I get the magazine Mamalode in the mail and always want to give it a little smooch when it shows its pretty little self in my mailbox. The content is astounding because it is written by mothers for mothers. And sometimes I need a swift kick in my mama-toosh.
Like lately I’ve needed that swift kick in the toosh because I’ve become a worry-wart about the future of this motherhood thing I’ve been doing. Shouldn’t I be gearing up to go back to school? Shouldn’t I be freaking out about my old job? Lots of mothers work, why can’t I?
My ears burn at comments made about working mothers and I have internal battles with myself about what that term really means. Working mothers. Aren’t all mothers working in some capacity? Does collecting a paycheck really make a better mother? Does not collecting a paycheck really make a better mother? Aren’t all mothers working to better their family?
When I cozy up to Mamalode and paw through the pages, I again am able to align myself and figure “it” out for a quick second. Someday I’ll probably be a mother that collects a paycheck.
And that’s fine.
Right now I’m not that mother.
I get to stay home.
I am that mother.
Just like the seasons of the year, this too will eventually change. It works for our family right now. This doesn’t mean that I don’t miss teaching because I do. Dearly. But for this next year I am again choosing a different path and my version of working doesn’t involve a paycheck.
As my internal battle rages on about under-appreciated paycheck-collecting mothers and non-paycheck-collecting mothers alike, please know that I’m getting paid in full by sloppy smooches from my littlest worker. This makes all things right in my world.
And for now I’m happy to be that mother.