It occurred to me today that I might be a more interesting person now that I spend my days at home practicing toddler-talk and cleaning diapers than I was when I dressed nice and worked forty-hours a week in an office.
My life before meeting The Boss was a simple routine. Wake up (grudgingly), start coffee, take shower, commute with the husband to my soul-sucking office job (to "pay the bills" -darn you "Communication Arts" degree and double-darn you, Sallie Mae.)
After work, we commuted home, occasionally stopping off at the local grocery store for a loaf of fresh bread, but otherwise, it was directly to the condo for an evening of dinner/tv/treadmill/sit and watch tv until one of us was jolted awake by a commercial and dragged the other to the bedroom. Homework fit in there somewhere, but I can't honestly remember where.
Riveting.
I'll be the first to admit that my first few months of being home were abysmal. I'd just had a baby, survived the holidays and started graduate school in the span of two weeks. My body and my brain were in shock. I spent the majority of the first month alone in the condo with the baby and VH1/Food Network/OnDemand keeping me company. It was January in New England, too cold to leave the condo and I was too tired and sleep deprived to do much of anything in the condo. (Including, laundry, dishes, showering, getting dressed...pretty much anything. Not a pretty sight.)
In the past year though, I've grown more comfortable in this stay-at-home skin. Each day lived outside of an office is filled with just as much work (moreso, perhaps, considering the amount of effort I expended for a paycheck, compared to what I do now for free), more eye-opening experiences, more time for writing, and just as much to talk about. Even better, our conversations carry more weight than office politics or gossip or discussions around whatever the talk-radio host said on our commute home.
The television remains off during the day and we listen to music. It's not so much that I worry about the brain-sucking effects of that glowing screen - it's more that I have just found myself so utterly bored with it. Aside from a very select few programs that my husband and I watch after The Boss goes to bed, I don't watch it.
Reading books. Writing (here, there and elsewhere.) Cooking. Raising my son. This has been what I've been doing for the past few months.
But, I've come to the realization that this is short - this part of my life. This momentary freedom, where I'm not tied to offices or classrooms and I'm able to write. Able to spend time with my son. Able to read during a naptime.
Life moves quickly, and I will need to be back at work sooner rather than later. But, there's much to accomplish before then. There are stories to be written, to be submitted (published, perhaps?) A son to explore with. Hopefully more children to carry and cuddle and adventure out into the world with.
Oh yes, there's plenty to do, paycheck or not.
Better get to work.
My life before meeting The Boss was a simple routine. Wake up (grudgingly), start coffee, take shower, commute with the husband to my soul-sucking office job (to "pay the bills" -darn you "Communication Arts" degree and double-darn you, Sallie Mae.)
After work, we commuted home, occasionally stopping off at the local grocery store for a loaf of fresh bread, but otherwise, it was directly to the condo for an evening of dinner/tv/treadmill/sit and watch tv until one of us was jolted awake by a commercial and dragged the other to the bedroom. Homework fit in there somewhere, but I can't honestly remember where.
Riveting.
I'll be the first to admit that my first few months of being home were abysmal. I'd just had a baby, survived the holidays and started graduate school in the span of two weeks. My body and my brain were in shock. I spent the majority of the first month alone in the condo with the baby and VH1/Food Network/OnDemand keeping me company. It was January in New England, too cold to leave the condo and I was too tired and sleep deprived to do much of anything in the condo. (Including, laundry, dishes, showering, getting dressed...pretty much anything. Not a pretty sight.)
In the past year though, I've grown more comfortable in this stay-at-home skin. Each day lived outside of an office is filled with just as much work (moreso, perhaps, considering the amount of effort I expended for a paycheck, compared to what I do now for free), more eye-opening experiences, more time for writing, and just as much to talk about. Even better, our conversations carry more weight than office politics or gossip or discussions around whatever the talk-radio host said on our commute home.
The television remains off during the day and we listen to music. It's not so much that I worry about the brain-sucking effects of that glowing screen - it's more that I have just found myself so utterly bored with it. Aside from a very select few programs that my husband and I watch after The Boss goes to bed, I don't watch it.
Reading books. Writing (here, there and elsewhere.) Cooking. Raising my son. This has been what I've been doing for the past few months.
But, I've come to the realization that this is short - this part of my life. This momentary freedom, where I'm not tied to offices or classrooms and I'm able to write. Able to spend time with my son. Able to read during a naptime.
Life moves quickly, and I will need to be back at work sooner rather than later. But, there's much to accomplish before then. There are stories to be written, to be submitted (published, perhaps?) A son to explore with. Hopefully more children to carry and cuddle and adventure out into the world with.
Oh yes, there's plenty to do, paycheck or not.
Better get to work.
Labels: Motherhood, Myself, Reflections
7 Comments:
Child-rearing is the most important job in the world in my estimation. Keep up the good work. ec
Mella, you are doing everything right. I wish you luck with getting published, loving your boss and keeping life real for your family.
Visit me again and travel the world through my eyes...for now.
Infinitely interesting and profoundly prolific!
Staying at home suits you well.
Weird
The eternal dilemma : All these feelings burning, and this modern life telling you that it´s not relevant.
A child is our better proyect in this life.
Writing...a soul´s job!!!!
Finaly,i guess you´ll find the way
Yep, I can relate. Though I know I've never worked harder for any amount of money, I still have this nagging guilt about not contributing financially.
Even so, I have no regrets about staying home. Love my days with m'girl. Love my life.
Enjoy your time at home. It will all end too quickly with the boy growing up, you restless to earn a steady income, and more pressures pushing you away from the house.
Wow..you seem to be multi tasking really well :) Interesting...
Its probably jsut me, 40 hours a week seems like a piece of cake, concidering I do 110 hours or so per week, if not more..
You seem to have good writing style, but Im not the best one to judge concidering Im very bad at english :) But best of luck with getting published
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