Today I had a neighbor tell me as our kids played together that he didn’t know how I did it. How I stayed at home with both kids every day. He only has his child for a few days a week and said if he had to do it with two every single day, he would probably end up in jail and holy wow, WTF do you even say to that?!
I wanted to tell him to start with that I don’t mind being home with them because I have this special trick I do where I actually like my kids, but then it occurred to me that he lives close enough to hear the constant yelling from me and both girls, so he probably wouldn’t believe me. To be fair, most of that yelling comes from Lily who does so to express… Every. Single. Emotion.
Now this guy’s kid is also involved in soccer, football, karate, boy scouts and a daily after school program, but even when he’s not doing any of those things, they are still rarely home. I know a lot of parents are the same way- jamming as much activity up their child’s life as possible and when nothing is scheduled, they find something else to do. There’s almost always some festival or kid -friendly goings on around New Orleans and if not, there’s probably something across the river or in another parish, but they will find something.
And that’s awesome! It’s a completely alien way of life to me, but I can see the advantage of having all that energy (and $$) to spend getting in as many new experiences as humanly possible. However as for me, I’m a homebody and thus, so are my children.
I spent years trying not being a homebody and after Violet was born I tried to do as much family fun adventure time as we could on the weekends when Mark was home. I tried to keep social channels open, which was often difficult not just because of how Me I am, but because of the fact that at least half the people I like and would want to hang out with exist in a similar vein of socially obstructive mental health issues.
But then gradually, things happened. Personal stuff. World stuff. Hordes and hordes of just….stuff. And now I’m home whenever I can be.
The girls’ home life is made up of a lot of board games and card games and video games. We do tea parties and dance parties. We do science projects and crafts and write and read and make a ton of art. We do water guns and water tables and scooters and hopscotch and countless imagination games.
We do still go places like parks and libraries and occasionally do things like zoos and movies, but all of these things are pretty close to home. Part of being a homebody is that I heavily prefer, and borderline need, to be close home. Preferable inside of it. Or in the yard. I’m genuinely happy to be here and I just as genuinely do not like to leave.
Honestly, if Mary Poppins showed up at my door with her mighty witch nanny magic to watch over my children and gave me an enchanted credit card to use as a gift from the Great Witch Lord (during peak insomnia I drafted Mary Poppins fan fiction in my head that delved too deeply into the creature’s backstory and never found my way out) so that I may go out into the world on the weekends and do whatever I wanted, I’d still be like, nah. Hard pass. I’m good.
Mark came up with a cute nickname for me the other night when he said I’ve become like a “skittish little recluse”. I never know when to expect him home and it tends to be late at night and he enters the house silently and as grim as death, as one does, and manages to scare the utmost beejeezus out of me every time. He swears he doesn’t do it on purpose, but he usually laughs when I scream at the sight of him, so the jury’s still out on that.
Maybe the kids will resent not being in one of those one of those always on the go families, but so far we do a fine job of making our own fun here.
