I’ll have the 1950’s special, please.

Sometimes it seems like years ago, and sometimes it seems like yesterday….but I remember a moment when Luke was only a 2.5 month old baby snoozing in his infant carseat and I was dressed in what I thought were cute clothes (despite the jeans being maternity) with my hair and makeup done, feeling pretty great about myself despite the 30 extra pounds I was carrying on my stomach, hips, and thighs. I sat at the same kitchen table I’m typing at now, thumbing through a magazine and smiling at my sleeping baby. Only a few feet away from me was a woman I’d just met, on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor.

Looking back I have a totally different picture of that scene than I did in the moment. From my current perspective, I see one girl (me) thinking she’s hot shit, oblivious to the countless imperfections that came with having a baby (at least at that particular moment), acting a little smug about watching this lady in spandex and a torn oversized t-shirt finish her work for the day. An outsider would see a snob with her designer baby bag and $80 Gap jeans, and a humble working woman scrubbing her floors. But that wasn’t it at all. I was, in fact, having a somewhat optimistic day (which was, entirely rare for being that freshly post partum). Yet, my casual magazine perusing and my lazy lounging were results of feeling completely awkward. Never in my life have I seen someone who in reality, looked a lot more like she was from my neck of the woods, scrubbing a wealthy person’s home. Earning a living by scraping the dirt the rich people left behind after walking through the room in their expensive shoes. I didn’t know how to feel. Should I talk to her? Should I offer to help? Should I just stay out of the way? Is she totally miserable about her job?

Sometimes I forget how wealthy my in-laws are. I mean, I don’t really know how that’s possible….considering their enormous home, their vacation cottage on a lake, the Lexus’s in their driveway (that have been replaced and upgraded about….hmm, 7 or so times since I’ve known them, which is about 6 years). And then there’s the jet ski. And the country club membership. And the decor that looks like it was ripped out of a Raymour & Flanigan ad. And the vacations to Africa and China. And the educational trust fund they started for my son. And the brand new stainless steel appliances and granite counter tops they added to their already perfect kitchen.

None of that is even my point….

You see, I spend one day a week here with Luke. Matt likes us to come along because having us here breaks up his day a bit. And since we live with MY parents, his parents don’t get to see Luke nearly as often so we like to give them a full day. It’s a pain in the ass when it comes to packing up enough things for the day (considering Luke still requires diapers, and wipes, and bottles, and snacks, and toys, and pacifiers, ect ect….), but truth be told, I don’t mind being here. I like being in this way-too-big, quiet house to read and write and think while Luke is taking his naps. Sure, I miss my craft stuff. But I kind of get a different type of creative outlet when I’m here. The whole richy-rich thing used to bother me when I spent time here. It was hard to be comfortable because I come from….well, a compleeetely different setting. But the more time I spend here, the more I get to know my in-laws, and…I think, because I mothered one of their descendants….I feel more and more comfortable. They’ve finally started to feel like MY family, too.

This morning while Luke was playing with the retro toys Matt’s mom has (which is honestly, pretty darn cool), I decided to check out one of the many works of art they have on these walls. I noticed two new ENORMOUS water color paintings they have leaning against the walls, waiting to be hung…and it led me to looking at a framed page of a newspaper from years and years ago. It’s yellowed and torn and frayed around the edges. The date it was printed was November 22, 1933. It’s a full page ad for the opening of a place called "Mark Twain Food Market, Inc." in Elmira, NY. I got a kick out of reading the little blurbs on it – the language they used to sell things back then is comical. This one in particular – "We are certain any jaded appetite will respond to the unusually tempting variety of Domestic and Imported cheeses which we are featuring". That whole sentence makes me laugh.

The prices are even funnier. $.55 for a pound of coffee. $.45 for 2 pounds of butter. Steaks for $.17 a pound. Grapefruit for $.05 each. 24-1/2 POUNDS of flour for $.99!

Reading through these made me wish I was born in a different time. Funny, how I feel like I miss something I never got to see? And to be quite honest, I wouldn’t want to have been born at any other time BEFORE now….the idea of living in a time without the medical advances we have these days scares me away from any of the other fun things. But it does absolutely make me long for a house.

