1. We feel lesser.
It's true. It's embarrassing to admit that you are part of a dying breed and yet, you have little to show for it. You don't cook well or at all really and still can't find time to exercise.
2. We are jealous.
Not only of the income, but the heading out the door with an actual place to be, not just a pretend one. We watch our counterparts showered and dressed, looking important and we feel like sloths, cold bare-feet, lukewarm coffee, wallowing in the analysis of a house full of crap.
3. We eat boring lunches.
I once thought people like me, stay at home moms with school age kids, were dolled up drinking wine over a salad, but nope. Canned tuna fish and Doritos, still in pajamas.
4. We feel pressured to act really busy.
This is true. If I hear my husband pull in the driveway, I pop up looking to be a mad woman surrounded by toys. I feel the need to verify my role of household manager.
5. We are intermittently busy, lazy and lonely.
I will never be the one to tell you how fast the time goes. That is so annoying. There is always pressure to accomplish things just to avoid being lazy.
6. We count the hours until dinner.
The days filled with three toddlers and nothing but time make me shudder in memory. Fast forward ten years and now the clock starts after school.
7. We wonder if we have the made the right decision.
We may pretend that we are hard nosed homemakers, but we're really not. We wonder if we are washed up educated women now drowning in laundry, meal prep, and half ass volunteerism.
8. We don't put the laundry away either.
No one does. Well, maybe someone, but not me. I used to, but now it just seems like such a waste and if my children are too lazy, then why should I pick up the slack?
9. We long for time alone in the car.
I dream of car rides that aren't filled with Elmo and fighting people in the backseat. Just five minutes or maybe an hour commute. Who needs vacation?
10. We don't get bored.
Never ever. I wonder what that would feel like and I routinely contemplate how much time it would take for it to happen. I am almost positive a week alone in my house would not spawn even a touch of boredom, though it's unlikely I will ever know.