I have realized, in this tenth month of stay-at-home motherhood that I can’t honestly gush about it. I will not be laying down bouquet offerings at the altar of the domestic goddess. Martha Stewart isn’t going to be inviting me for a guest spot on her show. (Does she still have a show?)

This has been wonderful break;  I’ll give it that. But recently I am left with a sense of “Now what?” “Is this it?” Can I ever be satisfied being “just a housewife?” I put that in quote marks because those are my words. I don’t want to suggest that it is accepted language or attitude.

The past few days are a perfect example of what I’ve been facing: Cloudy, rainy, excessively humid weather make it nearly impossible to do anything outside. I’ve found myself at a loss for what to do indoors to keep it interesting. We’ve played Fisher Price Little People to death. When the Little People see us coming, they hide. We’ve gone to the library. Our community center playrooms are closed for the summer. I’m avoiding the mall: too much temptation in there.


More and more I’m thinking about the next steps: Getting little girl in preschool and getting mom back into the workforce, even if it’s part time at a plant shop. Whatever.


I had hoped during this extended break that I would receive some kind of a sign, that I would be guided toward the new direction in which I should go. So far, either I’m too blind to see it or I’m just not ready to move on. Could be a combination.


In other developments, girl from the west is at summer camp for two weeks. I sent her a care package today filled with magazines, candy, crackers and other goodies. I really miss her as well as the help she provides with baby girl.   With older sister away, little sister leans all the more heavily on mom. This is fine, but requires more caffeine that one should ingest in 24 hours.




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"It's not the tragedies that kill us, it's the messes." --Dorothy Parker
August 2007
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