I haven’t mentioned it explicitly, but if you’ve been reading for awhile and are good at context clues, you may have guessed that since the birth of my son I have transitioned jobs and am now a stay at home mom.

The title ‘stay at home mom’ really opens up a Pandora’s box of reactions, doesn’t it? If we were to play word association, what words would come to mind? Old-fashioned? Necessary? Unnecessary? Ideal? Noble? Luxury? Drudgery?

I was always of two minds about the institution. My mom was a stay at homer in the eighties, arguably a post-feminist decade when women had already trailblazed their right to work in corporate America and were headed to offices in all their boxy blazered, shoulder-padded glory. “Latchkey kid” was a common term back then and I recall that many of my classmates were just that. Of course, kids never want to be different, so in those days I wanted my mom to work just because everyone else’s mom did. I was too young to appreciate that there was always someone there to ask how my day was when I walked through the door, even though as I got older my response was always ‘fine’, followed by a trudge upstairs to my room. Ah, teenage angst!

Once I became a working professional and found some degree of success in that world, it was hard for me to fathom how I would one day factor kids into the mix. I had worked so hard over the past six years. Would I really just give it all up? I couldn’t see how. Besides, I liked the feelings of accomplishment that came from a job well done. I liked being recognized for my talents and rewarded with the occasional promotion or even less occasional pay raise. I liked the intellectual challenge. So what would my options be if a child were to enter into the mix? Daycare? A nanny? Common choices, obviously, but scenarios that neither I nor Mike had any experience with (his mom was a stay at homer too).

I tried to picture what life would be like in all scenarios. Of course, without benefit of having a child already, this was impossible. In the end, a multitude of considerations guided my choice. And thankfully, it was my choice. Mike understood that while his input was critical, it was ultimately me—the mom—who had the final say.

So here I am: a mom at home. It’s funny, no one (or at least very few) would argue that motherhood—work at home, work outside the home, stay at home—is the hardest job in the world. Stay at home motherhood, though? I understand that there are plenty who question the merits of this career choice. To me, though, being a stay at home mom is like anything in life – it’s what you make of it. I could park myself in front of the TV at every nap time, getting up only when absolutely necessary. And let’s be honest, there are days when I’d like to do exactly that. I choose not to. When the baby is up, alert and wanting attention, I shower it on him. I dedicate myself to being with him – teaching him, making him feel loved, playing with him. At times, this is incredibly tedious. Talking to someone who can’t talk back tends to make you feel a little nutty. Keeping up a chipper tone of voice for twelve hours a day can be incredibly tiresome. Dangling brightly colored objects in front of a person’s face over and over again gets monotonous. But the smiles you get in return, the moments you realize your child has picked up a new skill or learned something about the world because of you really are rewarding.

When Drew’s napping, I work on the other aspects of the job, what those in the restaurant industry call ‘side work.’ I do the laundry, yes, and I iron. I empty and load the dishwasher ad infinitum, I clean the bathrooms. Are these tasks drudgery? Yes, but doesn’t every job have some degree of mindless work?

I try new recipes, with the goal of mastering a signature lineup of dishes. One day when Drew is grown and living on his own, I hope when he comes home he asks for some of these meals, ones I worked hard to master in the early years of his life and that Mike politely choked down while I was still getting the hang of them. I hope that when Drew’s away at college, or living in his first apartment, when talk comes to food he tells friends or girlfriends ‘my mom makes the best…’

The rewards of this job will never come in the form of pay. And I know it’s likely that sometimes my efforts will be rewarded with tantrums, tears, sneers and slamming doors. Many of the rewards may not be reaped for another twenty years. But I’m patient; I can wait. In the meantime I’ll accept http://www.shesjustsayin.com/wp-admin/post-new.phppayment in the form of gummy grins and snuggles.

Tags: motherhood

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