20 of 40

Last week I called my aunt just to chat. I was en route from somewhere to somewhere else, stopped at a gas station. It's three hours ahead her time and I'm not sure what she was doing but she answered and we asked and answered some questions about ourselves and each other in not-quite-rapid-fire rhythm. She asked about work and I said it was great.

"So you feel like everything is working out?" she asked.

Hmmmm.

"I don't feel like everything is working out," I answered. "I think I feel more like myself so I'm more able to handle it when things aren't going great."

When it came down to the question of whether I would stay at home full-time with my kids or work, I thought I had a choice. And yes, super luckily enough for me and for us, I did have that choice. We could more than survive on one income--many people do not have that luxury. Also luckily for me there were scores of women before me, before us, who fought and pushed to be able to have more choices. I am grateful for the choices, and the right to choose, that I have.

I didn't and don't have a choice about who I am, though. And who I am is better with work in the equation. Work, especially work that I love, helps me recognize myself. It gives me a container for many of my thoughts. It tires me out mentally. It helps me step outside of myself and look around. Parenthood does some of these things for me too, in ways that I anticipated and in ways that surprise me. I didn't know I would try so hard to train myself away from my faults, or what I see as my faults, in an attempt to only pass on good things to my children. I didn't know that my lack of ability or interest to keep a clean house would weigh on me so much. I didn't know I would sometimes feel afraid of being left alone with my children--at first because there were so many of them and I was so emotionally overwhelmed and depressed. And then just because of the long stretch of afternoon hours and a sense of dread as I wondered how I would fill them.

We want to raise good quality little people and we want to provide these offspring of ours with good childhoods. I don't think those are always the same thing. There are plenty of people in the world who had shitty childhoods by most definitions who turned out to be good, strong, kind people. And then there's the complication that we all get to go by our own definition of good. What makes someone a good person? What makes a good childhood?

I watch my kids play "going to work." They did this before I was working so much but they all seem to do it a bit more now. They load up a bag or a bucket and wave, saying "Bye!" with a determined look on their faces. I recognize their expressions from previous conversations. "Are you going to work?" I ask.

Yes.

Or my son will pull on a pair of gloves and grab a few tools and head off. "I'm going to work," he declares.

Or someone will grab a notebook and some pens and say "I'm doing my homework."

They are surrounded by examples of people doing work and it seems to be something they like rather than something they eschew. This makes me happy. Not because I think someone needs a job to be a good person but because they are acting out what they see around them and they get to see both of us leave sometimes to go to work.