The debate about whether or not women who are mothers should work or stay at home with their children has been tossed back and forth more and more since the women’s liberation movement began. On one hand, some mothers believe that for the first few years of their children’s lives, they should dedicate themselves to being home so that they can be available for all their children’s needs.
Other women argue that it is possible to work and still be available to attend to your children’s needs and take care of your home adequately.
What many people don’t consider is that not all women have the choice to stay home with their children. Some households require two incomes to stay afloat and some homes have only one parent.
The shock for many women who do choose to stay at home is that it turns out that even though they had good intentions, they HATE being home.
Below, one women shares her story:
I imagined it would be like in the movies. I’d wake up at the crack of dawn, make my coffee and start on breakfast. The hubs and I would have some morning nookie, I’d get dressed, do my makeup and hair, all before the kids woke up. We’d eat breakfast together as a family and we would see dad and the oldest off to work and school; the twins and I waving bye as he backed out of the driveway. Corny, I know. But it was my fantasy and how I saw myself as a homemaker.That is, until I became one.
The reality was that I was barely getting myself out of bed. I was exhausted from being up, down and all around with kids 24/7. Cabin fever from being in the house all day and my late night battles with insomnia were making me delusional. I was cranky and bitchy. Because of my lack of sleep, my anxiety attacks were returning. I was on edge and anything would push over. I could barely get it together enough to brush my teeth much less do my hair or make up.
Staying home was daunting from the jump. Many days all I wanted to do was lie in bed too tired to even blink. My life was suffocating me. I was sick of singing the wheels on the bus and Barney’s voice became nauseating. Sesame Street, Super Why and Yo Gabba Gabba were often my homeschooling substitutes. My brain was atrophying away because I had no intellectually stimulating conversation with grownups. And I only wanted to go on a playdate if it was during happy hour–but then what kind of mother would I be boozing while the kids play? I couldn’t be on some undercover story on The Today Show about drunk moms, so I had to get it together.