I really feel the need to share moments we all have in common by creating a sort of blog/creative non-fiction writing kind of thingy here on MDC.
Today it came to me that we all could be the same character in a story, and write about our insights, trials, joys experienced during our adventures in SAHMing.
This could be a creative way to vent, share, laugh, cry, etc. Anyone game?
I'll start:
Be warned: Some of what you are about to read in this thread is painful, enlightening, draining, taboo, exhilerating, unfathomable, scary, wonderful.
And it's all true.
My name is Sahmie (pronounced "Sammy"). I stay at home with my children.
Ever have what I call a "frumpy day"? I could have slept all day today. My husabnd got my older children off to school and let me sleep in with the baby. Well, "sleep in" in this case only refers to laying exhausted in a bed with a baby pulling fistfuls of the fine hairs around my temples from their roots, while endearingly babbling, "Mamamamama".
I dragged myself from bed and ate a bowl of cereal. Trying to up my fiber content - if ya' know what I mean.
The baby has just learned to crawl. I made my way to the bathroom and while I sat on the toilet, he sat on the floor smiling at me. I gave him a dixie cup to play with (trying to buy some time) and it worked - for a moment.
Then he swiftly crawled through the bathroom doorway and around the corner, out of sight, towards the bedroom. I knew the lamp was still plugged in from the night before. The little plastic thingy I plug into the sockets to keep them baby-proof was on the floor - a definite choke hazzard.
So, as you would expect, I had to cut things short.
After redirecting baby into his bouncy seat, I went back in the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Arg. My hair clearly needed washing, but I could't imagine actually doing it. The thought itself made me tired today.
I managed to brush my teeth and used the motivation of a trip to Starbuck's to get me and baby out the door. But not before he had filled his diaper. I guess we are on the same schedule.
I decided to visit the Starbuck's at our local outdoor mall. As I pushed baby in his stroller towards the sidewalk, I almost turned around and headed back home I was so sleepy. But coffee beckoned, and I heeded its call. At the entrance a lady handed the baby a red balloon. "Like babies should play with balloons!" I thought to myself, but tied it to the stroller nonetheless.
Once the first sips of my Mocha Latte were absorbed into my body, I felt my true self awaken a little. Older ladies cooed and smiled at my chubby baby in the stroller and the sun came out from behind a cloud. But steering a stroller containing a 24 pound 9 month old with a cup of coffee in one hand was harder than I thought. My wrists began to hurt, so I pulled up to a wooden bench and had a seat.
I lifted the lid off my mocha latte and began to lick the whipped cream off the top as gracefully as I could. A pair of skinny women on their lunch break walked by. I became painfully aware of my flat hair, and baggy sweater. I licked some more whipped cream and admired one of the women's black boots and cute short haircut as she walked away. I looked down at my Teva sandals with the white socks I threw on in case it was chilly outside, and sighed.
The baby laughed and babbled at his red balloon. I let him hold the string and he bounced the balloon up and down banging it against the stroller. All at once he let it go and it began to float away. We both watched it, smiling, and from the store across the way I could hear a pop tune playing on the speakers. It went something like:
"Let it go, let it go.
Let it go and come with me.
Come with me and feel free..."
