I used to own sheep. Real sheep. The lamb-bearing, wool-producing, pooping-little- black-jelly-beans kind. The funny thing about sheep is, everything you’ve ever heard about them being followers is true. I have seen them wear a rutted path into the dirt in order to follow the exact same route to the pasture everyday. They don’t like change and they don’ t like to deviate from routine. If you can get one to take the lead, the rest will always follow. The trick is convincing one of them that it is in their best interest to be the courageous leader. HOWEVER, every once in a great while, one ewe will get a wild idea about breaking out of the factory mold and will go charging through a fence or will try to escape from her pen. She will leave her sister sheep a gape with wonder that individuality was exercised.
I always felt a bit of kinship with those errant mutton-chops. Because you see, I am very much like that. If I were a sheep, I would be the one trying to break free, like Steve McQueen in The Great Escape. I don’t do things “just because.” I need a really good reason. My favorite question, even as a young child was, “But why?” I needed to understand the logic behind the edict. “Because I said so” never made much sense to me.
So here’s my story, in case you’re interested. If not, you can stop reading right here. I want to take the time to do it justice. This is my diary and my story, so be forewarned that it might get lengthy. There are no hard feelings if you exit quietly.
If you’re still with me, you’ll understand the sheep analogy pretty quick. My sister once said to me, “You don’t like to do things the normal way, do you?” That’s pretty much a spot-on assessment of my life. It’s not that I go out of my way to be unique, but in the grand scheme of life, I tend to take a step-back-and-look-at-life-with-big-lenses approach to things. Rules are great if they make sense to me. Stopping at a red light would be a good example. I am all for not getting T-boned at an intersection. Filing my taxes by April 15th is another one because paying unnecessary fines is fairly annoying. On the other hand, my mother taught me to look both ways before stepping into traffic, but honestly, when I step out of Walmart and head to my car, I really just assume that cars will be considerate enough to stop for me. I don’t wait to see if they will, I just keep going. I figure, who sets out to mow down a pedestrian? It’s things like that.
Societal norms and mores are fascinating to me. Why do we do the things we do as a society? Because we will face censure or reproach if we don’t? Because we adopt a “herd” mentality, like my unadventerous Wooly Friends? See, I’d like to think that we’re better than that. That we do what we do because we have weighed the situation, looked at all the options, and then made an informed decision based on what is best for all involved.
OK, I have a confession to make here. I DID fall under the hypnotic spell of “what’s expected” once. This is where I get to the point about delaying a career. Still with me? OK, here we go…
As a young college student, I came to believe that a woman was less fulfilled if she didn’t launch a career as soon as possible in her adult life. I’m a product of the turbulent 60’s, The Feminine Mystique, and NOW. Not that I buy into the party line, but let’s face it, little girls are groomed from their earliest days to find their identity in how they look and how successful they are in a career. I graduated from college in 1984 with a BA in psychology, a husband, and the full intention of diving head first into a life-long career. I was twenty-one when I said, “I do” and was in no hurry to start a family. We settled down to married life, work, and enjoying our youth. But after a couple of years, we were ready to start our family and I’m pretty sure I conceived the very moment we said to each other, “let’s have a baby!” I spent my entire pregnancy fretting about childcare. Who was I going to find to care for my baby as much as I would? I found myself just weeks away from delivery, and still no adequate caregiver had been found. I needed someone who shared my values, would be nurturing, and would love my baby as her own. What to do??
And then, about six weeks before The Blessed Event, it hit me. There was only one person who qualified in all the above areas. Only one person I fully trusted to care for my precious baby. That person, of course, was me. Why had I never thought of it before? I guess I was still in the mind-set that capable women don’t stay HOME. What a waste of God-given talent and expensive higher education!
When I broached the subject with Baby Dahl’s daddy, his reaction was instantaneous and heartfelt. It was the same reaction I got when I wanted to go back to school two years ago. It was simply, “absolutely.” My husband understood the importance of giving this child the best we had to offer. For us, that was not defined in driving new, or living in palatial, or showering with “things.” For us, giving our child the best advantage in life meant that his mother would be a constant presence in his life.
