When I was planning my maternity leave, I decided to take 10 weeks off work. I was allowed 12 (which is a whole other issue for another time), but settled on 10. Several people told me I should take all 12 and questioned me when I said I wasn’t going to.

I had a hunch that 10 weeks at home (after having just had 2 months of summer break) was going to be enough for me. And, as it turns out, I was right. As hard as it was to leave my sweet, 10-week-old angel baby, and as much as I missed her all day every day, I was ready to get back to work.

Because I love other people’s babies.

I love getting to go to work and love on kiddos that are not mine. I love to get to know the vastly different personalities of the students in my class each year. I love seeing the way they interact with each other and with me. I love listening to their ideas, guiding them when they struggle, and being a landing board they can jump off of and return to.

I think that’s what makes me a good teacher. I genuinely love all the babies that walk through my door. I don’t necessarily always like them, but most days I do. And I always, always love them.

So, here we are, just about 4 months into my year as a stay-at-home mom. I made it longer than 10 weeks this time, but I am really beginning to miss other people’s kids.

I’m starting to look ahead and think about what I might want to do when I get to go back to work. Something with behavior for sure. Working with kids who have experienced trauma? Teaching in a behavior unit? On a self-contained campus (is that even a thing where I am right now?)? Working at a clinic? A residential facility? In foster care? What can I even do for a career with my 2 degrees and my love for kids who need the most love?

If anyone has any suggestions, I’m all ears.

I think one of my biggest faults is that I feel the constant need to be shiny.

I feel the need to be a ray of sunshine, emanating positivity at all times. Things can be not-so-good, but not bad. I can have less-than-great feelings, but only as a means to finding the good. Today was crap, but no worries! Tomorrow will be better! Being a mom can be so hard, but man am I #blessed to have my girl in the first place. Bad feelings must be qualified.

As the doldrums have recently reappeared in my life, it felt like an appropriate time to listen again to Glennon Doyle’s book Untamed. And you know what Glennon says about feelings?

Feelings are for feeling.

Good, bad, ugly, pretty, positive, negative. I can (should!) be happy, angry, bored, sad, excited, upset, annoyed, anxious. And I don’t need to qualify anything. I don’t need to explain away my pain or downplay my joy. Life should be painful. And joyous. And everything in between.

So the next time I feel guilty for writing something about how hard life can be, and I think, “Maybe I shouldn’t post this,” or “How can I put a positive spin on this?” I will instead remind myself that feelings are for feeling. And life is for feeling all of them, whether they are shiny or not.

Do you ever set goals for yourself and work towards those goals until one day you’re just like, “Eff it, I don’t want to be healthy or productive or talented, I just want to sit like a lump on the couch while no one speaks to me for 3 days”?

…no? Just me? Cool.

My number one complaint about working out and eating healthy has always been that it’s a forever thing. It’s not like you get to your goal and then get to eat brownies and watch Netflix every day while maintaining the shape you worked so hard for. If you want to stay fit, you have to keep working out. Forever.

Ugh, right?

Parenting is similar.

LG is the love of my life, but the idea that I’m going to be her mom every single day for the rest of my life can be…a lot. And sometimes, after I’ve finished reading The Crayons’ Book of Numbers for the 80th time in a row, I’m like, “Okay, well, this has been fun. See you again in a couple of days.”

And then she laughs at me and tries to sit on my lap while I’m going to the bathroom because nothing is sacred anymore. My time is her time. My space is her space. Togetherness is our life now.

Husband said to me the other day, “Don’t you just love her so much?” And I was all, “Oh my gosh, so much. But then at the same time, I would also like to just not see her for a little while, you know?”

Because those are things a good mom says.

And then I see people who are ALL IN for their kid. You know the ones. They happily watch their baby play for hours. They do art projects with their toddler on the regular. They miss their kid while he naps. I see those people, and I’m like, “Excuse me, are you drunk? Or just lying? Because surely you’re not actually that psyched about doing kid things all day. Like, don’t you miss adult things? Thinking a complete sentence without being interrupted, for example? Eating snacks without having to share? Looking at your phone without little hands trying to steal it to call Mimi?”

No? Again…just me?

Perfect.

So yeah, I’d say I’m really thriving as a stay-a-home mom right now. Just really, really feeling successful. Living it up.

Based on the way LG is wiggling on the monitor, I have about 5 minutes left of nap time, so I’m going to go stuff my face with Mini M&Ms even though I’m “not eating sweets this month” because I need to mentally prepare for the second half of the day, and you can only expect so much from me.

Yep. We’re doing great.

Here is something real and true:

Sometimes, I daydream about running away from my life and starting over somewhere else. A new place, a new job, a new me. I think about how I could just pack a backpack, get in the car, and not look back.

