It hit me not too long ago.
I’m not a stay-at-home-mom anymore.
I went back to work in August after being home for almost 10 years. I left my job at my parents’ jewelry store after Charlie was born and took a lot of time off after he died. I returned to work for about 6 months before Henry was born and then “retired.”
I figured I’d never work outside the home again.
There were a few little paying (and non-paying) gigs that I did from home, giving me a little “funny money” for things that I wanted to treat myself to. But my husband was the breadwinner in the house. I was the housewife. I liked it that way.
But then a job came to find me. It came at a time when I wasn’t looking, but it was what we needed. My husband had left his job (but was working on his own) and we were sitting benefit less which is, let me tell you, a scary place to be.
It was exciting going back to work.
Henry was thrilled about going to an after school program. Jason was glad to have the house to himself to work in peace. And I was ecstatic about adult interaction!
Life was awesomely chaotic!
But then it hit me and I know exactly when.
The week of Halloween, I realized I was no longer a homemaker. I realized I couldn’t pick up and do the things I was used to doing for my son at the drop of the hat.
Halloween week there was a party at school, trick or treating (that I left work early for), and then Henry’s birthday.
I wasn’t there to take cupcakes to my son’s school for his birthday and this made me extremely sad.
Jason works from home so he’s able to do things, like take cupcakes to school, that he hasn’t been able to do before, but it still broke my heart to realize I couldn’t do those things all the time.
I’m extremely grateful for my job and I’m REALLY enjoying it. The benefits outweigh the moments like this where I think I’m missing out on things, but it doesn’t take away the sting of realizing I’m missing little bits of Henry’s childhood.
I’m no longer a stay-at-home-mom. I’m a working mom. And probably better for it.