Prep School (Blog, 2009)
Right now I feel as though my face is pressed up against a window looking out at a world which validates those who have a career -- those who actually, technically, mean something. I hear them talk about what they do and what is coming next. My listening even perks up upon idle conversations at the stores I frequent, hoping to catch a drop of vicarious importance, yearning and wishing for something more... something for this starving brain to process beyond headlines and a balanced checkbook. Yet, I am the proverbial housewife who has only a clean home, stocked pantry, and cupboards filled with band-aids and kisses. Even the romance novel lying haphazardly on the sofa mocks me. And those things that I do and do well are somehow minimized, especially by other women, since I don't have their all-important added burden of financial contribution.
And my thirst becomes unbearable.
For what?! Not necessarily validation. Although, yes, wouldn't it be incredible to be seen for more than my appearance and endless posts of opinion? The truth is: I want. I want so badly to do more than manage from behind the scenes: I want recognition. I want people to know that I am more than a mother, more than wit, more than chronic unsolicited opinion; that capability sits within me, untapped and eager, frustrated and incomplete. I don't want to preface my position as "just" any longer.
I find myself at yet another crossroads, where schooling is what I deserve, college is mine to have; but that too, must be set aside for a few more years. And I wonder why a costly piece of paper should be the definitive measurement of someone's ability or intellect. I wonder as I meet people who get to stamp their university and graduation date on a resume, why it is they even went. I'm finding out that many who have degrees don't really care about knowledge, but merely care for only what it can get them. They are often inept and have little or no ethics; they seek for gain rather than a ravenous appetite for more. Voracious need. Never quenched, always seeking. And that speaks volumes to this housewife whose fingers longingly trace the panes of glass separating her from the outside world.
Knowledge isn't just power; it's heady, confounding. It's conversation, debate, research and triumphant fruition. It's thought meeting paper, and paper becoming action, and action signifying success.
I am more than the receipt from Starbucks. I am more than the gentle voice soothing an over-tired toddler. I am more. And here I am, three quarters of the way down the page of my angst, and I remember. I see.
I see the glee on my children's faces at their own accomplishments. I hear the ritual of them coming home every day with the expectation of Mom hiding, pulling silly faces and jumping out from nowhere. I hear their expectant giggles of, "Where's Mom this time?" And shrieks of fright. I hear the chorus every school day of, "We're HOoome!" Sing-song, joyful, happy and anxious to share the news of the day. I feel the pleasure of having homemade cookies and/or my fresh loaves of bread, ready, warm, waiting, and oh-so-part of their daily arrival.
I feel the power of connection when they experience sorrow, disappointment arrives, and tears flow. I share the wisdom of time and headlines, my childhood experiences and funny little anecdotes. I look into the eyes of my own with the warmth of a parent but the heart of my youth. And then I see my completion.
And I know.
I know that every day who I am and what I do will unequivocally affect five little lives, how they perceive the world, and what they think of themselves. And then, I realize I am enough. I am their world and there are no other human beings I would want respect and love from more than that given with trust from the hearts of my children.
That knowledge is humbling beyond words. I feel the ability and power within me. I am flooded with the responsibility of the things I must teach, the examples I must set; for textbooks will always be there - as will the experiences and the environment that will shape them into adulthood. And I see that glory can wait and knowledge can be gained without need for credits or credit hours.
And I have enough. Now.
So, I don't mind returning to the endless posts of opinion and random, nonsensical, slightly-charged musings on the social network. I will gladly wait my turn for adulthood one more time. I have all I need.
Living Joy - This Carman Girl
(End Note: This post is also for every single one of my five brilliant, wonderful children. They were so very young when I wrote this blog. I was untried, definitely undervalued and shoved to the wayside, and yet they made every ounce of my existence matter. I love you with every drop of blood in my veins and I'm so very proud of you, your focus, hearts, old souls, spirits, perspective, and attitudes of being. I'm so blessed to be your mother and so proud that you seek the very best of yourselves in all that you do. Your grades floor me - your commitment and outlook, more.
As I look back, I realize that the pursuit of validation outside of home will always be sold as a rotten bill of goods if and when it ever seeks to undermine the sacred role of motherhood. You are all succeeding, growing, and becoming. I would not have missed one moment of your growth! At all. I'm so damned blessed that I could be there for every benchmark from baby to toddler, to now. This photo is a throwback that makes me smile! And now 10, 14, 14, 18, 21 this year? Wow. Sighs, and goodness!
Your integrity, attitude, ethics, and outstanding sweetness absolutely floor me. I love you with every part of my heart and soul! As I now fulfill sharing the love and zest I have for life in a working environment, loving what I do and who I work with, I know that it is absolutely fueled by the deliciousness of being and the contentment and joy of our family. Simply put, I am a mother first. And I love you to the edge of my soul.
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