A Declaration

I get it. I am the last dilapidated farmhouse in a sub of brand new homes. I am pea green ceramic cookware, and all the rest of the ladies are professional grade convection ovens with dual use stovetops.
I am a dichotomy.
I am queer and I am very old school. Traditional. So sue me.
I get that these days women are supposed to be in charge, take the upper hand, be the bread winners, and spend equal time in the office as well as in the home. I appreciate those notions very much.
And I appreciate the choice to choose.
But it seems like anymore, there is not a choice.
Everyone looks at me crazy-like when I tell them I want to stay home, and raise my son, and take care of Amanda. Make sure the house is clean, the laundry is done, the children are safe etc, etc...
Why wouldn't I want to go back to work? What kind of crazy person would choose to stay home and create a vibe there?
me.
When Amanda and I made the choice to have the baby, It was important to me to be the one to instill morals. To be the one to see his first steps, or hear his first word. Not a nanny, not a childcare provider, not a relative. But me. His mother. How could I trust that other caretakers would lend to him, my passion for reading, would give to him the freedom to choose to be, whatever is inside of his heart? I could not. Cannot.
I feel a sense of duty to take full part in what kind of man he will be, when he leaves our home and goes out into the world.
Most of the children today seem as though they lack consequence, compassion, empathy, imagination. It has turned into a "what's in it for me world". It makes me sad. I don't want to raise my child like that.

About a week ago, my oldest brother Mike asked me (after hearing a rant very similar to this) if I was going to raise my son in a 1970's world. Our telephone line got quiet for a moment. New Orleans to Detroit. Then I swelled with hysterical radiance and pregnancy hormones.
"Yes!" I thought. That is the exact idea. Minimal technology, minimal tv. Lots of walks in the woods, books, tea, gardening and corduroy....Well maybe not corduroy.

Point being, I've always had a small amount of interests, but the ones I did have, I held steadfast to. Improved upon them. Nurtured them until they blossomed and became the very veins that ran through me. The very breath I did breathe.
I want to raise a child. And I want to take care of my family. And I want to do It well. I don't want to give only 20%. I want to give it all.
And I want that to be ok with everyone else. I want my loved ones to work on their "shocked faces" when I say my new job is my family.

All of my life I wanted things I could not have. Different house, different friends. Different body, different lovers. I was never satisfied, always peering around the room, like a greedy squirrel, looking for all the nuts.
When I met Amanda I stopped looking for what else was out there. I stopped wishing for things I did not have. It wasn't intentional, it just happened. Then one day I realized I hadn't focused my energy on the things that weren't mine. I took joy in the right now. Joy in learning to cook. Joy in our 5 dogs. Joy in myself.
When I realized I was finally free, it was like the most delicious candy. The softest bed. The safest arms.

I had been looking for a career in the workforce where I could truly be happy. Apart from writing, nothing ever seemed to fit. Then I realized how much peace I found in being a home maker.
And I am so happy to be afforded that lifestyle.

So people, since a new age is upon us, make room for the women like me. The one's who are happy where they are, and unafraid to make the choice to be the worker bee. The stagehand. The housewife. The one's who are so very grateful for the awakening. And the choice. Thank you for letting me make that choice.