On our hardest days, we dreamed of this moment.
I’ve been a SAHM for nearly 10 years, during which I’ve brought three new humans into the world. Ten years that, to be honest, are a blur as I look back. How the hell did I do it? With a husband who worked long hours and traveled frequently, there was often an indistinct transition between Tuesday and Wednesday, or even from weekdays to weekends. There was no break, ever.
Days passed during which I spoke to zero grown-ups. Took zero showers. And did zero things outside of my home. Every year, fall would arrive, and my friends with older kids would skip down the street, ready to celebrate the first day of school and all the quiet and me-time they were going to get.and toddlers don’t know the difference between April and October, or between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. The days and weeks are really just a continuous loop of Groundhog Day. Wipe, wash, feed, repeat.
But then, one day, it happens. The moment you always dreamed of finally arrives. For me, it was September 4 of this year. For the first time since embarking on this SAHM journey 10 years ago, all of my kids got on the bus at 8:15 in the morning. And none of them came home until the bus dropped them off at 4.
It was quiet. So, so quiet. And it was glorious. I celebrated with hot coffee. With solo errands. And some grown-up TV while curled up on the couch. Because I fucking deserved it.There still remains a battle between the different moms of the world. And when SAHMs share humorous memes about enjoying a latte or amarathon, or even a nap on their kids’ first day of school, we are often met with disdain.No one in the history of ever has said, “You know who has it easy? Those working moms.
Being a stay-at-home mom is a blessing—I know that. I know that some moms would love the opportunity, but cannot afford to stay home. I value the time I’ve had with my kids. I was there for everything, for every fever, boo-boo, school project, and school musical. I’m the one who taught them their letters, how to write their name, and wipe their own butts.For many of us on the SAHM track, there’s a giant void in the space where our former selves used to be.
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