I might regret admitting this to the world, and I’ll probably get blasted for saying it, but here goes…I don’t think I could be a stay at home mom. Not because I don’t love my home. Not because I don’t love my kids. Neither of those could be further from the truth. The past two weeks I have been at home much more than usual, and while I’ve loved spending extra time with my youngest son, I have discovered what I long suspected: I’m a lazy sloth. Seriously, if I stayed home every day I would probably sleep until 10 am, stay in my pajamas all day and go up a few dress sizes, because I’d eat everything in sight.
I admire parents who stay at home and make it work, and sometimes I downright envy them. For some people it is the perfect life, and for some it’s not. I know myself well enough to know that it’s not for me. The lure of HGTV and Food Network (which always results in a trip to the kitchen), not to mention my comfy sofa are just too strong. Instead of coming home to a clean house and home cooked meal, Craig would most likely come home to a disheveled wife, piles of laundry and a DiGiorno in the oven. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but I know what his expectations would be, and I know that I wouldn’t meet them. Not a good combination.
I’m a more productive person when I’ve got a set schedule and places that I have to be at certain times every single day. I guess I’m a lot like a kid…I thrive on structure. So even though there’s no place like home, and I know it sounds counterproductive, I’ve realized that I get a lot more done around home when I’m not here all the time. I’ve been telling Alex ever since baseball season ended that he has way too much free time on his hands and he doesn’t use his time wisely when that happens. I guess now I have to be big enough to admit that I know where he gets it!