SAHM: I Don’t Regret It But I Didn’t Count the Cost

And I’m Not Sure We’re Talking About It Enough

I’ve never understood participation in Mommy Wars. It’s hard for me to believe they even exist. I needed other women in my life so badly when I first had kids the last thing I was gonna do was alienate ANYONE. I had zero opinions on how other people should do something I didn’t have any idea how to do myself. I had *some instincts and a *few desires but mostly I felt like I was feeling my way around in the dark. Criticizing how someone else was finding their way never occurred to me.

I don’t mean my lack of interest in a heated BREASTMILK/ FORMULA debate should imply that I’m a noble, levelheaded, well-regulated person who doesn’t enjoy a useless argument. Because that’s simply not true. I’ll box over politics, bad basketball calls, or a slow carpool line.

I chose to stay home when the kids were little. This was, of course, a privilege because Seth had an excellent job. Putting my education, ambition, employment on hold was a possibility I embraced and celebrated. Never once did I think women who chose to work were inferior mothers or less in love with their babies even if they could afford to stay home. I never thought that. I didn’t think my way was the only way.

But I did think my way was better.

I thought all that sacrifice and intention would equal… something better. I think I thought it was an exchange. This for that.  I thought it was math. Or science. Or something with some goddang RULES!

Last week (see last post) I shared that staying home allowed me the peace, come what may, to say, “Well, at least I tried.” And I am grateful for peace any way it comes these days. But! I wrote what I’m about to share a while ago in the middle of what I can only describe as a temper tantrum. I was trying to get a job that didn’t come through. (The kids need me less so it felt like time.) I spent a couple of months trying to sell my soft skills, and when it didn’t work out, I felt really sad about it. Aimless. Meanwhile, my teenagers were being jerks. It wasn’t necessarily dramatic or even their fault (that day)—- it’s just the nature of being 15. But, the point is that one day I scribbled into my journal as I found myself wondering three things:

*Would I ever contribute to society with a set of skills I enjoyed using so that I could help with our ever increasing personal finances due to expensive dependents?

*Are said dependents even decent people?

*And if they’re not, did I waste a decade and a half of my life because now they’re grown a-holes and I can’t even get a job?

I didn’t intend for my feelings to be for anyone’s eyes and I’m uncertain about sharing them now. But, as the kids get older, I realize I’m still feeling my way around in the dark. And the healer back then (when I was so needy when the kids were small) was hearing other women’s details and exhaling a bit with a, “Oh good, me too.”

So, maybe someone else is waking up from the after-toddler-but-before-teenager sweet spot with anxiety about what’s slipped away, fear of what’s to come, and the possibility that neither of them have anything to do with each other. Maybe someone else spent a lot of week days in nap jail instead of at the office and are waking up struggling to find their place in a world that grew up without them.

Here’s what I wrote when the grant didn’t come through:

___________

I want to take Amelia by the shoulders and say, “Honey, listen.

You’re gonna get married. One day. If you want. And maybe he’ll have a great job that might make you think you should put yours on hold so you can proverbially pour into your family. Raise the kids, play at the park, go to the library, all that jazz. Covered in yogurt, dishing out goldfish, hiding in the coat closet. Whatever. Go ahead and do that if you want to. But. If you choose to do that, you need to know that you’re doing it for YOU. Because if you think you’re doing it for them, one day you will realize that parenting is a total flipping crap shoot and kids are going to unfold however they are going to unfold whether they went to the zoo on a Tuesday or not. And one day you will wake up when they’re 14 and 15 with some dreamy ambition, forgotten skills and useless education while they ignore you with the same teenage vengeance as the kids who went to day care. You will realize that the whole time you thought you were shaping exceptional humans with fond memories of catching turtles and naming them with sharpies on their bellies, you were really getting further and further away from everything that made you who you are because you thought you couldn’t have it all and they likely won’t even remember the box turtles that gather in the back yard in the spring time. I don’t know how I feel about ‘having it all.’ I actually think you can. Have it all. Maybe just not all at the same time.  But wherever you choose to dive in, whatever you choose to put on hold, Amelia— it better be for you.

Name all the turtles in the neighborhood if you want— do it! But know it’s not for them. Because if you think turtles, baby pools and princess dresses are going to make your kids healthier than everyone else’s, gonna give them some sort of cosmic head start, just know that all of that magic that makes people great can just as easily be found in a class pet, a car pool, and costume closet and the best thing you can offer your kids is a healthy you.”

___________

I don’t take any of what I wrote back, but I’ve settled down a bit since I wrote it. I’ve also day dreamed about some new jobs.

Looking back, I don’t regret my choices. But I am coming to terms with them in ways I didn’t anticipate.

I’m glad for our lazy days and memories of Shelly and Speedy, the married box turtles, even if they are only my memories. But I’ve had to accept that I’m not sure I made the decisions I made for me… or for them.

Because the truth is:

I stayed at home for control. I stayed at home because I thought it guaranteed me a certain result.

Control and certainty are myths. Nothing is ever guaranteed.

I’ve been humbled by what I thought I could control. I’ve come face to face with what I have felt entitled to and why I have felt entitled to it. There was something about not being able to get the job I wanted that brought emotion to the surface strong enough to identify and call it what it was. I was controlling and I felt entitled. I’m grateful for the chance to see it clearly. I’ve learned that God will often use silence to let us wrestle with the untruths that are quick to speak first.

I didn’t sit down in 2009 and consider what a job market would look like in 15 years. I didn’t think too much about what my life would look like when my kids started living their own lives. Staying home has certainly cost a lot of money and some confidence, but looking back, I know I’d make the same choice. I wouldn’t change much even if I could. Not the turtles or the baby pool. Not even the nap jail. Nothing but the false sense of control and inappropriate entitlement.