Three years ago, this month I saw two little sacs growing inside me. I cried and thought to myself that I could not be happier.
On the way to the car after the ultrasound, I remember my husband at the time telling me. “this is your job now. You’re not going back to school or work; not ‘till the boys are all in school, you will be a stay-at-home mom. This is your responsibility now” I heard him, but visions of matching twin outfits danced through my head and I decided it was probably a good idea that I stayed home, whatever career I chose wouldn’t contribute to the family, we all knew that.
Fast forward to three years later; I’m short a twin and a husband. I’m a semester from graduation and reactivated my LinkedIn account because my predetermined fate took a hard left and I’m waving my hat as I ride a rabid bull into life as a single mother of three beautiful boys who need mama to get a “real” job.
One that affords the Prime add-ons so the boys can watch Bubble Guppies and Pokemon. And my Ipsy and Spotify. We all have needs, and I am down to fund cartoons, music and makeup samples. And eyelash extensions. And hair extensions.
Roll them eyes, roll away. Roll ‘em all the way down the street.
See? I gotta go to work! I’m trying to fund our frivolous lifestyle!
It’s intimidating though, going from being in the house wearing yoga pants and zero makeup all day. Maybe not even getting fully dressed until noon. Add on that the head of the house is gone and I’m still over here unaware that I answer to myself now. I’m the responsible adult in the house.
I can imagine some of you who may know me closely letting that set in. It’s humbling to admit but it’s true, I’m terrified and confused. It actually reminds me of a story my oldest brother told me a while back.
When he changed prisons, from a private to state funded prison, he spent two weeks avoiding the grass because he didn’t think he was allowed to walk on the grass.
I’m just now realizing there’s grass I can walk on.
Grass I have to walk on.
Grass I have to mow.
So I started a brand new journal, one that could help me keep track of what I’m learning, not what’s happening to me. I want to remind myself that I can do specific things, that I HAVE to do them now.
So domestic Goddesses, when you go back, redo that resume, how do you describe your skills?
I can clean and nurse a baby while kissing boo boos? I can wake up at any time of the night to make sure everyone asleep isn’t dead. One of my personal favorites is the ability to be a short order cook, making a meal for each member, having them decide not to eat the requested cuisine then leave the mess for me to clean on “my time.” I have the stamina to wait until everyone’s out of the house to cry, or even until I get to the Target parking lot.
Oh my biggest weakness?
The Target shopping trip after that cry.
I know my skills, is it okay for me to be impressed with the things I’ve done outside of my home? On top of what I do here? Because I am. I am to the point that I finally feel encouraged to actually chase my goals and see them grow.
I have no one to answer to now, no one to tell me it won’t work.
I can do everything I’ve ever wanted.
I may stand around the pile of unfinished projects a second, to see where I should start first.