It’s pretty obvious at this point that the change has taken over my life, in a less than flowery way, since I stopped working. I rarely have the time or energy or desire to write, only guilt for feeling robbed of all that suddenly despite it being of my own volition.
I’ve had a surprising number of people tell me they’re jealous of my being able to quit work to stay home with my children. I get that. I was jealous of people like me too, but I also had some prior knowledge of the reality that not too many would envy if they really knew, the one I’m in now.
We’ve pulled furiously at that ripcord, but the chute has failed to open. The trees looked nice and soft from all that height, but more like daggers pointed at my eyeballs now.
Since I stopped work, reality has quickly set in. We’re one commission check away from dipping into savings, and suddenly I’m faced with a cat that won’t stop crapping in random places [always on the carpet, btw], a preschooler who has conveniently forgotten his alphabet and how to peepee in the potty, and the painful process of finding us health coverage that won’t end up costing us our house [I almost typed decent health coverage, but it seems that doesn’t exist, especially for the self-employed]. I’m only scratching the surface here because who knows how long nap time will last today.
If I’m honest, and I need to be, I’m having regrets. I expected to, but I started out feeling in control. I planned, I organized, I broke up chores into bite-sized chunks, I set my expectations low, and I didn’t sweat overcooked dinners much. And in spite of it, I can feel Mt. Laundry about to erupt, the dust bunnies staging a revolt, and the vacuum cleaner judging me from it’s cluttered parking spot.
And this is about where many of my supporters will tell me ‘the laundry will be there, your babies aren’t babies for long.’ And with that, the camel said ‘you know what, guys, screw this noise. PEACE. OUT.’ I feel guilty enough and I already know how much regret to expect on my death bed, because that’s probably what will put me there in the first place. I just blew your mind, admit it. I know the laundry will be there, and so will the medical bills, and the dirt, and the fear of failing.
Of course, some of the veteran SAHM’s out there are smirking at this, and thinking at the very least ‘told ya it was hard.’ And I’m not mad about that. It gives me hope I’ll smirk again one day too. Right now, all I want to do is go back to bed, as much to hide as get some rest.
So when you think about me sitting at home watching Lifetime while my kids play harmoniously and quietly in the background, just know that what’s really happening is me checking the clock wondering two things at the same time: is it too early to start drinking wine, and do I have time to squeeze in one more load of laundry before the baby wakes up.