;)
Thursday
Apr222010
Want
Thursday, April 22, 2010 at 9:34AM
13 years ago, when I found out I was pregnant with 1of3, my boyfriend and I had a talk. We talked about what kind of parents we intended to be. We talked about all the ethereal wide-topic things you think of when you're first confronted with becoming someone's parent...doing better than was done to us, making sure we get out of it on the other side intact, and so on. But we also talked specifics. We talked about what school districts we liked and which zip codes we deemed worthy. We talked about what we'd feed the kid, how we'd dress him, which sports we'd like him to play. And then we talked about who would be his primary caretaker. And that's when I said, "I will stay home with him, because I'm not paying someone else to raise my child."
Oh yes, I said it. Because I was 22 and stupid as a Bush rock.
And so we lived for the next 13 years barely getting by, making ends *almost* meet, never seeing each other because I had to go serve eggs and coffee to drunk doctors at 6 in the morning and then he had to go serve steak and wine to drunk gangsters until midnight. But we never once put a child in daycare. They were home, with us, being raised by two children who had hardly figured out who they were, let alone who this person that looked like them was trying to be.
And I don't regret a minute of it.
I don't regret that we lived in the wrong neighborhoods, in the crappy apartments, or drove the beat up cars, or ate macaroni and cheese out of a box more times that I'd care to admit. I don't regret that our life was a struggle, that it tore us apart three times, that it was never easy and that we existed singularly, that we were always exhausted, because I had a plan, dammit, and I saw it through. We raised our children, just like we said we were going to.
I gave everything over to being their mom, and I don't know if I did a good job of that or not. Only time will tell. But it was the only thing I knew how to do. I didn't know how to raise children any other way. I didn't know how to be more than one thing at the same time. I was mother, that was it, just like my mother, just like every woman I'd ever known my entire life. I couldn't be wife, too. I couldn't be employee, too. I could only do that one thing, so that's all I did with any amount of zeal.
And then one day they put backpacks on and grabbed lunch-boxes and walked into a big brick building all by themselves with little more than a, "So long, and thanks for all the fish" and it was over.
That's when I started to realize that I'd wasted a lot of time being something they may not have needed me to be. That they ultimately needed more than just a mom. That maybe I'd fucked it all up.
So I drowned myself in a PTA to feel useful, and then I fell head-first into blogging to feel productive (and also to increase my typing wpm, because it was coming close to 'get a damn job' time) (and it totally worked) and right when I started to dream of a career, or at least a goal, I had another baby.
The thing with circular patterns is that they don't have an end, which makes them slightly goddamn impossible to break.
So I had that other baby and I fell right back into my nuthin' but mom mindset for a while. But that other baby was a girl, and I saw something in her eyes that I didn't see in my sons. I saw myself.
Every day with her reminded me a little more how unbelievably perfectly I was perpetuating the cycle that has propelled the women in my family along forever. I started to realize what I was teaching her; the same thing I'd been taught, that being a mother meant being ONLY a mother.
And the question I had to ask myself was this: Do I want these children to live my life? Do I want them to make the same choices and the same sacrifices I did, just to live up to some ideal that I put a whole lot of misplaced devotion into? And why exactly was I continuing to make these choices that I so strongly disagreed with when my mother made them?
I never could understand why my mother didn't just belly up and get a fucking job so that we didn't have to starve. I could never forgive her for just sitting there, waiting for her life to come to her. And yet there I sat, patiently waiting for the same thing. Why? Because I was afraid. I was afraid to fail, I was afraid to try. No matter how difficult something is, the fact that it's familiar covers a multitude of sins. I knew how to be a guardian. I didn't know how to a producer. I knew how to accept less, but I didn't know how to let myself want more. I knew how to dream of being better than I was allowing myself to be, but I had not one fucking clue how to acknowledge that I could be anything at all.
The thing with the women in my family, all of them from my mother to her mother to my sister to my aunts, is that they all exist (or existed) contentedly discontent. They accepted their perception, they succumbed to their imagined limits, and the ones that aren't dead now might as well be. The gave their talents and their dreams and their abilities over to the comforts of complacency. They stopped living the second they yielded.
