Our Pilgrimage Back

Last weekend we made the 90 minute trek (by car) back to Muir Woods National Monument.

The last time we were there was in 2010! We kept saying we'd go back, as hiking in the redwoods is pretty much our favorite thing to do on the planet, but never made it until now.

Seven years. Seven years later.

The number of completion. A lifetime.

When I look back on this picture of my first born, 7 years ago, I cringe with pain.

This poor, young(ish) first-time mom had no idea. No. I. Dea. The depth of pain, monotony, mind-numbing boredom, and feelings of isolation she would face in the coming years.

She had no idea what a colossally bad idea it would be for her to be a stay-at-home mom with a newborn and a 2.5 year old (but it was an experience she is immensely grateful for anyway). How it would drive her to the edge of her mental well-being every day by 4 pm and yet, the day stretched on. Far, far beyond her capacity to cope.

What a wilderness has been traversed in these last few years. What a grinding, daily furnace of cursing the moment I opened my eyes to realize I had regained consciousness each morning.

I am not the same person making the pilgrimage back to these ancient woods.

I am so so so profoundly grateful.

Preoccupation with Occupation

There I was filling out the new patient form at top speed.

First name, middle name, last name.

Address.

Email.

Phone number.

Occupation.

Wait, what?

Occupation.

Um, um, um...my pen hovered over the blank line for longer than felt comfortable.

Occupation...

Has my statute of limitations run out for writing my old occupation--attorney?  Two months into being a SAHM, there it was, punching me in the face--all my insecurities and misgivings about being a SAHM.

I hesitated longer than I would ever have imagined hesitating over something like this.  And then slowly I started to write "s" "t" "a" and then stopped cold.

I'm not going to write that.  I can't write that.  I guess I haven't made my peace with that yet.  It felt too personal to write that.  Why should I let strangers know about something that is still so raw and un-reconciled?

Why IS it still so raw and un-reconciled?

Why is auto spell-check telling me there is no such word as 'unreconciled'?  Tangent, sorry.

This is stupid, I thought.  Why am I making this such a big deal?  And yet I couldn't bring myself to finish writing the word 'stay'.

So I crossed it all out and wrote "unemployed."

The Accidental Housewife: The Accident of all Accidents

I call myself the accidental housewife, because I really never imagined I would be a housewife.  And not just A housewife, but THE housewife.  I mean, is there anything more conventionally 'houswife-ish' than living in the suburbs with 2.5 kids?  But then again, I never imagined a lot of things about the way my life has turned out (funny story about how I became a lawyer--remind me to share that sometime).  It all seems like one long series of...well...accidents.

Well, technically, I don't believe in accidents.  I believe in Providence.  But I use the term 'accidents' loosely to mean something that was not chosen by me.  Sometimes, even diametrically opposed to what I would have chosen.

Growing up in a dysfunctional suburban family (oh how I identified with the movie American Beauty), I could think of nothing worse than continuing to live there as an adult.  I may have been the only person in high school to love country music and fantasize about living on a secluded homestead, growing my own produce and tending my own livestock.  And riding horses everywhere.  Gosh I love(d) horses.

In college, my ambitions took a more humanitarian turn as I fantasized about running an orphanage in some impoverished but happy place, like Botswana.  Again, there was a lot of growing one's own produce and tending one's own livestock, but with some schooling thrown in there.

I also considered joining a circus.  Or a musical troupe.  Seriously.

This was definitely not what I pictured...but it does feel like I joined the circus most days.

Suffice it to say--kids, green lawns, reliable 4-door sedans, and the rest of that was never in the picture.  I didn't want adventure per se, but I definitely wanted a good measure of novelty and...detachment, I suppose.  Being a parent, to me, was the ultimate act of attachment.  Forever you would be committed, responsible, and completely subject to the fate of another.  Talk about shackles.

In that sense, I really wasn't into getting married either.  Sure the companionship would be nice...but it had better be one heck of a companionship that would be worth the...shackling.

And then the accident of all accidents happened--the one that started a series of somewhat inevitable events that led to my, for lack of a better word, demise.

As a newly minted sophomore in college, I met the spouse.

Actually, now that I think of it, the word 'demise' is more than fitting.  I remember feeling that exact sense of finality and closing doors within a few weeks of our meeting.  This was it, I intuited.  The end of the line.

Here would be the person I would marry.  Here was simpatico and the sense of belonging that was simply impossible to pass up.  And he would definitely not be up for country farm-living, or touring with a troupe.

And then the spouse wanted to have a kid.

And then we wanted that kid to have a friend-for-life.

And then we wanted them to have good public education.

And it was impossible to find a work situation that allowed me to spend as much time with my kids as I would like.

And now is now.

Many times I think back on the person who dreamed of living anywhere but the suburbs and I just have to shake my head in wonder.  It feels like I ran to the ends of the earth (if only in my head), only to come back full circle.

