Sometimes, I find myself feeling a hint of embarrassment about being a stay-at-home mom. I often make excuses for my choices and feel the need to justify my time—even to myself. It’s as if I believe that no one else is really paying attention, yet the real critic is the voice inside my own head. When I finally have a moment to breathe, I tell myself I should be doing something productive. How can I justify sitting down with my iPhone when there’s so much to be done? I can’t afford to be seen as lazy.
This isn’t about debating the societal value of stay-at-home parents—that discussion has already been had. What intrigues me is how we perceive our own worth after making these choices. For instance, how would you view me if I shared that I recently enjoyed three precious hours to myself while both my children were at school? Instead of stressing over job applications, laundry, or an untidy house, I chose to spend an hour and a half in a yoga class during the day, followed by a $1.34 coffee at a nearby café.
I know the judgments that might arise from that admission—words like spoiled, special, and privileged come to mind. If I can find time for yoga in the morning, it seems to imply that I’m not contributing meaningfully to society. Clearly, I must need more to occupy my time.
These judgments are shaped by societal norms. I’ve come to realize that the issue isn’t solely about being a stay-at-home mom; it’s about the societal disdain for taking a moment to relax. In American culture, busyness is glorified: “Busyness serves as a kind of existential reassurance, a hedge against emptiness; obviously your life cannot possibly be silly or trivial or meaningless if you are so busy, completely booked, in demand every hour of the day.”
Stay-at-home parents often grapple with the need to prove our worth by staying busy—not just to the world but, more insidiously, to ourselves. In a culture that prizes constant activity, how am I, a mother who occasionally sips coffee during the day, truly valued? When I attended that yoga class, I felt like I embodied the stereotype that so many dismiss. It’s a feeling that has penetrated my self-perception deeply, leading me to resent myself.
Our society celebrates those who juggle numerous responsibilities—cooking, cleaning, running businesses, all while preparing meals in advance and managing bake sales. It becomes almost impossible to measure my own worth against that standard, yet I see how I am measured.
This realization has led me to understand that the root of the so-called Mommy Wars isn’t about who has it harder; it’s about a culture that equates busyness with importance. The busier you are, the more significant you appear in society’s eyes. The irony is that this cycle is utterly trivial. Why should we care who is deemed more irreplaceable based on a full calendar? Each of us holds irreplaceable value to our families and children, and that should be the ultimate measure of our worth.
I don’t aspire to do it all, nor do I want to live a chaotic, exhausting life. I want to avoid the burnout that comes with overextending myself. I’ve lived that life, and while it suits many women and families, it didn’t work for me. Reflecting on that time is almost like recalling a fashion disaster that everyone noticed—my family still chuckles about it, remembering how ill-fitting that lifestyle was for us.
Yet, despite knowing this, I still find myself wrestling with guilt over my choices. The cultural expectation of busyness weighs heavily on my mind. I can still recall a teacher from high school who donned a ridiculous costume reminiscent of a Puritan preacher, emphasizing the relentless work ethic that permeated my upbringing. This Puritanical mindset has shaped my self-judgment, as our culture has long revered hard, unceasing work.
So, how do we shift this narrative to heal our souls and end the Mommy Wars? We need to embrace the value of downtime. A dear friend of mine once proclaimed, “I love my life! I get to stay home and create, and I can be present for my kids. Sure, summers can be tough, but I cherish those moments of doing absolutely nothing for a while. Why should I apologize for that?” Implicit in her words is the question: Why should I feel the need to justify my choices when so many dream of having that freedom?
I’m on the brink of turning 40, and I’ve noticed changes I never anticipated. My body has shifted, and I’ve earned some wrinkles. I’ve matured, and I realize I shouldn’t be concerned with others’ opinions. I don’t need my name etched in the annals of fame or success. I appreciate the multitaskers and wonder if they know they don’t have to carry that weight alone.
Ultimately, I’ve learned that the pursuit of happiness is nuanced, and busyness should not define my success. It’s time to let go of others’ judgments and embrace my own life fully.
For more insights on non-traditional parenting choices, check out this article on baby-making options. To further understand family planning, visit this authoritative source. If you’re curious about the success rates of insemination, WebMD offers valuable information.
Summary
In this reflection on the experience of being a stay-at-home mom, the author grapples with societal pressures and the inherent guilt that comes from not conforming to conventional expectations of busyness. She acknowledges the pervasive culture that equates productivity with self-worth and highlights the importance of embracing a slower pace of life. Ultimately, she advocates for self-acceptance and the celebration of personal choices, regardless of societal judgment.