I knew it was coming. I knew one day my children would come bounding off the school bus and into the house and would ask me how on earth I spend my days.
I knew it would happen, but I still wasn't prepared for it.
Yesterday when Sam asked me what I do all day I was stunned into silence. Apparently he felt the need to fill that silence with something, so he continued with "Do you sit around and do nothing all day?"
Now, this is a very intelligent child. Yet somehow he did not feel the need to run for cover after asking me the most ridiculous question I've ever heard. I think I stammered for a second before I managed to tell him that no, I most assuredly do not sit around and do nothing all day.
"But you could, right?"
"Sure I could, but I don't."
"Well do you ever go outside? I mean, for more than to take Ladybug out?"
"For what? How far do you go?"
"For heaven's sake, son! What is this, an Inquisition?"
We laughed. As it turns out he didn't really want to know what I do all day; he really just wanted to know that if I wanted to I could do nothing. Perhaps he was thinking it would be great to be a stay-at-home dad when he grows up so he could sit at home and play video games and nap with the cats. If he wanted to. Not that he would. Right?
Just in case, my apologies to his future wife.
It struck me later in the evening that while I don't give a rat's behind what my children think I do all day, I do sometimes recount my recent activities to my husband because I really do care what he thinks. Despite the fact that Steve has never, ever asked me if I have been at all productive during the day, I feel the need to justify my job as a stay-at-home mom.
Well, you know, more than just pointing out that I do mother the children.
So there are days when I chat with Steve in the evening while he is in some far-off place for work and I bore him with the minutiae of how many loads of laundry I've done or how many places I stopped while running errands, just to remind him (read: myself) how important my job really is. Like I'm concerned I'm going to get fired or something.
OK, there are days the kids would gladly fire me, but other adults have assured me that just means I'm a great mom. I choose to believe them.
By the way, I feel it necessary to point out I am WAY too young to really be familiar with the 1950's game show The $64,000 Question. I'd say it should be obvious by my mug over there on the right that I couldn't possibly have ever seen the show, but before yesterday I would have also said it should be quite obvious that I keep very busy during the day. Pfft. Kids.