Money

I have been earning money since I was twelve years old when I started my first babysitting job. At the time, I wanted the job so I could continue adding to my 45’s collection. I enjoyed playing with the kids, and being able to purchase the latest top 40 single, but actually earning the money never brought me a great sense of accomplishment. I continued working through my teens, and again, money was earned simply to purchase things that I needed and wanted. My family went through a rough period when I was literally the only person bringing in a paycheck, and while I was glad we had food on the table, I never correlated my bagging groceries and earning money as gaining a sense of self worth.

I worked several jobs, at the same time, to put myself through college. I was a lifeguard, waitress, nanny, and I lectured to other students on topics such as exercise and nutrition. My money went straight to books, tuition, food and saving towards my spring break trip. Not once did I sit down and think about the hard work I had done to earn the money. Not once did I feel pride that I was putting myself through college.

Upon graduation, I simply wanted a job to begin paying off the astronomical student loans I had accrued earning my overpriced liberal arts degree. I discovered the wonderful world of credit, and still lacking any sense of monetary value, I quickly added to my load of debt. I moved from job to job, simply looking for the biggest pay check in which to pay off my bills. Career advancement, independence, pride in my work; they were not a part of my daily reflections.

Then, I became a teacher. I LOVED my job, my career. I paid my way through graduate school on a salary smaller than my first salary had offered, and I was proud. I was proud of the work and felt that the pay would never be great, so it would always be insignificant in my life. My husband made enough to keep us comfortable, and I contributed what I could. It did not matter to me that he could purchase a car, or a home for that matter, without my cosigning. What mattered was that I was fulfilled and secure in my career, and that I was making a difference.

When I chose to stay at home after the birth or our son, all of this changed. For the first time in 17 years I no longer had anything to contribute monetarily. “You have the most important job in the world” my mother says, but a career woman of thirty-five years who did not get to take six weeks off for maternity leave has also told me that “earning a paycheck feels good”. My husband says he could not do his job without me, that our son would be lost without me, and that I should consider it our money. I have friends whose husbands simply deposit money into a separate checking account for them, or pay off their credit card bills, and this works for them. Me, I am having issues with this. After all of these years, I am measuring myself worth by a salary that will never be.

I was prepared to give up career advancement, constant adult interaction, and my own freedom to come and go at my leisure. I was prepared for sleepless nights, public tantrums, and missing several days of showering. I had no idea, however, how much not earning money would warp my sense of self, my sense of purpose.

Mama, Fun, pool, friends

Had I cut him off, as I am prone to do, I would have missed our moment. But this time, when he called “mama” I said “yes, my baby” and he said “Mama, fun, pool, kids” and I melted, right then and there. To anyone else, even my husband, it was a sweet exchange of words. To me, it was the answer, the validation, the moment for which I had been looking for more than two years. I was a mother, his mama, and I was good at it. Even better, I was able to enjoy being home with him and see him appreciate life.

I am an exceedingly impatient person and have been known to sigh and tap my foot when made to wait in a line or for an answer. Getting a toddler to move at my pace, with my focus, had become my greatest challenge. Because I am home with him, all day, every day, my challenge had led to great frustration. Even though technically I am the boss and I am in charge, rarely do I get my way or even end up getting to where I had hoped I would be. My list driven task oriented self had met its match in his thirty pound frame. For reasons that will always escape me, certain things were simply not acceptable in his young mind and therefore would not happen without a tantrum, an instant distraction, or a complete misunderstanding. But today, for no reasons other than I did not cut him off, it ended differently.

I had explained that we were going to go to the big pool to meet the kids. First he threw a fit because he wanted to play with the sprinkler in the backyard, then he thought we were going to the pool ‘at Mark’s house’, our neighbor. I was firm in my resolve, because I was hosting this shindig; If we did not go, the plans of seven other moms and their children would be ruined. As I lay across his wriggling and freakishly strong body, attempting to strap him into his car seat, I asked myself for the bagillionth time “Why in HELL are you staying home with him?” I love my son, dearly, greatly, with all of me. I love being a mother too. But being a stay-at-home-mom, the verdict was still out on that one. I seemed to lack the ease, self-confidence, PATIENCE and open mind essential to spending your time helping a mini-Neanderthal develop. I questioned if someone else, someone who did not take things personally, who could see the big picture, may be better at taking care of my son during the day. I wondered if I was one of those moms who stays home because she should, but would be better fit to be at work. I wondered if I would find more satisfaction, more peace, if I had less face time with my son. My husband worked, hard and many hours, and it had not seemed to weaken his relationship with Dylan. In fact, they seemed to be closer and have a much less contentious relationship with each other than Dylan and I ever had.

So today, when I was putting him down for a nap, I thought he was procrastinating as he always does. He asks for more milk, another story, for me to sing. He shows me the bears on the border on his walls, the balloons above his crib. I usually answer his “mama” with a ‘sweet dreams, Dylan’ but today, I chose to listen to what he had to say.

