I face a problem this day; sitting at this computer, writhing uncomfortably, sneaking peaks at an episode of Downton Abbey that I have seen a dozen times, writing and erasing, writing erasing, yet the unease is all too familiar.  Familiar at every school function, neighborhood get together, dinner party or playground interlude, I struggle to find the confidence to introduce myself due to the inevitable prying question, “So what is it that you do?”

This simple inane question sends my mind spiraling.  Do I go with former teacher or stay at home mom? An uneasy pause follows and the other person furrows their brow asI stammer debating  teacher, mom, teacher, mom.  I have received mixed reviews from either answer.  Say teacher, and you get the “Oh, well, we will always need good teachers” response.  Very patronizing.  Say mom, and you get the “Oh, that’s nice” answer accompanied with the look of “Oh so nothing”.  Thanks.

Now, personally I am very proud to be both.  My time as a high school English teacher in both the general education and alternative settings taught me discipline, the art of breaking down an explanation, and truly humbled my existence. I loved teaching.  The only reason I left was the fact that my sons were babies and sweet.  I spent my days helping teenagers interpret the world and find their voice to communicate effectively, and came home with no patience for my kids.  I saw teenagers hating on their parents, rebelling and I thought “Oh my God, there is only so many years before my boys turn into this!” I wanted to spend their sweet early years with them and was fortunate enough to be able to leave.

I miss it everyday.

Once the decision was made, I threw myself into being a mom to my then 1 and 3 year old boys and at first, despised it. We filled our days with kids gyms, playgrounds, book stores and anything to fill time. I had never felt so under prepared for the onslaught of being a stay at home mom.  Lonely from no adult interactions and drowning in diapers and rashes and whining and whining and whining, I called my mom  600 miles away in Kentucky and cried.  She calmly listened letting me carry on and get it out and then quietly said, ” I know honey… being a mom is terrible, hard. But why are you making it harder on yourself? Why are you giving everything up? You didn’t when you taught.”  I realized I was trying to be too much.  Too perfect. I was killing myself to be their and my husbands everything and had completely chipped away all I held dear for myself.  Over compensating to give myself the justification for being home. Being home went against everything I was coached to be in college, but what I ultimately wanted.   Balance was needed.

My success as a teacher came from being real; being their teacher first friend second, admitting my mistakes, apologizing and moving on, and building on their natural curiosity.  To be successful at home, I had to do the same and find time for myself.  I sat my family down and explained it, and of course, as men are, they were oblivious to my strife but wanted to help.  My oldest boy, then 4, held my hand and said “I love you mommy, do whatever you need, just be home.”

Home I stayed. But now I workout daily to provide sanity and have found a couple more imperfect friends to exchange mom fail tales.  Four more years on, I love being at home and watching them grow, but still struggle finding time for myself, my interests, my goals, my dreams.  Probably as it should be for the time being, but I am slowly finding outlets.

And with that said, I now have a new response to my most nerve wracking bar-b-que question, “I write about life”.  Hopefully, once a week!