In high school, my older sister and I both had fairly well-developed plans for our lives. She hoped to be a career woman, live abroad, and maybe (maybe) get married later in life after travel and success. Two kids, maximum. I, on the other hand, wanted to get married out of college, have kids and be a stay-at-home mom.
Ironically, she ended up being the one getting married at the age of 23, settling down in Idaho, where I ended up being a "career woman" piano teacher. We used to sit and muse over each others' greener pastures - her longing for my hours of free time and opportunities to visit other countries, and me fighting back tears because I didn't know if I'd ever have children.
Thirteen years, four children and two homes later, my sister finally set a date on the calendar for her long-awaited trip to England and France. We originally planned to go together, but I had already been to the same places a few times, and actually felt a little more inclined to offer my nanny services to her kids.
So, a week ago, we swapped lives for about ten days.
In 76 days I will say goodbye to my status as a single woman and marry my fantastic, humorous, and bear-hugging fiancé, John. After a summer of running around, preparing to move, get passports, start a new school year, change a name and address, think about each and every issue that may come to pass in marriage (impossible, I know, but it doesn't hurt to try!) and try to remember the big and small day-to-day wedding, work, interpersonal and otherwise to-dos - I figured it might be a welcome stress relief to take care of my nieces and nephews, aged 10, 7, 4 and 2.5. I have always thought that it's more fun to clean up other peoples' messes, especially easy messes like laundry, dishes, etc.
My sister met me at the airport with three of the four kids. She had a few hours to brief me on a week's worth of meal plans, schedules, house rules, activities to do, nap times, etc, before embarking on her adventure. I started to feel slightly overwhelmed as her explanations of sibling dynamics began to resemble that old logic problem of how you cross a river with a goose, a wolf and something else that can't be with either one if you're not present, or something will get eaten. "It's all here in the manual," she explained, handing me a thick packet of plans.
No sooner had we arrived at the house when chaos erupted among Oldest Boy and Oldest Girl over Legos, and who was stealing whose. Baby Girl clutched my leg as I attempted to survey and redirect Oldest Boy's anger and stop Oldest Girl's tears. And this was about when my sister quietly left the house. I went to make a pot of coffee.
When my brother-in-law came home in the evening, he tactfully directed me to where the wine was, and when I cavalierly explained how excited I was to be here for my vacation, he laughed. "You will be very, very tired," he said.
I didn't totally believe him at that point. By the end of the week, when he had the day off and Grandma and Grandpa were also at the house, I decided to take a quick nap, and woke up three hours later.
Trying to tell the story of all ten days would be impossible, but I will say that some gems of wisdom and insights about the (pseudo) life of a stay-at-home mom came to me over that time. Here are a few, in no particular order:
1. Make sure to lock your bedroom door if you want to change clothes without getting walked in on. The general principle is, as soon as you leave to do something that you should rightfully do alone, you will immediately attract the company of all four kids. Even if a second ago you were yelling throughout the house trying to find them.
2. Wisdom from Youngest Boy about Oregon Trail game: "You can get measles in Oregon Trail. Diarrhea teleports you out of the game."
3. You spend your day like this: Wake up. Get one contact in your eye before Youngest Boy enters your room asking for breakfast. You try to put other contact in, only to realize that it got some kind of stinging oil on it from being in the same ziplock bag as perfume. Take contact with you and leave it on counter as you pour cereal. Attempt to rinse contact, leave on counter again as Youngest Boy asks for a spoon. Go back to contact, rinse again, until dog starts whining because hungry.
4. A trip to the library seems really innocuous. Then you attempt to go, and it takes about thirty minutes to make sure everyone has gone to the bathroom, has two shoes, on the correct feet, is strapped in their seats, you have all the library books, and you also have a library card. Once there, you try to help Oldest Girl to find some of your favorite chapter books while she was your age, while Youngest Boy attempts a rickety library stool on wheels, and Youngest Girl pulls books off shelves and then screams the scream you hope she'll scream if she is ever approached by a kidnapper, but which you hope she'll never scream when you're in public with her.
5. You get to be part of many teachable moments - helping Oldest Boy pay a cashier with cash for the first time, for something he is buying with his own money. Helping Oldest Girl learn how not to be as deeply hurt by her two brothers who really, really, want to tease her. Helping Youngest Girl take some risks by learning how to swim.
6. You realize that within a thirty-minute period, you might get called "Mean Auntie," "Cool Auntie," "I love you," "When is Mommy coming home?" "Uncle Rachel" "Mom" and "Auntie Meghan."
7. You attempt to see your upcoming wedding through the eyes of your nieces and nephews by asking them some questions about what marriage means:
Q: What's a good gift for people getting married? A: Babies.
Q: What happens at a wedding? A: They have to kiss on the lips and give each other rings. You have to be older and the same size. He has to be 21 to marry you.
Q: Why do people want to get married? A: To have someone help them have kids.
8. You sit down to read a book one morning. It takes two hours to read three pages. You keep the book out just in case. A few days later, you accept that it's just not going to happen.
9. You discover that a dinner with couscous as a side will be met with great joy by kids. You'll be cleaning up the floor and the furniture for the next three days.
10. You discover 15 different hiding places for TV remotes.
11. Your brother-in-law gives you two hours off on a Sunday for some time by yourself. Where in your home habitat you would normally use this time to read or journal, you decide to call a friend because it's the first quiet time you've had in three days where you'll actually hear what she's saying.
12. You get lots and lots of cuddle and snuggle time with little kids. You realize that this is one of the best pay-offs of SAHM-ing.
13. You discover that Oldest Boy, who is prone to challenging your authority, wits, patience, etc. on a daily basis, just wants a hug from you when he can't sleep, and even though he is ten, he still likes hugs, too.
14. You realize that the most cooperative behavior from the kids is sometimes facilitated by inanimate objects, such as a to-do list "Before we go to I-jump" which is written on the whiteboard, or a wrist watch that does a little musical jingle every thirty minutes that reminds you to go to the bathroom.
15. The house may be very, very full of toys, but deep unhappiness and a spirit of famine can descend when one's brother has "my purple matchbox car!"
16. You get jingles from Disney sitcoms in your head, and they circle around in there for days.
17. You learn to prep what you hope to be a quick trip to the store with repeatedly saying, "This is going to be a fast trip. We're not buying or looking at anything. We will only look for one thing. We will be in and out as fast as possible."
18. Those "hacks" about how to organize your closets and drawers efficiently feel like a carrot dangled in front of a horse, you being the horse. You start to daydream about a day that you'll have time to organize said drawer so that its true glory may be revealed.
19. You begin to reminisce longingly about the days that you could binge-watch Netflix, and browse the non-kids shows thereon.
20. A quiet morning out on the lake, fishing, is the best thing ever! But then again, so is coming back to the house and having kids excited that you're there.
At the end of these ten days, I can say that I have a high admiration and appreciation for all my friends and sister for their stay-at-home lives. It's a joy-filled, beautiful and admirable calling, and it is tiring and challenges every piece of you, which is a beautiful thing on both a practical and philosophical level. I must say that it was nice to return to quiet coffee shop time, Netflix binges and time to read again ;)
