Perspectives on Parenting: Why being a stay-at-home mom is best for me

Motherhood comes with a host of choices to make about what is best for you and your family.  We at Alamo City Moms Blog have a variety of moms who want to embrace these choices instead of feeling guilty or judged for them!  So we are bringing you a new series: Perspectives on Parenting.  Every month we will feature a “hot topic” of motherhood and the perspectives of two moms that made differing choices.  We are starting off with an ever popular and difficult decision: To stay at home or to work?

To see the other side of this perspective, see Kelly’s post on being a working mom here.

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If you will sit with me for a moment in a nest in the tree of trust and understanding, I will confess to you that my decision to stay at home after having children was not born of a burning desire to witness and cherish every single moment of their reputedly fleeting childhood. The decision was made in an effort to make life easier on myself and preserve what precious little is left of my sanity. You see, I was never under the delusion that staying at home with children was going to be all Pinterest-worthy craft projects, dandelion puffs, and endless mornings spent contentedly snuggling in bed. Growing up as the oldest of seven children afforded me a front row seat into the life of my stay-at-home mom, and let me tell you something – it was not pretty. I remember several things about my mom during my formative years: that she got up ridiculously early and didn’t go to bed until unfathomably late, that she always complained about needing to go to the restroom which I never understood nor had sympathy for because – hello – it only takes a few seconds to pee and everyone has a few seconds (sorry Mom, I get it now), and that she never, not ever, sat down. Call me crazy – but this stay at home mom gig isn’t one that I was overly eager to sign up for.

But once I started seriously contemplating having children and tried to imagine what my life would be like with both a professional job and little munchkin baby bosses at home, I realized that the alternative wasn’t all Nutella-drenched apple slices either. Are we still in the nest of trust with the feathers? Ok – good. You see the thing is that I am a complete neurotic stressball. I thrive on routine, predictability and order, and after witnessing my mom raise my six siblings, I knew full well that I could kiss all that good-bye once children entered the equation.

As a childless working woman, it was a daily struggle to get myself dressed and out the door on time in the mornings, and I certainly never had time to eat – much less make –  breakfast. My dinners consisted largely of frozen pizzas or pasta that would be eaten after I got home from work at 7, and I would generally sit on the couch to “unwind” for several hours after what I considered to be the Herculean effort involved in just muddling through each work day. “What would happen when I added children to the routine?,” I wondered. “Don’t they generally need to eat to grow? Aren’t they pretty helpless creatures, and if so, how will all that extra work fit into my already jam-packed, ridiculously stressful existence?”

So with all of these pressing concerns conspiring against me, how did I decide to be a stay at home mom and perhaps more importantly, who in the world issued me a license to have children in the first place? Well, lucky for me, the universe is doling out licenses to bear children like it’s some kind of fire sale, so no issues there. As for the career choice, it’s simple math, my friends. Having one job is undoubtedly easier than having two, and since I knew I wanted to be a mom, the choice to stay at home with my children was a relatively easy one for me to make. Instead of channelling my energies into how to boost productivity/profits/market awareness of a company, I wanted to focus strictly on raising my little legacies. I have enough self-awareness to realize that if I tried to manage both a professional  job and children (not to mention a marriage and domestic chores), I would fall short in a major way at some point very early in the process. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the children or the job that would suffer – perhaps it would be me. But in any case, something would have to give.

I also remember being profoundly affected by an interaction I had with a good friend and co-worker one morning many years ago. She burst into my office with puffy eyes and a nose so red it would’ve put Rudolph out of business. She shut my office door, threw her head against the wall and started to wail. No really – wail. My mind immediately went to the darkest places imaginable. Had she lost a relative? Had someone been diagnosed with an incurable disease? Had her signature lipstick color been discontinued? But no, it was none of these things. “When I dropped my daughter off at daycare,” my friend sobbed, “she leapt into her teacher’s arms and wouldn’t even look at me when I tried to kiss her goodbye.” Whoa. This wasn’t the first time my co-worker had expressed regret over leaving her children in the hands of someone else during the day, but it was certainly the most dramatic. “Dropping your children off at daycare must be torture,” I concluded. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that type of daily flogging.” And even though I now understand that many factors can contribute to how smoothly (or not smoothly) dropping off a child goes, my friend’s undeniable angst and guilt made a lasting impression on me.

Another factor that contributed to my decision to stay home was the acknowledgement that my husband is the primary breadwinner in our family, and his job is an extremely demanding and all-consuming one. He works out of state and is therefore frequently traveling. He often has to travel at very little notice, and my schedule needs to be accommodating to that level of unpredictability. If I were to have a job that deviated even slightly from a very regimented 8 – 5 routine, I would find myself in quite a bind as far as childcare is concerned. The profession that I pursued prior to having children necessitated quite a bit of overtime, dedication, and flexibility, so it was not difficult to see that it would not be a good fit for us once our family expanded beyond me and my husband.

And so my fine feathered friends, it is true that I bid adieu to a host of fulfilling experiences when I decided to stay home. There is no lunch break, for example. No bathroom stall or office in which I can sequester myself to enjoy a few moments of uninterrupted alone time. There are no congratulatory emails circulated to my team that make me puff up like an overfed tabby cat, no jaw dropping promotions or raises to keep me motivated, no incentive bonuses to let me know I’ve done an outstanding job. But really, I don’t know that any of those professional awards I received (and treasured at the time) can hold a candle to the daily rewards I am treated to as a mom. I receive unsolicited “I love you’s” that melt my heart. I witness my babies’ milestones, large and small (and have literally thousands of pictures and videos to show for it). I spend many days awash in gratitude that I was chosen to be the mom to what I’m convinced are the two most precious, brilliant, and talented children the world has ever seen. And if all that mushy stuff doesn’t do it for you, try this little perk on for size: I get to spend quite a few weekdays working from home in my pajamas. Now I’m not saying that’s usually by choice, but that can be our little secret!