I spent 3 hours this morning baking heart-shaped pretzels for my daughter’s class party tomorrow. Then I spent another hour cleaning up the mess from when the pot of boiling water and baking soda exploded everywhere. I’m still not done cleaning. If anyone has any genius solutions for cleaning streaks of baking soda from in between the layers of the oven door, I’m all ears.
Tomorrow is the party, which is where I will be from 9:30-11:30, handling setup and food and facilitating a craft and story time for the kids. Then, Charlotte will throw the ultimate fit when it’s time for me to leave because she’s had to share me with her classmates for the last 2 hours and she was already on the brink of a breakdown because her best friend wouldn’t let go of my hand.
Next week is grandparents day at school, which coincides with the bake sale. I have “volunteered” to bake cookies for the bake sale. They need to be “individually packaged” and “visually appealing.” Then, I “volunteered” for a 3-hour volunteer shift at the bake sale. Volunteered is in quotes because I am a room parent and although they say we are volunteering, it is actually expected of us. Supposedly it was all in the contract I signed when I agreed to be a room parent. Clearly, I did not read the contract before signing my life away.
The day after the bake sale, I have “volunteered” to sell tickets to the school’s gala for a few hours before/after drop off.
Speaking of the gala, all room parents are responsible for creating a project of some sort to be auctioned off at the gala. Fortunately, my wife has been a tremendous help on this. So much help, in fact, that I volunteered to help two other room moms with their auction projects. When my wife accused me of over-committing myself, I threw my hands up in the air muttering something about “making friends with these people.” Because you know—when you’re trying to make friends, it’s always best to segregate them into a group you frequently make fun of (*cough*we call them the Range Rovers*cough*) and refer to them as “these people.”
Somewhere in the midst of all of that, there is a ridiculous amount of my own schoolwork to accomplish, parenting to attend to, dogs to walk, a house to maintain, and a marriage to weed and water. And tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. We still have to fill out the Paw Patrol cards we bought for Charlotte’s friends. And maybe I should shower at some point.
I also really need to start thinking about finding employment or generating some sort of income again because we are drowning in debt.
Being a stay at home parent is absolutely nothing like I imagined it would be. Most days, I find myself complaining about it. At the same time, I dread the day that this is not my life anymore. As much as I don’t find it particularly fulfilling, I do see how it benefits our family for me to be here, doing these things I never imagined I’d be doing. I don’t want to emerge from this little stay-at-home-parent-cocoon I’ve nestled myself into. I feel like I’m finally getting the hang of it.