May 10, 2012
I get the nervous tummy anytime someone even begins the topic because it is then that I need to instantaneously decide if my soap box will put a damper on the evening. Sometimes the soap box is cumbersome. Big and bulky and certainly not worthy of a situation. Other times it fits well.
The truth is that no matter how I answered that question there was someone there waiting to put me into a category. I'm a Mom.
I birthed children so it is a given that I am now categorized.
Hello. Welcome to Motherhood. Here's your stereo type. Please proceed to the checkout stand.
With Emma it said.
You are now a WORK OUT OF THE HOME MOM.
I was a teacher. I worked in the public school system and was simultaneously navigating my first parenting experience while in charge of 30 young lives. It was daunting to say the least. I was exhausted mentally and physically at all times. Life was so hard with ONE CHILD.
I thought perhaps the grass would most CERTAINLY be greener on the other side? No?
* I was delusional*
Two years later and 20 minutes of labor I was OFFICIALLY a STAY AT HOME MOM, of 2 children.
Oh this was going to be lovely. I would make pancakes each morning. I would teach my second child sign language just for sport and perhaps even throw in some Spanish for my first born that didn't involve Dora. I would sing tunes from the Sound of Music while sewing them rompers from my summer curtains.
All while baking cookies, tending to a clean house and happily welcoming my bacon making husband at the door.
I only came to find out that staying at home was like driving dull pencils into my forehead daily. Nothing about it made me feel like a great mom. I felt like a total FAIL at all times. Every desperate act to fit the role pushed me farther from being the great mom I could have been by just being myself. I just wanted a little more and I felt guilty for it.
I was not cut out for June Cleaver business and oddly enough was not good at sewing rompers. Though I tried.
I'm sorry SAHM -- I'm just not that into you.
Certainly the grass was greener-- ELSEWHERE NO?
Madalynn made her appearance an additional 2 years and 10 minutes of labor later.
Our little caboose came with a tag.
Welcome. YOU MAY NOW CALL YOURSELF A WORK FROM HOME MOM.
I was writing on line. I was working for national companies. I found Macaroni Kid. All while toggling three children. This was supposed to be my FINAL ANSWER. After all, there are no more categories Debby. You NEED to fit somewhere so sayeth the label makers!
I work, I am a mom and it is out of my home.
Wham, bam, slap a title on me Maa'm. I am now a WAHM.
Turns out I didn't fit any mold. No category fit me. I had dreams and ambitions during each period of my labeled mom life, that far surpassed what those little letters represented.
Trying to fit all of my dreams and aspirations into ONE of those labels is like trying to fit my size 16 body into a size 6 Donna Karan dress on sale. Even with all the spanx in the world, it isn't happening folks and it's really not that great of a deal…if it doesn't fit.
Niether are these labels.
Moms are SO much more than some acronym that determines their "place" on the Mom spectrum. I am NOT a S.A.H.M. YOU are not a W.O.H.M. I am MORE than those letters and SO are you.
I am myself and when in the right element, when allowed to define my own role, I am incredible.
SO WHAT if I want to be a SAHMSWFHMWSUNWSTSCFHOCAIHODAANTLT?
Stay at home mom slash work from home mom who stays up nights working so that she can fill her own cup and install her own dreams and also neglects the laundry too.
So what if I want MORE. MORE. MORE.
Working from home, out of home, in home on top of my home, under my home!
My dream is not to raise children under some label according to someone else's expectations. It is to teach three girls that we don't' wait for ANYONE to hand us things. We MAKE it happen with hard work, honesty and dedication to all that you believe in. Last, we NEVER define ourselves by someone else's expectations.
Moms, in celebration of Mother's Day 2012. I urge you to make your OWN acronym.
And when someone tries to hand you a label that says you are a WOHM, SAHM or WFHM-- hand it back. You're own personal acronym is FAR better.
Then mutter, Kiss My Acronym!
Happy Mother's Day
Thanks to Macaroni Kid Robinson for sharing.
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