A couple of weeks ago, I went on a shopping trip to Macy’s with my stepmother-in-law (heretofore referred to as “New Mommy”–yes, Sean and his brother actually call her that). I am not in the habit of shopping there, as I find it depressing. I could go nuts spending in that store if I was less responsible. My recent trip there was to do some birthday shopping for W~ since New Mommy works at Macy’s and, therefore, has a good discount.
While in Macy’s, I saw, and subsequently became obsessed with, an awesome leopard print trench coat.
(Trust me, this picture doesn’t even begin to do it justice. It has this cool iridescent quality to it.)
Weeks later, I continue to think about and be in love with this coat. Today, I got the urge to look at the coat online (because I am that pathetic).
My coat is on sale.
It is currently marked down sixty dollars below the normal price. Sadly, that means that it is still about ninety dollars. Out of my current budget. Sigh.
Somewhere, deep down under the blue jeans and drooled on t-shirt, I am weeping inside.
Earlier today, sometime shortly before dinner, my older boys were trying to convince me to give them some form of junk food or another. I told them no, that it was almost time to eat real food.
W~ looked at me and said, “Well, if you don’t, we just won’t love you anymore.”
“Oh, really?” I asked. To his credit, he very quickly backed down.
“No, we still love you, Mommy.”
“Good,” I told him, “because I give up a lot to stay home with you guys.”
They wanted to know what. I explained that I used to work, and that I actually enjoyed having a job outside of the home. I also enjoyed having the extra income (if I were working, you can bet I would have ordered that beautiful, beautiful coat by now). And I told them that, as much as I liked those things, I would never trade them for the chance to be home with my boys because I love them that much more.
Some days, though, I actually do have to remind myself of that. Sometimes, it is hard to remember who the me behind the mommy is. I have thoughts and ideas and dreams and desires. And only so much time in the day. Time that has to be used clean the house, make the food, teach the kids, and try and come up with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costumes before Halloween.
The me goes out the door, and the mommy goes into action. Sometimes, that’s hard to accept.
But, then, I see grubby faces with crinkly-eyed smiles and it is all worth it. And then I wonder, someday, when I have all the time I need to do the things I feel like I’m missing now, will they matter as much to me? Or will I just realize that I’m no longer needed as much as a mommy and, because of that, feel that I have lost me?