Is that horrible? Or normal? I’m not currently in therapy, and I don’t have many friends to run things like this by, so who knows?

Not that I actually need to explain, but just to be clear, I wouldn’t ever actually do it. And, if you’re worried for my husband or my child, please know that this is not them-related. I have had fantasies like this for as long as I can remember. In high school, I dreamed of moving to the west coast to become a photographer. In college, I thought maybe I’d study abroad, find a job teaching internationally, and never return. More recently, I’ve set my sights on London.

So, you see, it is not that I’m unhappy with the story I’m in. It’s just the thought of what if?

What if I had no ties to people who cared about my well-being? What if I had a less structured, more creative job? What if I lived in a place outside of Texas? What if the only person I was responsible for was myself?

In reality, it would probably be a lonely life, and I would spend my days dreaming about living a stable, routine life with a home I own and a family that loves me.

But that’s not part of the fantasy.

I think the real issue is that I’ve always felt a little trapped inside myself. Like I have an image I present as who I am, but the real me is stuffed down inside. My soul longs to be wild and free, but I keep her caged.

Since I was a teenager, I have gone through periods of restlessness. The doldrums, I call them. I am going through the motions of my life, but there’s something calling me that’s just out of reach. I can’t ever place a finger on what I am looking for in those times, so they usually culminate in a new tattoo, piercing, or hairstyle. Seriously, check the progression of my earrings over the years to see how long this has been going on. It is nothing new for me.

I am not someone who tries many new things or acts spontaneously or does anything reckless, but I think part of me wants to be. Just cut my ties and float away into the clouds.

I fell off my bike recently and scratched up my leg, and it was like a lightning bolt to the part of me that’s locked away. I swear I could feel the cage rumble. Riding around on a trail I’d never been to before–just enough newness to feel lost without actually being worried. Taking a turn too sharp and bloodying my leg–just enough pain to feel something without actually getting hurt. Spending time in fresh air with music blasting in my ears–just enough space to feel alone without being lonely.

Occasionally, the weight of responsibility that comes with being a mother/wife/daughter/sister/aunt/friend is a lot to bear. And while I obviously wouldn’t trade those things in (as they are literally the greatest joys life has to offer), sometimes it is nice to suspend those labels for a while and just be me. Me without the attachment to other people. Me without bills and chores and lists. Me, uncaged.

Wild and free.

Becoming a stay at home mom was a really abrupt, unexpected transition for me, and I fought it for a while. The first month or so was…not great. I was burnt out from teaching remotely and caring for a baby simultaneously for the previous 5 months, and I just wanted a break. So, quitting my job came at the perfect time, right? Now, I could stay at home and chill with LG while we watched TV and ate snacks.

In case you’re new to the idea of babies, “chill” is not a concept they understand. Cry? They have that down. Demand attention? Yep, can do. Need something (loudly) the second Mom sits down for the first time all day? Totally. But chill? Not so much.

So our first month at home together was rough. I went into it expecting some summer vacation-esque down time, and she went into it expecting her needs to be met. How selfish (of her).

Now that we are about 3 months in, we’ve gotten into a groove, and things have been going much better. Not to brag, but this is entirely because of me. In addition to “chill,” babies also don’t compromise, so LG was zero help in this department. It took a conscious mindset shift on my part, along with some proactive strategies to make sure I don’t lose my mind every day.

Here is a list of things that have changed the way I stay-at-home-mom.

1. Understanding that this is a job.
   I’m putting this first because it is the biggest factor that helps me enjoy this time at home with LG. Once I realized this wasn’t going to be vacay, I became a better mom. It’s not that I quit working when I left teaching, it’s that I changed jobs. I am now self-employed, and my job tasks include caring for a tiny human, a dog, and a household. The pay sucks, and the hours are insane, but the benefits are pretty great.
   
2. Waking up early.
   Since LG was born, I have always gotten up earlier than her so I can change clothes and brush my teeth before she needs me. I knew I needed that time to myself to start the day, or I would be frantic and irritable all day. Now that I recognize this as my job, I (usually) wake up at the time I did when I was teaching: 5:15AM. This gives me plenty of time to accomplish personal goals before LG wakes up for the day. I am no longer trying to fit my needs in while she’s awake and then getting irritated when she won’t let me.
   
3. Establishing a routine.
   I am someone who thrives on routine and schedules. I love a good list, and having a set of expectations to meet helps me feel productive and safe. Obviously babies are not sticklers for schedules, so it has some flexibility (that’s where my teacher training comes in), but we hit the highlights at about the same time every day. I wake up at 5:15; LG gets up at 8:00; she eats lunch at 11, naps at 11:30, and Dad takes over at 5:30 so I can make dinner. In between, we change up the activities we do (as much as we can while trapped at home during a pandemic), but we stick to the important times on the schedule. This helps days feel somewhat predictable, but not Groundhog’s Day predictable like they did the first month.
   
