My New SAHM Life
I felt the comfort of being in a place with no complications; no obstacles to hurdle. But that, dear readers, does not a story make.
As my 32nd birthday approached, I thought of where I was now, what my life had become, and the fact that there was so much to look forward to: another baby was on its way, to round out our family- a boy, no less! My little toddler, Avery, was bright and self-aware, my marriage good.
I was a stay-at-home-mom now, a SAHM, something I never imagined I’d be, but was quite fond of the new position. Although I’d been known to don an apron to avoid the inevitable flour spill in the kitchen, I was not the type to vacuum the carpet daily, nor was I one to iron the bed sheets, and if my family was waiting for me to lay out their freshly laundered and pressed outfits each day, they were going to be spending an awful lot of time in the nude.
I had always had an image of the stay-at-home mom as a woman who anticipated and tended to every need of her family with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. She wore sensible shoes, oven mitts, and a perfectly coiffed bob, and she listened to Tony Bennett while frosting a chocolate cake. This could NEVER be me: uncomfortably high heels, chipped purple fingernail polish, and long hair piled in a wet knot at the back of my head. Led Zeppelin (and, at times, Tony Bennett) roared out of the ipod speaker, and there were no sweet confections displayed lovingly on the countertop. Not exactly the image of June Cleaver, yet here I was. Mom. Everyday. Every minute.