I am no smarter than any of the women who have come before me. I am less beautiful, less imaginative, less inspired. But I am more determined than any of them ever were to believe in the power of wanting. Where they see (or saw) (and really, let's just lay out that several of them are quite dead by their own self destructions and we'll stop throwing tenses around) themselves genetically tethered to a prophetic destiny, I see something who's ass I can try to kick. I see the lessons I've learned by watching them live and die as a big, rusty old axe that I can use to hack at these chains around my DNA.
Mostly, I just see my daughter, perfect and new, unattached to all that shit, a blank slate that I can scribble my history on or I can write a new one for.
And so I did the thing I was most afraid of. I dreamed that I could be more. I presumed that I had something remotely valuable to offer people who had higher than 5th grade education. I put my daughter in daycare and I got a fucking job.
I didn't just get a job, I worked for a year freelancing in a position that I have not one day of formal training in, doing things that I was completely unqualified to do, faking it every step of the way, mostly scared to death that they'd catch on to the fact that I am one generation out of a dumpster with a high school diploma and a dream, and not much more, and after that year they did figure it out. And they decided that I wasn't just good enough anyway, but that I was great and I was perfect for them and that I should have a job title that starts with Head...and doesn't end with Job.
And so I had a choice to make. I started familiar in the eye and it started back. I could say no thank you, because I have this four year old and she still needs me for one last year before school starts for her. I could put my life on hold again, I could wait for those stars to align, for life to fall into my lap at just the right time, just like all of the women who share my last name do. Or I could admit that I wanted more for myself. I could admit that having a title other than mother mattered to me. I could change everything about the only life that I could ever imagine for myself and accept that what I thought was ultimately important is, in the end, a minor detail. I could concede to the notion that tugs at my heart late at night that it's just as important for my kids to see me aspire as it is for them to see me parent.
And for the first time in my life, what I wanted won.
And only a few weeks into this, I am realizing that it isn't paying someone else to raise my child, it's paying someone to teach her things I don't know and to give her experiences I never thought to and different perceptions of her life, all so that I can let someone pay me to do the exact same thing.
Oh yes, I said it. Because I was 22 and stupid as a Bush rock.
And so we lived for the next 13 years barely getting by, making ends *almost* meet, never seeing each other because I had to go serve eggs and coffee to drunk doctors at 6 in the morning and then he had to go serve steak and wine to drunk gangsters until midnight. But we never once put a child in daycare. They were home, with us, being raised by two children who had hardly figured out who they were, let alone who this person that looked like them was trying to be.
And I don't regret a minute of it.
I don't regret that we lived in the wrong neighborhoods, in the crappy apartments, or drove the beat up cars, or ate macaroni and cheese out of a box more times that I'd care to admit. I don't regret that our life was a struggle, that it tore us apart three times, that it was never easy and that we existed singularly, that we were always exhausted, because I had a plan, dammit, and I saw it through. We raised our children, just like we said we were going to.
I gave everything over to being their mom, and I don't know if I did a good job of that or not. Only time will tell. But it was the only thing I knew how to do. I didn't know how to raise children any other way. I didn't know how to be more than one thing at the same time. I was mother, that was it, just like my mother, just like every woman I'd ever known my entire life. I couldn't be wife, too. I couldn't be employee, too. I could only do that one thing, so that's all I did with any amount of zeal.
And then one day they put backpacks on and grabbed lunch-boxes and walked into a big brick building all by themselves with little more than a, "So long, and thanks for all the fish" and it was over.
That's when I started to realize that I'd wasted a lot of time being something they may not have needed me to be. That they ultimately needed more than just a mom. That maybe I'd fucked it all up.
So I drowned myself in a PTA to feel useful, and then I fell head-first into blogging to feel productive (and also to increase my typing wpm, because it was coming close to 'get a damn job' time) (and it totally worked) and right when I started to dream of a career, or at least a goal, I had another baby.
The thing with circular patterns is that they don't have an end, which makes them slightly goddamn impossible to break.
So I had that other baby and I fell right back into my nuthin' but mom mindset for a while. But that other baby was a girl, and I saw something in her eyes that I didn't see in my sons. I saw myself.
