As I look back on the past several months, I’ll admit I had a tough time transitioning from busy working mom, who went to school at night, to being a stay-at-home mom (SAHM,) who basically just has to care for one well-behaved child, who sleeps 3-4 hours a day. “You know how lucky you are?” I have heard over and over and over again, both because I am now a stay-at-home-mom and because my child takes two predictable naps a day. “Yes, I know, I am super blessed,” I have often said, not wanting to sound at all like I don’t appreciate the wonderful life which has been bestowed upon me. However, truthfully inside, I was screaming, “I am freaking board! What the hell does one do when they are at home that many hours a day while their child sleeps?”

The go-getters of the world write blogs and do some sort of online job or they use their time to research how to be a better mom or they start their own business or they keep a spotless house or they play tennis or do yoga or bake or sew or plan parties or work on scrap-books or all of the above. But for whatever reason, I didn’t feel like doing any of these things and as the minutes ticked by while my child lay peacefully sleeping, I thought of ways to distract myself from being truly productive. TV has never been an option for me, but I do enjoy a good chat on the phone. Um who should I call? I would think to myself as I folded laundry (a productive task I do love doing.) But for whatever reason, I would rarely pick up the phone. When I did pick it up to make a call, I felt desperate, almost like a girl in love, who was calling a boy hoping he would answer and want to talk to her as much as she wanted to talk to him. I found myself nervous to call friends whom I have known my whole life and when they didn’t answer, I felt rejected.

I know I sound a little crazy, believe me I felt a little crazy. The thing is, when you go from a life to where you are so busy that you don’t have time to pick up the phone or immediately call people back or answer their text messages, to a life where you live for a phone call or text from a friend who might possibly want to hang with you and your kid during her limited awake and playtimes, it’s unsettling (at least for me it was.) The pathetic aspect about all of this is that with all of this time, I still wasn’t great about returning personal emails. My husband and his family LOVE to email as their primary communication and now that I am a SAHM there is an expectation that I should be reading and responding in a timely fashion, which I should, but I am not. So here I am, not intentionally playing hard-to-get via email (irritating my husband and sister-in-law) but playing “Debbie Desperate” when it comes to phone and text. I told myself, what I needed was a new computer and that that would be the grand-saving-tool for my new life.

When I made the transition, I had to turn in my computer when I turned in my career, and although I have an iPhone and an iPad, I told my husband that the only real way for me to stay on top of emails and to inspire my creative juices to do something other than peruse Facebook or search Craigslist for used baby supplies that we don’t need, was for him to purchase me a new computer. “I deserve one,” I protested like a spoiled teenager. “I used to be a writer and you still think I should write, but what I am supposed to write on? I can’t blog on an iPad.”

I look back at my manipulation and I am embarrassed. Back when I had a very busy life, nothing could stop me from being a writer. A true writer will write on their arm if they have to and I was one of those. I would write my ideas on the back of old bill envelopes or wrinkled receipts or one of my many three-ring-notebooks. When it was time to send my columns iPad off to my editor I would use my work computer or my old 2002 Mac or even hunt and peck on my iPad. I never cared what device caught my thoughts, I just cared that I was being heard, even if it was just an old bill-envelope that got a chance to feel my words.

Now here I was with more time on my hands than I could ever dream of and I was manipulating the best man I know into purchasing an expensive piece of technology so that I could finally write my masterpiece or at least write something other than a text message. He had planned to surprise me with a new computer for Christmas, but I insisted that I must have it now because my thoughts and ideas were escaping by the minute. Again, I sound crazy and again I felt crazy. The truth is, I was grasping for some sort of imagined truth that I was this supermom who was working on her next novel or screenplay or something other than, just being a stay-at-home-mom, who works on her next text message to set up a playdate. Bottom line is, I didn’t like me for me. I felt like an underachiever and I was full of fear that everyone around me was constantly disappointed in who I had become as a SAHM. My daughter’s baby book was still empty, It seemed no matter how much I tired to be the SAHM I thought I should be, I kept burning dinner. I was becoming less and less interesting. At a time when I should have been grateful that God gave me every single thing I ever prayed for; the perfect husband, beautiful healthy daughter and time to devote to the two of them, I was instead feeling sorry for myself, wasting my time fantasizing about what it would be like if I had more to think about.

A few months ago we learned that we would be expecting our second child, a baby boy due in May. I’d like to say that the news of my daughter’s brother immediately lit a fire inside of me inspiring my inner confidence to open my new computer and start banging away on the keys like I used to, but it didn’t. However, as I slowly came through the morning sickness into the other side of pregnancy, I have started to remember who I am. I am not desperate, I am not not interesting, I am not a person who wastes her time dreaming about where she’d rather be or whom she’d rather be, rather than appreciating where and who she is right now. Although I don’t stand in front of a classroom everyday and teach, I am still a teacher and although I don’t write a weekly column, I am still a writer.

However, first and foremost I am a mom. There will be a day, when my daughter, will know her ABC’s and how to count and tie her shoes. She won’t want to hear “The Wheels on The Bus” and places like the park and MyGym will be a thing of the past. There will be a day when she won’t let me hold her on my lap, read to her, play puzzles with her or kiss her a thousand times a day or eat her toes. One day she will know more than I do and there will be little I can teach her, so for now I will appreciate every second, which I have with her. There will be a day when I will be busier than I want to be and I will wish for this time back. So this is where I am and I can say truthfully, that I am happy and I am grateful. It doesn’t mean that I don’t get restless but it means that while she sleeps, I will write (at least part of the time) because I know that even if what I write won’t always matter to everyone, it might matter to someone, even if that only someone is me. Besides, I can’t not write, especially now that I have this fancy new computer. :)