In Which Sarah Stays Home

I tried the working mom thing, and I failed.

It was all going swell until the end of my daughter's first year. I'd missed her while working, of course, but honestly, not as much as I expected to. When I was at work, I was focused on work and when I was at home I enjoyed her company as I did my chores and errands. Then a couple different things happened.

First, she learned to walk; suddenly she wasnt just a passive observer lying on her play mat as I went about my daily life. Remember that blog I used to have, yeah, now I don't even have time to READ blogs let alone write them. My entire day after is spent keeping her out of the dog food and off of the stairs. Cleaning sticky hands and then cleaning spilled milk (and as someone whose car is starting to smell from a hundred tiny spills, I can tell you it definitely makes me cry). After she goes to sleep, I summon the little energy I have to just get the house put back together, much less actually get ahead.

The second thing that happened was she learned to talk and it turned out, she's really fun! I could spend all day just playing with her. Running errands with her is exhausting but great; she always has a comment (unintelligible, of course) to make. I never ever considered being a teacher and never really considered myself a kid person, but watching Lydia begin to explore and learn about the world around her makes me want to be a part of it. I don't see myself home-schooling her and struggling to pretend I know Algebra and Economics, but I do want to teach her the alphabet and colors, and the one or two hours we get at home between work and bed isn't enough.

So last week, I let my contract at my job run out and I went home. I'll be trying to find a part-time job, so prayers and leads are welcome.

I'm a little bit (incredibly) scared about what this means. I'm scared about giving up on my career. I worked so hard to get where I was and then the layoff last year definitely set me back. I feel like this is me surrendering on my dream of being a successful career-woman. What if I never become anything but a mom? What if I'm 40 and unemployable?

The other scary thing is giving up a second income. I don't know how long it will take for me to find a part-time job. I don't know if I have what it takes to run a family on one income. As you may have gathered, neither finances nor DIYing are my fortes. I don't even know where coupons come from!

So here I am, on Day 1 as a SAHM. I have no idea how long this is going to last or how hard it's going to be, but I intend to savor every moment of it.

I'm beginning to believe that if you've got life figured out, you're probably in a coma. In real life, the ground moves beneath your feet. Sometimes it moves slowly, like sand washing in and out with the waves on a beach. Sometimes it moves fast and dangerously, like an earthquake. Either way, you've got to learn to adjust and keep going. That's why this blog is called This Awkward Age—the awkwardness never ends.

Grateful For: The year I was 30

I turned 30 a year ago. If you're good at math, you can figure out how old I'm turning today. Turning 30 was exciting, but this birthday is slightly…anti-climactic. It's a lot more fun turning 30 than just being in your thirties. But I'm grateful for this last year with all it's ups and downs

February. I started the year with the most amazing party ever! My friend Jen arranged the most beautiful event—dinner followed by a night-time garden party at her house. My husband booked a band and hired them to write a song about me! The police came! Green came! My sister got tipsy! It was great!

March. We found out that the little Peanut Butler I'd been carrying was a girl and decided to name her Lydia. Then we moved into our new, suburban house. It was huge and empty and inspiring. I had dreams of how I would decorate it. I had dreams of our Lydia as a teenager running up and down the stairs with her friends. I also had the uneasy feeling that life was too good to be true and mentioned that to Peter as we fell asleep on the last day of the month.

April. On the first day if the new month—April Fool's Day—I was laid off of work. Nothing really more to say about that. I wasn't incredibly happy at UT, but I liked what I did and wasn't ready to stop doing it yet.

May. I got offered a contract job and then had the offer revoked when the employer realized just how pregnant I was. I was disappointed, but too tired to fight it.

June. A former co-worker gave me a contact that led to a job doing freelance editing from home. Easily my favorite job ever. Perfect for that last, miserable stretch of my pregnancy.

Peter and I travelled to Corpus Christi for a babymoon that our closest family and friends had arranged for us. It remains a favorite memory of all time.

July. I had a fight with a very close friend. That's all I remember about July.

August. My daughter was born! I became a mommy. I felt like I was reborn as a new person. A person who can push a baby out of her, a person who considers sleep optional, a person who loves abundantly without any need for love returned.

September. Peter and I celebrated our second anniversary. He took me hiking in Bastrop State Park; it was exactly what I wanted.

October. I started working as a contract employee at Apple. It's not easy work, but I enjoy the challenge and love working near Peter.

November-December. I'm writing off the whole holiday season. It was just…ugh. The house did look pretty sweet, though.

January. Peter and I went out on THREE dates! Not just dates, but amazing dates. We went dancing, we saw a band, and we ate a very fancy pizza at a super classy bar on 6th street.

February. So grateful for my valentines—the special ladies who haven't forgotten me as I became a mom and have forgiven me as I totally flaked on them: Jennifer, Heather, Cindy, Jen, Mom, and Sonnet.

To everyone who has gone through this year with me, thank you.

How Did This Happen?

I was a unique child. I don't just say that because my mother told me I was special. I say that because I've not yet heard any friends or acquaintances relate experiences similar to mine. An avid reader (maybe obsessive is a better description) I constantly ran out of content to consume. I read while doing everything—riding to school, watching television, eating dinner—and from an early age I began reading the parenting literature lying around our house. I actually learned about sex by reading an article in a magazine about how to talk to your kids about sex!

Because of this, I always felt slightly removed from my peer group. I was at the same time, seeing the world from the midst of adolescence and seeing it from the outside. I knew while I was having mood swings and struggling to assert my independence that that's what was going on. And furthermore, I knew exactly what the experts' opinions were on my opinions and feelings and how they suggested I should be treated or disciplined.

As someone who was socially awkward from birth, this did not help matters any. I had no patience for my peers. I had no interest in their silliness and affairs. Of course my heart longed for drama and romance, but I saw myself above the pettiness of that age. And I thought, if I can only make it through high school, the world will be mine. As an adult, I'll finally find a place were I belong.

But that didn't happen.

So here's the awkward irony of my life. I—someone who has hated teenagers, movies about teenagers, and books about teenagers since I was a teenager myself—have come to discover I feel more like an adolescent than I did in high school. Then I was 13 going on 30; now I'm 30 going on 13.

No time to dwell, however. I hear my daughter has woken up from her nap and it's time to feed her. The hardest part of traversing adolescence as an adult is that you don't have the time to wallow in introspection. This blog will be my indulgent outlet. Maybe I'll see if anyone else can relate. . .

. . . Oh! And I'll be talking about how Awesome my daughter is. Here's a pic