Read Motherhood Comes Naturally (and Other Vicious Lies) Online
Authors: Jill Smokler
Motherhood Comes Naturally (and Other Vicious Lies) (14 page)
And it wasn't just people I knewâeven people I loved and trustedâfeeding me this load of crap. Every women's magazine I read would have some article in it about the joys of stay-at-home-motherhood. Television shows at that time portrayed moms who stayed home with their kids as heroic, noble, and perky. Researchers and therapists would pontificate on morning shows about what a sense of accomplishment SAHMs experience on a daily basis.
I have always loved being home with my children. It's precious time for which I am enormously grateful and that I wouldn't trade for the world. But fulfilling? Not always. Not usually. It was especially tough at first, as I got used to all of the time at home. And I took it out on Jeff, who I'd pick a fight with nearly every night when he came home from work.
How was your day? What did you do, he would innocently ask.
What did I do? WHAT DID I DO? I took care of your daughter. I read to her and bathed her and dressed her and cleaned up after her and ran around after her keeping her alive all day long. THAT'S WHAT I DID. How dare you insinuate that I sat on my ass all day doing nothing. You think I was eating bonbons and watching soaps? Why don't YOU try staying home?
“Um . . . okay,” he'd respond sheepishly. “What's for dinner?”
What's for dinner? DINNER? What, I'm your personal chef, too? Seriously? I had a bowl of cereal for dinner. It was delicious.
I'm actually pretty surprised he bothered coming back at all those first few months. If I'd been in his shoes, the Ramada Inn off the highway exit near us would have been home.
Considering how much I always despised working, my rough transition to stay-at-homedom confused even me. I didn't like answering to a boss or having to wear heels or fill out my hours or be held accountable when I inevitably fucked up. But once I gave up work, I missed many of the things I once resented. A long commute in the car translated to precious alone time. Water cooler conversation meant the adult interaction I craved. Even dressing up in stockings and a skirt sounded appealing after being covered in mystery slime all day.
“So, if you're so miserable, get a job,” Jeff would say.
And have someone else raise my baby??? Am I not doing it well? Nobody can love her like I do. I can't miss her first steps! And first smiles! Whatâshe's going to say Mommy to someone else? I don't think so, JEFF. I wouldn't trade being home for anything in the world. OBVIOUSLY. You don't understand me at all!!!
Of course he didn't understand me.
I
didn't understand me. I had exactly what I wanted and suddenly I wanted what I had always hated.
Then I got pregnant with Ben when Lily was just fifteen months, and before I knew it Evan came and I was a SAHM to three kids under the age of four. I found myself desperate for something more. My blog was born out of my need to find something to fulfill me outside of being a mommy. I remember the day I decided to start Scary Mommy. Lily and Ben were in preschool and Evan was napping. I decided to lie down on the couch and catch a quick nap myself while I could. As I lay there, thoughts were racing through my head, preventing me from falling asleep. Why is Caillou bald, I wondered. Does he have a disease? Do his parents shave his head? And what about Max and Ruby? Do they have parents? Is the trauma surrounding their death the reason that poor Max never speaks?
These thoughts were the last straw. I was determined to go out and find my fulfillment. And eventually I did. But it can't be a coincidence that the more time I dedicate to my career, the more fulfilling I find motherhood. Having looked at it from both sides, I can say that in my experience staying home with young children full-time was less fulfilling than working a bunch of thankless jobs. Neither fulfilled me, really, but the former debilitated me. I was losing my mind, and if I had not branched out and found something to work on, I would probably be divorced and institutionalized by now.
I have many friends who consider themselves SAHMs. But the reality is, most of them have hobbies or a side gig selling jewelry or body creams online. Even the littlest job or hobby
gives them an identity other than simply Mommy. And that's really, really important.
Look, to each her own. I'm no expert, and it's certainly possible that there are mothers out there whose children totally and completely fulfill them. I just don't know any.
Five Hours in the Life
of a Stay-at-Home Mom . . .
