Being a stay-at-home mom is a such a strange brew of contradictions. I always feel I should be accomplishing so much more than I am, and yet getting the smallest task completed is completely daunting. The day stretches out ahead of us in a series of endless hours, and yet is so filled with diaper changes, negotiations over sweater wearing and hat donning, shoe-finding, book-reading, snack preparation, and the finely-tuned operation that leads to a smooth bed-time that going out more than once a day seems a feat not worth attempting. On the other hand, when I do manage to check something off my ever-evolving to-do list, I'm excited out of all proportion.

Maybe that's why I have a new appreciation for the idea of "homemaking." I'm a good feminist, I really am, and up until 21 months ago and Oliver's birth, my sense of self was defined fairly far away from the cleanliness of my refrigerator or the alphabetization of my pantry shelves. There's just something about being home so much more, though, that draws me in to the orbit of the house itself. Partly it's the fact that I spend a lot of time sitting on the floor playing trains, and I'm only a few inches away from the evidence that the rugs need a good vacuuming. Also, we are home making a mess, when before the house was left to the devices of two sleeping cats most of the day. Not to mention the destruction that one sweet and busy toddler can wreak in a matter of minutes.... But there's more to it than all that. Making soup, dusting the bookshelf, or putting away a pile of laundry are concrete accomplishments. They can be written on a to-do list and crossed off again, and they help me account for my time in a way that didn't seem as neccesary when I spent all day at work.

What I do know is that these occupations are secondary to the real work I'm doing these days (and what a joyful and difficult work it is!) of mothering my son. Parenting feels so vague sometimes, and is so focused on the long term. It's the most important and satisfying thing I have done so far, but not very conducive to the tidy format of the to-do list. So, I sweep the floor, take out the trash, and do load after load of laundry.

There's another aspect to all this, too--my growing realization of how much work it really takes to create a family-space that is warm, joyful, connected, and healthful. Always before, this work was crammed into the hours outside of my good and demanding job, and weekends were spent doing chores. I know I'm incredibly lucky to have this time at home with my son, and it makes me realize all the more that we all work way too much. Nothing wrong with work, and it sure beats being unemployed, but how did we get so far away from the idea that our lives are bigger than the work we do? I love Scott Nearing's take on how our time should be divided: 1/3 head, 1/3 bread, 1/3 community? That's not quite right, but little voice is saying "Mama come! Wash hands, nurse, nurse, wash hands, MamAAAA!"