Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying. –Robert Herrick
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying. –Robert Herrick
There was a time when I felt tying myself down to marriage and children at the tender age of twenty would disrupt the gathering of my rose-buds. In my head there was a disconnect between being responsible and being free to find myself. An insurmountable ravine between suburban housewifery and passion for life. Between polite decency and real happiness.
I saw a preview for a movie recently, depicting a mid-century couple, miserable in the quiet respectability of family life. “Did we really think we could be happy living this way?” One lamented, “Working nine to five? Being like everyone else? Living up to these idealistic expectations society has heaped upon us?”
Yeah, what hell? Getting married to someone you love. Raising children. Supporting your family making an honest wage in a modest house in the suburbs. No good has ever come of THAT. Dude, what bull crap has the media been feeding us?
When relationships become difficult, when making an honest wage gets you down, when living in that modest house in the suburbs just isn’t exciting anymore it must be because its all a lie! Because as everyone knows relationships are supposed to be easy, and working is always a hoot, and life is always supposed to be super exciting! Because obviously no one is happier than all those friggin’ celebrities and musicians we keep looking to for guidance.
Dude.
I don’t know about every other middle-class suburban housewife out there, but I am gathering rose-buds by the hand- stitched- apronful. I do not regret marrying my excellent husband at such a young age. Our love has grown in ways that only time and sacrifice can render. And I do not regret having three children. They are my roses. They give color its vibrancy and music its legato. No amount of travel or career or romantic endeavor could possibly compare to the depth in which I have found myself through the medium of motherhood. I do not regret being a housewife in a modest suburban home, in fact I friggin’ LOVE it. I am individual enough as it is, I don’t need to live in extraordinary circumstances to be true to that. And the neighborhood fourth of July pancake breakfast is killer.
What is passion without purpose? To think I could still be drawing pictures, listening to Morrissey, keeping it real alone in my room. Instead I’m planning an awesome Halloween-themed birthday party for my almost six-year-old. TO MORRISSEY. And there will be musical chairs and there will be frosted cupcakes with sprinkles. And someday, when I’m lying on my deathbed or under a bus wheel or wherever I will look back on my mundane, ordinary little family-centered life, think of all those missed opportunities, and then of all those frosting-covered baby faces and smile.
Di, I commented on this over on facebook…
Posting our blogs on FB now?!?!
FB is sucking everything in like the gravitational pull of a supermassive black hole!!!
yeah, I figured if I wanted anyone actually reading it I’d post it both places. I’m not planning on doing this with every post. Just the ones that will make people dislike me. That’s how I roll 🙂
Hey. I here ya. We’re sorta like that…
It’s an extreme reaction to being Mom’s (unwarranted) favorite for so long…
I liked this post a lot! I’ve had a lot of the same thoughts about our society’s skewed perspective. Thanks for keeping it real.
I , too, find the neighborhood 4th of July pancake breakfast to be killer. And I would take frosting faced 6-year-olds over high heels and pleather any day. Yes, before children, I wore my fair share of pleather.
Pleather? Really Erika? Now I would like a post about THAT!
amen sister!
Awesome insights.
I am right there with you! I love how society thinks no is happy with a family and has to put it all over.
well said. i totally agree.
I am smiling so widely. This post is a blessing to me.