In my head, I don’t fit in with stay at home mothers.
We all know what a liar the heart can be, especially with insecurities but I am trying to work past it.
I take Harrison to the park at 3pm, something that still feels so foreign. (Why am I not at a desk? Or in a meeting?) I don’t have “stay at home mom” clothes after seven years in corporate America and I’m re-wearing one of two pairs of jeans I own for the second day in a row. It was either a silk blouse and blazer or a hoodie along with sneakers, so I look a little homeless.
I feel a little homeless, not in the literal sense but where I am missing my “tribe.”
They sit in a pack together while the kids play and I wonder if they’ve been in playgroup together for years. I wonder why I don’t walk over and say “hi” except I’m so unsure in my new role and initimated that I freeze as i watch Harrison tackle the slide.
Because I’m not really a stay at home mom. I’m the in-between, someone who works odd hours from a laptop and calls in a nanny for reinforcements on the days of conference calls. I don’t know whether to consign my Ann Taylor suits for Gap tshirts and I’m still trying to figure out my toddler’s schedule.
These stay at home moms, sitting together on park benches…they don’t seem to struggle with that or worry about the next gig. They’ve been doing this for two years, fully comfortable in their routines. I’m struggling where I fit in. Wondering if they’ll accept me for the hybrid momma I am, knowing that I may be on email as my kid plays.
It’s worth a shot. So today I ordered some tshirts and next time, I’ll walk over and say “hi.”