This post has been a long time in the making. But this post goes back beyond the date I started writing it. It goes back years.
As of right now (pressing publish, right now), I am a homemaker. I left my job. The job that was the only one I ever wanted since I was 5. The job that I trained for for years. The job that was the first one I interviewed for and exactly where I wanted it to be. The job I got. The job in which I worked so hard to grow. The job that paid my first rent check. The job that had its ups and downs, but for the most part, gave me energy and motivation and life for 10 years. The job I believed in. The job I loved. Love? I left it.
It was, to date, the hardest decision I’ve ever made about anything before in my life.
Pretty cushy life, huh?
It wasn’t a decision I took lightly, nor was it one I made quickly.
But it was one, after several months of agonizing (no, seriously, ask my husband or Wooden Nickels, agonizing), I knew was right for me right now.
Unlike a lot of people who leave their jobs, I left mine without too much direction. A wing and a prayer, and the words I read from Ina Garten that said something along the lines of, you can’t know what you want to do next when you’re still deeply rooted in what you’re doing now.
And so right now, with nothing else on the horizon, I am a homemaker. Remember how I said this post was years in the making?
I have always loved and been fascinated by the idea of home.
You’re not supposed to say you want to get married and stop working. You’re not supposed to say you’re okay without bringing in a paycheck. You’re not supposed to say that you’re perfectly happy to plan meals, go to the grocery store, and cook everything. You’re not supposed to say that doing the laundry is satisfying. That folding clothes and setting them in just the right place brings with it a sense of order. That you manage to derive a bit of joy from making the bed each morning. That these little routines you’ve carved into each day are comforting, and worthwhile. You’re not supposed to be a woman who thinks these things in 2016.
I don’t wear aprons, though. I do have some limits.
Stay with me on this next leg of the journey dear readers, I think it’s going to be a good one.
*All images by the insanely talented Inslee. (I have no idea how to sew.)