But for all the novelty, freedom and horse-riding that has been conclusively given up, I actually feel surprisingly...full...and filled.

The Accidental Housewife: The How and Why

I mentioned in my last post how I went back to work after my first kid and LOVED it.

Well, okay, I didn't love it, love it, but...it was so great for so many reasons. All in all, it was a positive experience.

So why am I not doing it again after kid #2?

I've been putting off writing this post mostly because I can't really answer this question very well. After mulling it around for some time, the best I can come up with is--it's an imperfect solution to an imperfect situation.

IDEALLY, I would be able to still work part-time.

Ideally, my part-time job would be interesting, stimulating, skill-building and never require me to work more than 20 hours a week (unless giving me waaaaaaay advance notice and even then, wouldn't require that many more hours). 

Ideally, my commute would be 15 minutes or less.

Ideally, I could find really cheap top-notch child care so I never worry whether my kid is languishing away somewhere being totally ignored while propped in front of a tv screen.

And since I'm shooting for the moon here, I might as well throw in other crazy wishes like peace in the Middle East, a cure for all cancers, and a pony. Seriously, I would love a pony.

In REALITY, the best I could do is to go back to work part-time at my firm knowing that the work hours are ridiculously unpredictable and completely client-driven. Whether I work 0 hours or 20 hours on any given weekend was always up in the air.

I suppose I was willing to put up with the unpredictability for a little bit with one kid. But now that I have 2 little people to juggle, somehow it just seems a bit much. Obviously if I really really really wanted to make it work, there are ways. But add to that the unending stress, the gnawing mom-guilt, and the complete lack of down-time (you're either being beat down by kids or by work), and it tipped the scale over to no-thank-you-I'll-pass land.

I decided that--You know what? I'd like to cook healthier meals for my family (a la Michael Pollan). I want to socialize more (or heck, socialize, period). I want to exercise more than twice a year. And yes, I even want a little time to myself to watch some Netflix with a bowl of ice-cream every now and then.

And that is Why.

The How is much more simple.

A lot of people wonder how we can actually survive on just the spouse's income. Well, it boils down to two factors really.

First, we are hecka cheap. We own one tiny used car, never travel anywhere, never go to movies/concerts/games/anything really, and never eat out at nice places. Wow, did I just describe the funnest people on the planet or WHAT?!

But seriously we don't really mind it. All I need to be happy is a good hiking trail and all the spouse really wants is a good book (thank you Barnes and Noble for many a happy, "free" evenings of entertainment).

Second, I've been squirreling away my Biglaw salary for five years while living like the above. And if you're at all familiar with Biglaw salaries, you know that's a lot of nuts stored up for a financial winter, so to speak. Eventually those stores will be depleted, at which point I do see myself going back to work, but for now, we're okay.

Also, I figure I'm actually "earning" a lot of dough staying home with the kids. Heck, I'm taking on the job of a full-time private nanny. The going rate for nannies in our area is about $20/hr for 2 kids, so we're talkin' bout a $40k a year imputed income I'm making! Woohoo.

All that being said, I still have a ton of misgivings about the whole SAHM thing. But that's for another post to explore. In the meantime, I'm enjoying Noah's new found ability to sit up on his own!

And to chow down on solids like a beast.

Forget the spoon mom, just dump it all in!  Noah seriously has no patience for small quantities of food.

Finally El Gordito is satisfied after 3 bowls of rice cereal and 1 cube of avocado.

And as always, pinching those nekkid chubby rolls.

Mommy just can't stand my stinkin' cuteness!

The Accidental Housewife: The Plunge

Well, I finally did it.

I took the plunge, called my firm today and told them I'm not coming back from maternity leave.  I'm now officially a stay-at-home mom (SAHM).

I've been wanting to write about this decision (or my vacillating indecision) for a long time now but I didn't want any rumors to leak out to the firm.  I wanted my partner to be the first one to know.  And now that giant sucking sound you hear is the virtual removal of my self-imposed gag order.  SSSSSSSSSSSLURP!

Ironically, now that the gag order is removed, I don't know what to say.

Where do I begin?  How does one go about describing the multitude of contradictory and perhaps politically incorrect and controversial feelings that have been roiling around oneself for several months, maybe even years?  This could be one long-ass blog post.

So maybe I'll just break it up into a series of posts.

For now, I'll say this.  No one is more surprised than I am to be a SAHM.  My own mom worked a full-time job every day until she retired in her 60's and I just assumed that was normal and that I would do the same.  After having my first kid, I went back to work after maternity leave and loved it.  In fact I believe it was my saving grace.  Work gave me a much needed break from childcare and the intellectual stimulation and adult socialization that I so badly craved.

Lots of studies show that working moms are much happier than SAHMs and experience a lot less anger and sadness.

So why am I staying home now?  Gulp.  What have I done?

Honestly, I don't know.  But as I contemplate this question for the next blog post, here's one compelling reason for staying at home--squeezing these chubby rolls all day long.