Should I stay or should I go, now?

So, I have begun the arduous and angst producing process of job hunting recently. We are sick of being perpetually broke, going in the red every month and depending on my student loans to clear our debt every semester. It sucks, and it's wearing us down emotionally as well as financially. This is definitely not the best way to manage our financial future.

But since I lost my job right after Owen was born, and Aron was lucky enough (thank you God/Allah/Universe/Ganesh) to find a job that almost made up for my lost income, we decided it was a great opportunity for me after all. I would get to stay home with Owen, be the always-there Mom that so many women wish feverishly for the chance to be, and Aron would be the breadwinner. It was going to be just like the Cleavers (only I had no intention of wearing my hair that way, sorry June.)

Here's the thing, folks. Being a stay at home mom, at least for me, has been nothing like the Cleavers.

Now before I start ranting, let's be totally clear: I love my kid. I love him with a ferocity that astounds me. I love him like whales love their blubber on a cold night. He is the most wonderful part of my whole life, and I would never ever trade the experience of being his mom for anything.

But damn, that baby wears me out!

He is a very active kid. Even in the womb he was doing summersaults and using my bladder as a trampoline. He came out headfirst and reading to go, wide awake and alert. From the minute we got home he was checking out all the crazy people who visited and making faces at the smell of old-lady-dog farts and my burnt pork chops. He was wide open from day one, and he has not slowed down. And this is a good thing, really! He's got a zest for life, a curious mind, and a passion for experience that will ensure his life is interesting and fun. He's not afraid of anything, and even though his fearlessness can terrify me, it's a great quality.

But it still terrifies me. And along with feeling things like terror and boundless love on a daily basis, I feel things like uncertainty, exhaustion, frustration, awe, loneliness, amazement, pride, boredom, and resentment. A number of those I did not anticipate. And quite frankly, I am tired of a few of them.

I am glad I have been here so far. I got to see all of his first things happen; his first playdate with Ezra (who is the delightfully calm and cherubic baby I dreamt about having!), his first yucky face when eating mushed peas, his first sneeze, and his first sneaky attempt to crawl up the stairs (good thing I caught that quickly!) I have been able to comfort him when he was sick with his first cold, and cheer him on when he took his first steps. I have snuggled and burped and kissed and nursed and changed and cooed. And it's great that I was there for that, especially in those first months when bonding with your baby is so vital to your relationship. It sets the tone, I think, for how you will relate to each other for life, and I got to set a pretty good tone.

But it's been hard on me, in a lot of ways. I have desperately missed using my brain for something other than calculating the perfect ratio of breastmilk-rice cereal to entice him to eat. And I have craved adult conversation and company, especially since my hard-working husband is often gone for work for four days a week. I have been bored in a way that only another ADHD SAHM would understand. I have been overwhelmed with exhaustion, and I have to express my deep gratitude for the few hours a week we had a nanny help me during those first several months so I could get some sleep or go to the grocery store alone, because those precious hours are probably what kept me from a true postpartum episode of insanity.

The thing is, I have put off looking for work partly because I felt like it means I am a failure, or a bad mom. I mean, if we were a little more careful with our budget, we could probably make it ok for a while longer. And then I could stay home with O. I know mothers who would kill to stay home with their kids, so what does it say about me that I am dying to get a few hours a week away?

I realized recently that it means I am a healthy human being who understands her limitations and is trying to take care of her needs. I need to be able to go to work a couple of times a week and get out of the house, away from the constant energy drain of raising a toddler who never slows down. I need to feel like I am contributing something financially to this family, and take a small part of the stress and burden off of my husband. I need the fulfillment and satisfaction of doing a job and doing it well, even if that job is waiting tables at Olive Garden or managing a Gymboree store in the mall. And I think my son has needs too, that would be well met by me getting out of the way.

My little Monkey is a wild child, in the best ways possible. He's super duper social to an extent that I don't think I ever was. He loves to play with other kids and meet new people. He loves to make friends. And being at home with me all day, even if that includes an hour at the mall's indoor playground or a playdate with some local SAHMs and their toddlers, is not enough stimulation and social engagement for him. He is happiest and most at peace when there are 17 kids in the room, all talking and running and laughing and drooling. He needs a social environment like day care to keep him growing and evolving. He needs other toddlers to help him fine tune his skills, like sitting quietly in a chair for lunch time, or what to do when an adult says "No." He needs the variety of activities and experiences that some part-time day care would provide him.

So now we can both get what we need. I can get out of the house and remind myself that I am a grown-up person with a pretty smart brain and some useful skills, and he can get out of the house and enjoy a few hours of the organized insanity of institutionalized child care.

Life is about balance. And in some ways, parenting emphasizes that even more. Children whose homes feel balanced and well rounded are certainly more likely to feel that way as individuals. And parents who don't always feel like they are teetering on the brink are probably better parents. So here's to the balance of being a part-time mom and part-time worker bee. Cheers!