The SAHM vs. The Working Mom - Nobody has it easy

When I became pregnant with Little Man, I had all intentions of heading back to work. I began the tedious process of interviewing day care centers and trying to find a place where I could leave him each day without having my heart ripped from my chest. I remember how it felt when I had my girls over twenty years ago. I had to work when they were little, and I hated it. HATED it. My money was needed to pay bills, so not working was never an option.  Fortunately, my mother kept my girls for free and I was able to work, or we would have struggled more than we did.

As I searched, I realized it wasn't just a matter of finding the perfect place - there were certainly centers that would have given him love and care. The problem was, putting him in daycare would have eaten the majority of my salary. Still, I was willing to do it. Fate stepped in, fortunately, and while on maternity leave, my husband was offered a job and I could stay home.

This sounded wonderful to me, as I can remember the pain I felt when I would drop Emily off at preschool and watched the "soccer moms" stroll in looking comfortable and casual in sweats, while I was trying to keep my dress clean and not be late for work. I hated them for their obvious better-than-me attitude, driving their shiny new mini-vans and looking relaxed in their perfectly placed ponytail and yuppie smiles. I can remember one saying, "Oh don't worry, we don't expect you to go on this field trip. We understand you have to work." Ouch.

I was embarrassed to be that mom. The one who missed things because she wasn't rich enough to stay home. The one who had to look at her little one and say, I'm sorry sweetie. Mommy can't get time off this time. I hated the corporate mindset that says, your ass better be at your desk. We don't care that your little one doesn't have her mom on the class trip to the aquarium today. Sure I could take a sick day, but that time had to be saved in case they were too sick to go to school.

Now circumstances have changed, and here I sit - I'm the mom on the other side of the fence. For the first time in my life, I'm the mom who doesn't have to contend with an angry boss or get out of the door on time. I can leisurely start my day with Little Man and a hot cup of coffee (that never actually gets drunk while hot). I don't have to race anywhere with him, so mornings are spent getting cuddles and having play time. This is what I wanted, so it should be perfect, right?

Wrong.

I now see what I never saw before. I didn't realize those moms with their perfect lives maybe didn't have it so perfect. I had no idea that being a stay at home mom had issues I had never even considered. Sure, I get to be with my kid all day, but I get to be with my kid all day. Sometimes, okay a lot of times, I crave the conversation you can only have with another adult. There are days I don't shower and dress because I've not been able to put the baby down long enough to throw on my yoga pants. Never did I think I would crave dressing up, but I do! I never realized those women might not be rich. I mean, they had to be, right? Wrong. They were probably living as tight as I do now.

Now, I live in a town where the majority of women I interact with have advanced degrees. These women are sassy, brilliant and sharp. They talk about politics, policy and their topics of study with an ease that only comes when you're really really smart.  And there I stand in my yoga pants watching them and again, I have that feeling of being different. Is this how those moms really felt watching me when I went off to my "interesting" job, looking polished and put together? Did they envy the fact I earned my own money?  Were they as jealous of me as I was of them?

I don't know. All I know is that we are all moms, and this is one of the toughest journeys we choose in life. It is our responsibility to lift each other up and help one another get through this tough process known as child rearing. Wouldn't it have been amazing if I had reached out to those SAHM moms and they to me when my girls were little? What if we weren't eaten up with petty jealousy, but instead only wanted to help each other? It really does take a village to raise a child, and it doesn't matter if the villagers are wearing sweats or a power suit - we all wear the title of "MOM."

Fondly,
Amanda Z
Domesticology