My Mother's Daughter

My mother once told me that the time she spent as a stay at home mother after my younger brother was born was "the worst six months of her life." I was four and a half and my brother was a sickly newborn. She lost her job because she was pregnant and didn't have immediate prospects for another one. In addition, my brother was an extremely difficult baby, making finding child care extra difficult. We were actually "fired" by two babysitters because they couldn't handle my brother.

I don't remember those six months at all, but my mother does. She went a little crazy - she tried to perfect her from-scratch biscuit recipe and tried to make as many ladyfingers and Charlotte Russes as possible. Needless to say, the baby fat didn't come off very quickly. She said she dealt with the residual frustration of losing her adulthood by attacking my dad when he came home from work with every minuscule problem of the day. Sometimes she even invented problems. She soon got another job, my brother grew out of the colic phase and life returned to normal. She was never a stay at home mother again.

When she told me this story, she emphasized that she didn't think it made her a bad mother - it just made her a different kind of mother. Some mothers are happy being stay at home mothers, some aren't. She believed she was a better mother because she worked and had her own identity. She also believed she was setting a good example for her children, which she was.

I've never given much thought to being a stay at home mother. Because I am the only income in the family, I really don't have the choice of staying at home. However, in the last week, I came to realize that I am my mother's daughter - I am not cut out to be a stay at home mom.

My son has been very sick for the last week or so, necessitating me taking nearly a week of sick time from work. Something funny happened to my brain in the last week - I went a little crazy. It could have been the sleepless nights rocking a feverish baby. It could have been forgetting to shower or brush my teeth until 2 pm every day. It could have been all of the bad daytime television. However, I think it was more likely the lack of adult conversation and contact. I felt lost - I felt as if the "me-ness" had been sucked away and all that was left was this mommy thing. This mommy thing that was good for soothing rocking, rubbing, consoling, wiping, and feeding. This mommy thing that served as a teething ring, dishcloth, washcloth, diaper, floor mop, and pillow. This mommy thing that was a cook, nurse, maid, and playmate but definitely not an adult woman.

Do I regret spending a week at home with my child? No. He needed me and our bond is stronger than ever. He said "Mama" for the first time this week. I would never give that up. However, he was very happy to return to day care this morning and I am very happy to be back at work.