Category Archives: contentment

For Other Great Posts on Work-Life Balance, Click Away

February 9, 2010compromise, contentment, life, writingKirsetin

Last week, I wrote a post about Work-Life Balance for Katherine’s blog carnival. Yesterday, she linked to all the other posts. If you’ve ever struggled with what work-life balance looks like, these are some posts worth reading. I especially liked Laureen’s thoughts about being a work-at-home mom, Catherine’s reminder to look for benefits from our employers, and Dawn’s thoughts on leaving a career to stay home with your family.

If you missed my thoughts on the topic, click here to see what I had to say.

Go find some balance, friends, even for just today.

The Altar of Motherhood

March 20, 2009balance, contentment, Parenting, writingKirsetin

A new friend of mine shared an essay with me recently, an excerpt from a book by Walter Wangerin, Jr. She said she thought of me when she read it, because I am a writer, and a mother. And she added that she thought this essay was true for many mothers, not just writers. Having not yet read the article, I just nodded and thanked her and smiled. I picked up my child and waved good-bye.

A day or two passed before I found the time to sit down and read the few pages she had taken the time to photocopy for me. I was busy with PTO and blogging and soccer and life. But the papers on the counter kept calling and eventually, finally, I found time to sit down and read them.

In The Altar of Motherhood, Walter Wangerin, Jr. writes about a time in 1985 when he became the work-at-home parent while his wife went off to the office full-time. During the school year, he managed nicely, thank you very much. And then came summer, when he thought he’d complete his book manuscript. (All work-at-home mothers may pause here, for a good, hearty laugh.) As the days stretched on, he finally concluded, “these children of mine must take precedence—because they are children and they are mine and they come first…”

And all of us who have made that decision understand. We understand that it is right for us. We understand that even though it is right, it is hard. It is exceedingly hard. We understand that he speaks of a sacrifice of the highest order.

Walter Wangerin, Jr. went on to put it this way:

“Ah, Mother, every summer since then I have thought of you and of all your sisters through the ages…I see deep, and I see this: that once there lay in the precinct of many mothers’ souls some private dream. The characteristic by which they defined their selves and their purpose for being. To write? Maybe. To run a marathon? Or to run a company? Yes. Yes.

But then the baby came home, and then you and others like you made a terrible, terribly lovely choice. You reached into your soul and withdrew that precious thing and lifted it up before your breast and began to walk. Deliberate and utterly beautiful, you strode to an altar of love for this child and placed there the talent, the dream, some core part of your particular self—and in order to mother another, you released it.”

And though I write these words 23 years later, his words still ring true. That first year after I brought my first baby home was one of the hardest times of my life. When I decided, towards the end of that year, to place my career on that very altar, to sacrifice, for some undetermined time, the plan I had laid out, it was heartbreaking. But it was the right choice for me. I wasn’t coerced, for goodness-sakes. I chose it. And despite how hard it’s been sometimes, I would choose it again. Sitting in my home office, type, type, typing away and listening to my college-aged sitter play with my baby down the hall just wasn’t for me. It wasn’t worth the trade. Also, I knew that my break would be temporary, I just wasn’t sure how long ‘temporary’ would be. In fact, I continued consulting for quite a while, and that was a great compromise. But still. It was a compromise. And you know, I guess that’s the thing. We bring these tiny little people into the world, and they need us. And so we make adjustments, changes, compromises to do what works best for us. And what works best for them. And somewhere along the way, we come to need them, too.

I felt vindicated, a bit, I suppose, when I read Walter Wangerin, Jr.’s essay, because sometimes I feel alone in this conflict. I have many friends who didn’t share the same agony when they left a job or career to stay home. They delighted in the infant days; they appreciated playgroups and enjoyed shopping at Gymboree. I love these women; they are some of my dearest friends. But it took awhile for me to join their circle, and still there are times, when I stand just outside, on the periphery, peering in, alone with my angst.

But I’m not alone. Sacrifice, in whatever shape it takes, is hard, and lots of parents are making lots of sacrifices. Earlier this week I read Mrs. Chicken’s eloquent narrative of the difficult time in which she and her husband currently find themselves. And then I read Julie Pippert’s post about how hard it is to be true to yourself and to mother your children. Oh, I know this pain. It is hard. It is. I agree with Julie when she says, “The funny thing, the odd thing, is that I think, in a way, the kids would…just as soon be home, running in the yard, largely ignoring us until they happened to need us in some way, while knowing we were there at their disposal.”

Right on the money, Julie. Right on the money. They just want us there. In case.

In the meantime, we go on. We adjust and change and compromise and try our best to show them that it’s important to love yourself and it’s important to love others. Sometimes we just don’t do both well at the same time.

How to Have A Peaceful Holiday

December 20, 2008christmas, contentment, familyKirsetin

The thing is, life’s all about expectations. I’ve found this to be true, regardless of the situation.

Example: Sibling relationships

Expect top notch. Get bottom rung. Disappointed.
Expect little, other than love. Receive a smidge more. Connected and content.

What a difference an expectation levels makes!

This idea rings true for the holiday season as well. As Christmas approaches, I watch the frenzy around me and sometimes wonder why we get so caught up in the rush. I know, of course, that there is more to do than time allows. If that weren’t true, the Christmas cards I ordered in October wouldn’t still be sitting on my desk. I wouldn’t have been making the hard tack candy to give to teachers early in the afternoon on the very day I needed to give it to them. I would’ve baked those cut-out cookies by now. Needless to say, I’m not exempt from holiday to-do lists, chock full of things I haven’t gotten to yet.

The difference is that this year I don’t feel a bit of stress about it. This hasn’t always been the case; high stress has been the hallmark of many previous holidays. This year, however, something changed. Instead of expecting perfection, I just expected my best—and the two are far from the same. Allowing myself that bit of space created a sense of peace I didn’t expect. Bonus peace! Sure, I wish my cards were in the mail. But the point of the cards is to connect with friends, and I’ve realized that will happen regardless of the day they’re stamped by the post office.

Shopping is another thing that was easier this year. In a complete score, I lucked out and was able to do my black Friday shopping on Thanksgiving night, sitting there in my cozy pajamas with a glass of wine in my hand. A late night e-mail from Amazon advertised the camera I’d had my eye on—the only big thing on my black Friday list—on sale for $50 less than any of the ads I’d seen. SOLD. I slept in, avoided the masses at the stores, and headed for the local tree-lighting ceremony that evening, complete with a visit from Santa and free hot cider. Stress-free, I tell ya.

The other difference this year is that, somewhere along the line, I became truly thankful. I always thought I was, but I guess this year my thankfulness grew up. In appreciating where I am, and not focusing on where else I could be (or what else I could be getting done), I have inadvertently released myself from some of the traditional holiday mayhem. And why, you ask, am I so darn thankful?

Probably for many of the same reasons you are. I am grateful to the core of my being for my warm home. I am elated that my children are healthy. I love that they’re learning to make good choices. My children’s teachers show up day after day and nurture them, and teach them, and guide them when I’m not around. I’m eternally grateful for them. Hunger is just a word around here. When my kids complain that they’re hungry, I’m thankful that they have never known how it feels to be truly hungry. I’m thankful that my world doesn’t involve making a choice between feeding them or buying them winter boots. I’m thankful for my husband, my friends, my family, my faith. And I’m here to tell you, there’s nothing stressful about that.

This post was written for Parent Blogger Network‘s blog blast, which is sponsored this time by FFDA, a non-profit organization that offers support and assistance for folks who are feeling overwhelmed, both at the holidays and all year long.