I just finished my first year teaching, and I loved it. Now, I’m quitting in order to become a “Stay at Home Mama” (est. arrival September 12, 2013). I’m scared shitless.
One of the things that scares me is the imaginary but sure –to-come-true scenario of meeting someone new at a party. (I’ll still go to parties, right? And meet new people?)
What do you do?” He/she will ask.
And I’ll have to say, “I’m a Home Maker”
Home Maker?! Me, Betty Home Maker? Can you imagine? I can’t, because I’m just not one of those moms. You know, the ones that wear makeup and high heels, even at home, and are always clipping coupons and running PTO meetings.
And the Home?
When most people tell you they are building a home, this is not what you picture, is it? I bet you’re thinking some drywall, maybe a little linoleum here or there, maybe some PERGO. You are not thinking, House made out of Earth. As in the Ground. As in Dirt.
And when a newly pregnant lady tells you about working on the nursery, you don’t think that this is what they are starting with:
Yes, I am pregnant in that picture, about a month along. But don’t worry, now that I’m in my third trimester, and I look like I’ve shoplifted a basketball , of course things are much different. The baby room has a floor now. I really thought ahead and finished it. Last week.
I’ve been told before that I don’t “fit the demographics”—and it’s true.
But if I think of my home as more of a homestead, surely that will work, right? We’re off grid, and have a garden, and 180 acres of woods. I know how to use a chainsaw. It all fits.
Except I’m not a real Homesteader, am I? I don’t have 8 children, whom I all homeschool using Biblical curriculum. I don’t make my own sausage from hogs that I butchered myself. I certainly don’t have a year’s worth of prepared food in the cellar in case of apocalypse; I don’t even have a cellar. I’m not really striving for self sufficiency. My husband works outside the home and we eat mainly vegan foods.
Not that there’s anything wrong with having eight children and being self-sufficient, or, on the other side of things, wearing makeup and going to PTO meetings—there isn’t. It’s just not me. I don’t fit these molds, but I’m still going to be a mama, staying at home. And you know what? I bet there are plenty of other mamas out there that don’t fit these molds either, but are still trying to figure it out.
Maybe you’re trying to balance your dirt-biking self with motherhood. Maybe you’ve got to explain to your parents in Boston why your ten month old is perfectly safe traveling the world with you. For me, I know that there is a way to navigate my growth as a mother in a way that is true to who I am. I may not be a Home Maker, and I may not be a Homesteader, but I am making a life, full time, on our little Homestead. I don’t know what it looks like yet, to be a Homestead Maker, but I’ll find out.