I sat in the driver’s seat sobbing, begging her not to leave, new mama drama at it’s finest. “I don’t know how to do all this stuff without you, Mom!” We had just pulled into the garage from one last errand run before she left on the train the next morning. Ben, all of 3 weeks old, slept in his bucket seat in the back.
“K.T.,” she began (short for Karen Theresa). She paused for a moment and closed her eyes. Conviction rose in her voice and on her face. “The only thing that matters now is the three of you. Focus your attention on making sure you are all healthy and happy, as much as you can. All that’s important now is how things are inside the four walls of this house. Let the rest fall away. That’s the best thing you can do.”
More sobbing and woeful self-pity ensued. Postpartum overwhelm was settling in. Mom knew how to do the mothering thing with her eyes shut, after raising 9 kids. (We’re Catholic. We both know you were wondering ;).) I, on the other hand, was quite ill equipped to actually raise a human. I mean…no pressure, really. Another person’s life and wellbeing just rested fully in my hands for the next 18 years or so. Lord help me.
But Mom left the next day as planned. I cried; Ben cried more. Bewildered and ecstatic and tired and blissful and cranky and elated, we survived. And I went to work on my Mom-given mission, because as she had said, it was the best thing I could do. Little did I know at that time that this bit of motherly advice would guide the constitution of our household and eventually my career for the next fifteen years (and counting). I’m not really sure Mom will even recall this conversation. It may surprise her as she reads this to know these few fleeting moments that we shared in the car have had the profound impact they have.
Babes in One Arm, Tablet in the Other
Once Ben arrived, I knew right away I wanted to stay home with him, to make our home our happy place as much as possible. Tom was on board, and we reset goals and expectations to accommodate this dream. Not long after Maddie came and we fell into our healthy rhythm as a foursome, I began to crave my own brain space again. My priority was to stay home with these kiddos, but knew at the same time that I had talents to share outside of mashing avocado and making silly faces and gurgling sounds and bouncing and swaying. And for real, I wanted to buy new shoes without guilt.
Working for myself from home was the next best thing I could do for our family. So I did. I contracted for a few years in clinical research (the field I was in B.B. (before babies)), and then I began my direct sales business with Stella & Dot. Wrong or right, I felt so much better about myself, working and creating and producing. I believed I added more value to our household (I recognize this is not a healthy way to feel, but I felt it, nonetheless). And I bought new shoes, sans guilt. If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.
…I had talents to share outside of mashing avocado and making silly faces and gurgling sounds and bouncing and swaying.
Being my own boss was an eye opener. I saw quickly what I valued most (setting my own goals/expectations; determining my own paycheck) and what I struggled with (time management, prioritizing activities with the greatest ROI). Abruptly humbled by my inability to perform at superhuman levels, I learned to accept with reluctance that I could not do all things for and be all things to all people, no matter how hard I tried. Looking back, I appreciate these lessons now more than ever, as it is clear they were shaping my mind and my heart for the future.
Into the Tunnel…
Years passed, the kids grew, we moved, priorities shifted (as they often do in young families). As they became older and more independent, I found myself in the unfortunate predicament of needing my kids a lot more than they needed me. Life kept moving so quickly, almost passing me by, it seemed, and I wasn’t moving with it. I panicked and worried and fell into a long, dark, depressive time, disinterested in my business and emotionally absent if not irritable much of the time for my family. Feeling lost and without purpose was out of the ordinary for me – I grew up an overachiever and chased every dangling carrot. I longed to see growth and improvement, in myself and in my livelihood, so I began focusing on projects where I could see measurable progress.
The biggest of these was the remodel of our home. At this stage of life, Tom and I found it easier and more relaxing to be at home entertaining and celebrating with friends and family than to be living it up in the city. It made logical sense for us to invest in our happiness in this way. But it also led me to acknowledge my homebodiness (let’s pretend that’s a word), which at the time, conflicted me.
On the one hand, I felt too young to just want to stay home all the time; not a cool enough mom or too boring a friend if I wasn’t out and about socially all the time. We wondered if we had made the best financial decision. But realistically, who was I kidding? At 40-something, I didn’t need to impress anyone or seek approval. I needed to choose what would float my own boat. The more the house evolved, the more Mom’s advice came back to me: All that matters is within these four walls. Focus here. Find happiness here.
