Leaving
the military to become a stay-at-home mom was a mixed bag for me. On the one
hand, I felt like I was doing the right thing for my family and that I would be
able to provide stability for my son through my husband’s every-other-year
deployments. But part of me felt not only that I’d lost something, but that it
had been taken away from me. Home alone with an infant, I felt victimized and
indignant. Where was the praise and purpose that came with competing in the
workplace? What was I supposed to do with the drive and ambition that suddenly
had no outlet?
It took some time – a long time,
actually – but I finally came to terms with the fact that I’d made a choice
based on what was truly important to me and that now I had control over how to
feel about it. I admitted that the loss of my total independence and my career
stung, and then I focused on
putting the same level of energy and commitment I’d given to the Army into
being a wife and mother.
For
six years, that meant fulfilling the 1950s housewife stereotype to the utmost.
I don’t know how many hours I’ve spent scrubbing and scouring, cooking and
baking, primping and preening – all in pursuit of perfection.
And
then one day, just a few weeks ago, I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing my
kitchen floor with a Magic Eraser, when it hit me: This is not perfection. Nobody asked me to do this. Nobody cares if I
do this. Nobody even wants me to do
this – least of all me! This is
not my dream.
What
exactly was I doing? Whose definition of perfection was I after – because this
certainly wasn’t mine. I sat back on my feet, completely stupefied by this
epiphany. And then, right on its heels, came charging the dream that I rejected
and buried years ago.
It is the same dream I’ve had since I
was in third grade, but as an adult it seemed so unrealistic, so impractical,
that I told myself not to waste my time. And then I went ahead and did just
that. I wasted my time on tasks and chores and self-imposed drudgery.
Sadly,
I can’t get that time back now. I’ve squandered years of opportunity to realize
my lifelong dream. But rather than waste one more millisecond, I’m going to
skip punishing myself and take advantage of the time in front of me.
My
dream is to write books for children with the hopes of inspiring young readers
the way my favorite authors inspired my love of reading and literature when I
was in elementary school. And I’m finally, finally
taking a stab at it.
I’m
still going to clean my house and cook for my family and give them the time and
attention and energy they deserve from me. But some days, I’m leaving dishes in
the sink and spots on the floor and laundry piled up.
With that time, I’m writing the book I’ve
always wanted to write. And I’m
even allowing myself to hope that one day, I will see that book on a shelf in a
bookstore, and I will show my son (and myself) that dreams do come true … if
you make them.
