My husband knows never to broach the subject of staying home with the kids to me. Over the years, he’s seen me turn into an insane, angsty monster (I mean, mother) whenever I stayed home with them – whether it was with one, two or three kids. I would always be the one who took time off from work to take care of them when they were unwell. It has always been this way. The kids would never want anyone else, not even their father. And then there were those times I’d take time off to spend “more time” with them. But if you hung around us longer and see me spend “more time” with my kids, especially if it’s more than forty-eight hours, you’d actually hear me begging God and everyone else to let me go back to work.

At work, I get to read the papers, check my fb account, poop in peace and chew my food during meal times. At work, I get to engage in intellectual conversations about issues concerning our society and the world at large. I do work that is meaningful and believe in what I do with all my heart. I receive little notes every now and then from people who tell me I’ve made an impact in their lives. I have colleagues who are caring and sincere, and most of all, genuine – unlike some of my friends who say they work in a place where office politics is rife and that they get backbitten on a daily basis.

Besides, I think my kids should go out there and interact with other children and play as much as they can in a happy environment for as long as it is possible. I mean, if they stayed home with a nanny, granny or helper, what would they do all day? Watch tv? At least at childcare, they get to learn and play in a protected environment with caring teachers. And when we all come home at the end of the day, we’ll get a healthy dose of one another and time spent would be indeed, quality time.

So this is what I subscribe to. Until lately when fatherkao asked me to consider staying home. And homeschool the kids.

It must have taken a lot of faith for him to even ask me to consider and for him to even think I will want to, and can, do it! Stay home, and homeschool the kids, all three of them? Hullo? Will I even survive the first day?

But I decided I will be open to the idea in the light of rising childcare fees and the fact that maybe, just maybe, this might be the best thing I can ever do for my children. So with that, fatherkao and I began a series of conversations for over three weeks, weighing pros and cons, and thinking ahead of ourselves. On my own, I thought about it every waking moment. I also checked out homeschooling curricula, spoke with friends who stayed home and those who stayed home and homeschooled their kids, worked out the finances, and prayed for wisdom.

I also had pros-and-cons “SAHM versus FTWM” matches in my head on a daily basis for the past few weeks.

“I won’t be able to get any me-time. No more pedicures, massages, foot rubs and facials.” FTWM 1, SAHM 0.

“Will my piles problem return? I won’t be able to have regular meals and then I’ll be probably constipated forever.” FTWM 2, SAHM 0.

“No more monthly paychecks! This means I won’t be able to buy things for myself whenever I feel like it! I have to *gasp* ask my husband for permission?” FTWM 3, SAHM 0.

“I’ll lose touch with the world and become an old hag with terrible hair, coarse skin and un-manicured nails. I won’t have the chance to wear pretty dresses, shoes and makeup! I won’t get to talk to adults about adult things and my brain will start vegetating for the lack of intellectual engagement!” FTWM 5, SAHM 0.

I could go through this all day and chock up at least a hundred points for the FTWM side, while the SAHM score remains at zero.

So, what is my final decision about staying home, you may ask. It seems obvious, isn’t it? That I’m not mentally prepared for it. That I’m not ready to make the sacrifice. In all honesty, I am still far from being prepared, mentally, emotionally and physically, but I do have an answer after a month of deliberation.

This is it:

If not now, then when? They are worth a try, come what come may. And so the journey begins next year.

There’s been so many times I’ve been tempted to write FML rants. Way too many times. Like when I have mommy guilt. Or when my daughter yanks my hair repeatedly when I’m already dropping so much hair post-partum. Or when the kids decide to throw tantrums / dump clothes in the toilet bowl / scatter gravel from the aquarium on every alternate tile in the living room / take a bunch of straws, forks, knives and spoons to play pick-up sticks / all of the above.

But often, I’ve decided that I shouldn’t and wouldn’t, simply because at the end of the day, they are still my darling angels and life’s good because I know I can love them forever; and all these FML moments are but fleeting and inconsequential in the grander scheme of things.

So no FML posts. Until now.

My friend, Yann (yannisms.com) recently shared that pregnancy and breastfeeding is the cure for many common woes that plague women. While that’s the fun part of having kids, I’m here to say that life’s not exactly a blast post-partum, especially if you’ve returned to work. Besides the constant rocky boobs at work, there’s the excessive hairloss and balding, the flabby tums that just wouldn’t go away and the super dark eye rings that will put any panda to shame. Add to that extreme fatigue. And lethargy. And three kids needing you every minute you’re home and I’m pretty sure you’ll be blasting the next person who comes to you to ask how you’re holding up.

My body is feeling some effects of extreme exhaustion three kids and five months post-partum. When my post-natal masseuse did a sports massage house call a month ago to help with fatherkao’s sport injury, she brought this diagnostic weighing machine that could predict a person’s age based on the amount of fats you had in your body. That stupid damn thing announced on its LCD display that I was four years older than my actual age, based on my fat and water composition, heart rate and BMI. Last week, when I went to see the TCM massage therapist whom I used to visit three years ago, she asked if I had just given birth after five seconds of kneading my back. She said that there was too much “dampness” in my body and likened it to an old woman’s! And yesterday, I woke up with a migraine, a sore right eye and sudden blurred vision. It was such a frightening ordeal; I’d thought I was gonna lose sight in that eye. I quickly made an appointment with my eye doctor and was even more terrified to hear him tell me that he’s glad I came immediately because my eye pressure has shot up way too high the acceptable level and I need to be on steriods to bring the pressure down. He was also puzzled that the pressure in my left was 11 while the one on my right was 31 (normal level is 21 and below)! And like every doctor who couldn’t provide a medical reason why it happened, it was quickly attributed to stress and exhaustion (and possibly inflammation).

So he gave me some eye medication and ordered for a review tomorrow. And when I saw the medicine, I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry:

So yea, this is my first FML post.

*Update: After a series of tests and investigation, the doctor said that I’m having acute glaucoma, something called Possner-Schlossman Syndrome. Sounds serious, but he assured me the migraine and vision would improve when the eye pressure comes down.

It’s been a crazy week.

I returned to work after being away for about four months. And it felt like I had amnesia for a while. I couldn’t remember my passwords. I forgot names of colleagues. I felt a great sense of disconnect with what I was supposed to do.

All these months of feeding and burping the baby, of blogging and reading mom blogs, of being comfortably at home have left me feeling like I don’t belong to this profession and place where I work.

I miss Nat. I miss his crying. I miss his laughing. I miss cuddling him.

I miss bossing my helper around and planning the dinner menu with a little bit more thought and love. I miss rolling up my sleeves to prepare breakfast for my children.

I miss being able to read and read, and then read some more. I miss checking my fb account every other minute. Every day, this week, I collapse in exhaustion after tucking my kids in bed. I don’t even have the strength to walk to the study and kiss my husband goodnight.

Work. With kids. This is what it has done to me. I feel exhausted and overwhelmed.

This would be very nice, tyvm.