…and Back Out Again
After the remodel, I went back to work. I carried boatloads of self-imposed pressure, determined to find the elusive work-life balance (rant averted momentarily, but I’ll cover the falseness of that term in another post). My focus was to identify my true purpose, and I was intent on getting my shit together, for lack of better terminology. I found a fun job in a lively office with people I loved, with the shortest commute ever (7 minutes door to door!). Tom and the kids rose to the occasion and filled in as needed at home. We took some time readjusting, but it felt good to go out in the community again, back to a structured schedule, and help the world go ’round. Until it didn’t.
At about the same time, Tom’s work travel started to increase, and the kids’ school schedules and activities gradually became more demanding and time consuming. They were all supportive of my return to work, but we had begun fraying at the edges. In truth, our days had grown long and depleting, and our every-which-way schedules were taxing, especially when Tom was out of town. Eighteen months after I returned to work, I returned back home. I had tried something new and tucked a few new lessons up my sleeve. Now I could focus on next steps.
Introspection
This was self-assessment time. My dreams and aspirations couldn’t simply yield to the fact that I was coming back home during the day. What did I want most personally? Professionally? Which assets had I drawn and lessons had I learned from all my past experiences, and what did I love most in each position? What would be meaningful and align with my goals? Realistic or not, what was my most ideal situation?
As luck would have it, all my questions were met with similar, if not the same, answers:
- Work from home, for myself
- Be Intentional in my choices
- Be present for my family, while teaching them to be independent, contributing, and capable citizens
- Build our dreams instead of someone else’s, and to encourage others who wanted to do the same
- Surround myself with positive energy in a community of vibrant, smart, like-minded people
- Do work that matters to me and that I have a vested interest in
- Combine my work-from-home skillset with my corporate America skillset with my household manager skillset to make magic
- Show the kids they can have what they want if they are willing to work for it and can demonstrate resilience
Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign
Once I slowed down enough and opened myself up to what I truly wanted, confirmation around creating a space on the web seemed to drop out of the sky for me. I had a telling dinner with a good friend who pressed me for answers about my vision that I didn’t know I had. She began to untangle my jumbled mess of ideas with a few pointed questions.
A week after, I met another dear friend for lunch, shared my business idea with her, and pitched her the name. Her response? A resounding, “YES, girl. I got you.” She grabbed her phone as I spoke and placed it in front of me with an image of the sweatshirt she had bought online the day before. The words HOME GIRL were sprawled across the front of it. If I needed a clear sign, this was definitely it. My scattered thoughts were taking shape. The next day I snagged the same sweatshirt for myself.
Family Ties
One month later, I walked into my sister’s apartment. She had a sweet piece of artwork that she had purchased recently but had decided not to use. She offered it to me, and I immediately knew I was on the right path. When your God or your universe talks to you with such acute clarity, try to listen.
Another loving sister interrupted my analysis paralysis once I had finally decided to do this, and actually made me put pen to paper and fingers to keyboard to get this shin dig started. She pushed me off the cliff and made me learn to fly. Starting is often the hardest part, because I think it requires the biggest amount of faith. So I took her nudge as another sign, because I knew my own sister would never intentionally steer me wrong.
Sidenote: Family is a huge blessing. As I write this, a third sister is at home in Oregon, growing her own business while finishing out a kitchen remodel during quarantine. Even though she has been living in pure chaos with no real escape from it, she checks in with me often and encourages me and laughs with me and pulls her hair out over tech stuff with me, staying up late into the wee hours with me to be sure I continue to make positive progress. And these words, by the way, are the last ones I’ll write before this site goes live!
And finally, my fortune cookie at my dad’s 90th birthday celebration soon thereafter sealed the deal for me:
Luck and superstition, much? Maybe so. Answered prayers for clarity and meaningful direction? I believe so. But I’m also sure the story would have unfolded quite differently without the golden bit of advice from my mom, fifteen years old now, made clear to me in some form at each phase of self-discovery.
The road to today was definitely not a straight and clear path. Pay attention to the signs, friends! Some are old, some are new (some are red and some are blue. Thank you, Dr. Seuss.). Some will scream at you from a sweatshirt or a piece of artwork. Others you’ll have to dig deep for, listen for, pray for, trust yourself for. Or eat Chinese food for. No matter how they come, they’re out there if you’re ready and willing to see them.
For now, making home my happiest place is where I’m supposed to be and what I’m meant to do. It feels right. If I can launch a new (ad)venture from it, I’m excited! If I can learn from this experience and create a kick-ass, supportive community at large, and teach my kids a few gems of business wisdom, even better. And if I can celebrate finding sincere joy, comfort, safety, vulnerability and serenity at home, and inspire you and yours to do the same? Mission accomplished.
