These Are the Days to Remember

I don’t have a “for pay” job. I spend a considerable amount of emotional energy thinking about this issue, thinking, maybe I would have more brainpower if I exercised my noggin, maybe I wouldn’t be so bitter about housework if I felt like it were more equitably shared with the Husband, maybe I wouldn’t feel so guilty about spending money if I made some. And other thoughts along these lines.

I think everyone has their reasons for how they resolve this issue in their own families, and I wholeheartedly support folks in finding their own solutions. I firmly believe that a mama who is bitter because she gave up a satisfying, hard-earned career is NOT going to raise well-adjusted kids. One of the wonderful things about living in the time that we do is that there is flexibility surrounding the childcare issue--mom can choose to stay home instead of feeling forced into it, dad can stay home if mom makes more money, there is part-time work to be had, there are fantastic care providers who can enrich your kids’ lives. Everyone can be made happy to a certain degree, at least if you’re settled snugly in the middle class.

So every once in a while I have to remind myself that I am choosing to do this. I have a Master’s degree, I could go out and make, well, SOME money (the degree is in education), but I’m deciding to forego the working world for this funny stay-at-home-mom existence, with its 24-7 workday, its piles of poop, its screaming coworkers, its neverending stacks of dishes and laundry and “art project” remains. Because I also get uninterrupted sweet nursing sessions, leisurely puddle-splashing walks, and unexpected tiny, fierce hugs throughout my workday. I don’t have a retirement account or a shot at making partner, but I do have a boatload of sweet, treasured memories of watching the creatures I produced develop and grow.

I’m not fooling myself into believing that my sun-glossed memories of these days can support me in my old age any more than Social Security will. I’m fully intending to get a for-pay job when these ragamuffins are a little older. But I know, deep down, that if I had chosen “the other way” for these first few years, there would always be something missing in my heart. Because it’s just who I am now--it’s my life, this is what I want, and I decided to do it.

I’m just reminding myself, that’s all.