My daughter and I sat down to play Barbie dolls. This is her current favorite thing to do and, as with most carpet play, let’s just say that I can think of hundreds of things I’d rather be doing. But, occasionally the mom guilt kicks in and I get down on my knees for some quality time with my daughter. We sit in front of the Dream House, with the elevator that keeps falling to the ground floor, dolls in hand and we play. These play dates generally go something like this. She hands me a doll and she takes a doll, then she proceeds to move through Barbie’s Dream House asking my doll questions like, “let’s go on a picnic, what would you like to eat.” To which I will reply something like, “How about grilled ham and cheese?” My response is almost always greeted by my daughter placing her hands on her hips and correcting me. “Mom, she doesn’t want ham, she wants peanut butter and jelly.” Play continues pretty much along these same lines until I get tired of being told exactly what my doll should say and what she should wear. In Barbie’s Dream House there is no room for improvisation, there is only my daughter’s script to be played out precisely.
Actually, I know how she feels. Control in life is very important. Without it we can feel lost and directionless. She has looked at the dream house, planned her day and she’ll be darned if I’m going to foul it up with grilled ham when her vision called for peanut butter. I felt this way not that many years ago as I was working my way through high school (okay, so it’s been many years but I digress.) My life had a plan and I was excited about it. I was doing what I had to do to keep it on script. Good grades, admission to my college of choice, and moving out on my own. I’d even planned it all out to the point where I would meet a successful man, marry, have perfect children and the perfect life. At first it seemed like my perfect plans would work, but anyone over the age of thirty knows that perfect plans are a fantasy and rank right up there with growing wings so that we can fly.
I could fill notebooks with the things that in my life that went off script—far off script. And, if you’re ever a fly on the wall around any group of women you’ll quickly learn that everyone’s life has run off track at one point or another. We never plan for the hard stuff and yet, we all go through it. Experiences vary but they all seem to include some event that really throws life into the spin cycle. No one plans to go through foreclosure, a divorce, wayward children, job loss, or serious illness but those experiences are sadly common. We don’t plan to be lonely, unhappy or overworked. But these events dramatically change life in the Dream House.
I never planned to be a working mom. I wanted to be capable and educated and the mother to lots of kids, but I wanted to be home where I believed that I could best influence and guide them. My reality was lots of years struggling with even having children, followed by financial difficulty. I then made the difficult choice to go to work and to entrust large parts of children’s days to caregivers and teachers. But this sequence of events doesn’t tell the entire story.
I’m actually happy that life forced me to make the decision to go to work. While I still work very hard to be a good mom, I honestly believe that I’m a better mom because I work. Small children drain me. I’m not good at playtime, and I have a tendency to lose my personality when faced with long weekends of my kids bickering and asking for things from me. The women at daycare don’t have this character flaw. They seem enraptured when a child tells them about how they lost their tooth—even if it’s the fourth story today. And I can be just as enraptured by that same story from one of my children because, when I get home from a long day at work, I crave time with them. So, my kids have my undivided attention in the hours I’m home and I think that is better for my children than the frazzled mom they would have had if my life had gone according to my plans. This new path has also made me realize that I like my work and I like the fact that it makes me feel capable and gives me some recognition that is sadly lacking for stay-at-home moms. My husband and I have more to talk about on our date nights than just the children because of my exposure to the professional working world, although our children are still our favorite topic. Has it been hard? Unbelievably. I didn’t hear their first word and I missed a few performances. Lost teeth came home in plastic bags, and I didn’t get to kiss very many boo-boos but I’ve learned to appreciate the good stuff and I’ve learned to recognize that there is no perfect plan. Every blessing comes with a sacrifice.
Maybe that’s why Barbie’s Dream Home has a faulty elevator—it keeps dropping back down because even a perfect size six with blond hair is going to get knocked down. And in the process, she may see things in a whole new light.
Our financial crisis has been safely averted, and now I choose to work outside my home. I still make plans and I still work toward my goals. They’re important to keep me moving upward, but I now know that life resembles a game of chutes and ladders and that I won’t always be on top and some of my plans will bust, but the ride eventually starts to go back up and the view can be surprisingly beautiful. It’s all about having the courage to uncover your eyes and enjoy the ride—hair-pin turns and all.
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