Is it. . .enough?

So here's the thing. . .

A few weeks ago I run out of the house to knock off a few errands. . . i.e.: hair is a mess, minimal to no makeup, kids may or may not be in their pajamas, and it's possible I'm still in mine, too.  And don'tchaknow. . .this is when you run into people that you wished you hadn't.

I run into this girl that I used to work with before children, when I had a job.  Well, when I had a job that I wore supportive underwear to.  That's not so much a necessity at my current job.  Okay, so. . .this girl. . .

. . .has two kids of her own now.  About Cole's age.  Cute little things. . .twins.  She works full time and so does her husband.  Kids go to "Toddler Camp" on the weekends.  Kids have a nanny.  I think, 'man. . .wish I had a nanny.'  Then I realize, I am the nanny.  I think about Rebecca De Mornay's character in "The Hand that Rocks the Cradle", (such a great movie, btw!) smile and realize I'm not giving this woman my full attention.   And I let her continue. . .

. . .and she finishes, looks me up. and. down. . .[side note: I'm pretty sure she looked me up and down although I'm willing to throw out there that it might have been my own insecurities about still having yesterday's mascara smeared under my eyes that made me feel that way. . .but still.  For dramatic purposes, let's say she did.  And meant it.] . . . and asks, "So what are you up to, now?"

I look at my two darlings, (one, btw is strapped to me in her carrier, covered in drool and gumming the spit-up left behind on the bib of the carrier. . .the other. . I'm pretty sure, was picking his nose and wiping it on his stroller. . .) . . .and say, "well, this."  Like, der. 

The woman, whom I remember having some sense about the world (that she's clearly lost since then) says. . .
. . ."so, that's enough?"

What?  Enough?  What's enough?  It's enough that I've wasted this much time talking to you. . .if that is what you're talking about.  And I go into this very sophisticated rant thing that I do when you've offended me and I need to show you that yes, I'm still an intelligent human being. . .and while we're at it. . .what were you thinking when you bought those shoes? 

This actually never happened.  I probably just tilted my head a little off to the right when I do when I'm confused because she clarified. . .

". . . uh, I mean. . .staying home with the kids?  That's enough to keep you happy, is it?  I just couldn't do it.  Seems incredibly boring.  Might make you loose your mind, too.  Think I've read that somewhere.  You know, stay-at-home-mom's IQ levels dip or something for each year they are home. . ."

Ohhhh Jesus.   Are you kidding me?  We're going to do this? In the middle of the local Shop-O-Rama, too?

I said (seriously, no joke here). . ."Yeah.  It's more than enough.  I can't really think of anything more important than being the one that raises my own kids.  Have a good one."

AND. . .true story. . .by the time I got home, she had sent me a Facebook friend request.  What is wrong with people?!?

Of course this gets me thinking. . .

I always thought it was an absolute privilege to be home with the kids.  Not always attractive.  Not always sunshine and "shank you mums" or even rewarding.  But nothing is.  Not even your fancy little job that you still have and I don't.  I thought moms that worked had a way tougher job than I did. . . going to work each day and coming home to do the things I've had all day to do.  But they still would rather be home. . .right? 

Is that crazy?  Do moms (or dads. . .) want to work all week and still send the kids to Toddler Camp on the weekends?  Hmmm.  Crazy thought.  Maybe I'm the one that's crazy. . .

I have way less money.  Less sanity.  Less fancy clothes or places to wear them.  But I have more time with the kids.  I get to see all the "firsts", first.  I see the yucky and the wonderful and the "ahh-wished-you-hadn't-rubbed-that-into-the-couch." moments.   Who wouldn't want that? 

You know, I'll admit, my pendulum is a bit swayed.  I never send the kids anywhere.  My mother-in-law asks pretty much weekly to take them off our hands so I can spent 5 minutes with the hubby not covered in spit-up.  I could do better with that.  But it's tough to imagine not wanting to do what I do. . .even if I complain from time to time. 

I mean, come on. . .who doesn't complain about what they do from time to time.  In fact, I remember that being a pretty big part of my daily grind when I worked at that "real" job of hers. . .

So here's my question. . .

Would you choose to stay home with the kids if you could?  If money was no issue?  If some sacrifice would make it work?  Or does leaving the house each day with a different identity and a different job to do help you be a better mom when you get home?

And is staying home . . .enough?

I'm enjoying it.