Occupation: Homemaker

Last week I was filling out a form at the orthodontist's office and was writing down all the pertinent information that they need in order to treat my children, when my pen hovered over "occupation."

Occupation.

My mind raced to all the interesting professions my friends are peaking in right now.  We're at an age where most of them have worked in their chosen field for 15 years or so and they're hitting new heights in their careers.  My good friends are now tenured university professors, published authors, partners in law firms, licensed psychologists.

My pen paused, hesitated, as my mind raced through the list of occupations my friends have, occupations for which they are getting paid (very well, in nearly all cases).  Occupations that present a specific identity to the outside world.  

Then, as my pen continued to hover, I thought about my own occupations.  I do not earn an income, although my earning potential as an attorney is in the six-figure range. I do not attend lavish social functions, which was part of the job when I practiced law in the private sector.  I am not making a name for myself in the legal world.  I haven't practiced law in any official, paid capacity in over 10 years, and I do not wish to start again anytime soon. I also write, but I wouldn't really classify that as an occupation for me.

What is my occupation? Options swirled in my head: stay-at-home mother?  Homeschooling parent?  Teacher?  Housekeeper?  Laudress???

That blank space stared back at me as I thought of all the things I do every day. Little images of our daily life, as simple as it is, flitted in and out of my mind.  Hundreds of walks down our gravel country lane. Washing off the eggs from our chickens.  Fluffing up pillows. Rearranging a bookshelf.  Drinking a cup of tea and listening to the birds.  Washing countless dishes. Changing lightbulbs. Planting flowers.  Braiding my daughter's hair.  Cooking dinner. Mending clothes. Painting a piece of furniture. Washing the sliding doors.  My occupations.

I've been at these occupations for over 14 years now, after I left the full-time practice of law with no plan except to stay at home and be mistress of my own domain.  I had to learn everything from scratch. I didn't know how to do so many things.  I learned by doing, by making mistakes, by reading books, by praying, by reading blogs, by watching YouTube videos, by thinking, and by trying to learn what, exactly, I was after in the making of a home.



(The front porch in autumn.)

After nearly 15 years of it, am I at the peak of my "career"? Am I hitting new heights?  It's an amusing question to ponder.  By God's grace and practicing a lot of self-discipline, I've improved.....but I don't have a paycheck to show for it, or any public accolades. I don't even make a "career" out of keeping house, in any kind of Martha Stewart-esque way: I don't decorate my house impressively, don't bake intimidating cakes, don't do any sumptuous entertaining. I do the best I can, and am not looking for public approval of it.

As I sat there at the orthodontist's office, I thought of all of this, and wrote "homemaker" in the blank.  I thought of what a simple word it is, and how it barely scratches the surface of who I am or what I do, and isn't going to earn me any respect in the eyes of most of the world, but it's what I decided I wanted to do when I was in my mid-twenties. I wanted to make a home.  I wanted to learn what that meant. 

(Our simple, small living room, with the geriatric dog, the used furniture, and the coziness of home.)

I turned in the form with "homemaker" written on it, and I wondered at what in the world would have motivated someone as motivated as I always was for the first quarter-century of my life to leave the things the world (and some of my family) told me were alluring and valuable in order to do something so mundane that the people who *are* paid to do it are among the lowest-paid in our society.

I think it was love (of my husband, of the children we did not yet have, and also of myself, simply because the job made me sick and unhealthy) and a genuine desire to create a stable, healthy home life.  It had become clear to me that my long-term career trajectory was at sharp odds with my vision of home life.  Working 60 hours a week didn't feel like enough. I brought work home constantly.  I took files on our 5th anniversary getaway.  I knew it wasn't sustainable. 

And I deeply desired something I did not know well, because my childhood sometimes felt chaotic and disorderly to my quiet, orderly nature: I desired a steady, routine, peaceful life.  I had absolutely no idea how to bring that to fruition, I didn't understand how to manage my home, I had no experience, no background of it at all, no mentor. But this force within me knew I had to make the change. 

(Does it go without saying that I'm not insisting that a career and a happy home life are mutually exclusive? Of course they are not.  But the reality of the constraints of time and energy cannot be denied, and anyone who is realistic understands that life involves trade-offs.)

So at the orthodontist's office that day, as we sat and waited to be called back, I thought about all of these things. I sat there and looked at the children who were only figments of my imagination 15 years ago. I thought about our house, which is homey and happy.  I thought about the childhood my children are having--a childhood that sometimes astonishes me in its sweetness, innocence, and simplicity. And I was grateful to be able to write "homemaker" in that little blank space. It means so much more than I thought it did when I was a college student contemplating her future!