I stay home with my kids because it is what I want to do. I know some moms who work full-time, some who work part-time and some who stay home like I do. Naturally, I usually feel a stronger connection with the full-time stay-at-home moms because we share very similar experiences and common drudgeries. I cannot understand the logistics of working outside the home full-time, dealing with daycare issues and still having the responsibility for managing the home and kids. It gives me a headache to even think about, so I am always astounded that women do it and still manage to speak in full sentences. I don't think I could do it even half as well.
The other day I took my kids to D's workplace health clinic so I could get my allergy shot. Always before, I have gone on days when there was just a nurse on site and no patients having office visits. I got in and out quickly which meant the kids didn't have time to go ape-shit from boredom and bother anyone waiting to see a doctor. Due to some temporary staffing issues, I had to go during office visit time and that meant a longer-than-usual wait.
Because it had been since before our Disney trip that I received a shot, my left arm (the mold arm) hurt more than usual so I wanted to hang around for a few minutes in the waiting room.
As I have said at least 10 trillion times in this blog, G is my pest child, the mischievous one, the one who I would like to hog-tie on a daily basis. After my shot, when G began being more pain in the butt(ish) than he had been during the pre-shot wait, I said something on the order of, "Dr. B will give you a shot if you don't settle down...." or something like that.
Just prior to me saying this to G, I had been chatting a little bit with a woman who works at D's company who had her child in the waiting room. She has three children but only one was with her.
When I made the aforementioned "threat" to G, this lady said something like, "In our home, we tell ours we'll take away a favorite toy. It works better to be able to act on your threat."
I felt like telling G to go punk that lady in the eyeball.
I felt like telling her to haul all three of her kids into the clinic and see how they behave.
I felt like telling her that perhaps if she was with her kids nonstop, all-day, every.single.solitary.day since the moment they came out of her womb, she might have effing RUN OUT OF ACTUAL THREATS SHE CAN ACT ON.
I felt like telling that lady to take some of her hard-earned money and visit a salon, you mousy little thing.
Ok, that was low.
But I don't give advice to working moms on how to manage their lives.
So please don't give advice to the frazzled, frumpled stay-at-home mom on how to keep her head from exploding when the 3-year-old does his normal pain-in-the-arse routine.