Today is my first full day as an unemployed person. Sort of by choice (another blog post entirely). I’m back to being a stay-at-home mom and quite happy about it.
Yesterday, leaving Hospice Advantage for the last time, I felt like Dorothy at the end of The Wizard of Oz tearfully saying “Goodbye, Tin Man! Goodbye, Lion! Goodbye, Scarecrow!” That emotional experience taught me that most of my coworkers have never seen The Wizard of Oz. And that people really don’t like to be called things like “Scarecrow” and “Tin Man” if they don’t get the reference.
Working full time, with a husband in another state, two kids and four pets to maintain has left me frazzled beyond the help of Xanax-infused Calgon. I’ve never been one of those women who could juggle a lot.
They say to start out with scarves. And with lots of practice, you can slowly work your way up to juggling leaf blowers and livestock on America’s Got Talent. But the Youtube tutorials didn’t work for me.
Video of a Goofy Clown Guy Giving Juggling Lessons
My brother Rob was a great juggler. Growing up, he used to practice with eggs all the time, which is why we always had to have Pop Tarts for breakfast, rather than French toast. And why, to this day, people’s shoes still get stuck to my mom’s kitchen floor.
(somehow I got WAY off track. I wonder if there is an award for most unrelated tangents in a blog post. I’ll check and get back to you.)
What I meant was, I’m not one of those moms who is chief of staff at the local hospital, runs two successful side businesses, home schools her 11 children, publishes a New York Times best selling young adult series, raises her own certified organic vegetables, wins three triathlons a year, always has her kids’ raffle tickets sold before the deadline and never turns down her husband’s requests for nightly affection. Whoever she is, I hate her. I’d totally not wave at her in traffic. But she wouldn’t notice because she’d be too busy organizing a mission trip to Croatia and quizzing her kids on the Beatitudes and practical uses for Plutonium.
So, in order to preserve my sanity and get DFACS off my back, my job had to go. Which, unfortunately means that the paycheck did too. Which unfortunately means that I’ll soon be coloring my own hair, shopping at Good Will (more than I already do), collecting tin cans and stealing my neighbors’ copper wiring. As they say, resourcefulness is Godliness.
So, here I sit, at 1:51 pm, looking around my living room for the first time, thinking “so that’s what it looks like in day light!” AND I solved the mystery of why the bedroom trashcan is always turned over.
I should probably clean something. Do stay-at-home moms still do that? Wasn’t there some kind of new labor law requiring it to be outsourced to cleaning union members? I’ll look that up too.
|Another cute Callie photo.|
Helping him pack (my first order of business as a stay-at-home mom) was totally different from how it would’ve been if I’d had to work today.
Flying up to the middle school 10 minutes before the church bus is to leave.
ME: “Get in, Honey. We’re late!”
ANDREW: “But all my stuff’s at home. We forgot to pack it last night.”
ME: “We don’t have time to go home. You should’ve thought of that!!! What do you have with you right now?”
ANDREW: “My social studies book, a protractor, my bat bag, sliding shorts, cleats, a leftover Uncrustable from lunch and half a Gatorade.”
ME: “Perfect! Let’s roll.”
ANGELA AT HOME MOM
ME: “I’ve packed you enough canned goods to survive for six months after a nuclear holocaust. Things aren’t going well between us and North Korea these days. Have you even THOUGHT about that? Oh, and here’s your freshly pressed tuxedo in case you guys attend a royal wedding. And don’t forget this indestructible auto-filtration water bottle with solar powered GPS, ya know…..in case you get lost in the dessert.
(Zipping his suitcase) Oh Gosh! I almost forgot your Undead Survival Tactical Walking Axe! What kind of mother am I?
ME: “It could totally happen! Don’t act like you haven’t seen The Walking Dead! With that attitude, you’ll be the first to get eaten.”
It wasn’t until after I’d left the church that I realized neither one of us remembered to pack him any underwear.
I guess I still need more practice at this whole staying at home thing. And with juggling. Now where are those eggs?