Being a stay at home mom is weird. In the beginning, I was defensive when my husband asked me what I did all day. I would glare at his raised eyebrows and snort that he had NO IDEA how busy it was. The thing is, behind my rant I was thinking, ‘What the hell DID I do all day?’ I still wonder about it.
At the end of the average day, I haven’t produced anything. I may or may not have dipped some discount chicken legs in shake and bake. I feel I should have something to show and tell about the last ten hours. There’s no physical manifestation of work. I mean, the baby’s alive, but that’s it. That’s all I’ve got.
Why does this bother me? I was rarely troubled about not making anything when I ‘worked’. There were many days when I produced way less than a couple of chicken legs.
I’m not looking for any validation, I’m busy here. Keeping the baby alive and the house in order and the shaking and baking really does eat up ten hours. I’m just saying it’s weird. Maybe I would feel more industrious if I put on heels and drove the baby to another building for the day.
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