Mommyhood

My mother did not take more than three weeks maternity leave when she had children. Other than that, I have never known her to take more than one week of vacation at a time. When we were sick, she would tell us to ‘stay back’ because she could not afford to be sick. She always made it clear that working was not her choice; that it was something she had to do as a single mother of two. “When you get older and have children, do everything you can to stay home and raise them” she would tell me. I could not help but wonder why she did not take her own advice.

I do not think that my mom was the best mother (not that she didn’t try). I associated her poor parenting skills to the fact that she had a career outside of the home. That’s not to say I think all career moms are poor moms, I just thought my mother would have been better to us had she not had a career. Because of that one idea, I took her advice (there is a first for everything) and stayed home to raise my son, for my biggest fear was to be a bad mom.

Prior to leaving the work field, I had bounced from several forms of occupations before landing on my feet in education. I combined my love of literature with my understanding of disgruntled youth and became a high school English teacher. The cliché is true in that the pay sucks but the rewards make up for it and I loved my career. I loved it for 2 full years, but left halfway through my third year with a sour taste in my mouth and a six-month-old fetus in my uterus. I left my teaching position early because the administration had gotten the better of me, and with my future mom-hood waiting for me, I did not look back.

Staying at home, full time, to raise my son has presented me with issues and challenges I would never have anticipated. Each day I question my self-worth, what I bring to the family, and what I bring to the world. I swear the kid is growing up on auto-pilot; he just needs me to reboot him every once in awhile. It sounds so easy in theory, but in practice I am losing my mind. For the first six months, I just held him constantly. If he was not nursing or sleeping, he was screaming his head off. There was no time to question whether or not I was a good mom, there was not time to eat, sleep or think. I lived on Luna Bars, Smithfield Farm Smoothies, and Law & Order reruns. I lost all 75 pounds of my baby weight bouncing my colicky, acid reflux, bi-lateral hernia baby in my arms for hours on end.

The second six months were blissful. He stopped screaming, started sleeping, and we began to make friends. I had more down time than I have ever had in my life, so I became creative in scrapbooking and painting my living room furniture. His first birthday was my personal celebration.

AB

I was blessed in finding several very bright, funny and honest women through a SAHM group. During playgroup one day, I posed the question "Why did you choose to stay home?". In today's venue, this can be a loaded question, but we were all friends and I was genuinely curious. The first to answer was AB. She gave a detailed response illuminating the many reasons she was a SAHM....she loved being the one to experience all of her children's moments first hand, the special moments you have during random parts of the day, being the one who meets them at the bus or attends playgroups. Her answer was so romantic, I felt almost stupid to admit I did it for financial reasons AND that I often regretted my choice. Several others looked sheepish and refrained from answering at that time.

Three days later AB and I were at the park with our children, pushing them back and forth in the swing. We were not talking, just gently pushing our children every three or four swings. The park was quiet and I was enjoying just standing and being....for about two minutes and then my mind began to wander about what other people were doing. AB broke into my thoughts and said "remember you asked me why I was a SAHM?" I said yes, and feared she would begin a lengthy diatribe about how lucky we are to be in a park pushing children in swings, but instead, she laughed and said " I went home and told (HUSBAND) my answer and he called me a liar. He then reminded me that I had every intention of going back to work, but that (First Child) was born with a heart defect and one of us needed to be home with her at all times"

Your Job Will Never Love You Back

When I was preparing to resign from my first 'real world' job I was distressed about offending my boss or dissapointing my co-workers by leaving. I also enjoyed the work and was invested in the company. But, I had received an offer that would pay more and give me greater responsibilities...and it was time to move on and up. Even though I knew I was taking a great step for my career, I had mixed feelings about leaving. I was so nervous that I enlisted the help of my boyfriend's father who, with an MBA from Wharton and 35 years in his field, had resigned from plenty of positions. He sat with me, listened to my fears, and laughed in my face. He held my hand and said "You can love your job all you want, it will never love you back." His words seemed harsh, and I wondered if maybe it was his chosen field. But three jobs later I realized he was right in that each time I left a position I was easily replaced and forgotten. Someone else took my position and completed my job just as well, sometimes better. Life carried on without me.

My last position prior to becoming a Stay At Home Mom (SAHM) was a teacher to students with special needs. I loved my job, I loved my school, I loved my students. I did not believe my now Father In Law's words applied to the field of teaching because I thought it was noble, that I touched lives. The relationships I had with my students, their families, and my co-workers was intense and extended beyond the walls of our school. When I became pregnant with my first child and my husband and I realized it would cost us more to pay for childcare than I earned teaching, we knew I would leave my position. My heart was breaking, because I honestly believed my job loved me back. Imagine my surprise when they all went on without me, business as usual. Teaching may be rewarding and noble, but it does not love you back.

Being a SAHM is the most challenging job I have ever had and sometimes I really hate and resent the job, my children, and my husband. However, it is also the most rewarding and most importantly, it is the only job that will love me back.