Tomorrow, I become a working mother. I have had almost three months now to realize that being a stay at home mom is TOTALLY not as easy as I thought it would be.
When I was pregnant, I had this glamorous idea of what it would be like to have a baby and be home every day. I would have a spotless house, since I would be home most of the time. I would finally peruse the many cookbooks I own and love, and come up with fabulous meals to make and have ready every night when Bryan got home from work. I would finally go through all those Real Simple and Cooking Light magazines I have been saving, tearing out articles and recipes I wanted to incorporate in my life, then I'd actually use them. I would finish the quilt I started when my Grandma and I took that class. I would finally decorate my house the way I have wanted to for years, but have never gotten around to. I would exercise regularly. And of course, all of that would be in addition to spending quality time with my child and tending to all of his needs, and my own.
Well, that's not exactly how it's gone.
I think there *are* women who do all of those things, but for the life of me I don't know how. Maybe if I had longer, I'd figure it out. Lately I've been wondering if I'd have figured it out better if I knew this was going to be my reality, if maybe I have subconsciously been operating as though this time with my son is just an extended vacation. I don't know.
For the past two weeks, I have wanted to make spaghetti for dinner. I actually thawed out two different packages of hamburger and had to throw them out, because something or other got in the way of making it. Granted, part of the problem is that we like our sauce to cook for a while before we eat it, so there were nights where I could have thrown it together, but we were too hungry to wait. Most days, I found myself with Jon asleep on my chest on the couch, or he was awake but cranky or bored and wanted Mommy's attention. Finally, yesterday, with precious little time before the *third* pack of hamburger went bad in the fridge, I decided I was going to make it happen. Jon was not interested in any of his usual docking stations (pack 'n' play, swing, play yard...), so into the Baby Bjorn he went. He's big enough now that he can face forward, so I think he rather enjoyed cooking with Mommy. Of course, I was terrified I was going to burn his little tootsies, so I had to do this sort of behind-the-back stirring of the sauce to keep him away from the stove. But we FINALLY had spaghetti for dinner! :)
What I've learned in these three months is that you do what you gotta do to get 'er dun. And most days, that involves some sort of acrobatics.