But what do you DO all day?

Through a layoff, I accidentally became a SAHM (that's Stay At Home Mom or Sometimes Aggravated and Horrible Mommy). The transition hasn't been easy, but it is not one I regret. I once saw a T-shirt advertised in a parenting magazine that said simply "I AM at work."

I didn't really appreciate it until I became a SAHM with two small children. We've all heard (or heard others thinking) the question "but...what do you do all day?" when we tell them we're stay at home moms. In an attempt to explain I have provided a cheat sheet for the next time someone asks this question.

Detractors may point out that the percentages add up to more than 100%. This is no accident. And in addition to no pay, there is no vacation or weekend from the job either. But the benefits....ah, they last forever. Just ask any accidental SAHM who's a former corporate achiever. And who has teenagers now.

25% - Picking things up
20% - Putting things away
10% - Pleading with others to pick things up and put them away
10% - Playgrounds, playdates, music class or other activity to prevent children from destroying house
2% - Paperwork (school, doctor, daycare, etc.)
4% - Wipe bottoms, wash hands or otherwise assist in bathroom activities (for other people)
6% - Dressing and undressing other people
4% - Teaching other people to dress and undress
10% - Preparing food
10% - Helping people eat food
10% - Cleaning up after food preparation and consumption
90% - Laundry
15% - Worrying about money
22% - Picking up and dropping off people
2% - Getting gas (for car)
1% - Getting gas (from eating hot dogs and mac & cheese)
6% - Paying bills, clipping coupons, talking to various "service" people on the phone
13% - RSVPing, shopping for, and going to birthday parties
15% - Reading stories
12% - Making up stories
50% - Grocery shopping
45% - Making lists for grocery shopping
4% - Doing things for self (showering, eating, going to the bathroom)
2% - Threatening
3% - Bribing
24% - Answering questions (i.e. Do dinosaurs have birthdays? What color is bear poop? Do fairy tales wear helmets? When a skunk bites you does he say sorry?)
2% - Repairing household things that husband can't or won't
3% - Indulgent online ordering of needless child gear and toys
7% - Justifying to others the fact that you don't work "outside the home"

The Joys of Spin

The first thing I did when I got laid off was join a gym. One thing I've come to understand is that in life, sometimes you have time, sometimes you have money, but rarely do you have both. And usually you could be thinner.

I now had time for the gym. And they have childcare. For two dollars an hour! Off I went. Then I found out you have to stay at the gym and work out while your child is at the gym childcare facility. Oh. So I tried spinning, because it had a time limit, and a stationary bike, so how much could you really move, and an instructor, which meant someone to make sure you finished what you started, or left in humiliation trying, which of course wasn't an option so...Anyway. Spinning.

The thing I discovered about spinning is that, much to my surprise, I really enjoy someone yelling at me and telling me what to do as I hurtle toward nausea and tears. As a mother of a two and three year old, I must admit that it feels kind of nice to cede decisions, control and authority to someone else for a full hour. It's a change of pace. Sometimes the pace makes me dizzy and fearful about my lung capacity and not very serious but still there heart murmur, but isn't that what positive change is all about?

The kids do great in the childcare room. They play with other kids and behave perfectly for other adults who aren't me.

"Did you know he says 'God damn it?'" the careteaker asks me when I pick them up after class, my face a spectacular shade of purple.

"No! You're kidding!"

"Quite a lot, actually."

I feign shock. My two year old smiles at me. I lean over for the diaper bag, my stomach eating itself, my legs feeling as though recently filled with liquid cement. Did I eat this morning? Oh yes, the milk soaked orange fruit loop at the bottom of the sink. I smile and drop my keys.

"God damn it!" my two year old says.

"Mommy, do fairy tales wear helmets?" my three year old asks, he, forever the angel, resucing me, distracting everyone from my flaws and my bad mother habits, bringing smiles forth with his genius non-sequitors as we head toward the sweaty elevator.

"The smart ones do," I tell him.