For a large part of the last ten months, I’ve spent time, not wallowing, but rather reflecting on the choice I made to become a stay-at-home mother. While never regretful of spending time with our children, or underestimating the financial privilege our family has to have this life change be an option, I have time and time again circled back to the notion, the gut feeling that I’ve committed career suicide.
Almost, much like a broken record, I find myself engaging, near weekly in the same routine discussion with my husband. Over and over again I convince us both that our decision was the right one. That our kids are growing ever so quickly, and that, as they have been for hundreds of years, schools will remain, as will the demand for English teachers. It is almost as though, for no reason outside of needing external validation, or maybe to hear the same words, out loud- yet again, for me to once again justify our agreement.
I’ve learned to slow down, get on the floor and build endless castles. I’ve learned new games, tried finger painting, and even brought snow into our home for our children to play with. I have become a cook, a real life adult who chops vegetables and prepares meals that include an array of colors found in the rainbow. I’ve rediscovered reading for pleasure, and even though I do not work outside of the home, I have nearly completely forgone the mindless pleasure of television watching. I have started writing, have vowed to live an authentic life, and committed to being transparent and vulnerable about my experiences as a mother. I have read The Pout Pout Fish more times than a person should in one lifetime, and I’ve spent endless hours in search of the best park in our community.
I have shuffled personal emotions, the ever tugging pull to resolve the internal dialogue that wonders if I should return to the classroom, or completely embrace the years that our children are little. I battle boredom, and emotions that include being resentful at the amount of times I wash and fold laundry, or load and unload the dishwasher. Not angry at my husband for not pulling his weight, but rather wondering if what I am doing is enough. Enough, not necessarily by society’s standards, but rather enough for my own.
I have found a love for running, or well, at least the feeling it leaves me when the task is finished. I have begun to understand runners high and why in the world people actually rise at o’dark thirty in search of endorphins. I have built deeper connections with each of our children and rekindled, once again, the fire within my marriage. I have spent hours reflecting, journaling and really digging into the life I want to live, and how to do so on purpose.
I have not been perfect. While having more moments of calm, I am yet to find the way to become the perfect textbook parent. I have lost sleep wondering if I should dedicate my life to our family, or if I have the capacity to reenter the workforce, and still maintain the new life that I’ve built. The identity I’ve unwrapped- the person and the life I am living with intention, having seemingly truly figured out what it means to be living my best life.
Is it even possible to keep the momentum we have built, while merging my professional and personal lives?
My gut wrench answer, something I have slowly come to accept, and even appreciate, was no. No, I cannot work full time and be the wife, mother and person I want to be. I was proud of my honest reflection, and was finally at terms, at least for the vast majority of the time, with this realization.
Yet, in reality, there is this tiny thought in the back of my brain, one that seems to always be on the defense. Whenever someone asked me about my plans to return to school, or how I was doing at home, I always, without hesitation, felt the deep need to explain the continuation of our decision for me to stay home. I felt the need to explain myself, and how being just a mother was what is best for our family.
In doing so, one night while texting a friend, again giving my endless speech about why my decision has to be the right one, completely undermining my fear to do all the things, and acknowledging all of the great things our family has accomplished this year with me being home. I literally responded text paragraphs to her simple yes or no- nonjudgemental question about my plans to return to teaching or not.
I was stopped in my tracks. I was at a complete loss of words, when instead of the general response of support, or oh yeah, that’s great- she instead called me brave.
BRAVE.
Brave to know what our family needed. Brave to acknowledge and prioritize our marriage and the needs of our children.
BRAVE.
I looked at that text over and over. So much so, that I never responded. I just sat quietly in my bed- deep in reflection.
Wait- what if I began to have these same thoughts?
What would happen if I started seeing myself the way my friend did?
What if I started believing that I am brave, rather than a less than? What if I started talking to myself in a way that acknowledged the ability to live within my values, the very value that depicts my commitment to our family. The value that says I will be in a partnership with my spouse, the value that says I do not want to just work through the motions of marriage, but actually work to strengthen our union and enjoy my husband. The value that tells me to walk away from things that are less important, and instead focus my energy on our non-negotiables.
What if when I thought about being home with our family, reflecting on the changes we’ve made, thought about how we can incorporate these skills into our lives. What if I made the decision to see myself as brave, regardless of the my professional label as a working or non working mother, but rather as a person.
What if- by changing our perspective, we acknowledged that we can change our lives?
What is holding you back from knowing your worth? What is stopping you from seeing yourself the way others see you? What is keeping you from starting the conversations, or making the changes that allow you to be your own version of brave?
What is stopping you from changing your own perspective, from changing the way you do business or view whatever thing it is that shows up for you time and time again?
Unexpected timing has a funny way of showing up, of showing us what opportunities or challenges we might need.
Just as I spent the morning contemplating my new found viewpoint, that afternoon, my phone rang. Having our school districts prefix, and thinking the person on the other end was the school calling about one of our older boys, I picked up the phone without hesitation. Unexpectedly, a fairly frazzled secretary began speaking on the other end. Making the job sound as enticing as she could, explaining the benefits of paid snow days, spring break, a new substitute teacher monthly bonus, an increased help from other staff members, and a great deal of gratitude from the entire school.
My initial reaction to the request of becoming a long-term substitute, being back into the classroom, at the very soon I attended, for six to eight weeks, was exciting. Before the logistics could over-flood my excitement, I recognized the opportunity this assignment would create. The opportunity for our family to have a trial run with me back into the working world. If things went well, and we felt comfortable, I could begin applying for upcoming open teaching positions. If the entire thing was a disaster, leaving us crashed and burned, then I’d walk away and once again resume my title as full time stay-at-home-mom.
Ironically, and in contrast to my paragraph long text response only fourteen hours prior, with my changed perspective, I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of can do. A large sense of worth as a person, regardless of what my formal title is or isn’t.
Discussions with daycare providers, and with support from my husband, I apprehensively made the decision to take the eight-week position. I’ll soon be thrown back into high school, back into lesson planning, grading and live teaching. I’ll begin juggling school schedules with basketball practice, one-on-one time with each of our children, my half marathon training, sibling arguments, date nights and daily time with my spouse.
This time, in less than a week, in keeping my can do mindset, I am committing to putting a decently healthy meal on the table each night, let my house get messier than I am comfortable with, and prioritize getting on the floor to play with our children. I am going to keep my current workout schedule, and continue our efforts to intentionally live within the values we’ve established over the last several months.
I am both excited and overwhelmed. On paper it all looks like too much. And, well- while that might prove to be true, I am choosing to change my previous way of thinking. I am choosing to be brave.
What might happen if I begin seeing myself as capable? What might happen if I continue to be brave, committed to make the changes necessary to believe we can come out the other side of this challenge as strong as we currently are.
What would happen if we were all brave- if we all intentionally chose a positive perspective to guide our decisions, and our way of thinking?
What could change in your life if you simply believed in the power of a positive perspective?
Three Princes and a Sweet Pea 