Wheeeeeew~!
I have been BIZZ-EEEE! So what brings me in to blog, you ask? Well, settle in and prepare yourselves for another ranting soapbox blog!
I know you other stay-at-home Mommys know what I'm talking about when I say I HATE it when people tell me how lucky I am that I don't work. "Oh it must be nice to just stay home all day." They assume I can do whatever I want whenever I want, spend hours on trivial things, take bubble baths and daydream about random nothings. This all comes, of course, from people who do not stay at home full-time with a child. The truth is, I am lucky to be able to stay home, but DUDE am I working! I (and when I say I from now on, I'm speaking for all Mommys who traded their power suits for sweatpants) work more hours than at any job I ever had before. I work more hours than anyone with a normal job. I'm on-call 24/7, when Andrew wakes up, throughout the entire day, when he goes to bed, when he wakes up crying, when he's sick, when he's constipated, weekends, holidays, the extra 366th day we're getting in February, Daylight Savings Time, when we go to restaurants, when I'm scrounging together a peanut butter sandwich in between reading the same book for the 99th and 100th time that day.... I work. I just don't get a paycheck.
Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I get paid in smiles and milestones, sweet little memories of laughing on the floor that I know I'd never be able to make otherwise. But it is HARD! His entire development is up to me, and a reflection on me. I give him every meal he has, I teach him all the words and skills he knows, I play with him, I read to him, I clip his tiny toenails, and I love it. I also dig poop out from under his fingernails when he's taken his diaper off in the crib, wipe feces off of the rails, run to get a towel before he can play with the vomit on the floor (or on my shirt), wipe snot with my bare hand when it's all there is, smell the putrid fumes that are emitted from baby food, and keep the cat from scratching him. I've had to learn to get the jist of the show I'm watching, since I can't watch Law & Order: SVU without Elmo interrupting at some point. I can't text. I am a master at typing with one hand and keeping my kids at bay with the other. I read book after book after book after book, play random games that I can't fathom how they entertain him so much, eat late lunches, share everything I try to snack on, try to turn everything around us into a learning experience, and read some more books. Nothing is my own. I don't get to get dressed up anymore, except for church. I'd wear shorts but they are frightened by my legs ~I'm too busy to shave. The only breaks I get are for three-and-a-half hours a week when he's in the church nursery. I'm up late and early. I'm exhausted. I don't get sick days or vacations. I don't even get to pee in privacy. Nope, the second I make it in there, I'm either followed by a toddler with a book or trying to reach and swat at his hand to stop him from unravelling all of the toilet paper, all while not falling off or losing my dignity when I realize I'm reading Dr. Seuss on the pot. I find myself dancing like my kids (which let's face it, he's no Channing Tatum) to every song that comes on TV. Make-up, perfume, curling irons and nice unmentionables are a luxury. Don't even get me started on getting to eat in an actual restaurant! I mean, we are on one income now (another factor conveniently forgotten by those who look down their nose at "just staying home."). Like any mom, I've been burped on, pooped on, farted on, peed on, farted on again, puked on, bled on, then farted on. I just get it all day, everyday. My board meetings involve farm animals and my raises come in giggles. So do not be mistaken, there is nothing glamorous about what I do.
Every year a salary is figured up for what a full-time Mommy should be paid, considering all of the hours and services she provides. This past year it was announced that our hard work is worth a little over $182,000 per year. Now, I'll subtract about $30,000 for me, because I'm not a chauffer yet, but I think you see my point. I work, dangit, and I work hard. I love it, and I'm so happy and blessed to be able to be home with my kids, but it's work. I won't blame you if you envy me, because I have the best co-workers you can get and the benefits are unmatched elsewhere. My dress code is awesome and I don't really have deadlines. I graduated highschool, and I CHOSE to be a Mommy, so it must be a pretty great job. Just don't ask me why I haven't gotten around to reading a book or folding the laundry or uploading pictures. I don't sleep all day, I don't watch TV all day, and there are no unicorns. If your mom stayed home with you, get her something extra nice for Mother's Day this year. If you stay home with your little one(s), more power to you, and hopefully you'll get a break soon! All Mommys, despite their job status, work hard. Just don't think our lives are a cakewalk if we get to stay home!
