What's so Wrong With Losing Your Mind?

I would never suggest that there is one way to parent. Parenting is not one size fits all, families are not one size fits, and God knows children aren't one size fits all.

I would never suggest that everyone has to nurse their babies, or that everyone should co-sleep, or that no one should ever co-sleep, or that everyone should have at least three children, all spaced the often recommended three to four years apart.

Obviously, I failed to follow at least one of those myself.

There shouldn't be a debate about what kind of parenting is "right", because the kind that's right is the kind that's right for you, your family, and your child.

As long as you provide for your child. As long as you keep them safe. As long as you love them, and raise them to be kind, responsible, productive members of society. As long as their behavior --now or later--doesn't negatively impact others.

I would also never suggest that every mom (or dad) should stay home with their children--because obviously children deserve to be with one of their parents and not in daycare--anymore than I would suggest that everyone should put their children in daycare--because obviously they need social development and more stimulation than they could possibly get from being home with a parent all day.

And yet, on more than one occasion, when it's been mentioned that I stay home, I have been told by another mom, with a look of disdain on her face, how bored she would be if she stayed home. Or how she would have gone absolutely crazy if she was home with her kids all day. While these moms certainly have a right to their opinions, I tend to think that if I responded to the fact that she works outside the home with something like, oh, how guilty I would feel if I worked outside the home, it probably wouldn't be received so well.

As it happens, going absolutely crazy is an important part of my day. I manage to fit it in almost every day, because without that aspect, what kind of stay at home mom am I? Somewhere between doing the the dishes, doing the laundry, changing diapers, and scraping peaches off the floor for the the third time in an hour, I always manage to squeeze a little going absolutely crazy time in there. I mean, that's just a sign that I'm doing my job, isn't it?

Bored, however, is one thing I'm not. What could possibly be boring about repeatedly debating a three-year-old about the benefits of potty training versus staying in diapers until high school graduation? Or telling him and his brother for the fourth time in an hour to stop moving the furniture around in their bed room? (I think they're developing an early interest in Feng Shui). And to please, please, stop taking the crib apart? And what could be boring about getting a first grader ready for the bus while simultaneously changing a diaper, putting a three-year-old in time-out, trying to locate clean socks for my husband, and wiping yogurt off the dog? Not to mention, every day is full of new adventures. Just yesterday, after searching for a lollipop that fell out of O's mouth, and finally deciding it wasn't going to be found, I found it. Inside my shirt. Don't ask. I have no idea.

While I don't think it's my place to judge another mom's choice, I'm not really sure why a few moms have occasionally felt it was OK to tell me how bored and crazy they would be if they had my day job (and oh, I do have a part time evening job, too, but I'm pretty sure that didn't count for these moms. The point was, I had made the choice to be home with my kids all day long).

So, to those who feel OK in judging my choice, allow me to explain why I choose to stay home:

I stay home to change diapers, make breakfast, pack lunch, feed breakfast, give kisses, tell my children to say please and thank you, do dishes, wipe hands, wipe noses, wipe syrup off the walls,  scrub the floor, say a prayer, do the laundry, dress children, change more diapers, read them a book, make lunch, remind them to say please and thank you, do more dishes, thank God for nap times, spend more time than I thought humanly possible looking for shoes, and sweaters, and my what's left of my mind, get grumpy kids out the door in time to pick up their sister at school, tell them not to hit each other, tell them to be nice, go to dance, go to Girl Scouts, entertain two kids who would rather be anywhere but at dance and Girl Scouts, make dinner, pay bills, say a prayer as I pay the bills, play outside, remind them again to say please and thank you, remind them again not to hit their brother, help with homework, give baths, brush teeth, read a book, say a prayer, and thank God for bedtime.

 I also stay home to take them to the park, to play with friends, to say I love you, and to hear it back. To color. To read. To talk. About nothing, and about everything. To explain. To explain again. To explain again. And to make stuff up when I'm tired of explaining. To go to the grocery store. Again. And again. And again. To discipline. To hug. To kiss. To laugh. To cry. And yes, to pull my hair out. As it happens, that's an important part of my job, too.

I don't do any of this perfectly. Some days I don't even do it well.  But I do it. And yes, sometimes I do lose my mind.

I also stay home because by the time I got three kids out to the door every morning to two or three separate locations, got myself to work, worked all day, picked them up, and still had to do all of the above, I really would be on the verge of losing my mind, and for very little take home pay. When I say to working moms I don't know how you do it, I mean it. I really don't know how you do it. I am in awe of you. And I am the first to say I would not be very good at doing both.

Some say I "get" to stay home. Well, yeah, I guess that's one way to look at it, in the same way moms who work "get" to go to work each day. They both have advantages. Neither is perfect. They are both unbelievably hard at times.

My husband works incredibly hard, in part so that I "get" to stay home. And when he's not working outside the home, I often am, so that I "get" to stay home during the day.  I buy in bulk, on sale, because I "get" to stay home. I hold my breath as I pay our bills, because I "get" to stay home. We live in a house that many would say is too small for our family, because I "get" to stay home. We have furniture that's older than dirt--and looks every minute of it--because I "get" to stay home. My husband's truck is older than our furniture, because I "get" to stay home. We don't see friends and family who live far away nearly often enough, because I "get" to stay home. And, oh yeah, I often go absolutely crazy because I "get" to stay home.

You know what else? I thank God every day, because I get to stay home.

So yeah, I may go absolutely crazy some days. It comes with the territory. But I can promise you that I am never, ever bored.

Stay home? Work outside the home? It really doesn't matter. We all do what works for our own family. Right now, this is what works for mine.

But the next time someone tells me, with a less than kind expression on their face, how they would go absolutely crazy if they stayed home with their kids, I'm going to tell them this:

Yeah, sometimes I do go a little crazy. And my hope is, that when my kids are older, they will look back and say:

I remember my mom laughing with us, and playing with us, and reading to us, and telling us twenty seven times a day to say please and thank you. I remember getting sent to my room for not being nice to my brother, or for hitting my sister. I remember having picnics in the back yard, and looking for monkeys in the trees behind our house, and getting pushed on the swings for an hour at a time. Some days, I remember her letting us watch TV for a lot longer than usual, because it was the only way we would be quiet for a while. I remember her spending a lot of time in the kitchen, and some days, a lot of time locked in the bathroom. I remember going to the park, and going for bike rides, and when she was feeling adventurous, helping her bake.

I remember her being in the laundry room for an hour at a time, and yet our clothes still some how never got put away. But they were always usually clean. I remember her making us clean our rooms every day, before she'd completely give up for a while because she was sick of fighting with us about it. I remember her reading to us before nap time, and being there when we woke up. I remember her making us dinner, though it was usually chicken, which we ate in three different forms three nights in a row. I remember how funny my brother looked with mashed potatoes on his head, and how my mom and dad told us sternly not to throw food, before they laughed behind their napkins, when they thought that we weren't looking.

I'm quite sure my mom was never bored.

As for going absolutely crazy? Yeah, I do remember that. For some part of almost every day, in fact.

I'm pretty sure she'd say it was worth it.