Staying at Home

I get the distinct feeling that I'm not cut out to be a Stay at Home Mum.

I love my little monster.  I love him so much that sometimes I cry about it, just break down sobbing at how wonderful he is.  But I don't think I was built to be a stay at home parent.

I always knew I wasn't maternal.  Even as a child, I knew it.  Which is why until I was about 25, I was dead-set against having kids.

When I met Mr. Wolfman, kids weren't something we discussed and not long after we moved in together, I found out that he thought he was too old.  I was fine with this.  Then, a year or so later, I was looking at him, and I thought, I really want this man's babies.  So I asked him if he didn't want kids, or just thought he'd missed his chance.  Turns out, he did want them, and so did I.

But that doesn't mean that my personality just changed and I suddenly became a big ball of maternal sunshine.  It didn't and I'm not.  And while I love my son, literally more than life, I still don't particularly care for babies in general.  And I don't feel like being home with him 24/7 is my calling, per se.

It's hard to put into words.  It's not that I think there is anything wrong with being a SAHM.  In fact, I think it's incredibly noble and something that is far, far more difficult than people (including me, before I was one) realize or give credit for.  So when I say I want to do more with my life, I'm not saying that dedicating your life to your children isn't doing something.

The truth is, I do want to do more with my life.  I want to be more.  I don't want to be defined as the little monster's mummy, or Mr. Wolfman's wife.  They're roles I love, but I don't feel like they should make up the whole of who I am.  The truth is, that in 20 years or less, the little monster will move out and move on.  If we do a good job raising him, and maintain a good relationship, we'll still see or talk to him frequently, but he's not going to need us day-to-day.  The truth is, that long before I came along, Mr. Wolfman had defined himself as a strong, educated, confident man.  He has a lot going for him, and if you took away me and the monster, there would be no question about who he is.

Me, I feel like I just sort of squeeze myself into whatever role suits the moment.  I spent my young adulthood putting off my own development.  I was raised to get by, so I've been getting by for my whole adult life, working jobs I hate, filing away lists of things I want to do, or learn, or be, when I have the money or when I have the time.  Now that I'm a mum, it's becoming painfully obvious that I will never have the money or the time, unless I steal it or make it.

In theory, this should be inspiring.  I can make the time.  I can save some money to pursue what I want to pursue.  But, fuck.  I'm tired.  I'm so tired that the thought of thinking about the necessary steps to get a part time job is exhausting.  The act of considering starting a little at home business puts me to sleep.

And anyway, all of this should be done after the housework, which is never, ever, ever done.  Because the contemplation of doing dishes puts me into a zoned-out coma.  The very idea of laundry makes me want to weep.  I feel like it's a struggle just to keep my head above water, which is shameful, when I have a wonderful husband who goes above and beyond, and literally all I have to do is look after the monster and at least attempt to keep the place tidy.

Time for a diaper change.  And then a feed.  And then, and then.  One of these days, I'll do something productive.... one of these days.