Every day with her reminded me a little more how unbelievably perfectly I was perpetuating the cycle that has propelled the women in my family along forever. I started to realize what I was teaching her; the same thing I'd been taught, that being a mother meant being ONLY a mother.
And the question I had to ask myself was this: Do I want these children to live my life? Do I want them to make the same choices and the same sacrifices I did, just to live up to some ideal that I put a whole lot of misplaced devotion into? And why exactly was I continuing to make these choices that I so strongly disagreed with when my mother made them?
I never could understand why my mother didn't just belly up and get a fucking job so that we didn't have to starve. I could never forgive her for just sitting there, waiting for her life to come to her. And yet there I sat, patiently waiting for the same thing. Why? Because I was afraid. I was afraid to fail, I was afraid to try. No matter how difficult something is, the fact that it's familiar covers a multitude of sins. I knew how to be a guardian. I didn't know how to a producer. I knew how to accept less, but I didn't know how to let myself want more. I knew how to dream of being better than I was allowing myself to be, but I had not one fucking clue how to acknowledge that I could be anything at all.
The thing with the women in my family, all of them from my mother to her mother to my sister to my aunts, is that they all exist (or existed) contentedly discontent. They accepted their perception, they succumbed to their imagined limits, and the ones that aren't dead now might as well be. The gave their talents and their dreams and their abilities over to the comforts of complacency. They stopped living the second they yielded.
I am no smarter than any of the women who have come before me. I am less beautiful, less imaginative, less inspired. But I am more determined than any of them ever were to believe in the power of wanting. Where they see (or saw) (and really, let's just lay out that several of them are quite dead by their own self destructions and we'll stop throwing tenses around) themselves genetically tethered to a prophetic destiny, I see something who's ass I can try to kick. I see the lessons I've learned by watching them live and die as a big, rusty old axe that I can use to hack at these chains around my DNA.
Mostly, I just see my daughter, perfect and new, unattached to all that shit, a blank slate that I can scribble my history on or I can write a new one for.
And so I did the thing I was most afraid of. I dreamed that I could be more. I presumed that I had something remotely valuable to offer people who had higher than 5th grade education. I put my daughter in daycare and I got a fucking job.
I didn't just get a job, I worked for a year freelancing in a position that I have not one day of formal training in, doing things that I was completely unqualified to do, faking it every step of the way, mostly scared to death that they'd catch on to the fact that I am one generation out of a dumpster with a high school diploma and a dream, and not much more, and after that year they did figure it out. And they decided that I wasn't just good enough anyway, but that I was great and I was perfect for them and that I should have a job title that starts with Head...and doesn't end with Job.
And so I had a choice to make. I started familiar in the eye and it started back. I could say no thank you, because I have this four year old and she still needs me for one last year before school starts for her. I could put my life on hold again, I could wait for those stars to align, for life to fall into my lap at just the right time, just like all of the women who share my last name do. Or I could admit that I wanted more for myself. I could admit that having a title other than mother mattered to me. I could change everything about the only life that I could ever imagine for myself and accept that what I thought was ultimately important is, in the end, a minor detail. I could concede to the notion that tugs at my heart late at night that it's just as important for my kids to see me aspire as it is for them to see me parent.
And for the first time in my life, what I wanted won.
And only a few weeks into this, I am realizing that it isn't paying someone else to raise my child, it's paying someone to teach her things I don't know and to give her experiences I never thought to and different perceptions of her life, all so that I can let someone pay me to do the exact same thing.
Reader Comments (101)
Awesome. This post, your evolution, the fact that your desk doesn't appear to be surrounded by Legos and/or tiny sharp shoes from Disney Princess dolls... all of it. Awesome.
Oh, Shannon. Oh. Oh. Oh. You were always enough. You were always more than enough. But...Oh. I am clapping and weeping for you all at once. Really. I admire you as a woman, as a mother, as a writer, as a friend.
All love.
My son is in daycare out of financial necessity, but I'm not ashamed to say that it's the best thing we ever did for him. He gets the social interaction he needs, and guidance from wonderful teachers who truly care about his development -- and understand it better than I do, in many ways. Would I love to be home with him every day? Well, sure I would. But honestly, this is the best solution for US, and I'm glad we made it. Sounds like you're finding the solution that works best for YOU -- and really, that's all any of us can do. Congratulations on the job. You're going to be FABULOUSLY HAPPY there, I can tell.
