I don't have what it takes to be a stay at home mom. I would fail miserably. I have a hard time getting through a long weekend, and my maternity leave was the longest twelve weeks in the history of mankind. I can't handle the pressure I put on myself to be June Cleaver if I spend more than six waking hours in the house. Jake can be a maniac, and I can only put up with so much baby chaos before I want to lock myself in a room full of NYSE reports, Newsweek Magazines, and whiskey. And I hate stocks and Newsweek Magazines. Whiskey I kinda like.
I need structure and quiet and the ability to tell other people what to do and the satisfaction of knowing that they will actually do it in order to keep some form of sanity. Jake doesn't give me that, and as much as I love our Five o'clock British Invasion Dance Parties and crayon practices and nursery rhyme recitals and neighborhood strolls and all the other stuff we do each day, I don't think I could make a life out of just being Jake's mom. I'm just not that kind of girl, I'm way to spastic.
When I got pregnant, I stopped reading the papers and listening to all but the feel-good puppy and ice cream stories and the weather on the news, but because I now feel like an uneducated dolt every time someone brings up current events I have started tuning in a bit more lately. Bad idea. Ignorance is bliss. Now I want to stay home with my baby. Behind locked doors and barred windows.
I'm assuming that the story of the baby left in the parking lot of a hospital in Christiana Delaware made the national news. A little boy who looks remarkably like a cracked-out Jake was left with a note in his diaper saying something about how his mother lost her job and her benefits and feels that she can't take care of him anymore. Sad stuff. For a mom to feel that leaving her baby in the middle of a bunch of cars is the best thing to do means that she either lost her mind or that she never had one to begin with. New information is coming out that she didn't have a job in the first place and upon entering her house the landlord found her purse, cigs, wallet, tons of brand new baby stuff like diapers and formula and turns out no one has seen her for a while. Neighbors said that she was great with her little boy, and the two were inseparable and always doing a bunch of fun mommy-baby stuff like going to the park and hanging out in coffee shops and talking to all the locals. Nice.
Now the missing preggo in Ohio is all over the television. Her poor baby is telling everyone that his mommy is in the rug. Her married police officer babydaddy/boyfriend and his wife claim to know nothing, of course. Great.
Makes me want to grab the valuables out of my desk and snatch Jake out of daycare and never look back. But then I'd be at home like these girls were, open to being rolled up in a carpet or violently kidnapped or scrubbing a floor. Then what? I'd go insane and leave my baby in a parking lot.
You just can't win.
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Hence, my complete loss of control and emotions over the last few weeks. These stories of course have to come out when I am the exact profile of all these women. And, to boot, this past weekend, my neighbor had a stow away employee from Home Depot lock himself in her trunk in the middle of the day planning to do God only knows what with her!! Thankfully the jack ass forgot to turn off his walkie-talkie and she turned around to go back to Home Depot thinking the "nice kid had accidently left it in her trunk" while he loaded up the car. Surprise!! I swear if I make it thru these next few weeks without going off the deep end it will be a miracle.
i heard once that the the most common cause of death for pregnant woman is murder. not cool.
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