I never thought I would be a stay-at-home mother. My own mother always worked, plus our family prioritized education above all else - cue my father asking what happened to the other two points when I got a 98 on a test. After all my formal education, of course I would always have a job outside of the home.

 

But it's easy to make plans and even form judgements before life brings you the situations you thought you had all figured out. My mother passed a year before I gave birth to the first of two best things in my life, a healthy, extraordinarily colicky baby girl. As a new mom, I didn't have my mom's help or advice, and I was pretty certain no one else on earth would be willing to care for the consistently screaming creature I had produced.

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Instead of going back to work as an elementary reading teacher, I did what made sense for our family and stayed home. Having the choice was a privilege, but my decision has often plagued me. As a mom (and a woman!) it's easy to guilt myself into thinking I'm not doing enough in society OR in the household, and it's taken time to appreciate what I can accomplish, and to have the courage to admit my writing aspirations. 

 

With my children more consistently in school, I have more hours in the day to devote to writing. It is something I have always done and valued but have not had copious amounts of time for in the last few years while being a full-time mom with an often working/out-of-town husband. Writing is my escape; it's how I make sense of the world and my existence in it; it's how I reclaim a sense of purpose that is all my own. It is also how I impart the importance of intrinsic motivation and determination to my kids. 

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And my daughter's favorite subject in school now is writing.