Yes, yes and YES!! This is an awesome post. Heartfelt and honest. I never really thought it through this way, and I don't actually have a daughter, but I want my sons to grow up seeing that women can be more. And they need to support that.
Hooray for going after what you want, dammit! Congrats!
I struggled with this too, and for a (short) amount of time, I was a stay-at-home mom. But I would have gone bat shit crazy, and would have wound up being bitter and resentful, and I'm sure I would have been a much worse mother.
But then there's the other side, the side where I where so many hats in one day (mother, partner, teacher, coach) that I wish I could just put on the mom hat again, just for a while.
So I suppose I should say, hooray for balance!
I went through this when my daughter was small. I went back and forth on going back to school and then getting a job and then when the time came dating (me dating, not her). A part of me felt like anything I did away from home was cheating her but then I realized if I only stayed home and did nothing else that was really cheating her. She needed to see that when a woman became a mother she didn't stop being a person. Now my daughter is grown (22 this year) and she is strong and independent and she knows she can do it all. I think you've made an excellent choice.
*applause*
Thank you. I work because not only is it financially the right choice, but because I WANT TO, and I'm so tired of the fucking guilt trips from people who say that I should ONLY want to be a mother and I am somehow failing my children by having them in daycare (where they are learning so much more and having so much more fun than they would at home with me, truth be told).
So Thank You. And well done. And fucking ROCK ON, girl.
"Oh yes, I said it. Because I was 22 and stupid as a (Bush) rock."
Why did you feel the need to politicize this post?
I just started reading your material a couple of days ago & was enjoying the escape it provided. Now you go & throw in a statement that ultimately has nothing to do with the post itself. You could've just said you were stupid as a rock & I would've believed you (cause aren't we all at 22?). I don't know what to think now...
Wow. You it it on the spot. It has always ate me up that I could not stay at home with my daughter. It's ok though. I think she's perfectly fine. I don't have the patience to do some things that other do and for them I am greatful.
You did good. :)
"I could never forgive her for just sitting there, waiting for her life to come to her."
I might have to respond to this on my blog, because you have touched a chord so deep in my soul that I don't think it's possible for me to hold back. There was a lot of AMEN and YES, YES, YES! coming out of my mouth while I was reading that.
I have no doubt that all of your kids will turn out better than you, better than your hubby... because they have an amazing mother in her own right, and they all needed the mother they had at that particular time in your life.
You are one of the very best people I know, as evidenced by everything you've said here and what it means about how you live your life and how you show your children (and some of us grown-ups) how to live it well.
And as someone who is struggling a bit with my natural propensity to do this:
"...I see something who’s ass I can try to kick. I see the lessons I’ve learned by watching them live and die as a big, rusty old axe that I can use to hack at these chains around my DNA."
but the messages that tell me that I can't and I shouldn't, I'm selfishly so grateful that you write this stuff down so I can connect to it and find a little bit more of my resolve to act accordingly.
Love.
i was ridiculed greatly for going back to work after having my son, since at the time i didnt have to go back to work but I didn't want to wake up one day and discover i forgot to live MY life so i said eff them to those that ridiculed me - i have a son in first grade reading on a 4th grade reading level, a freakin whiz in math and super smart all around - and unfortunately a smart ass like his mom and dad! I can honestly say - no way would he be this smart and well adjusted had i been home with him, i suck at trying to teach him anything - although if he has a question we are quickly on the internet to look up the answer the child loves learning - i think i would have ruined that for him to be honest....but at least i know i did right by him!
I took on extra hours at work for extra pay. It only meant my daughter would spend about two extra hours in daycare a day, but in my heart I felt like I was torturing her.
In the end I came to the same conclusion. I believe it takes a village to raise a child. I have put the best "village" in place for her that I can, I have to let go and realize that she needs a whole lot more in this world than just what I can teach/give/do. She needs what other people can teach/give/do, while mommie is working.
Thanks for a great perspective on this.
Great post!
It's not a choice I'll ever have to make at this point, but I completely approve (yes, I know you aren't looking for approval!). Kids are like puppies (don't get offended, please) - they need socialization. I found this out the hard way by being home schooled.
