I remember it vividly. My husband kissed us good-bye, and as the door closed behind him, I stood there half-smiling/half-terrified with a toddler weaving figure-eights between my legs and a fussing infant in my arms. Rain tapped on the windows. I heard his car engine start and pull away. And at that moment it happened. At that moment, I officially became a stay-at-home mom. The letters SAHM stamped on my forehead.
I looked at the clock: 8:32am. Now what? Panic
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