Domesticated

Domestic

Domestic, adjective

of or pertaining to the home, the household, household affairs, or the family: domestic pleasures.

devoted to home life or household affairs.

tame; domesticated.

noun  

a hired household servant.

Domestic. None of these definitions tickle my fancy.

When I decided to stay at home with my children I was very young.  My children didn’t exist nor did I know my husband. I was a child and when I declared my decision I was told it was an unacceptable career. I was surprised; my mother was a stay at home mother so I didn’t see an issue. Not that I thought that it was I was supposed to do, no, my parents we’re like most parents told me I could do anything and I, a hopeful child, believed it.  Apparently my ambitions were lowly unacceptable. I completely understand my parents but honestly I just wanted to take care of children, and nurturing my own seemed most natural.  I went through careers; Pediatrian , Preschool Teacher and finally at 8 years old landed on Kindergarten Teacher. As you can see there was large variety in my careers choices.

10 years after this decision I started community college for a degree in elementary Education.  About a month before classes started I met my husband. I didn’t take long for to get married, I quit school for a full time job only to lose it a mere week after getting married. On our one year anniversary I gave birth to our first child. Yes, no time was wasted, I was a mother at age 21. Too young, now that I look at other 21 year olds but it was bliss. Quickly following my bliss was the emotional crushing feat of returning to work. I had made it to motherhood but my financial situation did not allow me stay with my child all the time. Almost 3 years later I had another son, beautiful and perfect and under the promise of my husband to be able to stay home but again thing got complicated and it was delayed. My job refused to give me part-time and they didn’t seem to want to fire me so I have to suck it up and quit. I’ve never been so scared. Cutting our income in half was a daunting task. One my husband was less than happy with but still supportive. 

Over a year ago I walked out of my work for the last time. Suddenly and strangely I had a fear. I was confident in my ability to care for my children, and although household affairs would certainly need improving that I was not too concerned with. No, my fear came from the word DOMESTIC. Would I be pinned down to the home, barefoot, barely social and half crazed for attention? Would my mind become mush and floppy. (If we’re being honestly this happen a long time ago, but denial a wonderful thing) Wait?! Was this how I picture my mother? No. Still the fear lingered. While I was enthralled with the confines of being mother on a constant uninterrupted basis the idea of the home and homemaking and dare I say it, CHORES,(dirty word) was horrifying to say the least. I need a maid, obviously this was going to happen but more then that I needed….a career? What? That seemed counterproductive to the whole stay at home thing. But I couldn't help but feel a little useless at the thought of being at home all the time. This brought on a plague of guilt as I felt that I should feel that my children were all I need, why did I have the need for more. This may have been a left over influence of working full time through my oldest infancy. I could let myself be sucked into a useless void, so I vowed to be undomesticated, untamed and unafraid-ish. (I have children, two boys no less, fear is healthy). I don’t need a new word to define me, I define myself and perhaps the word is what needs to be redefined.  I am no longer afraid of being called domestic, because I know that that definition above is not me, not by a long shot.