TO STAY AT HOME OR WORK
Lately, I’ve seen and read a few of posts about it being ok to go back to work after having a baby. I totally agree. It totally is ok to go back to work. There should be no be set rules. Or a set time limit. It should be whatever people choose to do. Whatever they feel is right. Whatever works for them. Whenever works for them. No one should judge. Nope.
But what about the people choosing to NOT go back to work? Like me. I’m not going back to work. No siree. That’s my choice. And Mr Perfect supports my choice. Phew. My bank account may disagree. My brain may disagree as sometimes it needs a little more ‘adult’ in its day. But my heart says hey-lady-stay-at-home-and-give-this-full-time-mum-gig-a-crack’.
I am lucky. Uh huh. We live in little Launceston. A beautiful town with affordable homes. Phew. We can manage a mortgage on one average income. Just. Plus there isn’t really a huge amount of work down here in my field. If we still lived in Melbourne, it may be a different story. Big mortgage and perfect job opportunities for me… maybe I would be back at work. Or thinking about going back to work. Who knows. But for now, I choose to stay at home.
Some days I think work would be easier. Ok ok. Some days I know work would definitely be easier. You know the days. The ones where you feel like you've had a frontal lobotomy. Or you think you need a frontal lobotomy just to make it to daddy-home-thank-goodness-its-bed-o’clock. Dang. The days where you can handle no more tanty worms. And everything has been a battle. The days you are sick of your own voice. The days you have on repeat saying no-don't-stop-it-because-I-said-so-fine-just-do-it-you-wont-listen-to-me-anyway-see-that-bump-on-you-head-that’s-why-I-said-don’t-launch-off-the-couch-sigh. The days discussions with your two year old feel more like hostage negotiations. Over a biscuit. That broke in half. And they can not handle the fact it broke in half. Because they launched off the couch when you told them not to.
But then there are days like today. Absolute beauties. Nowhere in particular to be. Nowhere in particular to go. No work to do. No meetings. No deadlines. Only reading books, learning our 123’s and ABC’s. Scooting along the boardwalk in the sunshine. Making cubby houses out of the washing strung up all over the place. Lots o’ cuddles. Plenty o’ snuggles. Jumping on beds. And push-driving the cot around the house with one happy-squeaky-baby passenger and a small-bossy-driver singing the Wheels on the Bus on repeat. Yup. Days like today. Full of love. Full of laughs. Full of fun. There is no place I'd rather be than at home with my babes.
I'm not saying this mum gig isn't ‘work’. That it isn’t a job. Heck no. It is darn tootin' one of the hardest jobs I've ever had. No sick days. No sneaky long lunches. No pretending to be working on a marketing presentation when I'm really reading up on useless celebrity gossip. This gig. It is twenty-four seven.
I’ll admit. I have always struggled with the whole stay at home mum thing since Mini was born. I felt like I needed to work. That I had to work. That I had to do more. And that's why I started a small business. Sheesh. Smart move? Yes. I loved it. I made some amazing friends. I met some inspiring people. And at that time, I needed to 'work'. Now. Not so much. You may have already read No Shit Why I Quit and know why I decided to shut up shop. For my family. My sanity. My happiness. My health. My babes. Uh huh.
Honestly, I never saw myself as a stay at home mum. I had no idea how to be a stay at home mum. I still have no idea. And I’m not sure I am a very good stay at home mum. I ain't no Betty-Crocker-Stepford-Wife-Mrs-Brady. I don’t bake. I don’t iron. I can’t be assed with the housework some days. I cant be assed with the kids some days. Oops. There is no routine. Heck no. I would loose my shizzle. We fly by the seat of our pants. It's often turbulent. My babes eat chicken nuggets and squeezy packs for dinner. In front of our saviour... good old pep da pig. We often visit ye olde Golden Arches Drive through for lunch. Because I just cant deal with cooking seventy five different dishes everyday to only have the babes protest and eat nothing. Ugh.
I was never born with that maternal instinct. Heck no. I had never even held a baby before I held my own. Babies. Children. Ewww. Not my thang. Work. Career. Meetings. Long days at the office. Heck yes. Those were my things.
Now it's long days at home. Filled with mess. Chaos. Tanty worms. Arts. Crafts. Cuddles. Laughs. Books. Boo boos. Baby chinos. Swings. Slides. Songs. Sunshine. And oh-so much love.
So, to everyone who chooses to not go back to work… that’s totally ok too.
Respect to the mums who work.
Respect to the mums who don't work.
Respect to the mums who have small businesses.
Respect to all the mums.
Raise the roof ladies.
You all rock. We all rock.
Whichever way you work it.
It’s totes the best x