On Being a Temporary Stay-at-Home Mom and an Always Tired One
I’ve been a mom for years, but this is the first time I’ve been home with my boys every single day. And wow — it’s a lot.
Aside from my maternity leaves, I’ve never been home with them 24/7 like I am right now. I realized pretty early into motherhood that even though I have to work for financial reasons, I also work because I want to.
There are moments I feel pangs of jealousy when I think about stay-at-home moms, but for the most part, I’ve accepted that I was never meant to be one. Being a mom is a huge part of my identity, but so is being a librarian. We shouldn’t have to give up one piece of ourselves for another. They can and should co-exist — even though it’s not always easy. I should be allowed to be both without guilt or regret.
I know how lucky I am. I get to be home right now — safe and healthy — while others don’t have that luxury. Essential workers are holding everything together while I log in remotely, and I don’t take that for granted. So yes, I’m grateful… but I’d be lying if I didn’t also admit that this has been a hard transition — for the kids, yes, but mostly for me.
There have been sweet moments. More bonding. More appreciation for my mom, who usually watches them when I’m at work. More downtime. More quiet brain space. I’ve been reading again. Watching movies. Nesting. For all the frustration and fear, there’s also been comfort in this slower, quieter stretch of time.
And yet… my boys are going stir crazy. I am going stir crazy. I miss feeling productive. I miss having a purpose that doesn’t involve fetching snacks and wiping butts on loop. My mental health has taken a hit — partly from the loss of routine, and partly because Holden. Throws. Everything.
He spills two drinks a day, minimum. He throws things in the toilet. Down the stairs. Just to see what happens. To watch them fall and break.
And Caleb? My sweet, sensitive boy? He waits until the exact moment I finally sit down to tell me he’s thirsty… again. Or needs help in the bathroom… again.
As an introvert, I’m loving being home and not overscheduled — but I’m also losing my mind. I need quiet. I need alone time. I need to be just me, without everyone else needing me too.
There is more chaos in my home than there ever is at work, and my system is in shock. The yelling. The crying. The constant noise. It’s exhausting. At night, when they finally fall asleep, I get my first real breath of the day. I stay up way too late reading, scrolling, researching — not because I’m not tired, but because I finally feel peaceful.
I fight sleep because I know what’s waiting when I wake up: the same noise, the same chaos, the same demands. Same shit, different day.
I try to remind myself that I’m not a bad mom. I’m just a tired one. A working one. An introverted one, doing her best to survive this weird season as a temporary stay-at-home mom. And even though I lose my patience, even though I get overwhelmed, that doesn’t make me a bad mom.
It just makes me human.
I’m not a bad mom. I’m just a tired one, trying to love hard in the middle of the mess.
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