4. Making nap time sacred.
   I am the textbook definition of an introvert, and as such, I need a lot of time to myself to recharge. You know who doesn’t care about that? LG. She isn’t really interested in giving me “one single minute to myself” (a common phrase used in my household), but she is interested in following my into the bathroom every time I have to go. “Me time” and “personal space” are not things she cares about. But, she does nap. I used to try to fit in all the things I wanted/needed to do during these naps. I would try to work out, shower, eat lunch, do chores, read, watch TV, write, and think all in the 1.5-3 hours she was down. Obviously, this was impossible, and it left me feeling annoyed at her when she woke up because I wasn’t done with all the things yet! Because LG doesn’t deserve a mom who is mad at her for waking up (not my proudest parenting moment, but it is what it is), I decided to change things up. I now work out, shower, and read before she wakes up for the day (Which is why I get up so early. For me, nap time is more important than sleep.). I do my chores for the day after LG wakes up and has milk because that is when she is best at playing independently. That leaves nap time open for actual relaxing and recharging, so when she wakes up, I am ready to go for the second half of the day.
   
5. Going on walks.
   This is a really minor thing, but I swear it saves my sanity every day. As discussed in a previous post, babies are kind of boring. We play and play and play, and it is still 3 hours until nap time. Then, we move to another room and play some more, and wow, now only 2 hours and 45 minutes. Going on walks gets us out of the house, soaking in sunshine, and takes up 30-45 minutes. When LG was new, I heard the advice that when babies are fussy and you don’t know what to do with them, put them in water (bath, sink, baby pool), or take them outside. I took this to heart, and Girlfriend loves being outside. And I love listening to podcasts instead of the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse theme song. Win win.

This was a long one, but I haven’t written in a while, and apparently had a lot to say. There are a few other things that should be included on this list, but we’ll get to them another time. I am so grateful for this magic season of my life, but I am also grateful for the things I’ve learned so far to help me not want to strangle everyone in my house at the end of every day. Stay-at-home mom win!

Have you ever heard of the concept of The Default Parent? Basically, it is the emergency contact parent. Who is the school going to call if your kid gets sick? Who plans breakfasts and lunches for the kids? Who does the pediatrician recognize? Who remembers when appointments need to be made (and schedules them and remembers to show up with the kid)?

If you answered “me” to most or all of those questions, congrats. You are The Default Parent.

Welcome to the club.

Membership for the club includes: mental exhaustion, jealousy of the non-Default Parent, and a smidge of superiority.

Being The Default Parent is hard. And tiring. And, honestly, a bit annoying. Why does it fall on me? Why does no one expect Dad to remember appointments? Why do I feel the need to explain myself when I need a break? Why do I feel guilty taking time for myself and leaving Dad in charge? Doesn’t 50% of this human belong to someone else? Why do I feel like I’m doing 90% of the mental work?

Part of it is because taking care of this kid is literally my job. I guess that’s understandable.

Part of it is because I have a tendency to easily slip into the role of a martyr. Woe is me.

And part of it is because society shoves this role on women. As a teacher, if a kid gets sick in your class, which parent do you call first? When you see a kid acting out in public, I’m guessing your first thought isn’t “Where is this kid’s dad?”

We expect women to take on the role of Default Parent, and no one really talks about what mental effort that takes.

Sometimes it makes me so angry.

When my well-meaning husband says things like:
“She’s awake. Do you want me to get her up?”
“When is her next nap time?”
“I’ll feed her lunch today. What should she eat?”

I just want to scream, “WHY IS IT MY RESPONSIBILITY TO KNOW ALL THESE THINGS?!”

I want to jump in the car without giving any instructions and yell the old Tim Gunn aphorism as I screech out of the driveway: “MAKE IT WORK!”

And I know he would. Lu would be fine, and Husband would keep her alive and happy, and if anyone in the world found out, they would praise him for being such an amazing dad that he figured it out all on his own without me.

Even though that is what I’ve done every single day for the last year.

But no one cares because that is just an expectation. After all, I’m The Default Parent.

September 4, 2020

You know those people that, when they aren’t immediately good at something, just give up? The ones that feel like, if it doesn’t come easily to them, it must not be meant to be?

It’s me. I am those people.

Here is a list of important things that I am not naturally good at:
1. Being a wife.
2. Being a mom.
3. Being a friend.
4. Being a daughter.
5. Being a sister.
6. Being an aunt.
7. Cooking.

