My Job is "Mom"

The alarm goes off. I roll over to peek at the clock and see that it is 6:15 a.m. I groan as I get up to shut off the alarm and go to work. But my alarm is not the typical beeping from a clock... No, my alarm is the whimpering I hear through the baby monitor, coming from my 2-year-old who has apparently kicked off his blankets again and has awaken because he is cold. And my job is not the typical Monday through Friday, 9-to-5 grind, either. My job is "Mom."

My commute used to be a bumper-to-bumper nightmare on Northbound 167, which would make me a few minutes late to work nearly everyday. And this commute would only take place after an hour of showering, hair styling, make-up applying, and pantyhose hiking. I was usually running late because I couldn't figure out what shoes went best with the top I'd picked out to wear or because I was emptying the contents of my purse to switch with the one that matched. When I'd eventually make it in to my office, I'd first run straight to the coffee maker and pour myself a fresh cup of hot, black energy. Then I could turn on my computer and start my attempt at making a difference in the future of the company I was employed by.

That was 2 years ago. My morning routine has changed drastically. Now my commute consists of 12 steps down the stairs into the kitchen. Shower today? Ha! If I could be so lucky... I'll be happy if I've changed out of my pajamas by noon. First priority? Start making breakfast for a hungry little boy who is begging for "ee-ohs" (Cheerios). The only similarities that I can vaguely make out are that I still run to the coffee maker (when I have the chance), and that I am still attempting to make a difference...

Now the difference I am trying to make is in my son's future. I made the choice to quit my job so I could stay at home and raise my child full-time. I want to be there for every waking moment (even at 6:15 a.m.!) and never miss a developmental milestone. I want to be the one who sets the discipline and the morals, and the one who makes up silly games with stuffed animals and who builds forts under the kitchen table. I want to hug and kiss him anytime I'd like and always know that he is safe.

There are times when memories of the "old me" creep in. I like to talk about the horrible commute and pretend like my job wasn't fulfilling... But the truth is that I adored my office job. I was the manager of a small business and my list of responsibilities could've been written up as a novel. When it got hectic, and my brain was flying in 10 different directions at once, my adrenaline would start flowing and I'd get a rush like no other. I knew I was good at what I did and I knew my work impacted the company greatly. My boss would compliment me, I'd get raises and bonuses, and I'd see my successes reflected in the company's successes. And when the work day was done, I'd shut down the computer and lock up the door, and always feel such a sense of accomplishment...of importance.

How are my successes measured now? By poopy diapers and spilled milk? By tantrums and hearing a repeated "no! no!" at every request? Or perhaps my little man compliments my mothering skills and commends my recent improvements at age-appropriate discipline? No, the Ladder to Success of a Mom cannot be gauged like any other job. To a previous reward-seeker like myself, I was dismayed when I finally comprehended that it might be 10 or 15 years before I will even find out if I did things right or not. And not only is that a terrifying realization, it can also be very unfulfilling for a reward-seeker and can definitely decrease on-the-job performance.

Once I was finally able to swallow all of these facts and get to a point where I was truly OK with it, I was faced with a new reality: the moms that still work. I come in contact with them from time to time, usually at a kid's birthday party or a weekend play date at a mutual friend's house. And the question always comes up, "So what do you do for work?" And when I answer, "Oh, I'm a stay-at-home mom," I always feel the tiniest bit embarrassed. I think it's the way they look at me; the eyebrows that lift ever so slightly, the eyes that suddenly dart around and finally notice my kid's shoes aren't brand name. Then the tone in their voice hints that I am missing out on what it means to be a woman in control of her life or maybe even that I am lazy.

Then again, perhaps those are incorrect assumptions fueled by my insecurities. Perhaps these moms are envious of my life, and wish they were able to afford to stay home or possess the patience to put up with a toddler all day long. Perhaps they have mental battles now and then like I do, second guessing their decision or wishing for another way.

It's not easy, it's not always fun, and this job is definitely lacking in the payment department. But I know it is the most important job that I will ever have. What I do today will forever shape the life of a little boy who will someday be a man with his own family. So I can choose to worry about if I am missing out on something else or if I'm losing my identity, or I can choose to relish every moment and never look back. Yes, I have made my choice, and I am proud of my choice. And when I see his grinning little face, my son who worships the ground I walk on, I feel a joy inside me that no office job could ever provide. My job is "Mom."