I left my job as a flight attendant to raise my daughter. Let me be clear: I liked my job, and I love my daughter. I honestly would have given everything to make that work together, but it didn't, and I had to make a hard choice.
Time will tell if it's the right one.
The best advice I received in deciding between my two happy lives was when picking between doing work and spending time with your kids, always pick your kids. Your work will be there for you later. I believe that was actually in reference to housework, but I applied it in my case.
My choice was somewhat abrupt too. It now feels like it was ill thought out. Especially when I realize that being a stay at home mom or SAHM is more than playing with the baby and walking around the mall (which was how I spent my maternity leave) I had to handle the house. And in our case, the house was handling me.
2010 was the year of change in our lives. We were engaged to be married, and happily dreaming of a future full of fun, laughter, and maybe some kids down the road. By February, our fate was already sealed. I had barely put the invitations in the mail when we found out we were pregnant, and all the horror that went with that- the morning sickness, the mood swings, the throwing up, the trips to the bathroom, the nausea, the getting sick anywhere and everywhere, the morning sickness that lasted nine months. I gotta tell you it doesn't instill much confidence from the passengers in you when you already have your head in a sick bag during taxi out.
Then come April was the big day: Our beautiful wedding and a trip to Ireland for the honeymoon. In May (upon our return) I officially moved in. June held a new job for my husband which meant he was leaving a company he had been with for nearly 10 years to start anew. Best choice he could have made.
In July, I stopped flying because I was considered high risk for early delivery & my doctor didn't want me stuck in Costa Rica or Mexico or Canada for that matter with a premature infant. But, she (a girl) hung out til October where after a somewhat dramatic birth, we got to bring her home. And all her stuff.
Who knew babies needed so much crap? And all that stuff started to accumulate into my husband's home. I say my husband's home because it was the one I moved to, the one he has owned for 8 or 9 years. It's a 40 year old condo in a really cute older community in the Phoenix area. And the place hasn't been touch really by me, because I never really felt completely comfortable to do so. For instance, there are photos of race cars in my living room. I don't like racing- it's loud and smelly in my opinion. But to each his own... except that there are pictures of race cars in my living room. And he loves them. And there is no other place to put them.
We picked out the couch together, and yes, my books and bookshelves are in there. But it is still not my house. The only room that feels like me is the baby's room, which sadly was to be my office. There are piles and piles of crafting crap in there, along with a cargo shipment of baby stuff from my sister- enough to last her until age 3. But I picked the furniture and the wall color and hung little ladybug things in there, so it feels the most complete. (if not crowded)
Now, comes the exciting part. After much deliberation, we have decided to buy a new house! There are several factors that go into that, I'm sure I will get into later, but the big one is space. The condo is perfect for a young couple without kids, a single person with or without a room mate, or an older person or couple looking to downsize. It is not good for 2 people that are attempting to combine 2 households and throwing a baby into the mix, let alone thinking about someday having a second child. My husband was in his mid twenties when he bought this place and lived here with his best friend from high school. It has that laquer of bachelor pad I just can't scrub off the walls.
So here is our quest from start to finish(?) of selling our condo and buying a house and fixing up both. I hope you will enjoy following our little journey home.
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