I don't want a job, said the feminist millennial mom.

There are probably two days every week where I actually work on my physical appearance. I mean, work on it as much as any stay at home mom of 5 whose big outing of the day is probably a trip to Trader Joe's might.

The other day I was in front of the mirror drawing my winged eyeliner when Lily appeared behind me.

"Mom, why do you put on makeup when you don't have a job and stay in the house all day?"

I looked my girl right in the eye.

"Because Mommy hasn't given up yet, sweetheart".

"Oh."

What I should have explained to Lil is that I understand how confusing it is to be a ten year old girl. We tell them to be assertive, but not bossy. Look pretty, but don't dress slutty. Be a feminist, but don't make people uncomfortable. And don't forget, you can raise a family, but never compromise when it comes to reaching your career goals. Being a tween is hard enough to navigate without all these mixed messages.

I am a child of the 80s and 90s, and very much a feminist, thankyouverymuch. I was raised by progressive boomer parents, inundated with tons of media that assured me I was special and smart, and was encouraged to "reach for the stars". I was told girls could grow up to be anything they wanted, even the President of the United States! It all sounded great to my little ears, and even though I never quite had a concrete picture of the Great Thing I was going to grow up and be (that extended beyond prancing around NYC with great hair and a fabulous wardrobe) I never considered at age 6, or 12, or 20 that I'd be doing what I am doing now- staying home and raising a family in and oh so traditional way.

But like the edgy Millennial that I am, I decided to buck the trend and be totally radical and get married and have a baby at the tender age of 23. You know, during the time when all my friends were staring into the depressing existential void of post college underemployment, staggering student debt, and unfulfilled expectations from life in general. Suckers, I thought, I have a great plan! I skipped over the things everyone else did in their 20s. I made friends with other moms a decade older than I was. I went to playgroups and music class and toddler time. I had fun running the stay at home mom circuit and had several more babies, while Joe worked his ass off finishing school and starting his business, reaching towards the bright and shiny WeHa middle class suburban life that we considered our end game. We were a couple of posers; totally broke until around kid #4, but it was fun to walk the walk ten years ahead of everyone else our age.

Lucky for us, it all worked out. Thirteen years later, we have a house, 2 cars, 5 kids, nice vacations- a totally comfortable and Instagrammable life- traditional gender roles or not. I was a stay at home mom, but I was young and liberal and cool; definitely not of the June Cleaver ilk (despite my love of being barefoot, and tendency to become pregnant every couple of years).


Two years ago, I had my last beautiful baby. Joe and I were on the fence about #5; our family was already perfect and "balanced". I had decided to go pursue my MSW in an extremely non-committal and part time way. Our youngest was turning 3 and about to start school. We could have moved forward with whatever would have been next for our family but instead decided to dive right back in at square one. I "bought myself another five years", as one of my playgroup mom friends once said. Quinn is our last baby, and the most perfect and beautiful cherry on top of our family.

But after having that fifth baby, there was no question. I was done. Chapter closed.

So now here I sit, 3 years shy of 40, the anxiety and feeling of existential dread starting to creep in once more. Quinny will be in school before long. I will no longer be needed by someone 100% of the time. Time to revisit the old familiar question I've been putting off for a couple decades. What am I going to do with my life?

Somehow I missed the mom memo about how to successfully return to the workforce after a 13 year employment gap. I know I am not alone- there are so many of us suburban moms searching for the unicorn part time job between 9-2 on weekdays, with summers off, that pays well and utilizes all of the skills we honed in our many years of post secondary education. A job that leaves us fulfilled and happy, while also allowing for enough time off to be with our kids (who apparently don't stop needing us after the first day of kindergarten like we expected they would).

Haha!

But seriously guys, why did it take me 36 years to realize that doesn't exist? Nobody has a life like that without compromising anything. You make choices.

The thing is, while us 90s kids were playing with our astronaut Barbies, planted in front of big purple dinosaurs singing about how "special"we are, nobody told us that it is actually physically quite impossible for any person of any gender to "have it all", unlimited potential or not.

There is no winning at life, even if we pretend we did on Instagram. We're all just surviving- paying the bills, trying to be decent people, figuring out what it means to be happy. If having a job with a paycheck is part of that equation- great. If your dream is to stay home and raise your family- rock on. If you can manage to feel fulfilled by any combination of those things, you made it! If you have good days and bad days and wonder constantly what life would be like if you made different decisions, congratulations you are human. If you are lucky enough to be able to choose in the first place, take a step back and acknowledge how tremendously privileged you are.

I want my children to know that the decision to stay home and raise them was intentional, even though I made it when I was very young. I want them to know our family is extremely fortunate to be able to afford my choice, and that it has nothing to do with my gender (though I do not deny its more socially acceptable to be a female stay at home parent). My work has value even though I don't get paid, and I will support my girls (and boys) on whichever path they choose to follow.

Of course I want a career and a life outside of motherhood someday, but I accept that I have NO TIME to pursue one right now.  I refuse to throw myself  (and my $) half- assed into a new endeavor before i am ready, because it will almost definitely mean failing spectacularly in all arenas of my life. Even though I receive little validation from society for the things I accomplish every day as an extremely non-glamorous stay at home mom, I know that the Power family ship would not run without the abundance of invisible labor, time and energy I put in to keep it afloat every single day.  Even on days I don't wear eyeliner.