Does that make any sense? I swear, it does….at least in my brain.

You see…..I am extremely old fashioned at heart. It comes as no surprise to you all, I’m sure, I’m into pretty lame things (ha). But it’s more than that. I believe in traditional roles, and morals, and values. I’m actually bitter with the women who started the whole feminist movement. I don’t WANT a career to be expected of me. I don’t WANT society to think that I should be doing more. I desperately and whole heartedly want nothing more than to be Suzie Homemaker extraordinaire, staying at home making casseroles and pies and quilts and babies.

I kind of have that, yes. I really have no reason to bitch. It’s just….a) I’m freaking ANTSY to get back into a house…MY house, that I get to make a HOME so I can put my domestic skills back to use and b) I hate the idea that some people may look at me as useless, or dumb, or lazy. It’s not the case, I assure you. Everyone has their opinions, and truth be told I really don’t care. My happiness is ALL from my home life and my interactions with my family and the hobbies I get to indulge in while my little one is asleep…I just wish that was "enough" in society’s eyes.

There was a thread posted on Buffalo Mommies recently, polling stay at home moms about whether or not they’ll go back to work when their kids are in school. It was really a 50/50 response. Some of them are desperate to, and others, like me, are desperate to find a way NOT to. My response was that I’m hoping to strategically create babies long enough that I’ll always have a reason to stay home, or to find a way to make money doing something I enjoy that rarely requires me to leave my children or my home. And that’s not to say that I wouldn’t work if I HAD to because I would do absolutely anything I had to for my family. And it’s not that I’m lazy and just don’t want to work (because truth be told I actually enjoy doing things like paper work and data entry and answering phones – as long as it’s not in a customer service kind of setting). But I just wonder if the moms who are desperate to go back do so because they are simply craving things like adult interaction and management-imposed brain stimulation (instead of seeking it out yourself), or if it’s because society tells them they need to go

back.

Don’t get me wrong…I refuse to be a leech on my husband. He may give me money for my "play" things, but I will always earn it. Right now I earn it by being responsible for our son’s care 24/7 – even if I’m not the main care giver for any given moment I make every decision from what he will eat, to when he will sleep, to what he will play with and what he will wear. That earns me a cricut cartridge every now and then, ya know? But when he (and future hypothetical children) are in school, I won’t sit around and do nothing. I like the idea of still remaining at home so that I can keep our house together (it’s kind of impossible with both adults working full time, at least to the extent that I’d like it kept), and so that I can be there to greet our kids after school and make sure they do their homework and caravan them off to hockey practice. I like the idea of being able to pick them up at a moments notice if they get sick, or drive something to school they forgot, or volunteer for field trips and school events. And even if I somehow end up in a situation where I get the freedom to do that, I won’t sit around in my bathrobe eating bon bons and waiting for the phone to ring between these incidents. I want to find something to do…something to make money, help support our family. I know that it’s kind of a lofty dream to think that my blog will some day turn into revenue. A favorite blogger of mine started out yammering about her 5th pregnancy and now she’s selling her own line of stamps and DVDs and has a ton of sponsors. What are the chances that I could a) get to that level or b) compete with her? But I just feel like….I should try. Because it would mean doing something I LOVE, turning my passion and hobbies into something that helps my family and not only allows me to live MY version of a dream, but gives my kids and my husband the kind of life I want to give them.

I DON’T expect, or even WANT to be wealthy to the point of having maids and Lexus SUVs and a cottage on the lake. I want a full and happy homemade home life. I feel like…I’m on the right track, but it’s completely frustrating to be on hold without a place to call your own and not even being sure of when that will happen or where it will be. It’s hard to have goals and the drive to get there without all the avenues to make it happen. Nothing that’s worth it is ever easy though, right? I’m not asking for it to be. Really. I just…wish I could get the show on the road, ya know? I wish the right house would present itself. I wish my blog following would explode….I wish I’d get noticed and earn a sponsor and start selling like crazy on etsy. I know it takes time….and effort…and dedication. I’m just anxiously awaiting all of it to start. And really…REALLY, desperate, to know if I’m heading in the right direction.