5:12 | Baby wakes up and needs to eat. Feed baby. Baby won't go back to sleep in his crib and it's too early to start the day. |
5:17 | Bring baby into bed, where toddler is already sleeping because she wet the bed two hours earlier and came to spread it to ours. Lie between them, with baby on right, toddler on left, and two arms that are tingling but can't be moved for fear of waking the children. All while listening to the melodic sound of husband snoring. |
5:24 | Get kicked in the face by toddler. |
5:31 | Get kicked in the thigh by toddler. |
5:32 | Get snapped at by husband for having an unintentional family bed. |
5:39â5:42 | Tear self out of bed to change diaper that has become intoxicating. Discover that there are only three diapers left. Find Sharpie and write note on hand to buy more diapers. Accidentally rip tab of diaper off. Throw away. Circle note to buy diapers. Put baby in bouncy seat. |
5:44 | Change toddler diaper. Note to self that potty training begins TOMORROW. |
5:45â5:59 | Feed toddler breakfast. Toddler decides oatmeal makes a better art project than meal. Clean oatmeal off kitchen cabinets, ceiling, and television. |
6:00â6:31 | Feed baby the remainder of bottle. Burp baby. Catch spit with bare hands. Impress self with stellar reflexes. |
6:32 | Shove a breakfast bar down throat. Chug a cup of coffee. |
6:33â7:05 | Ignore baby to pay attention to toddler. Read to toddler. Do puzzle with toddler. Sing to toddler. “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” “You Are My Sunshine.” “Puff the Magic Dragon.” |
7:06â7:11 | Get baby dressed. Get toddler dressed. Use final diaper on baby. |
7:12 | Wash hands. Change shirt. Brush teeth. |
7:13â7:25 | Straighten up house, put laundry in washing machine, check email. |
7:26â7:55 | Ignore baby to pay attention to toddler. Read to toddler. Do puzzle with toddler. Sing to toddler. “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” “You Are My Sunshine.” “Puff the Magic Dragon.” |
7:56â8:00 | Baby leaked through clothes. Retrieve emergency diaper from car. Change clothes. |
8:00â8:12 | Load up car to head to grocery store for diapers. Buckle toddler in car seat. Buckle baby in infant carrier. Drive .05 miles only to realize diaper bag is in the garage. Turn around. Retrieve diaper bag. Proceed to grocery store. |
8:19 | Enter grocery store. Find bananas, coffee, and Advil. |
8:30 | Glance at rubbed-off Sharpie writing on hand. Attempt to decipher. Think, it can't be important. |
8:33 | Depart grocery store. Load children into car. Realize story time about to begin at bookstore. Drive to bookstore for story time. Story time started at 8:30. Interrupt story time. Sit down and listen to story. |
8:40 | Smell a dirty diaper. Remember what that note was and that there are zero diapers in diaper bag. Glance at other mothers. Zero in on mother of baby and beg for diaper. Success! Change diaper on floor. Ignore dirty looks. |
9:15 | Leave bookstore and return to grocery store. Purchase diapers. Toddler needs to go potty. Bring toddler to restroom. Watch with horror as toddler dips hands into toilet. Scrub toddler hands. Return to line for Purell. |
9:34 | Load children back into car. Keep baby from falling asleep as if life depended on it. Open car windows. Sing “Wheels on the Bus.” “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” “You Are My Sunshine.” “Puff the Magic Dragon.” |
9:38 | Baby giggles. |
9:40 | Baby sneezes. |
9:43 | Baby cries. |
9:45 | Turn onto street. |
9:46 | Baby falls asleep. |
9:47 | Unload baby from car. Baby wakes up. So much for baby's nap. |
9:50â10:11 | Ignore fussy baby to pay attention to toddler. Read to toddler. Do puzzle with toddler. Sing to toddler. “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” You Are My Sunshine.” “Puff the Magic Dragon.” |
10:12 | Glance at clock. Yawn. Look at hand and wonder what note says. Question how on earth it can't even be noon. |
IT'S JUST A PHASE
For years we've been assuming our daughter is just in an annoying phase. Turns out, she's actually just really annoying.
âScary Mommy Confession #254512
L
ily went through a couple-of-week span where she asked “why” so many times that I still suffer post-traumatic stress when I hear the word, more than six years later. It's just a phase, everyone told me. She'll grow out of it. And she did. Thank goodness.
There was a several-month period where two-year-old Ben refused to leave my arms for even a minute. It would have been sweet if it hadn't included trips to the bathroom and all three meals. It's just a phase, everyone told me. He'll grow out of it. And he did. Thank goodness.
Evan picked his nose so often and so intensely when he turned four that I was convinced he'd do permanent and irreparable
damage to his nostrils. It's just a phase, everyone told me. He'll grow out of it. And he did. Thank goodness.
But what happens when your kids
don't
outgrow those unpleasant periods? When does a “phase” become a trait, or worse a . . . bad personality?
All you have to do to see that not all phases are outgrown is go to any mall in America on a Saturday afternoon. There's the middle-aged woman talking so loudly on her cell phone, it's as if she is single-handedly trying to cure deafness. I'm sure her parents simply thought she was going through a loud-talker phase back in the day. Then there is the man walking in front of you, meandering aimlessly from left to right and making it impossible for you to pass by him. I bet his parents thought his zigzag way of walking was cute when he was a toddler. And what about all the people in the food court chewing with their mouths open wide enough for you to get a good sense of the sogginess of the lo mein noodles? Their parents never bothered to tell their kids to chew with their mouths closed, because . . . it's just a phase!