What if I was just a stay-at-home mom?
For one, I wouldn’t see tiny red flags pop up behind my eyes that warn, “Stop! They’ll think you mean ‘just’ as in ‘Stay-at-home moms are lowly pieces of missed dust-bunnies that don’t deserve respect.’ and you don’t need that noise. Clarify!”
No, I mean “just” as in “my primary job is to take care of my family and our home.”
No outside work. No writing. No consulting. No editing. Only family and family-related responsibilities.
No blog. No twitter account. No social media other than possibly a Facebook account whose news feed would provide entertaining glimpses into ex-boyfriends’ lives without me, the poor fools.
My attention would not be constantly divided. I wouldn’t see our lives through a filter of framing words and images for humorous or emotional impact. I wouldn’t condense memories into 140 character tweets, as they are happening.
I wouldn’t feel compelled to remind myself, while framing those events, that the framing is truly for me and my family years from now, for a sort of virtual scrapbook. I wouldn’t roll my eyes because I’m not even buying that anymore.
Would I have more focus? Would I see my children more sharply? Would I offer more love?
Or would I feel less fulfilled? Would my eyes wander? Would I harbor resentment?
The whole point of this life we have built here is for me to be a stay-at-home mom for our family. The sacrifices we make daily are for a point. For a resonant good that should directly benefit our children immediately and foreseeably. Because my staying home is the right decision for our family.
Somewhere along the path, I shifted course by a degree or two. It was imperceptible.
And now we are some place else. Some place other.
We make different sacrifices now. I can’t decide which were more challenging.
I am overwhelmed by the amount of work I have ahead of me. The days have spiraled away from me and I feel unstable.
I squeeze the tender flesh of my anchors. I look into their eyes and I beg them for answers.
Am I doing the right thing?