This is not a question that any sane person who wants to live would ever pose to a stay-at-home parent. On second thought, that is not a question that should be posed to ANY parent, whether that parent works outside the home or stays at home.
When I retired (yes, I am calling it that because there is no way in hell I'm ever going back to work--this gig is way too good to let go), there were gambles ranging from 20 minutes to 6 months as to how long I'd last before rushing back to work. I don't think I need to tell you how much I love my current position. But, I knew I would get those comments, and I was okay with it. I have never felt compelled to announce what I do, how I do it, or how I feel about my methods as I "stay at home" to care for my family. I think it's a sad attempt at validating my decisions, and I do not feel I need to do that.
Even so, most people understand and know better than to ask The Question. So, why did it come up? Of course, it involves my Dad. My wonderful, loving, amazing, yet sometimes suicidal father.
He tricked his doctor into approving him to get a handicapped license plate. It is true that he and my mother suffer quite a bit from arthritis, but they are on some serious pain meds. And yes, their memory is slipping, but they have always managed to find where they parked their car. And sure, my Mom has osteoporosis and we worry about her falling and breaking a bone, so we're just extra careful with her. But does this warrent handicapped parking?!!! Hmmm...you can make the judgment on that, but I have a strong suspicion it's so he can get good parking without the effort.
There. I said it. On a cloudy day where there's a greater chance I'll get struck by lightening. But back to my story:
To get the handicapped parking, one must go to the DMV with appropriate papers. He had given me the doctor's papers on Monday, but I had not had the chance to go (this is one of the many duties of my new job--run their errands, which is fine for the most part). Yesterday, he asked me...you guessed it...The Question. After I had spent the morning running around like a chicken without its head (looks really silly if you've seen it in real life before).
Dad: What? You haven't gotten my sticker yet? What do you do all day?!
Me: (seething, but not wanting to say something I'll regret, scream, or inflict bodily harm on a senior citizen) Well Dad, I do nothing all day. But sometimes, I get so bored, I go to the casino and bet it all on black.
When I told this story to Sam, he actually sucked in his breath, widened his eyes, and stepped backwards when I got to The Question.
And that is all it takes to make me laugh. That is all I need to appreciate my father, who knows how to push every last one of my buttons at the same time, but understand that he truly loves my family and appreciates all that I do for him, so that I can laugh at the absurdity that is my life.
Most importantly, I remember my husband is the absolute best fit for my personality. As much as I complain about him or make fun of him, he really is an incredible husband and father, and I am so fortunate and blessed to have built this life with him. Because no matter what, he has NEVER asked The Question.
Ok...I'm commenting again. Please write a book. And...to add to this post...I've had a said "someone" step in and answer THE QUESTION for me....when I was asked THE QUESTION....the said person looked at the asker and said, "she does nothing." I almost went through the roof since the person has no clue how freaking hard it is to be at home. And no....the person wasn't my husband. He is one intelligent man who often looks at me and says, "there is NOOOOO way I could do what you're doing." Love him.
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