Last month, I wrote a list of things I will do when I’m an old man. Most, if not all of them were pretty tongue and cheek. However, as I was writing it, I kept thinking of more serious things that I wanted to be doing when I’m an old man. And that’s what this list is all about.
Without any further ado, when I’m an old man:
A few months ago I asked my grandmother whether or not she would be willing to sit down with me, allowing me to conduct interviews with her about her life. She surprised me by saying she had already written down many of her memories; her son had asked her to do that some time ago. Weeks later, I saw her at a family dinner and she had a yellow Spiral Mead notebook with her. On the cover written in ink was, “1988, The Life of Emma Lee Coward Bomgardner, Bennett – Tuttle, Oklahoma.” She told me she had to look a little while for it, but had found her work.
I took the notebook and let her know I would transcribe what she had written, clean it up a bit, then send it to her for review. The goal was to then send it out to the family.
Last night I began the task of reading her handwritten notes. I was surprised at how much information was there and appreciated that her narrative echoed her true voice. Not many periods, quite a few commas, and no erasing…just, freestyle.
This job is going to take quite a bit of time, but I’ve already decided the rewards will be much greater than the investment. She began writing at age sixty-six. Her first memory penned was how her mother took her and her siblings to visit their grandparent’s home. She said they had to cross a bridge in order to reach their destination and the horse balked at the idea of making the pass. She recalls being terribly frightened as her mother wrestled with managing the horse, eventually coaxing him across the bridge.
I know that adrenaline helps embed memories, and from reading through these pages I can see how and why she might have recalled and written the stories she did. I’m about fifteen percent through the transcription, but today after reading the struggles manifested by the Great Depression…I’m very grateful for what we have.
We are certainly a blessed nation and a blessed family. May God continue to richly bless you and yours.
~Red Dirt Kelly
**1/16/11 Note: “One Voice of the Oklahoma Prairie: My Grandmother’s Memoirs” is now being published. Check THIS LINK to see the posts each week until they’re finished.
My name is Kendy and I’m a working mother.
This relatively innocuous statement actually has the power to evoke pride, guilt, judgment and even jealousy depending upon who’s in the conversation and their bias about what’s “right” for children, and society. But what’s right for the moms?
Of all discussion topics, working vs. staying home gets the most play among my group of friends. Some of us have full-time jobs and some have forgone a career to raise children. Some need two incomes to get by, while others simply can’t imagine life without a career. Some who stay home have realized that working is actually more expensive than not, given the high cost of childcare. Regardless of the situation and our level of satisfaction with it, we all agree that there is no single “right” answer, as we are all faced with a different set of circumstances that impact our decisions on the issue. However, no matter how satisfied we are with those decisions, we sometimes find ourselves peering over the fence to see if the grass truly is a deeper shade of green.
Even moms who count their blessings about being able to stay home with their children sometimes long for the adult conversations they remember having when they were working. As one friend says, “When you start to discuss your problems with a toddler-sized plush SpongeBob doll, you know you need some time with grown-ups!” I’ve had moms admire my shoes and comment longingly that they could never justify the purchase given the few places they would have to wear something so dressy. Others feel they have no break from their children – as precious as they are – and battle conflicting expectations when their husband arrives home from his own long day at the office. But these may very well be good tradeoffs for the ability to share all of life’s important and teachable moments.
On the flip side, working moms are often overwhelmed with guilt about the time they spend away from their kids. I’ve always been career-minded and relatively confident in my ability to have it all in life. But, even though I often don a super hero cape, I also have some pretty powerful kryptonite. Looking down at those little people in my life makes everything go just a bit hazy.
At work, I find myself drawn to various pictures of my smiling kids. I wonder if they’ve had a healthy lunch, whether they’re watching Nickelodeon or the Disney Channel, if Nolan’s had a good “pee pee in the potty” day, and whether Bailey’s loose tooth is still hanging on by a thread. I feel anxious. I guiltily remind my mother-in-law about the soccer practice that begins before I’m even supposed to clock out for the day. And I miss them.
All that would be fine if the culmination of my day wasn’t hearing Nolan burst into tears and state emphatically that he doesn’t want to leave grandma’s house with me. Bailey sends her own message by ignoring me altogether. In these moments, when I’m kidnapping my own children from their grandparents’ house, I feel unsettled, disconnected, and a little like I’m watching my life go by from behind a pane of glass rather than out living it. I’m jealous…jealous of my friends who don’t HAVE to work and surely aren’t subject to the sadness I feel at this repeat, albeit momentary, rejection. I’m jealous that they get all day to reinforce bonds, while I’m trying to force that into the 60 minutes between dance class and bedtime.
These are the moments when the fantasies of quitting my job and becoming an at-home mom take over. I imagine myself going on all kinds of daily adventures – to the zoo, the park, and museums – while organizing play dates, catching up on scrapbooks, teaching the kids a foreign language, and sewing their winter wardrobe. We won’t go into the holes in my fantasy, but let’s just say the likelihood of me actually doing all these things is iffy at best and I stopped just short of adding to the list “make my own soap.” Hey, it’s my fantasy and I’m sticking to it.
But it’s not all bad. In fact, when I stop to remember that life isn’t all about me (what??), there are some really great benefits to my kids of being a working mom.
First and foremost, they have an amazing relationship with their grandparents that they likely wouldn’t have if I stayed home. Having more than just mom and dad to teach, reinforce, and love is an incredible blessing. In rational moments, I’m glad to endure some hard mommy moments in exchange for the wealth of experiences and memories made with their grandparents.
As much as I enjoy the work I do, my kids are really proud of me, too. When we’re having our “what happened today” conversations, I get to tell Bailey about all the babies and children who have the benefit of two loving parents in their lives because of the work my company does. The pride she feels and the fact that I’m modeling for her what I preach – that she can do anything and be anything – is enough to give guilt a high-heeled kick in the pants!
So, do these benefits outweigh the disadvantages? I honestly don’t know the answer to that question, nor would my answer be the same tomorrow as it is today. What I DO know is that I have two great kids who will never want for love, guidance, or the discipline and boundaries they need to grow into the kind of adults I want them to become. And that makes my heart happier than any amount of time with them could.
But, just in case I happen to win the lottery one day, I bookmarked some You Tube videos on making soap at home. I’m just sayin’….