Mommy Diaries: The Baby Phase Is Over, Now What?

baby phase over schoolA phase of my life has just recently come to an end: The baby phase is officially over. My monsters are both now students. I officially have the day to myself.

Sound the alarm.

I can now drop them off, and do whatever I please. I can go back to sleep. I can go get a manicure. I can sit on my couch staring out the window sipping my coffee for the rest of the day. I can finish my work at my own pace rather than as quickly as possible before L realizes I’m doing something other than watch her twirl. Because ladies and gentlemen, I can now retire. Well at least from the time I drop them off till I have to pick them up again, but I’ll take it! It’s my time to shine…. right?

Wrong.

Apparently some people have been sitting around waiting for this day longer than I have. And boy oh boy do they have loud opinions…

Now you can finally get a real job.

Don’t you miss waking up with a purpose?

You must be so glad now that you can go back to being productive.

Z Money is too young for school.

I’d like to respond with any or all of the following:

You wouldn’t know what a real job was if it hit you in the face.

Stapling papers will never make you more productive than me raising my children.

Your gray suit has more color than your personality.

If you’ve never wiped her ass or cleaned up her mess, you have absolutely no say.

I’ve taught five year olds. I’ve completed a graduate degree. I run a business. I married an Egyptian man. I live in a different continent than the rest of my family. Did I mention the fact that I married an Egyptian man?

And I am telling you people, being a mother is hands down the hardest thing on the face of this planet*. Any mama will agree. So put your silly pencil skirt away, you look like a fool anyways, and put your opinions where they belong.**

Now excuse me, I have a mani-pedi and a meeting with a client to schedule.

*I love my children. I don’t consider them a job. And all that good stuff that protects me from ever being categorized as an unfit mother by a therapist later on in the girls’ lives.

**Use your imagination.

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