The Truth About Being a Stay at Home Me

It has been a sizzling hot minute since my fingers anxiously tapped against the keys, excited to share good news, spill my nervous heart out, or post funny pictures to soften adoption and motherhood's intensity.  I started reading a book recently that had a voice similar to mine, and it made me miss writing.  Writing is like Xanax for me.  No, I have never taken it to really know, but I imagine it is similar, only I don't have to swish it down my throat with some foreign taste and think of all the possible side effects I may get, hypochondria possibly being one of them.  Ahh, the immediate satisfaction of letting my heart slip through my fingertips, unedited, raw and perhaps sometimes all over the place.  Self diagnosed A.D.D. at its finest.  I finally have some time to sit down tonight with my new suburban-stay-at-home-mom self, of course a glass of pinot in the cupholder of my reclining couch, pedicured toes kicked up, ready to rumble.  I have recently found a new me, one I was pushing away, one that was judging others before they could judge me, one that didn't know what direction I was going or when.  

When I became a stay at home mother, something I chose and love that I can do, I also chose not to be 'one of those'.  I wanted to stay as far away as the stereotype and stigma stay at home moms get.  The irony of me choosing to be one yet terrified to be associated with that title is crazier than Kanye comparing himself to Picasso.  I made a few promises to myself about not ever buy yoga pants (failed, I finally caved in, but I prefer to call them 'cozy pants'.), to not go to Target too much (does the dollar spot count?), and to not join a direct sales company (fail on that one too, would you like to buy some jewelry?!?).  And the ol, "I will not post pictures of my child on Facebook every day!" promise.  (Biggest fail of all, and I just don't give an shit what anyone thinks of that, yes I still curse, too).   I am in love with my lil bean and if that's a sin, see ya behind the screen, Father.  Needless to say, never say never.  And though I may look like a duck in cozy pants and act like a blinged out duck, I am still not a duck.  And I am not sure a one size fits all duck stay at home mama exists.  I judged a bunch of duckling rearing mamas based on a few I had met, and many tv shows I had seen.  Mean girl ducks, fake ducks and yes some plain ol boring ducks.  I am getting sick of the word ducks, so let's get back to humanity.

The last year and a half I have struggled in some ways #thestruggleisreal.  Yes, overall I was happy,  I have blessed with awesome friends and family, somehow the sweetest guy in the world thought I was good enough to marry, we live in a nice house and hood, I have a small side business, and we are generally healthy (except for my donut addiction and OCD that takes over in a way of bins and labels in my home). And yes, I am able to stay home and watch those little curled hands with fingernails that make you wanna scream with delight turn into ketchup covered hands high fiving me in the face.  But staying at home can be isolating, especially for extroverts like the, "HI! I LOVE TO BE AROUND PEOPLE ALWAYS, COME CLOSER!" wonder that I am.  I have always been around people from morning til night, even the years I lived alone.  Back then, after socializing at the office, most nights you could find me couch surfing (probably missing an earring with mascara flaking down my face) with one of my stiletto infused partners in crime.  Not saying my lil bean is not a person.  But for months, let's face it, in a haze of exhaustion, I had full conversations with a pooping, drooling, crying robot.  The smile was gas, admit it.  

As she got older, I breathed a sigh of fresh "Here I am, moms!" air!  I started bringing my crawling creature out to germ filled classes, parks with swings swaying as wide as my hips, stinky animal farms, and of course, making more trips to Target than the workers!  I even asked a chick out at the fine jewelry store.  That may have sent the wrong message.  I met more 'not me' moms, than 'me' moms, though I did meet a couple that I got along with well.  But my overall judgement of my surroundings seemed to float like a dark cloud over my shiny, blingy ducks that occasionally would resurface.  I promised myself I wouldn't try anymore, I didn't fit in this SAHM life and would just do fun things during the day, not 'try' to make any more SAHM friends and just focus on what I did have (besides my smooth ass dance moves).  I looked forward to my daily 4PM call with my BFF.  Thank God we are both equally neurotic and we have known each other since we were 10, no secrets and high tolerance for each other's faults.  And 6PM when my husband would waltz in, as excited to see us as we were him.   And weekends were always filled to the brim with social events, but now we were spending more time with my BFF's family and my mom, who are too far to see during the week, getting my soul back home.  

I guess just as they say with love, when you are not looking, it finds you!  It was almost right at that moment, life took a turn.  I Whipped and Nay Nayed my pony tail all up and around that roller coaster track, and somehow came out with a clearer head.  Along the way I swept up some more 'me' friends, lil bean found her new love of pointed toes and glittered tutus,  I joined a new book club and finally, here I am, sinking back into what I truly love, writing.  The past year I have written blogs, articles, and product reviews all for cold hard cash, but today, I start actively writing a novel again.  I wrote one in my twenties that went unfinished when I got married.  It was all my dating sagas and I never knew how quite to end it.  It makes for great chuckles skipping through memory lane, though.   So, now the dim clouds are parting, and I am hoping to be blinded by the sun, and some bling while we are at it.  Finally settling into this 'new' home, this new life, and the newer version of my old self.

Thanks for risking this roller coaster with me even though you are below the required height limit, lil bean. This is just the beginning of our wild ride,

Bumpless Baby Mama