When I moved to Spain, I became a stay at home wife… that’s right… not a mom… a stay at home wife. Certain elements of being stationed there made it very difficult and, in some cases, impossible, to work. At first, I struggled. I missed working. I missed using my brain and challenging myself in ways that had pretty much been conditioned in me for as long as I could remember. I missed that part of my identity. Work had always provided me with a sense of purpose. The loss of that purpose was very difficult for me to process. My first six months in Spain, while lovely, were also very jarring for me as I searched for purpose and meaning while adjusting to a whole new way of life. With everything stripped away, I truly started over and ended up really liking who I became. Eventually I embraced the solitude and the calm. I made a lot of time for reading, writing, and adventuring with my husband.
Once our daughter was born and we learned we would be moving back to the United States, Issy and I discussed what it would look like for me to go back to work. We ultimately decided against it. The truth is, I just don’t want to pay for someone to watch my kid. BUT with that said, I also understand why parents do pay for daycare and want to get back to work. It’s an important part of who they are, sometimes it’s a financial must, and, quite frankly, the routine is essential to one’s mental health. The list can go on. I am a firm believer that each parent and family have to do what is best for them. I do not believe that there is any one right way to raise kids. I do not judge a mom or dad who chooses to go back (whatever their reason) – they never have to justify that to me. I also do not judge a mom or dad who chooses to stay at home… it doesn’t take away from who they are or make them any less smart or valuable. Yet I, like a lot of others, have fallen into that trap. I often feel like I am seen as “lesser.” The perception I feel people have of me must be that I am lazy. All of these things (and more) are completely unfair. It’s a terrible game to play. In short, it’s a total mind f%^#. And in all honesty, it takes away from the experience of being with my daughter. I have to actively work to shut all of that out.
Being at home is something I openly struggle with. I would love to engage my mind in something outside of parenting. When Issy breaks down all the details of his day and what he is working on, I am in awe because of how happy he is with his daily accomplishments, totally lost because I do not understand a lot of the super specific parts of his job, and sometimes I am very jealous that I have nothing to contribute to our conversation outside of the baby/home life. I feel… uninspiring. It’s especially hard after those days that are filled with toddler tantrums and the drinking and spitting back out of milk all over herself and the floor. The worst days for me though, are the days where Rosemary wants nothing to do with me. I can’t bear to hear how great someone else’s day is when the one job I have, I failed at. Those are the days I struggle with my decision to stay home the most.
Then, there is the guilt. I feel so guilty for asking for “me time.” I feel like my husband looks at me and is disappointed. In reality, my husband NEVER thinks or feels this. He is in total support of me taking care of myself and pursuing my own hobbies and interests. He would gladly drop everything to give me time for whatever I wanted. There is just this crazy shame and guilt that if I do something for myself, I am selfish. After all, (this is me talking to myself), I am at home all day. I am not working hard. Taking care of our child is a privilege and I need to get over myself. And there it is- that’s an inner monologue of mine. HOW on earth did my thinking get to be like this? WHY is it easier to hate and judge myself than it is to give myself some grace and believe that people do not see every bad quality in me? I am, and always have been, really hard on myself. That has only intensified with motherhood. For the sake of my daughter and my own well-being, I have been working really hard to kick that inner monolgue’s ass to the curb.
Look, being a mom is… kind of amazing. When I hear Rosemary reciting her numbers and colors and identifying things in the world… I know that that is me. I don’t mean that my husband doesn’t teach her things because he does BUT I am the primary teacher. I work on puzzles with her, reading, listening, coloring, etc. That’s my job. And so far, it’s really satisfying. Molding a little human to be better than ourselves, adjusted, happy, and bright is not easy. It takes work. When I am feeling low or confused, I can’t let her see that… kids are smart. They pick up on that. I never want her to see that I struggle with what I do because it is not a reflection on her… she is wonderfully wonderful. It’s a reflection on me and my identity markers I have crafted for myself over the past 32 years.
I hope to go back to work when Rosemary is a bit older. For now, I firmly feel my place is with her. Wanting to go back to work is also really scary… I will be older… lack about a decade’s worth of resume time… My competitive-ness will be nil. Will I look pathetic? Will someone even want to give me a chance? Heck, will I be prepared? I like to think so. My fear is having to defend my life choices and as a result, having to defend my basic worthiness as a human to a group of my peers.
Being at home is just a part of my life story, not the whole book. That’s just me. I know that there is more I am meant to do. What that means and what that looks like have yet to be determined. All I can say with confidence is that I am the badass CEO behind Arguello Holdings Inc and we function because I make it so. More on that later. In the meantime, send help. Rosemary refuses to keep her clothes and diaper on. Like, refuses. Undergrad and grad school and the workforce in general did not prepare me for this.
The Salty Exchange 