April 25, 2018

There’s nothing more gangster, nothing smarter, nothing more powerful than a housewife. Suckers work. Smart people find other people to work for them. – Chris Rock

Welp, it’s official. I am now a stay-at-home-parent parent (or STAHP as I like to refer to it, which also sums up how I feel about being one). At least for the next several months. Despite my best efforts (you can read about one failed attempt in my Not Fit for Duty post), I wasn’t able to get a job lined up within my very specific timeline. We even tried to find a nanny for while Fox is at training, but that didn’t pan out either. It seemed no matter what I did, it just wasn’t in the cards.

So, I am now writing this while watching soap operas and eating bonbons.

Hahaha. No. I will now continue to work just as hard as ever but without a paycheck, sick leave, or a designated break(down) room. Because moms are free, right?

Let me be clear: I know that being a STAHP is a privilege. I know there are countless people throughout the world who choose to sacrifice so they can stay home with their kids and love it. And I know there are countless more who would give anything to be able to do so. I do not take this luxury lightly. Unfortunately, though, it’s a luxury that doesn’t entirely fulfill me.

I adore my littles, but when I’m not working outside the home something feels like it’s missing. Maybe it’s the fact that I felt called to nursing long before I ever became a mom. Maybe it’s because working in an ER gives you these crazy, adrenaline high moments where you literally stare death in the face and get to say, “Nope. Not today. Not on my watch.” Maybe it’s the ungodly amount of money I spent on my degree and want to get as much return as I can. Or getting a chance to communicate with other like-minded individuals (ER nurses have a very special, twisted sense of humor you can’t find just anywhere). Or maybe I simply miss the paycheck. I can’t say what it is for sure, but I can say that I am a better person, wife, and mother when I am also able to be a nurse.

So, in truth I am scared. Scared of what these next few months will look like. Scared that those months could turn into something more long-term. And ultimately scared of who I become when such a defining aspect of who I am is removed.

I have learned from my past experiences during maternity leaves that having one parent working and the other not can cause a real sense of imbalance in the relationship. Now, to his credit, Fox has never put me down for not working and always shown appreciation for what I do with the kids. He has also shown an ability to shoulder the weight of being the sole breadwinner. But… that hasn’t stopped me from utterly resenting him. As nice as it is to stay warm under our covers when he gets up at 6am, I know my “alarms” will be going off soon enough and with so much more voracity than his. It’s hard for me to look past the fact that he gets to have a family and a career, while I watch his family so he can keep his career. See the imbalance?

STAHP-ing also brings my feminism to her full-strength. And that’s not a bad thing. But it is a lot of energy floating around with no clear place to channel it. Like how do you smash the patriarchy when you also rely on the patriarchy to pay your mortgage? In many ways I feel as though I am letting down the millions who fought before me for women to be allowed, recognized, and valued in the workplace. How would my own grandma, who wanted to be a nurse as a young woman but had to care for and raise 8 children (and frankly a husband or two) before she finally got a chance to go to nursing school in her 50’s, react to what I am doing now? And, yes, I know I am being dramatic about this. But I told you- not working brings out my strongest feelings.

So, where does this leave me? Besides on the couch with those bonbons, of course. Well, I am going to try my damnedest to embrace it. To be the best mother-effing mother you ever saw. I’m going to funnel my energy into the things that were hard to squeeze in while working full-time. I’m going to bake crap. I’m going to take my kids on educational adventures that they’ll never remember. I’m going to take pictures of those soon-to-be-forgotten educational adventures and arrange them into quaint photo albums to prove we actually left the house some days. I’m going to make nutritious, well-rounded meals (like, for sure, they’ll still be eating dino-nuggets, but I’ll give them a cucumber or something on the side). And I’m going to continue to write in hopes of finding my voice. Even if no one’s listening to me. And, believe me, in my house- no one ever is.