I'm writing this on my phone, in the Substack app. It's a no editing, no sitting with the content, no waiting for my mood to change kind of post-- because if I do any of those things I'll probably post it. But I feel like I need to write this, and I need to share this raw bit of vulnerability- for myself and anyone else who needs to read it.
This past weekend we packed up the kids and the dog in the car to spend “Halloween" with my in-laws. They live in a quiet neighborhood, and the community there had an organized trick-or-treating event that was perfect for my first-time trick-or-treaters. We had a lot of fun.
At one point during the weekend though my daughter maked a casual comment that blew me away. To set the scene, I'm sitting on the toilet. The door to the ensuite bedroom is open and my 5 year old is hanging out in just outside the threshold on the carpet chatting at me-- the way young kids do. You know you're the primary parent when you don't get to pee alone.
Anyway, out of the blue she's says "I don't know what I want to be when I geow up. Like, I dont know what I want for a career.” Okay, cool, I wouldn't expect you to kiddo. It can take a long time to figure out what you want to do, if you ever do. I know I never expected to be where I am.
Then she goes "I want to maybe be like you…” Cue the awwww "…you know, a Wife.“ (said with a capital W). Umm okay. I'm a little surprised--I was expecting a mom-- but I know my kid is all about weddings and marriage and stuff, and being wife and a mom are basically the same thing in her mind. No big deal, and I'm glad to be a good role model for a caring relationship.
Thats when she hits me with "How the HECK did you get your life to be so easy?”
The audacity.
My jaw about broke when it dropped to the floor. My brain reeled. What did she just say to me? I blinked, I took a breath and composed myself, and with a chuckle I asked "who said my life is so easy?” She shrugged and said she didn't know, and started talking about something else-- all just another completely normal part of a conversation with a 5 year old. I made a defensive comment, like “my life has NOT been so easy, but okay. I have 3 degrees… Am I very lucky that daddy makes enough money that I can stay with you all day and homeschool you? Yes. But that doesn't make my life easy.” And then I let it go…or at least I didn't bring it up with her again.
It stuck with me enough that I brought it up to my husband in a kind of joking "can you believe this!?”, "where would she even get an idea like that?” way.
And the look he gave me … the pause that said that not only could he believe it- he had been the one who planted the seed of thought in the first place.
My face must have fallen fast, because he took a deep breath and said “how do I say this" before opening and closing his mouth a few times like he was about to say something but thought better of it.
Finally he started with "We were talking about careers and I wanted her to think about being able to provide for herself, because not everyone can be in a situation like this…"
My jaw didn't hit the floor this time, it clenched. Then the kids screamed and needed my attention and told him he better just stop talking.
And now I'm….Mad? Disappointed? Hurt? I don't even know. Does he really think so little of me? Of what I'm doing? Of the work of raising children?
We’ve been together through 5 degrees (2 for him, 3 for me), all because of my ambition. My want to do more, be more, and to make a difference in the world. I didn't go to college for an MRS degree, like that old joke implies. Life threw me some curve balls and I've adapted. Not only that but I make choices , sacrifices, to try and provide the best care I can for our children. I put their needs well above my own on a daily basis.
Do I earn an income? No. And I hate that. I recognize that I am privledged to be able to take care of our kids, to buy what we need whenever we need it all because his job affords me the time, space, and yes, finances, to do so. But it sure as shit isn't easy.
Ugh.
I wanted to write about the labor of being a primary parent. About the weight and burden of my disability and unpredictable health and how long its taken me to even begin to come to terms with that.
I wanted to write about the work of childrearing and teaching and growing a future -- and how I struggle with valuing that myself. About the guilt of not making financial contributions and to spending his money, money I didn't directly earn. About the value and importance of labor that isn't financially gainful and how capitalist society that has basically erased that.
But that did happen.
I emotionally and mentally exhausted myself writing this story and thinking about all the implications of this.
My children need my attention, and as always, I’m going to put their needs above my own. Im going to go do that work… especially when it isn't easy.