I'm glad you found joy in what you want to do. That is the important part, whether you are staying home with kids or working or some of each.
Of course being a single parent takes a lot of the choice making in these things away from you. I'd LIKE to work less, but I wouldn't like to not work at all.
Good for you!
You're a great mom.
Beautiful post and a great story. I think you really did everything just right and let everything happen as it was supposed to.
You are a super swell chick mr lady, and by super swell I mean awesome and I hope to one day have a beverage with you and yours.
I also love the stupid as a Bush and hitchhiker reference.
Wow. That's one helluva post. Great job.
I always bristled at the holier-than-thou parents who stood up on their soap boxes and said "No daycare for us, we didn't have kids to let someone else raise them."
But daycare isn't someone else raising your kid. For us, it has been an invaluable tool for learning and socialization. Not to mention our provider and her family have become a second family for us as well.
Some people think you have kids and that's it, you give up everything else. I think that's bunk. You have kids and sure, life changes, but you shouldn't stop the urge to learn. To take on new challenges. And you definitely shouldn't repress the desire to be happy personally.
Like I said, this post was brilliant. Congrats.
Brilliant. Good for you.
(My son is only 16 months old, but we've been struggling to "raise him ourselves" all this time, and yet now that he's older and more social and more into learning and exploring and DOING everything, I almost feel like it's selfish of me to keep him OUT of daycare/preschool for much longer. There are things and people out there he can't get to if he's always sitting home with me, and although it's a hard truth to accept that I'm no longer both the center and the outer limit of his universe, I know it's my job to make his experience of the world big and broad rather than limited to what I alone can give him. Thanks for helping me realize it in just that way.)
Awesome!
I firmly believe that I am a better mother BECAUSE I work.
Wow. Thank you for sharing. It's interesting how much this mirrors my internal struggle even though our outer circumstances are so different.
Good for you. And congratulations!
This is awesome. I really needed to read this today. Thanks.
Beautiful post! I worked for the first 6 years of my son's life and have only recently converted to SAHMdom. As soon as I finish my Master's degree, I'll probably start working again. I think you made the right choice for you and that means it is the right choice for your children.
Kids don't care if you work or if you don't, they only notice if the time that you do have to spend with them is quality time. You are rocking it as a wife, mom and writer, keep it up!
Yay for you! I'm in the opposite situation. I worked after the births of each child, happily putting them in daycare. Both kids thrived in daycare/preschool. And now I don't work. My 4 yo daughter goes to preschool twice/week for 2.5 hours and my son is in full day kindergarten. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder if I'm somehow damaging my daughter by making her hang out with me so much.
I like your office, it's very grown-up!
I can't tell you how much I needed to read this today. It made me cry and made me brave.
Thank you.
Good for you! We really do owe our children that. The idea that Mom is more than just Mom. She is a dynamic human being. They deserve to be loved by someone that has a life that they cherish their children within. Someone with an existence that does not exist solely for the children.
Dude, I don't even know you but
I
am
so very
PROUD of you.
wow. you rock
I admire you so much and am totally looking forward to seeing you soon!
Unbelievably proud of you!
I've been reading yur blog for about a year, and while this is not the first time I've been compelled to write a response, it IS the first time I've actually followed through and done it. I always relate so strongly to the way you write about your kids, but today's hit me even harder than most. I have a daughter, and another on the way. My own mom never really had a "career' that she cared about and now hasn;t worked outside of the hmoe in years, and my mother-in-law has had a series of dead-end jobs. I don't want those to be the role models my girls see for their own futures. I may not have a concrete clue yet for what I want to be when I grow up, but I'm trying my damnedest to figure that out. I want them to have a mom they can be proud of because she's doing something that she loves, so that maybe THEY'LL be inspired to do something they love with thier lives, whatever that love may be.
You're a good mom. You write about your kids beautifully and with a level of honesty and perception that few writers can pull off, and I truly hope that this new(ish) career still allows you the time (and the deire) to keep blogging, so I can keep being inspired. Thank you.
