"So, You Don't Work"

We've been having a bit of trouble putting Chase down for both her nap and at the end of the day. Most of it can probably be contributed back to her cutting the fourth baby molar and my coddling her as a result of it. Last night she fussed for nearly an hour after we put her down before finally giving up and leaving me a bit more gray. With the monitor blaring "MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA!!!," I looked a little more sick to my stomach with each passing minute until Wil offered to check on her (my going in and leaving again normally would set her off even more). While I was sitting on the couch trying not to hate myself for not scooping her up and bringing her to bed with us, I thought about a question I heard earlier from a high school friend I recently reconnected with through Facebook. "So you're just a housewife and stay home with the baby?" I knew she didn't mean anything derogatory by it and how the question was phrased probably had a lot to do with the language barrier. I, however, know that I tend to get defensive about it, mainly because I had a corporate job and ran a department with 15-20 technicians to look after and can comfortably say that taking care of The One is much harder of a job. In the western world, people can understand "none of your business" and leave it alone as it is one's choice to do whatever with one's life. But when you are Thai, EVERYTHING takes extensive explaining, most of which I don't have in me and therefore I am rude. Do you know how many "why don't you work?'s" I got from extended family members and friends when I was in Thailand? To fully understand this, you have to also understand that education is the most prized possession in most families, particularly Asian, because it affords us--the third world country people--a better opportunity in life and levels the playing field. The way they see it is that my parents invested all kinds of money into my education and I'm not doing much to return the favor, which is also expected of any good Thai children. Before I go on I should mention that my parents have been most supportive about our decision and doesn't share the kind of sentiment I'm talking about. Anyhow, I did my best to wave off the accusing tone because I didn't feel like going into details about how we, Wil and I, thought it was best for our children to have my dedicated time with them during the most important building years of their lives before school or how being in Germany and not a US citizen pretty much narrowed down the job pool for me to just those that barely paid minimum wage that wouldn't cover the cost of a decent child care, which would be a miracle in itself if there was a spot, available, etc... In Thailand, where labor is cheap, maids and nannies are the way of life, and I can see how some can think I'm being careless with my most valuable resource. Being able to stay at home with our child is a luxury that we decide that it's worth the opportunity cost. I'm not at a spa getting my toes paint while a nanny wrangles my toddler and my maid cleans, cooks, and folds my laundry. I know I don't have to justify my life for anyone, because I can see my greatest work running around the house shouting "A apple, B buzzy bee, C cwacker (cracker), D doggie!!!" For that I shouldn't have to feel the constant guilt that I do. For that "just a housewife" shouldn't sting even though it does. I went to bed still thinking about it.

Then around 3 a.m., Chase cried. I knew instantly from her tone that she was cold, just like I knew the night before when she cried a different cry that her diaper leaked or some other time when she cried because she had a nightmare. I picked her up, immediately felt her cold skin pressed against my arms, and wrapped her fleece blanket that she had kicked off sometimes during the night around her. She sighed a quiet little sigh, put her head on my chest, and went back into deep sleep within about 15 seconds. Would we still have this kind of connection had I worked outside of our home full-time? Sure, I know we'd still find the way, as the "working" mothers of the world do, even though I'm grateful for a husband, who happily assures me that I'm right exactly where I'm needed and we can thrive on a single income.

I felt back asleep sometimes around 4:30 a.m. feeling relieved that I was finally at peace with being "just a housewife"--proud, in fact. Of course, I was back to my ungrateful selfish self and grunted when, at 5 a.m., Wil's alarm clock went off.