Ever since I stopped working I’ve struggled with being enough.
I feel like such a hypocrite writing that, since it wasn’t that long ago that I shared this post about my decision to be a stay at home mom – but I want to be honest in this space, so there it is.
I have spent weeks trying to figure out how to make more, do more, and be more.
I explored work at home opportunities. I researched ways to monetize a blog (ugh!). I even debated whether or not to become some sort of direct sales consultant (Jamberry, perhaps?)
Then I decided that maybe I would feel better if I did more, so I cleaned our entire house from top to bottom, purging and reorganizing, doing minor repairs, washing walls and windows.
That didn’t help (well – maybe it did a little. I do love a clean house!) so I volunteered to teach Topher’s Sunday school class. I’m still debating whether or not to coach his soccer team.
I’ve been writing (and writing and writing and writing!) – building my portfolio and enjoying every second of it –
But nothing I do feels like enough, and I have no idea why I constantly feel like I should be doing something more.
Sometimes I forget how valuable it is that I’m able to be at home for my family right now.
I forget how important it is that I’m available to drive Topher to school – a good school, in a different neighbourhood. I’m free to volunteer in his class or on field trips if that’s what I want to do.
I forget how important it is that I spend my mornings with Ellie. Of course most of that time is spent driving her Paw Patrol pups from one room to another, or zipping them down the waterside into her Barbie pool – but we have lots of fun no matter what we’re doing!
I forget how important it is that I’m able to cook for my family every single day – and that we’re able to sit down at the table and eat as a family, without me skipping out early to start work in my corner-of-the-kitchen office.
I forget how important it is that I can coach Topher’s soccer team, if I want to. Last year I had to book those days off – and almost missed one game because it got switched to a different day.
And I forget how important it is that I read the kids their bedtime stories and tuck them in at the end of the day, after two years of relinquishing the task to my husband.
Why do I need to remind myself what a privilege this is?
This is exactly where I want to be …
And being here is okay.