Traditional, Schmaditional.

I remember growing up and seeing all kinds of different families.  And even though I grew up where my mother stayed home with me until I went to school and my father went to work every day and brought home the paychecks, it didn’t seem traditional. My mother wasn’t quiet or submissive, by any means, and my father didn’t try to make her into something she wasn’t. And so I was confused. I thought traditional meant disappointed. I always pictured the women in those traditional households as miserable and lonely, unable to contribute anything except things that were often overlooked as ‘not important enough’. I pictured dinners with friends and fake smiles. I pictured desperate pleas of getting away while no one noticed, or they noticed and just didn’t care enough. Traditional was a terrible idea and I couldn’t understand why so many people would flock to that idea. And so I wrote my parents off as something else, but here it actually turned out to be that my parents, my family, were traditional, very traditional. And boy did I fight the idea of being traditional?! During college, I refused to give in to the idea of ‘belonging to a man’. I was set on running the household. I wanted to be in charge. I wanted everything that wasn’t traditional. I called the shots and I wasn’t about to give that up. When I first met Justin I fought hard to stick to what I believed. I didn’t want him to know that I needed him, probably before he even needed me. I fought hard not to be discovered, but now, I am sitting at home, taking care of my son, pregnant with my daughter, getting ready to make dinner later, folding some laundry, picking up toys, waiting for my husband to get home from work, and I couldn’t be happier. This is everything that I thought I would hate, but turns out that it is everything I need to survive. This is how I know that I am loved. I don’t need my family to thank me every day for everything I do. I don’t need to be praised for keeping the house clean, the laundry folded, or putting dinner on the table. I’m just hoping that we can pass this on to Jaxsyn and Adelaide, and that one day they will also pass it down to their own children. I never gave myself enough credit to get to where I am. I never knew that I could be domestic. I short-changed myself. But I sure am glad to be here now. 

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