It seems that once I made the confession that I’m a stay-at-home wife, I can’t quit talking about the topic. It’s been so freeing!
Now I want to spill about how it was I ended up a stay-at-home wife.
(Don’t worry. This will be the last post on this topic for a little bit. I’m working some more stuff up for September, though.)
The Pull
I was a good student throughout my academic career. I went to college. I worked afterwards. But I ended up job hopping. Then I decided to go back to school to become a paralegal. The last job I ever worked at outside the home was at a law office. I loved it.
But it wasn’t me. It was the me I thought I should be because I thought it was who everyone else expected me to be and it would make them happy.
I, however, felt miserable. Something was tugging at my heart. An unease. A major dissatisfaction.
I wanted something else. Something more. Something different.
The Deal
Then Wayne got offered a job in Florida. We lived in Phoenix at the time. I did not want to move. I loved Phoenix. It was home. It was where I envisioned my future.
“I’ll be making enough you could stay home and write,” he tempted.
The arrangement was only supposed to last for six months. After that I was expected to have a book done and back to work I’d head.
That was nine and a half years ago.
As I suggested in another article, staying home ended up affording us a better lifestyle in many ways. Ways that compensated for my lack of income.
Finding My Calling
It was weird adjusting to life at home at first. Part of our deal involved me being responsible for all things House. (Keep in mind, we were talking about the girl who almost failed Home Ec…)
Yet, scrubbing toilets, vacuuming, running errands, paying bills, and all the rest has been oddly more fulfilling and satisfying than anything else I’ve ever known. And once I discovered cooking? Specifically, my love for it and Wayne’s appreciation of it? Courtney’s Café was born!
They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. In Wayne’s case that’s undoubtedly true. Working a nine-to-five gig would not afford me the time to work my magic in the kitchen. When Wayne’s misbehaving, threatening to go back to work is almost as effective as threatening him with a trip to Target! (The thought of us eating out most nights strikes instant fear in his heart.)
And then there was the time to write. Finally, my heart knew quiet.
Just a Grownup “Silly Heart
We were watching the movie Uncle Buck the other day. There’s a scene where Uncle Buck has to go talk to his youngest niece’s principle. The principle feels six-year-old Maizy does not take school seriously enough, talks too much, is a “silly heart,” and is in danger of daydreaming her life away.
That’s the kind of girl I was. Head in the clouds (if it wasn’t buried in a book), fascinated by things others barely noticed. I still am that way.
Some women are destined to run international companies, others are fated to be political power players. I was not meant for such greatness.
I‘m just a silly heart. One who loves her husband, finds pleasure in the simpler things in life, loves being able to stay-at-home and concentrate on being a wife, and one who (thanks to my husband) has the opportunity to still actively daydream (with pen…er, laptop in hand) most days away.
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