneficial to my daughter, or because a professional told me to do so, but just because they felt “right”. I’ve chosen to breastfeed my daughter for an extended period of time, and have been co-sleeping with her since the day she was born. Again, I’ve made these decisions not out of an allegiance to “attachment parenting” (though I’ve been told that is what I am doing), but just because they made me feel like I was mothering the way I wanted to mother.

Of course, these two decisions have had quite the impact on our family lifestyle. Up until this point, I’ve let Emmy breastfeed on demand, without limits, regardless of whether nursing was being used as a source of nutrition or as a source of comfort. Nursing was the first way we bonded when Em emerged from my womb, and has remained a steadfast way for us to have some important mommy-daughter time over the past many months. But as Em’s now nearing the year-and-a-half mark, the process of weaning has been pretty huge on my mind, and I am beginning to think we need to start pumping the breaks on our endless feeding sessions.

As for the co-sleeping, well, as a family we’ve half-heartedly attempted (on many occasions) to get Emmy to sleep in her crib for more than an hour or two, but it hasn’t worked. So I’ve gotten used to having Em in bed with me, her arm slung around my neck, or her entire body draped over me in some weird, contorted position that only a toddler finds comfortable. To be honest, I kind of love it. I love watching my daughter’s sleeping face, or kissing her when it seems she is on the brink of having a nightmare. But I also really miss cuddling with my husband. And I miss sleeping for more than two hours at a time (without being woken by a breastfeeding or screaming Emmy). And I know that as long as Em’s in bed with me, the night feedings are not going to stop, which means that the process of weaning cannot begin.

I’ve been talking about transitioning Emmy away from co-sleeping for months and months now, as a first-step towards the weaning process. In my mind, I’ve been waiting for a “good time” to begin this transitional phase, but that time never arrived. First, Emmy started teething, and I hated the idea of making her sleep by herself in her crib when she needed more comfort than usual. Then she got sick, and I didn’t want her sleeping by herself for fear that she would stop breathing because of congestion, or choke on her own vomit. Then Em started teething again. Then she started daycare, and I was afraid that too much change at once would send our little girl over the edge into a state of toddler-sized depression. Then she got sick again. Then she started teething again. And on, and on.

As my husband told me (during a long heart-to-heart session this weekend that proceeded an argument about our current family dynamic), there is never going to be a good time for change. If I continue to wait for the perfect time to transition, I will still be breastfeeding Emmy as she walks down the aisle on her wedding day, and her future husband will have to be ok with us all co-sleeping together. None of us want that to happen.

After a long good look in the mirror, I have admitted to myself that the excuses I have been making, in waiting for a good time to transition my daughter out of co-sleeping and breastfeeding, are excuses born out of my own fears. I am the one who is afraid of change, because I am as attached to my daughter as she is to me. It may make me a horrible mom, but I kind of sort of definitely LOVE Em’s dependence on me. It makes my heart a little sad and heavy to think about the fact that she is growing up, and she doesn’t really NEED me for her basic human needs, like eating and sleeping, anymore.

So the truth? I need this transition as much as Em does. I need to learn how to show my mommy love to my daughter in new ways, and how to encourage her independence as a part of that love. I need to understand that my daughter will still love me, even if she is not curled up in my arms for eight hours a night. I get it. I need to do this. And as much as I want to say that now’s not a good time, it’s probably as good as its gonna get.