Kitchie Coo

"I am Sam. Sam I am."
-Intro to Dr. Suess' beloved children's book Green Eggs and Ham.

"I am SAHM.  SAHM I am."
-Intro to my beloved new career.


SAHM, the acronym for Stay-At-Home-Mom.  Its my job, its my title, its what I do.  It used to bug me when the first question people asked when I met them is "What do you do?"  I mean really really really bugged me.  "I'm an accountant at the University," I would mumble.  Because, why should I be immediately be defined by what I do?  I wasn't proud of my job, I wasn't excited about my job, and the first thing people would say is "I hate numbers" or, "I could never do that, it'd be so boring!" Touché my friends.  Although I love numbers fiercely, the work was very dull.  I was always convinced that people would think that I was dull and would immediately start in on all the reasons I worked such a dull, dreadful job and how I was actually a fun and exciting human being.  Ugh.

When we moved back to Minnesota from Montana I was so excited to be done with my "dreadful accounting job" and working my dream job of SAHM.  Except, that it wasn't exactly what I thought it would be.  Claire was 7 months old, Anna almost 3.  There wasn't much we all enjoyed doing together as a threesome and I was struggling to find things to fill our days.  I was lonely, anxious, mildly depressed and kicking myself for thinking this grass was going to be so much greener.  I wasn't happy at all.

So, I decided to pursue my other dream job.  I got a job as a baker.  And for almost a year it really truly was a dream job.  Someone was paying me to bake! I got some time away from the girls and when people asked me what I did for a living I proudly beamed "I'm a baker."  And then the next question was always an inquiry about the time I had to get up in the morning.  4 am.  That was the killer.  For awhile it worked because I was so in love with this job.  Mace made compromises, our family made compromises.  I was tired all the time, I was cranky, the girls and I had dreadful afternoons after I got off work, things went downhill.  Suddenly my dream job wasn't working for our family anymore.

Fast forward to now.  I have restarted my dream job of SAHM.  There are a few key things I have learned about being a SAHM that changed this job for me from lonely/anxious/depressed mom to happy/blessed/joyous mom.  I am going to share these things in another post because they have been critical to my current success as a SAHM. And now, I'm proud to tell people what I do.  I'm proud when people say "I could never do that, it'd be so hard to hang out with kids all day!"  Yes, some days it is.  Some days it totally sucks like every other job.  But most days, most days are the most precious, awesome exciting days of my life.  I get to be with two of my favorite people in the world all day long.  My life feels full now.  My heart is often on the verge of exploding because it is so full of love and gratitude.  This is a very bold statement but: I am happier than I have ever been in my life.  My dreams have come true.

I am SAHM.  SAHM I am.

"This is temporary," we whisper.

This is our motto these days.

Our motto when we wake in the morning after another night of broken sleep. "Remember, this is temporary, she will learn to sleep eventually," we whisper from beneath dark covers, too exhausted to haul ourselves into the day.

Our motto when Anna tests and tests and gives us her very best toddler meltdown.  "Remember, this is temporary, she won't be two forever," we console each other, after living in a constant state of exasperation all day.

Our motto when we haven't had a date for four months and are aching for some alone time together "Remember, we will get date nights again, this is temporary.  We won't be broke forever, we will have family nearby soon." And we dream of a long, leisurely dinner with wine and dessert.

Our motto when Claire refuses to sleep in her crib but wants to curl up with me on the spare bed for an all-night nursing session.  "Remember, this is temporary, she is still so little and needs you close, she will sleep in her crib soon." And my heart aches with missing days that are not yet gone, but will be soon.  Because she will indeed sleep alone in her crib someday soon.  The days of her little belly pressed to mine, her mouth on my breast, gone forever.

Our motto when we are so busy we can barely catch our breath, "Remember, this is temporary.  Someday the girls will be grown and we will have all the time in the world." And the thought of it makes me breathless, as I acknowledge that the laughter, the shrieks and giggles, are in fact temporary. And, God, I will miss that music when its gone.  Right now we are at the beginning of our family story, but the next chapters will be here too quickly.

This is temporary...a motto that we never ever use when things are so beautiful our hearts swoon with love and life and joy.  Because those are the moments we want to live in forever and to never go away.

But, this too is temporary.

Everything. Is. Temporary.

Nothing will be awful or beautiful forever.  But the awful days will pass, and eventually we might find some beauty in them.  And the beautiful days will pass, and as much as our heart aches for those memories to be real again, we are so lucky to have lived in those perfect moments and to be allowed to carry them with us...the ones that speak so loudly to us that we can close our eyes and believe we are back there:

The day I laid eyes on Mace and knew instantly I had met my true love...
The day I married my true love...
The day we found out we were going to be parents...and the day she was born...
The day we found out we were going to be parents again...and the day she was born...

And more insignificant days that become the background music to our busy lives:

A hundred lazy Sundays spent cooking and dreaming...
Quiet evenings with a bottle of wine, a husband and a deck of cards...
And a thousand days that have slipped through our fingers unnoticed.  Nuggets of time that passed by without comment...realizing only when looking back how precious those quiet days were.   How much we wish they weren't temporary and that we could have them back to be savored as they deserved to be.

Temporary.  Everything.  Beautiful, devastating and everything in-between.

"This is temporary," we whisper.