Kicking off a brand new series, The Art Of Homemaking, where we explore the beauty of homemaking and the importance of this work.
Enjoy The Video Version
The Early Days
This series is near and dear to my heart and frankly, a long time coming. How long? Well, that is just about 20 years or more but who’s counting? I remember my very first days of homemaking. Those early times of burning dinners, trying to decorate the living room, and figuring out what exactly the word budget actually meant. It was in these early times that I would teach myself how to cook properly, and to run a home.
But more than any of this, it was a time when I fell in love with homemaking. The concept of creating a warm, inviting environment and a place that was not like anyone else’s. A place where I could thrive and grow in my womanhood. To love the people within my home and care for them in ways that brought about a sense of well-being.
Becoming a Homemaker
But this place is not and has not always been a celebrated space. Coming up in the times when young girls seem to be having children later in life, and sometimes not at all. I was told constantly by my peers that homemaking was something our grandmothers did. That a modern woman’s place was now off in some big career that would shatter ceilings and create a name for herself.
It didn’t help that my friends would come by and scoff at my new surroundings. Where my very first home was shared with my then-boyfriend and late husband, David. I recall standing in that tiny kitchen doing my best to cook something, anything that would be deemed edible. I remember the honey-colored wooden kitchen table and the vase I saved up to buy to place in the center.
More so than this, I remember my friend’s snide comments and dirty looks when they would enter. I didn’t dare tell them my excitement for these small things that were essentially making that place a home.
Later, I would become a mother and decide to stay at home with my daughter. Although I am not sure it was much of a choice but rather a yearning that struck me like a ton of bricks in my days back at work after having given birth to her. I would cry helplessly in the bathroom on breaks, missing my baby, and I’d tear up while doing my tasks. It was apparent that I needed to be with her and I would do anything to make that a reality.
And so I did. Yet, that decision came with lots of judgment. This time it would be career women who when introduced would often ask what I did all day with a confused look on their faces. It was clear to me, that many had looked at my position as a nonexistent one. As if being a homemaker was not a real job. It certainly felt like one. Any homemaker out there can tell you, the hours are long, the learning curb is steep, and the pay downright stinks.
As a younger woman, I wasn’t always so confident in my choice to stay home or the importance of my position there. And so this series was born. It is my intention to encourage those of you out there that maybe don’t quite see your full worth in this role. Or perhaps you too, have felt the sting of judgment from another woman as a homemaker.
Whatever the case may be, your work is worth its weight in gold and what you do now will have an impact that bears fruit for years to come.
We start the series with this poem I wrote for all of my fellow homemakers. I hope you take a moment to enjoy the video version as well.
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They Call Me a Homemaker
They call me a homemaker. If inclined, they might say Suzy Homemaker in a mocking tone. As if to keep a home well was an insult.
I can feel the meaning behind the cynicism. Perhaps they don’t see the value in it and likely their home reflects that opinion.
They call me a homemaker. When mentioned, one might say “just a homemaker”. As if the title alone was not enough of something.
Go out in to the world they tell you, earn a paycheck. As if our self worth was defined by monetary means.
A daily grind of cooking, tending to a child and cleaning a home may seem mundane to the outside world. But this work takes grit and a tenacious spirit.
They call me a homemaker. Suggesting that the traditional role of a women meant her work was somehow less meaningful than that of her counterpart.
Yet this is where it all begins for any one who has ever been anything. Brought into a home and cared for by a mother.
What a gift it is to be the universe to another and to fill that role with great pride. How could this ever be deemed as less when surely it is more significant than anything we can do with our time.
They call me a homemaker. Hinting that the role is too small for a modern day women.
But surely this title requires creativity, learning and self reflection. It is anything but small and will require any women to rise up to a daily challenge of dedicated tasks designed to serve others.
The old adage of only the strong will survive rings true. But more so, I will correctly add that only the strong will thrive here. Because it takes a servant’s heart and a willingness to try again.
So whenever asked, I will smile and say, that yes, I call myself a homemaker.
After all, I have earned it.
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