Back when my three kids were young, still in school and I was married to their father, I was fortunate to be able to stay home; raising the kids, taking care of the house, being ultra active in their school and extra-curricular activities and groups.
But once they were in school full-time (the youngest starting a full-day of kindergarten), I sought a full-time job outside the home. Talk about a culture shock for me I had been out of the work force for a decade. My resume was definitely out of date and my skills were limited; as I had not gone to college for a degree. I was married at the age of 17 and had our first son when I was 18. All I knew was how to be a mom.
Getting out into the workforce was an enigma to me.
I graduated high school at 17, got married one month later, bought a house two months later and three months after graduation from high school, welcomed our son into the world. Yeah, it was the 80's- I was a statistic Over the next seven years, I made a home and gave birth to two daughters. I wasn't me.. I was so-and-so's mom or his wife. I had no identity of my own; so to speak.
But getting my first adult job at the age of 25, I had an individuality of my own. To be honest, it felt weird.
In every job I had my adult life, I was in some way or another taking care of people. Whether driving kids to and from school as a bus driver, or being an administrative assistant. I was always making sure everyone's needs were met. Even as a newspaper reporter or writer; I was meeting deadlines, filling in for other staff writers who had cramped schedules and needed notes from a meeting or pictures from an event.
When my kids were still at home I was constantly on the go. Someone forgot lunch money. Someone else needed a permission slip signed. Someone needed a class mom to organize parties. It was a never-ending rotation of mom needs.
When I was a newspaper reporter, freelance stringer and ghost writer, I had the luxury of working from home most days. But, the ids knowing this, called me EVERY chance they got. We were back to the signed permission slips, someone forgot their game jersey for that night's game or someone needed to be signed out of school because they weren't feeling well.
So while working a full-time job (at one point in time I was working three jobs as a divorced mom of three teenagers), I was still the mom. Making sure the house wasn't falling down. Making sure the bills were paid. Making sure everyone had what they needed.
Granted I loved being a writer and newspaper reporter, but being a mom and taking care of the house always made me smile. It didn't matter that I was cooking and baking all weekend (I dabbled in once-a-week meal planning for years), had a ton and a half of laundry that needed to be folded or put away, or that the bathrooms needed a good bleach spraying... I was in my element.
When I married my current husband, I was still working a full-time job as an administrative assistant (minimum of 50 hours per week) and I did that for four years after we exchanged our vows. When I fractured my femur back in October of 2016, I collected disability for four weeks. I was back home... I was able to clean more, cook and bake more... do all the household chores I was missing out on while working so many hours.
After deep discussion and budget re-planning, my husband and I came to the conclusion that I could give my notice at my job and stay home.
To say I was excited was an understatement. ELATED was more like it
And to be completely honest, this change in career couldn't have come at a better time. I had been suffering more and more episodes from my auto-immune disease and being able to be at home, pacing myself with chores and household duties and being able to take a break when I needed to was a God-send.
To some my life may seem boring. It may appear monotonous. It may not be what they would want for themselves. But it works for us. My husband prefers me being at home. He likes knowing I am here to take care of things. He likes it when he comes home and smells the aroma of homemade marinara sauce simmering on the stove. He likes that I am able to garden and grow some of our food- and save money. He loves that I keep the house clean and organized.
He is not an old-fashioned person or man that believes the woman's place is in the home; but he believes our chosen lifestyle is us.
So when people ask me what I do for a living.. I have my options...
And I am proud to say I am a stay-at-home-wife (SAHW). I say it with a smile upon my face.
So how did my career of being a SAHW choose me? Not quite sure there is one particular thing. But I have to say... fracturing my femur two years ago was the eye-opening moment that made me what I am today; and allowed me continue being able to do what I love the most.
