There but for the grace of Homer go I
Lately I have had a series of DUH moments. Less like mini-epiphanies, more like forehead-slapping D'OH!s. Things that seem to spring forefront in my mind and then kick me backwards because of their...well, their DUH-ness. Things that I realize and then go, but, wha...? Why didn't I... I can't believe I didn't... What's wrong with me that it's taken this long to SEE that.
Today I realized that I am not ashamed of staying at home with the kids.
That's right.
I thought I was deeply ashamed.
Go figure.
I have been ashamed for the last, well, four years because NOT ONLY have I dropped out of college more times than I can count on one hand, NOT ONLY did I have my first baby at the ripe old age of 21, NOT ONLY was I working a crappy, dead-end job when I got pregnant with my second child, but here I am, three children into it, and I am at home. A SAHM. Oh, the horror.
When our first was born I went back to work 2.5 months after she was born. Veerrrrrrry part time, but still: I was at work. Not sitting on my couch eating bon-bons and watching mah stories like my boss liked to put it. When she was almost 1 I was back full time. 3 weeks before our second was born, my boss sent me home early and for the last time. I was officially without a job. You know, a REAL one. Money was tight; we had just bought a house and we were in just a teensy-weensy bit over our heads. We made it work, we thrived, and I felt completely worthless.
It is safe to say that my husband valued the work I was doing more than I did, but even he asked, jokingly-or-no, when I was going to get a job. I would peruse the classifieds hungrily and with tears in my eyes because it had to be there. If I looked hard and long enough, if I could somehow read the letters and decipher the code, I would be able to find it: the job that would let me go back to work. The job that required only a couple hours during the day and that paid so well that I could also afford childcare and that left me feeling like I was worth something and that made my kids worth leaving and that had the added benefit of being brainless because truly, I am stupid and could only handle something that rivaled licking stamps for thought-output.
I never did find that job.
This sense of just being in the way has gradually lifted. I knew, even at the lowest points, that what I was doing was truly important and that if I hadn't been there with the babies when they were little I would never stop regretting my decisions, because I COULD be with them. We were able to make it work. We still are. Sometimes it's tough and I don't have as many shoes as I would like, but I'm here. As crazy as they make me, I'm here with them and I love it. And today I realized that I'm not ashamed of not having a job anymore.
Today I realized that I am not ashamed of staying at home with the kids.
That's right.
I thought I was deeply ashamed.
Go figure.
I have been ashamed for the last, well, four years because NOT ONLY have I dropped out of college more times than I can count on one hand, NOT ONLY did I have my first baby at the ripe old age of 21, NOT ONLY was I working a crappy, dead-end job when I got pregnant with my second child, but here I am, three children into it, and I am at home. A SAHM. Oh, the horror.
When our first was born I went back to work 2.5 months after she was born. Veerrrrrrry part time, but still: I was at work. Not sitting on my couch eating bon-bons and watching mah stories like my boss liked to put it. When she was almost 1 I was back full time. 3 weeks before our second was born, my boss sent me home early and for the last time. I was officially without a job. You know, a REAL one. Money was tight; we had just bought a house and we were in just a teensy-weensy bit over our heads. We made it work, we thrived, and I felt completely worthless.
It is safe to say that my husband valued the work I was doing more than I did, but even he asked, jokingly-or-no, when I was going to get a job. I would peruse the classifieds hungrily and with tears in my eyes because it had to be there. If I looked hard and long enough, if I could somehow read the letters and decipher the code, I would be able to find it: the job that would let me go back to work. The job that required only a couple hours during the day and that paid so well that I could also afford childcare and that left me feeling like I was worth something and that made my kids worth leaving and that had the added benefit of being brainless because truly, I am stupid and could only handle something that rivaled licking stamps for thought-output.
I never did find that job.
This sense of just being in the way has gradually lifted. I knew, even at the lowest points, that what I was doing was truly important and that if I hadn't been there with the babies when they were little I would never stop regretting my decisions, because I COULD be with them. We were able to make it work. We still are. Sometimes it's tough and I don't have as many shoes as I would like, but I'm here. As crazy as they make me, I'm here with them and I love it. And today I realized that I'm not ashamed of not having a job anymore.
posted by Emily at
3:22 PM
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