Tuesday, April 15, 2014

The Job of Being a Mom

The other day I was talking to a friend, who is also a stay-at-home mom, about the job of being a mom. We talked about the tears, the poopy diapers, the vomit, and the loneliness. Then we looked at our kids running around and laughing, and in unison said, “It’s worth it.”

I will admit it is hard for me. I have always been someone with huge career goals; earning a bachelors, becoming a teacher, getting a masters, and then becoming a principal. Getting that pay raise, job offer, and constant appraise is why I loved working. When I taught fifth grade health for a year, my professor would constantly critique me. It felt good to read his notes of how well I was doing. When I taught tenth-grade English, I got to meet with the vice-principal and review my growth as a teacher. We discussed career goals and my future in the education field. I worked as an after school teacher for two years, a substitute for two years, and at a Jewelry store for a year. My bosses were all some of my closest friends, and people that I will always respect.

In every job I have held, from Taco Bell to selling jewelry to working in an elementary school, I have loved working. It felt good to receive a paycheck. It felt good to earn something I could physically hold. It felt good to leave work behind and go home excited to Scott.

After having Lincoln my career goals changed; I wanted to teach, but I wasn’t willing to do it full-time. My goals were put on hold. I worked a few jobs at night, but was only ever away from Lincoln a few hours. Once we moved to Washington, two years ago, I became full-time mom. It was one of the best feelings ever to have him all the time and never have to worry about work.

Now that this is my job, I sometimes struggle mentally. The things I read that most moms complain about don’t always fit me, and I feel weird feeling the way I do. I don’t struggle with “not having enough time,” but rather having too much time. I don’t struggle keeping the house clean, but rather the monotony of cleaning the same thing over and over. I don’t struggle with tantrums or kids fighting, but rather having an adult to talk to instead. The biggest thing is the rewards are not always physical; I never receive a paycheck.

The rewards can be overlooked, and I have to remind myself often of my job’s rewards. I get to wake up every single morning to two beautiful boys. I get to hear Lincoln tell me how beautiful I am. I get to watch Maverick hold his brother’s hand as he drags him to the playroom. I get to watch them eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I get to give kisses for naptimes and kisses for bedtime. I get to be there for first steps, first words, and physically apart of daily events. I never miss an experience, and I never have regrets.

While I think about the paycheck I would get from teaching and the rewards of transforming young minds, I also feel a twinge of sadness. If I worked, I would be missing something special happening at home. It is these thoughts that make me realize something about stay-at-home moms, they truly are the most selfless beings. Moms give-up careers, they give up paychecks and praise. They give it all up to be at home with their kids.

While the husband goes to medical school, off to war, or works overtime, the wife takes on the entire household. When he graduates, reaches that next level, or hits his bonus, I can’t help but cringe when the congratulations don’t reach her as well. She worked just as hard for the same goals. I believe that as a couple, both hold the job as well as title of parent. As Scott makes his career goals, I feel the excitement as we work on reaching them together. When he gets appraise, I feel as though I am receiving it too. We have formed our dreams together and as we set out to get them, we both play different roles in getting there.

I chose to stay home with my kids. It isn’t always easy, but it is a beautiful thing. While the rewards are not always instant, I know they come increasingly every day. One day Lincoln will be grown into the man I helped shape. His success is my success, and my success is his success.