Family Forward... Or Something.

I really want to write on the area of being a stay-at-home parent. It’ll be tumultuous and dissatisfying that I can’t cover every facet I want to, but, none-the-less, I want to. It was bound to happen.  

I’ve read many articles making valid points for and against the choice to have a parent stay at home with the kids. Some are a fuzz on the ludicrous side: (against) “you might get divorced”… then surely you may’ve anyway because there have to be other issues here; (for) “you don’t have to get dressed everyday”… oh, please, do get dressed. People do indeed get married for reasons other than mad-crazy, “I’d willingly do all the hard things for you and with you” love (surely I don’t understand why… Maybe it’s that patience is hard. And no, I have absolutely no room to talk. I met Curtis when I was eighteen). But your commitment to your children and your spouse’s commitment to supporting your grueling endeavor (and vice versa!) to be near them as they become world-handling people cannot be a cause of separation. How terrible that even sounds, “We stopped ‘cause it’s hard”. Put on your big-boy pants and GUNG-HO this thing with every breath in your lungs! Do or do not, there is no try.

 The idea of putting your marriage first sounds great but it is very tough to live. These little people were built to figure this place out, how to get their needs and desires met with whatever means possible. And usually it’s with their noise. ALL. THE. NOISE. – Admittedly the most surprising part of parenting for me. WOW, with all the noise. Just wow.—Conversations that used to (hopefully) flow like sweet melted butter on your warm cornbread…won’t anymore. Separation cannot be a fear. You have to know (again, I honestly don’t feel like I have room to talk, I seem to have him intensely fooled that I'm awesome) that you WILL be loved back and you ARE worth it. You are still bound together even if it looks different. Even if your ears are bleeding. Even if someone is about to lose a face. Be worth it. Don’t be a whiner. Don’t grumble. Smile. Compliment each other. Wink at each other. Tell him when he looks good (or finally smells like soap again, thank you, Jesus!). Tell her you noticed that the pastas were organized in the pantry in alphabetical order… and that her quirkiness is cute. Tell him you are pumped that he knows how to say “quinoa” and better yet didn’t roll his eyes when you actually made it. Tell her that her legs are still sexy. And so is her laugh. Do nice things, out of the ordinary things. Often. Book a hotel and call a brave relative who can still stand your children. Kiss the back of his neck and walk away like nothing happened. NOTICE each other. LOTS! God knows, your kids are noticed. They make a very LOUD point of getting themselves noticed.

YOU HAVE TO WANT IT. 

YOU HAVE TO FIGHT FOR IT. 

BAD.  

Both for the well-being of and ACCELERATION of your family. As whole people on their own. And as a unit. WANT your children to excel. WANT your spouse to excel. If you’re focused on forward motion, stagnation doesn’t stand a chance. If you are determined for them, and for you, every single second and if you look at the faces you love with a humongous smile on your face and amazing thoughts for them in your bones they will excel, and so will you. Kindness will come from your mouth and kindness will come from your hands and you will excel. The paradox here is that you absolutely must SLOW DOWN to do it.

That is what can be painful. Heart-wrenching. Draining. Monotonous. While you’re in it, if you had that “gonna be when I grow up” dream moving and you jumped from that platform you’ve been working on since day one of your education to the home-with-kids arena of entropy and nonsense and noise, you will surely question your sanity. But you can find it here too. I am convinced.

If you stay at home: GET UP MUCH EARLIER THAN THE KIDS. And yes, this is impossible. Sorry. But do. Stretch with your music on. Shower and get dressed in what makes you feel good and look good. Drink coffee and read something that intrigues you. Do not clean. Not now (maybe before bed every night?).Put your mind into wonder mode first thing in the morning. That’s where it should be for the day with your children. Slow and open. If you start your day in cleaning mode, in “getting done” mode, you will not recover and you certainly not get it all done before they wake up. And probably you’ll resent the kids for keeping you from all the work, the working of keeping a house, keeping a life…bills, errands, responses, demands … all the things that make you feel important or suffocated. Start in wonder. Surely things will go wrong. Someone will wipe poop on your favorite book. Someone will straight up tantrum over a lost stegosaurus (it’s under that blanket) and be misssssserable even when you reveal it’s indeed still in existence. Someone will swallow a quarter (or help someone else swallow a quarter). An adult will weep like a baby and the baby will probably match said harmony but an octave higher. Someone will fall asleep after you dropped hints and lit candles. You’ll often not bathe. Or sleep. Or eat. Or pee until you have to do the cross-legged walk of adulthood-bladder-mastery pride to the potty… to, of course, find your favorite necklace at the bottom of the pea-soupy water.

It’s certainly a choice many people misunderstand. I have been told both, “I couldn’t do what you do!” AND “I wish I didn’t have to WORK! That’d be awesome!” Of course it’s not work. I get to sleep in. My bonbon belly is all happy and I’m all caught up on my celebs and Grey’s Anatomy. I’ve got my toes done, my hair done, a fashion-current wardrobe and my massage therapist says my back, neck and shoulders are the most malleable she’s ever seen. I wear heals to Gymboree and my lipstick matches my ironed blouse. But, really though… my self-esteem is not problematic because I LOVE the work. I do have to CHOOSE to take pride in my job*. And I do have to CHOOSE to still be me, to be fun and educated (that’s never a “done now” thing) and choose to be silly and choose to be ready to full-force it and keep on. It’s brutal and senseless. You can’t KNOW how the kids will turn out or if they’ll friend you on FB when they’re teenagers. But they cuddle me now. They bring books over and beg (like they have to), and plop down into my lap even though they have all these books memorized. And I am HAPPY with our relationship. I touch them constantly. I praise them. I get silly beyond all reason with them. They are my friends. My want for them is to be KIND not for them to be HAPPY. Clearly, I have to be that model. I can’t always manage happy, why on this silly-ol’ earth would I bound them with that expectation where they’d feel like they’d disappointed me if they weren’t tickled about every moment here? I'm selfish. It's in my genes. And that's not happy. But KIND, that I expect. And a good heart will find what it needs in that soil.

It’s nowhere near easy. It’s gratifying in a section of your life that you have to literally grow on the spot because you haven’t been preparing for this since grade school. If only we began lessons in tantrum management as teacher had us trace our letters on those giant dotted lines.

Obviously there isn’t a better choice, stay home or not. But do follow what’s right, follow that weirdo butterfly in your tummy, your instinct or whatever (*cue God debate*). That same one that made you KNOW you were in love. That lil’ Lepidoptera has a great sense of direction. At the moment I have “been home” for three years. And now I am going bananas. Like… ready for banana bread bananas…getting all funky and dark and mushed and ready to get some heat and change going.  I’m ready to get moving. I’ll start back it the direction my soul craves for. I am here first though, and that’s okay. Well. It’s better than okay. I am his wife and their mother first. But now, now I leap from a platform of beautiful confidence (WHAT HAVEN’T I HANDLED? WHAT CAN’T I DO?! BRING IT!!!). And I will leap with a joy so great it’s unmatched by most. How’s that for humble?

*It’s a job.

On the bright side… husband made me dinner. Candlelight and red wine caliber, am I right, ladies?!?

Hotdogs and apples, ftw!