Job Title: Home Executive

I am always at a loss as to how to fill out forms that ask for employment and such.  I have a job.  I have a tough job, in fact, but because I don't get paid nor is it looked at as a "real" job, it's hard for me to answer such questions.

I remember when I was pregnant with B, The Doctor and I had decided I would stop working to raise our children.  I was 110% on board with that.  For as long as I could remember, all I ever wanted was to be a wife and mommy.  I was so excited about our decision and eagerly answered the question of, "What will you do after the baby is born?"

We were at a business dinner one night and one of The Doctor's colleagues decided to make small talk with me.  I'm fairly certain by the end of our short lived conversation, he was making a note to never talk to me again.

"So, what do you do?," Colleague asked pleasantly.

"I work in retail," I answered honestly.

"What will you do after the baby is born?," he asked, most likely out of politeness.

"Well," I answered eagerly.  "I plan on staying home with her!  Blah, blah, blah, blah."  (I remember his eyes glazing over and him leaning to the person next to him to ask how she liked her dinner.  I'm sure I said more than just "blah, blah, blah" but thinking about it is making my mind glaze over.)

I remember telling people that I was trading my monetary salary for the much more lucrative salary of hugs and kisses.  You can tell I was a soon to be first time Mom.  It never occurred to me how much of my pay would be in poopy diapers, spit up all over and lots and lots of tears.

I have had quite a few jobs in my life.  From working in the computer lab in college (in which either I was a very good mimicker or I've forgotten everything I once knew, because I know nothing about computers now) to all of those long retail hours, being a Mom is truly the hardest one.

I dealt with lots of grumpy people in my other jobs.  There were disgruntled students who forgot to save their work before closing Word, only to realize the printer wasn't connected and shoppers who fought trying to return items and trying to walk out without paying.  There was one time, I was cleaning the dressing rooms and a woman emerged from one.

"Ooh!," I complimented her.  "I love that top!  The color looks great on you.  Would you like to see some pants to go with it?"

"Um. . . This is MY top.  I came into the store wearing it," she said, clearly surprised (annoyed?) that not only didn't I recognize my own merchandise, but I sounded like all I was trying to do was make a sale.

Yep, I think it's safe to say being peed, pooped and snotted on is a pretty good gig.  Last night, The Doctor and I were in the process of leasing 2 cars (yay for great deals!) and while The Doctor was filling out a form, I was fiddling on my phone, wondering when we could go.  Suddenly, I heard The Doctor say to the Sales Guy, "Her name is on it too.  She has to fill this out as well!"

He then passed me the form and told me to fill it out, so I did.

Name: Curly Girly Mama

Place of Employment/Self Employed: Self Employed- SAHM

Annual Salary: Lots of Hugs and Kisses

How Long Have You Been Employed: 10 years, 10 months (by this point Sales Guy was laughing hysterically)

Job Title: Home Executive

The Doctor looked over to see why Sales Guy was laughing so hard.  He peered over my shoulder and said, "Great.  I'm sure someone in the credit department will get a big laugh, but a credit application is not the place to be funny."

"Whoops!," I replied, turning bright red.  "I had no idea what I was filling out!  Well, at least they have your information to go on."

I'm sure being a Credit Application Processor (is that an actual job title?) is not the most exciting job in the world, so if I was able to make someone laugh today, then my (second) job here is done.