Ugh, you guys, that’s like all the things I need to do. Like everything that is a big deal in my life, I’m not very good at. How annoying is that?

I just want to be good at everything all the time without having to try. Is that really so much to ask?

P.S. I hope you weren’t coming here for something thoughtful or inspirational or introspective. Maybe someday we’ll dive more into why I’m not good at each of those things, but today is not that day. Today, I just wanted to share that there are a lot of important things in life, and I am bad at most/all of them, and that is a really annoying.

August 27, 2020

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to just be as you are without thinking about it. Does it feel free? Do you feel less in control? More in control? Do you feel lighter, without the constant weight on your shoulders?

This morning, I went to get a bottle ready for Babe, but there weren’t any. Husband, who is always on baby dishes duty, had loaded up the dishwasher but not run it. A minor mistake that ended up being a pain in the butt for me at 7 AM when I need a clean bottle and don’t have one. I cleaned and sanitized a bottle, rand the dishwasher so I’d have bottles for the rest of the day, and moved on.

Except I didn’t.

Option 1: Tell Husband about this. Let him know how inconvenient it was for me so that he thinks about it in the future. That way, he will not make this mistake again.

Option 2: Say nothing. The problem was already solved, there is nothing he can do to rectify the situation now, and this isn’t a thing that happens often.

My instinct says Option 1. It makes me feel powerful and in control. It is easy to be mad and right.

I ended up choosing Option 2. It is what I would want someone to do for me, because no one likes to make a one-time, small mistake and be called out on it. And contrary to what I like to think, I make mistakes often, and I’m sure Husband covers for me and doesn’t feel the need to bring it to my attention. And I’m trying to be a better wife/person, so I feel good about this decision.

But, man, why did it have to require so much thought?

August 8, 2020

Boredom.

I’m about to lay some real facts on you, so prepare your heart.

Babies are boring.

Like, a lot of the time. Every so often they do something fun or smart or so cute, and that is great! Yay! My baby sat up by herself for the first time, and she is a baby genius! We clap and cheer and record it on video so all our distant relatives and Facebook friends can see how wonderful she is! It is a big exciting time! And then, do you know what happens after she sits up by herself?! She is sitting. And we all stare and wait for her to do the next amazing thing, but that’s not coming for another two and a half weeks. So now she’s just sitting, and we’ve got a lot of time to fill. There are a lot of hours of togetherness in between milestones.

And guess what? Babies don’t even have very long attention spans. You know that awesome inflatable pool you got her because she loves the water? Omg it’s going to be a blast. Your husband spent 30 minutes blowing it up, and she screamed while you put her in a swimsuit and covered her in sunscreen, but it’s so worth it. You take her outside and put her in the pool, and wow, it is so cute. She splashes and laughs and has the time of her life. For a whole 12 minutes. And then she’s over it, and it is time to move on to the next activity.

My baby is awake about 12 hours a day, not counting nap time, which is roughly 4 hours if we’re lucky. So that’s 8 hours we spend together every day. Which doesn’t really seem like long, until you break it into 12-minute activity blocks to match her tiny attention span. That comes out to 40 little pieces of day that I am supposed to fill.

She doesn’t even like TV yet, y’all. What am I supposed to do with all that time?
(…Kidding, obviously.)

It’s not just me who feels this way, so don’t come at me for being a terrible parent. I polled some of my closest mom friends, and they all agreed that their kids are also (sometimes) boring. It was a sample size of 4 people, so it is definitely reliable data. I am not alone in this.

And sure, babies are also adorable and smart and amazing, and it is a joy to watch them learn and grow. But that is a blog for another time.

Today, we are doing some real talk. This is a place for honesty, so I just thought you should hear it from me.

Babies are boring.

August 5, 2020

Grief.

Today is the first day back to school for my district. My teacher friends and coworkers are all back in their classrooms and cafeterias today doing professional development to prepare for the weirdest year ever.

And I am at home.

This is literally the first year since Kindergarten that I won’t be going back to school in August. That’s a 25-year streak broken. Sometimes I feel like the grief I’m experiencing about taking a year off is a bit dramatic. Like I don’t really deserve to feel sad because I am lucky enough to have this opportunity. But I’ve been in school in some capacity for 5/6ths of my life, and this year I’m not.

That’s a pretty big deal.

So, today, I’m sad.

I’m sad for the plans that are no longer. I’m sad for the sense of belonging that’s gone. I’m sad for the relationships I worked so hard to build that now feel abandoned.

I’ve derived a lot of my sense of self from being a teacher. It’s a big part of who I am, ingrained in the fabric of me.

Or it was.

I know that it’s just a year, and I am fortunate enough to have been able to make this choice. But today, it doesn’t really feel like a choice.

It feels like a loss.