October 20, 2014 Important Things, On Writing and Other Tidbits, View From My Front Porch This Path I Chose My cousin’s wife posted a link to a blog essay that touched her and moved me as well. It was written by a stay-at-home mom, who left a career to raise children and offered the positives and negatives of her decision. The plusses far outweighed the negatives, in my estimation. Then again, I chose that route as well, only it was 25 years ago. The question I used to ask myself was, “Do you regret your choice?” Once or twice I have. For many years, my second daughter, now 25, would throw up my decision to me in anger. I could tell she resented that I didn’t have to help her father earn a living. Our automobiles were not new; we didn’t go on as many vacations as we might have. And, as she struggled through the difficult regimen of electrical engineering, she recognized that from the time I was her age, I didn’t have to work for a living as she was about to do. This is how it would go: Me: “You don’t have to worry, we will pay for your tuition/help you with that boat/cover your medical bills.” She: “Don’t you mean Dad will with Dad’s money?” Another time a childhood friend of mine came to visit. She remarked, “Look at us now. Who would’ve guessed? You got that fancy degree from Vanderbilt, and I didn’t finish college. Yet, I am the one with the career.” Ouch. I used to chafe at those sorts of comments and wonder why some of my local friends never asked me what I was up to even as I asked how their jobs/careers were going. I wondered what I would say if they did, like “I’m writing today with no direction.” I knew I would not say, “I’m just doing housework while watching tv.” I may not have a real career with a certificate and paycheck, but I don’t waste my time watching soap operas. (Heck, I gave that up years ago when the girls were young when All My Children was silly enough to give Tad an alter ego of Ted. Jeez.) At this point in my life, I no longer care that I am not a career woman in a powerful job! I am the happiest I have ever been. The reasons, some listed below, are clear to me now, and I have no regrets: 1. Seeing real success in front of me My girls have been my (and my husband’s) greatest achievement. They have become thoughtful, curious, intellectual, and empathetic adult human beings. They have taken the reins of their lives and made something wonderful from what they were given, genetically, with nurture, and with their own tenacity. We are enormously proud. Did it help by my being at home? I like to think so. I hope so. I admit that I chose to stay home with them for selfish reasons as much as anything else. I wanted to be with them as they grew up! I started out on the merry-go-round of work weeks and didn’t like it. I chafed at having to pawn off the kids to someone else when they were sick. I knew what I was giving up at the time–good paycheck from great company, business friends. But, I didn’t assess what I was doing to myself by taking myself from the long term job market and rendering myself pretty unmarketable in the long run. But there were those perks. 1. Having time to devote to our children My being at home afforded me more time for things like taking the girls to the library and reading books to them, books with creativity and imagination. Next came a calm household where too much scheduling with sports and activities was not allowed. We participated in one sport and one activity at a time, and only IF the child wanted to play/try-out/investigate an activity. Once I became the nagger, the experience ended. No forcing practice, no yelling or cajoling. It never happened that we had to drop a team. But, the next year would be definitely out. We never did sports or obligated ourselves in the summertime. It was ours to spend freely and with imagination. (Now, if we had had boys or tremendous athletes, this might not have been possible. But, for us it worked.) From the time the girls were young and in school, I had the privilege of picking them up and talking to them about their days’ experiences. Good and bad. Then the girls spent hours playing, outdoors if the weather permitted and indoors otherwise. They had time at home. I tried not to be a hovering parent, but I could not resist volunteering to teach art lessons at their schools. I got to know teachers, the girls friends and enemies alike. I’m not sure that the girls loved having be around so much, but they seemed to like my art classes. I never knew if the other children appreciated my efforts until just recently when I shared a photo of one of the oldest’s birthday parties with an artist theme. A childhood friend of hers posted this on her Facebook page: “Wasn’t it your mother who taught us art in 4th grade? I held on to that collage we did in class for ages (read: I likely still have it somewhere!). I always wanted to credit her with helping to spark my love of art.” My heart sang when I read this! 2. Finding tenacity within myself My liberal arts degree might not have prepared me for a specific job, but I kept businesses going on the side from the time I quit work until today. I reckoned that if my husband could go off to work every day for us, the least I could do was to be productive with my time. I just didn’t have any training for much; I had to come up with prospects on my own. At first I used a word processor to type and edit papers for college and graduate students. Over time, I stopped typing and just edited. The neat things were that I got to read some amazing research without having to do the hard part myself, and my brain didn’t implode from lack of stimulation. Many of my clients are now still my dear friends. For a time, I painted furniture and walls as new techniques exploded on the design world. I used rags, sponges, and brushes to paint landscapes, murals, and intricate designs on everything from fireplaces to tables to bedroom suites. As I did this, I had three small children and a puppy underfoot with no housecleaning service to save me. I had no studio, only my kitchen floor. I often cried during these jobs. I hated pretty much every stage of creating this way. The mess made me half crazy. But I kept trudging along. Later I worked with shells and other materials and sold my work online, through local businesses, and at shows. I soon realized that although I was pretty good at selling things for other people (as in my former job), I pretty much sucked selling myself and my wares. I once sold my services to businesses around town as a welcome wagon. I identified newcomers to our town and gathered the free gifts and certificates to get them to frequent our stores and other businesses. It was easy money. Then the real Welcome Wagon put me out of commission after about a year. That was okay by me; I struggled with three businesses and three children at the same time anyway. 3. Making hay out of things around me and inside me Without the freedom to create, I never would have learned to sew and make my window treatments and some of my daughters’ clothing. I never would’ve learned to paint houses and understand the properties of oil and acrylic paints. Thought I struggled with the actual work involved with these efforts, I could do them. They were not rocket science or brain surgery, but they were something. Without them I would have never branched out into interior decorating and probably would never have met the truly inspirational photographers who taught me so much when I stumbled upon a photo styling sideline career. I found that I was good at it, I got paid well, and I loved every minute of it. Ultimately, the photo styling led me to being published in Better Homes & Gardens. Of this I am proud. 4. Freeing us to live our dreams My adored husband, who makes this life possible for me, lives his passions as well. For a great part because I am content to live and create from a farm in Tennessee, he can focus on his career, driving quite a distance, to have the peace that comes from land ownership. He can stay late, travel, attend events, and commit to virtually anything because I always have him backed up at home. Better, in his time off, he can tool around the farm doing whatever he pleases. He doesn’t have to worry about laundry, housekeeping, gift buying, and the like. I can take care of most everything during the week. We love our farm life. We love what we have created. We work in sync. We dream in sync. We are the happiest we have been in our lives at 50, and if we could, we wouldn’t change a thing. (Well, except maybe we would add that master bathroom and barn.) I used to worry about not being the career-woman-role-model I thought the girls or my husband or I might need, but I do not worry any longer. They see me write; they read my oftentimes densely political op-ed essays and more lighthearted Lifestyles pieces. They know that I am trying to change the world, one article at a time. My middle child sat with me one evening and told me that she had had an epiphany. She met a sad man with a wife who didn’t work, who didn’t nurture his child, who wouldn’t even leave the house to see her play ball. She said she sat back and thought of what her life at home was like with her own mother. She started listing things she remembered to me, things she was grateful for. Tears rolled down my cheeks. She said, “I didn’t mean to make you sad.” I couldn’t even tell her that I was not crying tears of sadness. I just kept saying to myself, She remembers! This was our choice, mine and my husband’s. By no means do I judge women who must work to put food on the table and give children their start in life. They strive and juggle the demands of family and make the best of what they face. I have the greatest respect for them and for others who do not have the same options I have had. Ultimately, I am grateful for the privilege of my freedom. It is something I value more than I can say.