I have been BIZZ-EEEE! So what brings me in to blog, you ask? Well, settle in and prepare yourselves for another ranting soapbox blog!
I know you other stay-at-home Mommys know what I'm talking about when I say I HATE it when people tell me how lucky I am that I don't work. "Oh it must be nice to just stay home all day." They assume I can do whatever I want whenever I want, spend hours on trivial things, take bubble baths and daydream about random nothings. This all comes, of course, from people who do not stay at home full-time with a child. The truth is, I am lucky to be able to stay home, but DUDE am I working! I (and when I say I from now on, I'm speaking for all Mommys who traded their power suits for sweatpants) work more hours than at any job I ever had before. I work more hours than anyone with a normal job. I'm on-call 24/7, when Andrew wakes up, throughout the entire day, when he goes to bed, when he wakes up crying, when he's sick, when he's constipated, weekends, holidays, the extra 366th day we're getting in February, Daylight Savings Time, when we go to restaurants, when I'm scrounging together a peanut butter sandwich in between reading the same book for the 99th and 100th time that day.... I work. I just don't get a paycheck.
Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I get paid in smiles and milestones, sweet little memories of laughing on the floor that I know I'd never be able to make otherwise. But it is HARD! His entire development is up to me, and a reflection on me. I give him every meal he has, I teach him all the words and skills he knows, I play with him, I read to him, I clip his tiny toenails, and I love it. I also dig poop out from under his fingernails when he's taken his diaper off in the crib, wipe feces off of the rails, run to get a towel before he can play with the vomit on the floor (or on my shirt), wipe snot with my bare hand when it's all there is, smell the putrid fumes that are emitted from baby food, and keep the cat from scratching him. I've had to learn to get the jist of the show I'm watching, since I can't watch Law & Order: SVU without Elmo interrupting at some point. I can't text. I am a master at typing with one hand and keeping my kids at bay with the other. I read book after book after book after book, play random games that I can't fathom how they entertain him so much, eat late lunches, share everything I try to snack on, try to turn everything around us into a learning experience, and read some more books. Nothing is my own. I don't get to get dressed up anymore, except for church. I'd wear shorts but they are frightened by my legs ~I'm too busy to shave. The only breaks I get are for three-and-a-half hours a week when he's in the church nursery. I'm up late and early. I'm exhausted. I don't get sick days or vacations. I don't even get to pee in privacy. Nope, the second I make it in there, I'm either followed by a toddler with a book or trying to reach and swat at his hand to stop him from unravelling all of the toilet paper, all while not falling off or losing my dignity when I realize I'm reading Dr. Seuss on the pot. I find myself dancing like my kids (which let's face it, he's no Channing Tatum) to every song that comes on TV. Make-up, perfume, curling irons and nice unmentionables are a luxury. Don't even get me started on getting to eat in an actual restaurant! I mean, we are on one income now (another factor conveniently forgotten by those who look down their nose at "just staying home."). Like any mom, I've been burped on, pooped on, farted on, peed on, farted on again, puked on, bled on, then farted on. I just get it all day, everyday. My board meetings involve farm animals and my raises come in giggles. So do not be mistaken, there is nothing glamorous about what I do.
Every year a salary is figured up for what a full-time Mommy should be paid, considering all of the hours and services she provides. This past year it was announced that our hard work is worth a little over $182,000 per year. Now, I'll subtract about $30,000 for me, because I'm not a chauffer yet, but I think you see my point. I work, dangit, and I work hard. I love it, and I'm so happy and blessed to be able to be home with my kids, but it's work. I won't blame you if you envy me, because I have the best co-workers you can get and the benefits are unmatched elsewhere. My dress code is awesome and I don't really have deadlines. I graduated highschool, and I CHOSE to be a Mommy, so it must be a pretty great job. Just don't ask me why I haven't gotten around to reading a book or folding the laundry or uploading pictures. I don't sleep all day, I don't watch TV all day, and there are no unicorns. If your mom stayed home with you, get her something extra nice for Mother's Day this year. If you stay home with your little one(s), more power to you, and hopefully you'll get a break soon! All Mommys, despite their job status, work hard. Just don't think our lives are a cakewalk if we get to stay home!
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