SAHM

Stay-at-home mom. I've never considered being one. Until now. Although I might complain about it, I actually like working. I like my job. Or, I guess I should say, liked my job. Since late in 2008, I've been working one year on, one year off, one year on, at the same place, which coincides with Oregon's legislative cycles and the compilation that follows. This is a pretty sweet gig. The problem is that my year on is up, and while I hoped that I would stay on for a few months longer, the fact that Oregon manages her money like a meth addict in a dark alley has made that impossible. It's also unclear whether returning next year will be a possibility. So, here I am, about to start my new, full-time job as a mommy. I am both very excited and somewhat terrified. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing I love more than spending time with my little one, but I have some fears:



She's so doomed

1. If I screw up at work, odds are someone down the road will correct my mistake and never tell me about it, or I'll get a "friendly reminder" e-mail about the correct way to do something. But now, when I screw up at work, I'll be screwing up MY KID! I'd rather my mom (her current daily caretaker) have this kind of responsibility, because then there's someone to blame.

2. I'm afraid the attachment will turn into something unhealthy when we become each other's whole world. What if it becomes stifling for both of us, to the point where we have to get away from each other in order to breathe?

3. While it's true even now, I don't want her to know without a doubt that I live for her. That's a lot of pressure (and power) to bestow on someone so small.

4. When she becomes my job, I'm afraid I'll think of her as work. When I spend time with her now, it's a joy and a privilege and a treat because we don't get to spend all day together, so I treasure the time we have. What if I take all this time for granted, now that we have so much of it?

5. I'm a horrible housewife. I really dislike cleaning all day, and I'm not that efficient at it. In the middle of putting clothes away, I'll decide to clean out my drawers for donations, and then I'll get tired or interrupted and the result will be an eruption of clothes strewn all over the floor, a way bigger mess than when I started.

6. The dynamic between Travis and me changes when the house becomes my job. He also becomes my job. And no one wants to work for their husband. When I work outside the home, we're on a more level playing field. When it comes to chores, laundry, baby duty, money, cooking, we are pretty equal contributors, but when I don't....ugh I shudder at the memories of my last year off. A sort of de-evolution takes place, and caveman status is resumed. He suddenly forgets how to make his lunch, that his socks go in the laundry basket and not the living room floor, and that his plate goes in the dishwasher after eating. This was somewhat tolerable when I had nothing else to do all day, but now there's a baby, and the excuse, "...But I work," will no longer carry any weight. Shit could get real here pretty soon. Stay tuned...

There are a lot of things I'm looking forward to, like being the one she depends on for help, seeing her first steps, hearing her first words, working out on a normal schedule again (the gym nursery for an hour or two won't kill her, right?), and of course, shaping her into the baby genius I know she can be! I will have more opportunities to perfect my diapering techniques, which I feel are already advanced. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty sure I could not only wrestle a gator into submission, I could also clothe and diaper it at an award-winning speed. She's a wily one, my girl, and never stops moving, not even during a poop-filled emergency change.

Speaking of the word "poop," she finds it hilarious. This bewilders me, because I'm not one to talk of fecal matters. It makes me uncomfortable. But of course, since it makes her laugh, I find myself constantly saying "poop," singing it really, in all different tones. This is shameful and undignified, but when I'm awash in her giggles, I no longer care. The things we do for love.

Poop laugh

Laughing at the word "poop"

What a Difference a Year Makes

My how times have changed. Let's use Halloween as an example.

Last Halloween: We grabbed some pumpkins last minute at Trav's work, and carved them that night.

Morning sickness pumpkin. Halloween 2010.



My cute little pumpkin. Halloween 2011.

 This Halloween: We made an afternoon of going to a pumpkin patch. One of us carried the overdressed baby while the other wheeled a wheelbarrow through a large field of pumpkin mush, searching for three perfect pumpkins to take home. We paused for photo ops at the pumpkin sign, the middle of the pumpkin field, a bale of hay, those weird cutout things you put your head through, and the pregnant goats. Then we overpayed for four pumpkins (I couldn't leave behind the one with the awesome stem) and went on our way. We didn't find time to carve them until the night before Halloween. And then only had the time and energy to carve two of them.

Our totally unoriginal template pumpkins. Halloween 2011.

Last Halloween: We attended a friend's Halloween party dressed up as Juno and Pauly Bleeker, which was a funny inside joke because I was pregnant but not everyone knew about it yet. I took pictures of everyone taking shots and remember thinking that next Halloween Trav would have to be the designated driver because I would finally be able to drink again and he would owe me. We stayed out too late and Travis was tardy for work the next morning.

Juno and Pauly. Halloween 2010.

This Halloween: We didn't go to the party. It didn't start until after Trinity's bedtime, so we weren't sure what we would do with her. We toyed with the idea of taking her and putting her to bed there, but chances are it was going to be loud, and we would have to wake her up to take her there and then again to take her home. I was going to put on my new footie PJs and go as a baby, but Trav had no idea what to be and we had no time to buy or put together a costume, plus he had to work super early the next day and didn't want to chance being late again. Pretty sure we were in bed by 10.

Last Halloween: On Halloween night we got our candy ready in the bowl, lit our pumpkins, turned on some football and waited for the hordes of children to arrive. As we handed out candy we contemplated life's deep questions, like whether we were going to have a fairy princess or a football player, or if we would allow our fat kid to trick-or-treat.

This Halloween: I scheduled her shots for earlier in the day, which was probably mean of me, but for some reason the pediatrician was wide open that day and it was my only option. I took her to the doctor's dressed as a ladybug, (super impractical since I had to then undress and redress her once she got her shots) and made sure the grandparents got to see her. When we got home, she was tired and didn't feel good so she went straight to bed. We didn't want trick-or-treaters to wake her up with their ringing, knocking or other obnoxiousness, and neither one of us bought candy, so we turned out our porch lights and kept our pumpkins dark. Bah Humbug!

I guess this is what it's like when life is no longer all about you. This Halloween was totally lame, I admit it. Maybe my days of being a slutty [insert costume name here] are over (I'll spare you the pictures of that). But I'm really not that sad. I wouldn't trade this Halloween for any past Halloween I've ever had. Next year, we take to the streets with not only a toddler, but a dog in costume! So excited!