What a Difference a Day Makes

Yesterday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day down here in Americaland. It's one of those holidays - the optional kind where some people (read: school kids, daycare workers, government workers) get it off and other people (read: me) don't.

So I used up one of my precious holiday days and spent the day hanging out with the kids. Well, more like doing laundry, chauffeuring to and from a birthday party (they're baaa-aack!), and generally just trying to pick up around here.

Which? Pretty much sent me over the edge.

It's so strange - every time I see one of these days at home with the kids on the horizon I get all excited. Sleeping in! Enjoying the entire pot of coffee! Organizing the linen closet! Doing puzzles with the munchkins! It sounds all glorious and stay-at-home-momish and deadline-free and relaxed.

But in practice, it's always drudgery. Only one day and I'm climbing the walls. Sure, I like being with the kids, but there's always this feeling of neglecting something. I feel like I'm always trying to get something done, but my to-do list sits on the counter with not an item crossed off it all day.

Fast forward to today. I work from home on Mondays, but this week switched it to Tuesday since I was off yesterday. The Boy had a tummyache and stayed home from school. So, ostensibly, my day today looked very much like yesterday did - I slept in until 6:30, I drank the whooooooole pot of coffee, I took breaks between my tasks to snuggle with my baby. Heck, I even threw some laundry in.

Yet it felt so, so different.

When I look back at my SAHM days, I wonder if I am simply fundamentally unsuited to being at home full-time. I hated those days, and worse, was only able to admit how much I hated it after the fact. Being at home with my kids was supposed to be nurturing and the best possible caregiving experience for them, and it was supposed to be blissfully fulfilling for me.

It wasn't - on both counts. It drove me - not so figuratively - crazy.

This is not, of course, to disparage parents who stay at home with their children full-time. If anything, I tip my hat with the utmost respect. It is also not to say that children are not worth sacrificing of self or that if being at home isn't a cakewalk, then you're not doing it right. It's terrifying and fabulous and trudging drudgery and messy sweetness all at the same time.

I think what it comes down to is that I am not able to organize my life in a way that makes sense when my only focus is my kids and my home. Ironically, I'm more fragmented when I have less to do. I wander around, starting a few tasks, finishing a couple of others, staring at the growing to-do list, and still manage to give my family short shrift.

But when I'm juggling work and family, deadlines and sick kids, somehow everything makes more sense. I do work in my work time and family in my family time, and somehow my family gets more out of me than when my days are a long, monotonous, terrible stretch of busy boredom.

I honestly believe I'm a better parent now than I was when I was technically giving my kids my undivided attention. I'm happier, for one thing. I cherish my time with them. Everything balances out (well, most days).

So yay for the odd day off with the kids, so I can do some puzzles, get some laundry done, and then think, "Thank you Jesus!" when I log in to my office email the next morning.