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.
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