It is many a time I hear a SAHM wondering what the hell she is ever going to do if she needs to go back to work—or if she wants to go back to work—but there is the paralyzing fear that she is only qualified to work a minimum wage job in her husband’s tax bracket.  That’s about $6/hr plus childcare costs, and—really– babysitters make more than that if they are over 10 and ½  and you might actually want them watching your child unsupervised.  So this morning over breakfast—day 2 of summer—I think I heard the word “why” about 342 times.  I lost count after that because someone else was yelling at me about a staple that had come out of his map.  I had pulled out the alleged missing staple. 

I should be flogged—preferably at sunset—once everyone is in bed.  I’d hate for that to break into their fun summer day.  Notice I said “THEIR” fun summer day.  Me, I’m thinking the day will include alternating thoughts of “my kids rock” and “f*** this!”  So I start floating away to my fallback job search in the back of my head, while sipping my coffee.  What am I qualified for again?  And it hits me!  Life changing!  I could probably work in an insane asylum!  No really, think of it!  I could watch people who yell and make loud inappropriate noises with their body parts.  They probably have ridiculous senses of humor and find themselves searching through things that aren’t theirs and throwing tantrums for no reason.  They probably make no sense much of the time and really give you exceptionally strong emotions of love and pain and drama and naptime and—the possibilities are endless.  But here’s the kicker!  I would probably get some really great parenting ideas!  I could see how “hug me” jackets work.  Seems like a great idea for a defiant child to hug themselves for a little while when, let’s be honest, you’re so pissed, you won’t be hugging them for a long time.  You could learn about  all sorts of pills to make different personality traits disappear like yelling and cursing (my kids so don’t do this, but I do) and breaking things and running about wildly for hours on end—no matter how many things you do to wear them out.  It would be like the motherland of parenting help!  You could supervise the use of special gear so that no matter how many times a person falls and falls and falls, they will never get hurt!  There would be head gear and someone else would do the cooking.  The occasional throw-up or pooper, no big deal!  The head banging, well, haven’t dealt with it myself, but I hear it’s common.  And best of all, when I lose my patience, I can walk away and hand it to a co-worker!  Wow!  I can say, “I really can’t handle this.  Could you give me a hand?”  And it would be someone else’s JOB to help me out?!  What the Who?!  Futz the schmut?!  Sign me up!!!I am thinking it would be cathartic.   And you know how I love catharsis!  I would come home at the end of every day and feel peaceful amidst the bouncing boys, the yelling, the crunching of my bones on the toys strewn about and that special feeling that somewhere very close by, life is really much harder.  And I would wonder how I ever got to be lucky enough to raise two uncivilized little men who will probably be the best adults ever!  Okay, all better now.  I’ll go get my “whymaster” from his lair.  And just a beer this morning…  It’s going to be a good day.

(fabulous, crazy picture by Elli)