This blog post has been reposted, with permission, from Lalita Iyer’s blog http://mommygolightly.wordpress.com/.
I found a really shallow reason to go back to the workplace in my fourth year of stay-at-home mommyhood. I wanted to dress up and go to work. I wanted to change footwear, earrings, wear hair-product, lipstick, nail-polish, perfume, cotton sarees and silver jewellery.
Fact is, I was tired of mommy dates. And pushing swings. And being told that I cannot take a nap when I thought I had earned it. I was tired of the husband always whining that he had the most stressful job in the whole world.
On most days, I can see the humour in motherhood. I also think children are deep and there’s a lot to learn just by listening to them. I found myself laughing and crying in equal measure as I spent hour after hour with my son, just the two of us, and the ‘casulls’ we constructed, the mess we reveled in. I made plenty of “I quit my awesome job because I really wanted to be a stay-at-home-mother” mommy friends. I believed them. I began to say the same thing. I believed it. It felt good. There is the power of the collective. Blogger mommies. Twitter mommies. Working-from-home mommies. School gate mommies. Facebook mommies. Desperately-social-networking mommies. It was important.
But here’s a simple truth: no one leaves a job that is perfect, that truly makes them happy. The same holds for SAHMhood
Just like no one gives up on a relationship when the sex is really good.
Here’s another confession: When I first quit my good-on-paper job to pursue motherhood four years ago, I had reached the point where I was sapped by the job, by its sameness, by its autopilotness, its rinse-repeatness. Motherhood at that time was like a sizzling affair; it was a start-up; I felt like an entrepreneur, I liked the fact that I could do it by trial and error, that there were no style-guides or briefs, that my baby was a brand I could totally make my own, that it didn’t come with excess baggage, that I had no boss! Plus Re was curly-haired, dimple-chinned and drop-dead-gorgeous.