This is so powerful and exactly right. The line "I knew how to accept less, but I didn’t know how to let myself want more" struck me to the core. I try to see life through my husband's (a stay-at-home dad) eyes and am torn. We both love that he's at home with our sons, but your right. It's incredibly difficult. The boys are only 2 & 4 now, so it will be another 3 years until he can start working again. Freelance is an option when our 2yo starts preschool so we'll see how that goes. He's worried like so many about the gaping hole in his resume that can be filled with one word...Father. A title that he's proud of and that he owns. Congratulations on finding the strength to go after what you want and what's best for your family. You are beautiful, smart, and inspiring. Don't ever let anyone (especially you) tell you that you're not.
Loved it. Thank you (oh and Headless Mom) for sharing it with me!
Never quit living for yourself first. You need "yourself", before you can do anything for anyone else. And you've figured that out!
Congrats!
I think this is VERY VERY VERY well said. I agree 110% I think we forget that if we want too, we can be more than moms and that if we want too we can only be moms. Moms put so much pressure on themselves and on each other and it's just so unnecessary. Each mom needs to do what is best for her and her family and why we feel the need to judge each other for doing things differently than us is beyond me. Good for you for doing what works for you and your family!!!
You are such a badass.
And congrats on actually putting pictures in frames and putting them on the wall.
I admire @mrlady I think you should all read this post she wrote. http://bit.ly/c7Psa9 It DOES mean something to be a woman.
Attaching true meaning into any event in your life is your superpower. Use it for good. Also, your history/inexperience? Street cred. Every corporate organizational chart needs street cred.
Today's required reading: @mrlady's Want http://www.whiskeyinmysippycup.com/2010/04/22/want/
I actually wore makeup today for the first time in ages today & @mrlady just made me wreck it. DAMMIT. http://bit.ly/mrladyruinedmymakeup
I can't formulate a coherent response to this yet. You're my hero.
*hug*
Two best working-parent posts I've read in a while: http://bit.ly/bJPmHD (@mrlady) and http://bit.ly/dbqg4T (@angelynnodom)
RT @Agirlandaboy: Two best working-parent posts I've read in a while: http://bit.ly/bJPmHD (@mrlady) and http://bit.ly/dbqg4T (@angelynnodom)
Love this, Shannon. Also? Ridiculously proud of you and happy for you.
Excellently written. I think this is something all mothers struggle with, whether they admit it or not.
I'm on an identity kick lately. This is a good one: RT @mrlady: http://bit.ly/c7Psa9
this is the best thing I've read this week.
(although I do agree with carole above that the political slam tainted it for me for a millisecond. i'm linking to it because it's that good.)
Okay, I'm going to be the odd man out and it's mostly because of bad timing on your posting part (all your fault - heh heh).
I've recently been hit with the "why don't you want to put your 3 year old in full time preschool...I can't wait to get rid of mine and have my own life...you really want to stay home and be JUST a mom?" And I am so effin' tired of people trying to make me feel bad for WANTING to stay home more and be the mommy.
I work part time, scattered hours. I don't have to put the kids in daycare and I juggle them between Mothers Day Outs and whatnots. And I promise, I'm going off on some radical soap boxy thing here when I say - it's not JUST being a mom. Why is that so terrible? Why does it have to be that a stay home mom is worthless, goal-less, aimless and all that?
Goodness, I'll stop here. I promise, it's really that I've had a slew of moms attack me recently about why I'm so weird for wanting to spend another year with my baby before sending him off to full time PreK.
And I will raise my glass to you and echo the above comments "You go girl!" And I really do mean it - as a parent, you have to feel good about yourself if you want to do the parenting job well. So kudos to you...and I bet it is scary and exciting all at once.
Oh yeah, I'm really sorry. I just read that. Ick, I sound like a maniac. Sorry.
Thanks for writing this. So well said. And I don't believe that you were making a statement that says this is the only way, either. You said this is right for you and your family. Which is what we all should be doing, and frankly, we should be able to do with judging another family's decision.
YAY for taking the room as your office!
SO happy for you.
Plus, love this.
love you.
love the kids
xoxo
I think it's fantastic! & this is exactly what's been going through my head for the past few months. My youngest is 4, my baby factory is shut down for good, & it's time to start living MY life not just for my kids but for MYSELF too!
And you say I inspire YOU? Ha. You kick ass.
Well done. Well. done.