And so, I began the chapter of my life-story that finds me reveling in motherhood. What a kick it is to be a mom! Is there anything more wonderful or awe-inspiring than bringing a life into this world? Is there a love so deep as that of a parent? I think not. Motherhood was and is my greatest joy in life. In fact, we found so much fulfillment in our sweet son, Trevor, that we just kept on a havin’ babies! Ryan was next, then Cody, and finally, our sweet little girl, Hannah. And I cherished every moment of my time at home. Of course there were days that I would have gladly handed my fussy baby encrusted with breakfast and poop to someone else to care for while I put on a business suit and headed to the office. OF COURSE there were difficult, frustrating days.
But there were also wonderful days. Lots of them. Days when I walked by the playpen on the way to put yet another load of laundry in, and chubby arms would reach up to me. I would find myself setting the laundry basket down and spending time just snuggling a cooing cherub, drinking in their sweet baby smells and kissing their velvety cheeks.
Or days when they were older that are forever seared into my memory, tucked away like precious heirlooms. Simple things like sitting with my preschoolers as they dig in their sand box, the faintest hint of autumn chill brushing our cheeks. But the sun is warm, sending shafts of light through the trees above us, insects buzzing lazily around our heads, and I am filled with contentment listening to my boys giggle and babble about the incomprehensible things that are important to preschoolers.
I pull another favorite moment out of my storehouse of Golden Memories. In this one, I go blackberry picking with my boys in the woods surrounding our house in Vermont. We bring the plump berries back to the kitchen, make jam and can it together. I’ll never forget my youngest son, Cody, sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of still warm jam in front of him, spooning it joyously into his mouth, his face the picture of rapture. Such a simple moment it is, but priceless in the fact that it can never be replicated. I think I have an actual picture of him in that moment, but I don’t need a hard copy photo to remember how my heart swelled with gratitude at being able to share that day with those I love best.
There were long summer days at the lake, and impromptu day trips with friends. There were afternoons snuggled together watching the latest Disney-whatever. I know its sounds idyllic and almost too-good-to-be-true. Well, that is exactly what it was. It was wonderful and I will NEVER regret the loss of income, or driving older cars, or eating out less, or doing without (without WHAT?). Truthfully, we always had everything we needed. We didn’t live lavishly, but we really lived.
And now comes the braggy part. You can exit this post now if you can’t take it. Cuz’ honey, I am gonna’ brag! Just my opinion here, but I can't help but think that I have GREAT kids! They are respectful of their dad and I, they are hard workers, they are good students, and doggonit, they’re just really fun to be with. And their futures are bright. Our oldest son, Trevor, is in law school. Ryan just got accepted into dental school, Cody is a freshman at a private university where he received an amazing scholarship, and Hannah is a talented, lovely junior high student. OK, OK, this last paragraph was just plain nauseating. I know that, but I’m unapologetic. Because the point I’m driving home is, I can’t help but think there is a direct correlation between full-time parenting and end-result, great kids (I think I just heard Gloria Steinem hit the floor in a dead faint).
This is where societal expectations and bucking the trend have a head-on collision. Society said, “Enter the workforce and take your place as a productive member of empowered women everywhere.” The individualist in me said, “career is not what I want at this point in my life. My family deserves all of me, all the time.” A decision I will never, never, never (one more time), NEVER regret.
That brings me to the present. As my children grew up, graduated high school, and went on to college, my role as full-time caregiver became increasingly obsolete. And I began to think about the next chapter in this Great Adventure called life. I found a couple of different part-time jobs while I pondered my future, and God being God, he brought circumstances into my life that pointed me in the direction of teaching. I cannot tell you how many things had to fall into place for me to take this first grade position. It’s miraculous to me. Miraculous like finding love, and growing a baby inside my body, and witnessing the colors of the perfect sunset (a nightly event here on the prairie). One event no more or less miraculous than the other.
So now, instead of looking into the faces of my beloved children, I look into the faces of seven first-graders and wonder what small part I can have in making their lives better. I am so utterly grateful to be in this place, at this stage of my life. Time will tell if I can and will be an effective teacher. I just know I’ve been handed an opportunity. And just as I gave motherhood my very best effort, so I intend to be the best teacher I am capable of being.
And once again, my heart swells with contentment.
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