Between Us

Moms who ‘nip at the sauce’
The seemingly age-old conflict between Stay-At-Home Moms or
SAHMs, as the boards on all the women’s Web sites deem them, and
Working Moms is still alive and well. Little did I know it’s more
of a conflict from within than anything.
Moms who ‘nip at the sauce’

The seemingly age-old conflict between Stay-At-Home Moms or SAHMs, as the boards on all the women’s Web sites deem them, and Working Moms is still alive and well. Little did I know it’s more of a conflict from within than anything.

The grass is truly greener on the other side. I know. Right now, I’m a SAHM. I hate to admit it, but I used to alternately envy and resent my new contemporaries. While getting up and heading out the door to work, shoving a granola bar into The Boy’s hand and lecturing The Girl on how her room couldn’t possibly be any dirtier, I thought, “If I were at home, I could be the perfect mother.”

I could bake, be a Room Mother, go to all the talent shows and still make a dinner that has all of the four basic food groups. Wait, what are they again?

Week two into SAHMhood, I’m wondering what’s happening in the world, and why does it feel like it’s passing me by? I still read the paper and watch the news, but I mean the Working World. You know – was the line at Starbucks shorter today than any other and I missed it? Was today the day that they would come out with the new stapler that doesn’t jam and chew up your document as you’re pulling the crippled staple from it?

The television is on in the background for noise, but I refuse to actually sit down and watch it, for fear I will be swallowed whole by the swirling vortex of soap operas and tabloid talk show host Maury Povich’s favorite topic, “Who’s Your Baby’s Daddy?” 

Never to be heard from in the Working World again, my name would become an urban legend.

I realized that in the two weeks I have been at home, the living room carpet got shampooed, I’ve made supper every night (nearly), The Kids have seen more of me now than in the last year, the bathrooms are clean and my angel food cake has never been fluffier.

I wondered how some of my other fellow SAHMs cope. Then I happened to hear Oprah (It’s true … there really is nothing on during the day) on in the background as I was cleaning the baseboards in the kitchen. She was profiling “How Suburban Moms Cope.” Uh oh.  I had to sit down for this. There were women who described the necessity of a drink at 10 a.m. to take the kids to the park. I was transfixed. I need a drink to take the kids to the park. Somehow, though, I didn’t think they were talking about a can of Coke.

The women were all a mess of mucus and mascara as they talked about how hard it was to get through the day without a crutch. I did a silent inventory. I never really liked alcohol, but I do have a weakness for Kentucky Fried Chicken Honey Barbecue Wings®. It was easy to transport myself into how I would go out in the morning, grab the wings and come home. Close the blinds. The wings would sit on the kitchen counter, mocking me. It’s a little too early for barbecue.

No self-respecting woman eats barbecue at 10 in the morning. I’d steal a glance at the box, while I cleaned the counter around it. Walking around the island, slowly; the red and white container, speaking to me in that wheedling voice, “In lots of other countries, it’s perfectly normal to eat chicken in the morning … slathered in barbecue sauce.”

“One can’t hurt,” I think as I reach for the box – and besides, I can stop anytime I want.

I blink, bringing myself back to reality. If I did do that, I would easily gain 25 pounds in wings alone. And that’s not even counting my chocolate fixation.

So, it’s been fun, this SAHM thing; but quite frankly, I don’t have the willpower. I’ll have to be content to know that I make the fluffiest angel food cake ever. From a mix.