Right after I had my oldest daughter, I vividly remember crying in the fetal position, begging my husband (who was in law school at the time) to please, please find some way, anyway, to make it possible for me to stay home with her. I was willing to sell all of our worldly possessions, including my coveted Louis Vuitton bag, and even throw in a few bottles of liquid gold, breast milk, to be able to stay home with my sweet, darling first born.
At that time, staying home was not even an option given that my husband was in school and my penchant for power shopping at Baby Gap.
Fast forward 8 years, and 2 more kids later. I am knocking at the door of finally being able to stay at home with my children. After juggling a career and a family for the past ten years, I have been given the opportunity (read: was laid off) and I can now stay at home with the kids.
I dreamed about this for so long so why am terrified at the prospect of being home 24/7 with my kids? Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful that it is even an option for me to be able to stay home. In my dreams, I spend quality time with the kids (without thinking about work), create innovating ways to make mac and cheese, nuggets and fries, while meeting my husband at the door with a perky, “Honey, how was your day?”
But I suspect the reality of my new life may be less than ideal. What is probably lurking behind door #1 is the kids bickering all day, every day. I will be screaming that they need to put their things away; my husband will be grilling me if it was really necessary for me to add grilled chicken (an additional expense) to the lunch that we ate out, and the only thing that will be perky about me is the way I toss all three kids into their bed at night (sans a bath or a bed time story) because Mommy just got off of a 24 hour shift.
Here we go, new life. I got this. Gulp!