I love what I do.
How blessed am I to be able to say that?
My job is awesome. I am Mommy. Mama. The one who is always there. The one whose arms are completely unequaled in their ability to comfort.
I can honestly, and confidently, say that there is nothing I would rather be doing. I even feel safe saying that I truly believe this is my calling, and I am incredibly fortunate to have a husband with whom I see eye-to-eye on this issue. For our family, this is exactly as it should be.
I love what I do.
I am proud of what I do.
I was at my husband's Christmas party. Just us- hubby and me. Our three kids were happily at home with my sister watching them and cousins to play with. This is a very, very rare occurrence. We just aren't the "going out" types, ordinarily.
I was dressed in a long, fancy black dress shot with blue sparkly threads. My hair was curled and pinned up. My polished toes peeped out of high-heeled shoes. I sipped a tiny glass of Irish cream on the rocks and waited for my filet mignon to arrive. Goodness! This wasn't anything like my ordinary life, but it sure was fun!
I made intelligent conversation with the "big-wigs" of the company who, for some unknown reason, all chose to sit at our table. I smiled as they all seemed to indicate I had such a huge family, what-with having three children and all.
And then... the inevitable question.
"So, do you work?"
I think most stay-at-home moms are with me on this one-- the knee-jerk response is to want to shout from the roof-tops, "Yes, darn-it-all, I work... I work HARD! I work, day in and day out, with no breaks! No lunch break! No bathroom time by myself! I W-O-R-K work!!!"
But, of course, that is not what was meant by the question.
The question (not surprisingly asked by another mother because, I'll be frank, men hardly ever ask me that) referred to whether I held a career outside the home. You know, a real job.
In that brief, brief moment, all eyes upon me, waiting for my reply, I felt inadequate. I felt like, unlike all the women at my table with gainful employment, I didn't do anything that qualified as, well, work.
And I answered quietly, "No, I stay home with my children."
The woman who asked the question is the only one who looked down her nose a bit at me. Just a bit. The rest, including her own husband, were very kind, receptive, and- blessedly- just moved on with new conversation.
But I was shaken.
Not so much because I had been asked the question or because of her response. Rather, I was shaken because I didn't have enough faith in myself. In what I do.
I love what I do. (Have I said that enough yet?) And it IS my job. It is my life's work.
I'm already happy about it. I need to learn to be completely proud of it too.
How about you? Do you love your job, whatever it might be?