I. Am. Joyce.

Baby Q has been on the outside for nearly six weeks. What a blur. Wasn't it just yesterday when I was uncomfortably pregnant and stationed on my heating pad eating eating pickle guacamole and girl scout cookies all day? Although I admittedly still eat plenty of Do-si-do's for breakfast, I jumped head first back into the fray of frantic pace of life with five, and remembering permission slips/ school lunches/ making dinner/ musical instruments/ sports gear/ feeding the baby while attempting to maintain a human appearance. These days, I don't sleep a lot, but probably more than when I was pregnant.

These days, I simultaneously want to burst into tears because my perfect, beautiful LAST baby is growing up too quickly, and also because taking care of five kids is plain f-ing HARD. I didn't' think it was possible to go through the whole spectrum of emotions every single day while simultaneously being bored out of my mind by the monotony of the newborn routine and seemingly endless housework.

These days, I walk around for hours with at least one boob of my nursing bra unbuckled (why does no one ever tell me!?) and the same grey maternity sweatshirt I have been wearing since September.

These days, I walk around with spit up matted hair (yesterday i thought i lost an earring- luckily, it was just stuck in one of my dreadlocks) and skin as broken out as a fifteen year old's.

Is that leave-in conditioner? Nope.

These days, I have resorted to wearing those horrible LuLa Roe leggings that look like an acid trip Magic Eye book from the 90s because nothing else fits right now. Seriously, no grown woman should wear this, even if they are a size 2 and HATE Do-si-dos. Definitely not too good for the ol' postpartum self esteem.

If your friend asks you to go to one of these parties, JUST SAY NO.

These days, I find myself not caring at all about any of these things. Especially not about this basket of 400 single socks I have been meaning to match for weeks, but just shove back into the front closet every night. Do people without five kids actually care about socks? I'll never know.

every day is crazy sock day!

Since the Fall, my kids have been really into the Netflix series, Stranger Things. They paint pictures of the Shadow Monster and demogorgons in art class. They made Steve Harrington valentines for their classmates last month (I think their teachers were mostly amused). They ask Alexa to play "Waiting for a Girl Like You" by Foreigner and reenact Barb's disappearance into the Upside Down. It's as hilarious as it is appropriate, and it's one of the many reasons why I love being their mom. 

Whenever I play Stranger Things with my kids, I am always Joyce, of course, as she is obviously my homemaking role model. I haven't strung up any Christmas lights in my living room (yet), and I'm pretty sure none of my children are lost in an alternate dimension, but I admit that I am more than a little similar to scatterbrained, unpredictable, lovable Joyce., who gives zero fucks about what people think of her and her homemaking skills. 

The truth is, I like having an excuse for giving fewer fucks than usual, so I might just continue to milk this whole "I have a newborn" thing for as long as I can. Getting the kids to school (or anywhere) on time isn't my strong suit anyway, but these days, if we can get there by 9:15 or so with dunkin donuts  it's good enough! Because now I have a newborn! Arrange and host play dates for all the older kids every snow day? Volunteer for the stupid classroom celebration/ bake sale? Drive the carpool? Nope!!!!! Because I have a newborn. Yesssss.

But just when I decide to embrace my archetypal Joyce-ness and go easy on myself for not always having it "together", something like this happens: I was walking my kids in to school late (again) one morning, and as I was attempting to stuff my son's snow pants, boots, and winter crap into his locker I was approached by one of his buddies, who asked me if he could play over after school. Of course I said yes, and offered to reciprocate some time soon. The boy answered, "Yeah, I told my mom I would rather play at your house, but she said you had too many kids, so we should go to mine instead."  !!

In situations like this, I feel bad and sort of guilty for being so Joyce-y, but despite my lack of organizational skills and scatterbrained tenancies, I am by no means negligent. No, I wont' hover over your kid with organic snacks and Pinterest-worthy craft ideas on playdates, but I promise I will keep them safe, and they'll have fun.


Sure, my kids don't always wear socks to school or remember their homework, but they are very aware of the love that exists within their loud, messy, crowded home. Our lives right now are chaotic, we are still finding a rhythm as a family of seven and that's okay. Some days I nail it and go to three grocery stores and cook an amazing meal, other days, my kids dig into the 72 count box of granola bars from Costco and call it dinner. Win some, lose some.

Until then, I don't care if I'm the Joyce of the mom crowd. I am not afraid of being a bra-less hot mess mom with yesterdays makeup and unbrushed hair at school drop off. I am not afraid of not having an Instagram- worthy home full of white furniture and no fingerprints. I am not afraid to admit that I have gained weight, have horrible skin and haven't had a haircut since July.

What I am afraid of is having these precious newborn days slip by amid the chaos, breaking up fights, keeping schedules, and driving, driving driving my kids around town. This time is short and I plan to drink it up with my chapped un-lipsticked mouth. Someday I know I will care about things like being on time, and putting on makeup, and wearing appropriate clothes purchased from an actual store rather than a direct marketing stay at home mom pyramid scheme (or Target).

But right now, my life is crazy and loud and nuts, and every night ends with a fight between at least two kids followed by a raucous Hamilton/Taylor Swift dance party. I love it so much my heart might explode, and I am in the center of it all because I. Am. Joyce.

So feel free to send your kids over any time. I will be sure to serve them some Do-si do's in my flamboyant pants.