…mum’s the word

I remember the day when I had these thoughts.

"I’m going to love staying at home with the new baby and being a Mum! Wow, no more work! This will be so great—just me and the baby, loving, tending, teaching, and no one bossing."

… or even talking to me, no one to sympathize with me. Every day, all day long, cleaning, and washing. I’m stuck here, just me and that baby. I’m pretty sure I’m in hibernation, sleeping, nursing and diapers are my life. I live in a cave. Unbearable me, T.

Just think of the savings, no lunch expense, no gas, no extra miles on the car, no expensive work clothes, working at my own pace and on my own schedule.

…nothing to get up for—I’m sleeping, and waking, living in sweats, because nothing else fits.! I can’t remember when I last slept four hours continually, I haven’t watched another adult eat in weeks. Still me…I think T.

I’ll have all this free time, because I’ll be at home. I’ll set my own hours; I’ll come and go whenever I need to with no interruptions. My stress level will decline. I can volunteer…

…at school, at church, in the neighborhood, and for the city. I organize this event, that fundraiser, and bake sales—I don’t even know how to bake! Everybody thinks that just because I don’t have a full-time job that I have all this free time! Me

I’ll daycare for a friend, so my baby will have company, and the income will help with the mortgage. Besides, having one is just like having two. It will make me become more organized.
…In fits of pique, I tell people they are twins, one blond, fat, and bald, the other lanky, dark, and curly. Don’t I look like a frazzled twin mom? How do real twin parents do it? Nobody can pay you to love their baby, as much as they do. Bedraggled x two, T.

I’ll work on the computer at home. I don’t have to get dressed up. I don’t have to commute; I am already here so I can slip downstairs to work, while they’re napping.

…where do the hours go? I’m sneaking down to work after dark. The husband wants an accounting of my life, to help me organize! I chortle, and roll my eyes. T., hee, hee, whee!

We’ll have so much time together, exploring the world, discovering beautiful things and enjoying every part of the happiness to be found in life.

All the seasons rush past. I look up and she’s one. Where did the time go and with whom? Yikes!

At least I’ll have some of the precious memories on paper, written on post-its that have slipped under the fridge, on receipts in the glove box of the car, on the bottom of unpaid bills and on the back of homework papers.[1]

Reality bite: I write so I can remember all the humor. The four-year-old remarks that he doesn’t know about diaries, but he does know all about diarrhea…


[1] Note to teacher: Please sign and return. I need my list back to know what’s on for tomorrow.