No formal experience required.
Hours are flexible, but “on call.”
Work at home in your PJs.
Pay is not great and the benefits will change your life
Eight years ago, my husband and I decided that I would pull back from my interior design business to answer this “stay at home mom” ad. I envisioned the perfect 9 to 5, where my work involved kissing babies, mommy and me Pilates, girlfriend lunch dates with our quiet well-mannered mini-me’s, Netflix watching, nap taking, profession that was too good to refuse.
Four and a half kids later (I’m currently pregnant with # 5 as I’m writing this), “too good to refuse” might just be “too good to be true” as I keep thinking “wait, that wasn’t in the job description.”
“Rob, wake up!”
“Beven, please deal with the baby. I have work in the morning!”
Don’t we all…
“No dear, it is the morning!” Shift change, Night Nanny to Morning Mommy.
“10 more minutes…” He said.
Sure, I will get the boys ready for school.
“Where is my school belt?”
“Can I have a chocolate chip muffin?”
“Yes…” I race to the kitchen sink because the nausea hits me like a lightning bolt. I wipe my mouth, pop a Zofran, and reminded myself a sick mommy means a healthy baby, but I also can’t help but laugh, “Benefits, hell, I don’t even get sick days.”
Caylee and Carleigh wake up. Full speed ahead as I am still yawning. Time for Momma to be a “Fashion Model.” One girl clips ten colorful bows in my hair and the other girl starts my makeup. A generous amount of butterfly lip-gloss covers my mouth so thick that I can barely speak without ingesting it.
“How do I look?”
“Not good,” responds Caylee.
Perfect. Doorbell rings. Great timing.
From Fashion Model to Game Show Contestant.
“Momma, I want to color.”
They sketch masterpieces and I play “Win, Lose, or Draw.”
“Momma, what is this?”
If you guess it right, you get a kiss and “I love you.” Guess wrong, a sigh.
“A flower, Baby girl?”
“No, it’s a circle!”
No kiss this round. Now the girls are hungry and ready for their entertainment.
My little princesses love a little game we call “Court Jester” where they order me to perform certain acts.
“Be a puppy, momma.”
“Shake your booty.” They giggle as I wiggle.
Girls are napping. Time for mom to rest, right? Wrong! My extremely busy attorney husband doesn’t believe in hiring a yard guy. Apparently, he thinks I could be the “Lawn Girl” in my spare time.
Time for the “Bus Driver” to pick up the boys. My Ford Expedition EL is about the size of a bus. Do I need a special license to drive this thing?
I need a psychology degree for my “Therapist” duties when the boys share their day as if it’s an episode of the “Real Girlfriends of St. John Primary.”
“Momma, what should I do? Girls like me. They all want me to be their boyfriend. I like them all. How to choose!”
“Slow down, Romeo.”
“Momma, I don’t feel good.”
“Come lay down, Carter, while I get your inhaler.”
Now, I’m a “Doctor,” too.
Caylee has an invisible boo-boo. Dr. Mom gently places a wet wipe on her arm; they cure almost anything.
I am terrified of bugs, especially spiders. Quick call the exterminator. Oh, wait, I’m the “Bug Lady.”
Grab the Swifter and off to work. Of course, a spider, life I hate you so much!
Swiftly swinging the Swifter … CRUNCH. I start to celebrate when Cooper ask if he’s ok.
“Sure, Honey, he’s just sleeping.”
Don’t forget “Lawyer/Private Investigator/ and sometime Hostage Negotiator.”
Whether hammering out the terms of a cease-fire, searching for a lost treasure, exchanging toys at the sound of the oven timer, or negotiating the terms through the locked door for the safe return of your sister’s doll, this problem solver is on call.
Homework time. What does this mean? Where are the directions or answer key? Why do I need an Education degree for 2nd grade homework? Common Core could you answer me? Fine, I guess the Teacher’s me.
“Mom, I don’t understand what to do.”
Google don’t make me tell him I’m just as confused.
From down the hall. “Mom, story please.”
“Story Teller” … well at least this position engages my creative juices, but really under these conditions.
A story in the bathroom, while they do number 2 due to the smell my imagination stifled.
“Once upon a time, Prince Poop needed to poop…”
Finished baths and my stomach says its dinnertime, but Momma won’t eat anytime soon. I take another Zofran and head to the couch to settle it. My cheeks don’t even reach the seat when Carleigh grabs my arm.
“Eat! Eat! Momma!”
Time for the “Line Chef” to show her hamburger skills. Four burgers all dressed differently. You better get them correct because mistakes are not taken lightly by this Crewe at dinnertime.
I could use a hand. Oh look, a text.
“Hey, Beautiful. Touching base. Working late. Hope your day was great. Have a fun and relaxing evening?”
Beautiful my (Beep)! Relaxing! I told him to call not text my hands are never free. Well he should be happy I can’t respond right now.
Evening is winding down. Cleaning the kitchen while the krewe plays in their rooms.
“Boys time to pick up.”
“How much you going to pay us?”
What did they just say? Paid? I gave y’all life. Plus, I don’t even get paid. I bet they have more money in their piggy banks than I have in my purse.
“Cat Burglar” wasn’t in the description either, but I will tell you what … I slipped into their room, opened their banks, and found the funds for their pay.
Exhausted at the end of the day. One could question my decision considering the 20 something professions required for this title. However, the moments when they say “thank you, I love you, you’re the best mommy,” I light up with a smile and all the goodnight kisses I have compiled make me grateful I took this position.
I finally sit on the couch and remember my babies’ first smiles, giggles, crawls, walks, words, and every precious milestone along the way so priceless. While the ad might have been misleading to say the least, I would work 48 hours a day for the opportunity to see another milestone.
I have just closed my eyes when the door opens and my husband walks inside. As he closes the door, we both hear the cries of number four. He looked at me as if to say I need to rest I worked all day. I stood back up with a smile. I look at him and sweetly say, “No worries, Mommy’s still on call.”
Beven Adair Budden Ray is a proud native of Southern Louisiana. She was raised in Lafayette, and craves boiled crawfish daily. Beven moved to Baton Rouge for college. Being a dancer, she enrolled in a modern dance course at LSU where she met her future husband, Rob Ray. Beven is a full time mom and resides in Dutchtown, which is the perfect community to raise her “C-Crew” Cooper (8), Carter (6), Caylee (2), Carleigh (1) and Caisley (newborn). She is having the time of her life. She and her “C-Crew” dance and sing through the day as if it were a Broadway Musical, which always includes color coordinated wardrobe and BIG bows on little girls. She makes no secret that she believes from the food and music to the rich culture and cypress swamps, there is no place on Earth like South Louisiana. She is thrilled to be raising her Cajun Cuties in a place so beautifully unique that even the Target greeter speaks.