As I look at the pile of color-coded paperwork sitting on my kitchen counter, I realize I have just a couple of weeks to fill it out and submit it. Honestly, if I take more than a day to do this, I’d be surprised. My youngest son is heading off to kindergarten. He’s the last of our four boys, and for a time, I dreaded this significant milestone. The thought of no more little ones at home, everyone off living their own lives, has taken some adjusting. But now that I’m in the midst of filling out forms, I find myself excited about the new possibilities ahead.
I’m definitely not alone in recognizing that a new chapter is unfolding for our family. It seems like everywhere I go, I hear the question, “So, what will you do with your time now?” This makes me squirm. I often fumble through an answer, mentioning that I might volunteer at the school more or even become a substitute teacher—something part-time that fits my schedule.
“I’m sure I’ll find something,” I say, trying to sound optimistic. The nods from those listening suggest they agree with this path. Yes, this is what we do when our kids are off to school. We dive into volunteering or plan class parties inspired by Pinterest.
While those activities are wonderful and meaningful, I don’t foresee myself engaging in them regularly. Sure, I intend to volunteer more—maybe twice a month, which is a significant increase from my current involvement—but I doubt I’ll take on a subbing role because it doesn’t really excite me.
What truly draws my interest is a quaint coffee shop down the street from the school, where I can pursue my dreams. Yet, I hesitate to reveal this ambition to the inquiring minds wondering how I’ll occupy my time now that my kids will be in school.
Some of my reluctance comes from the fear of failing. If my writing aspirations don’t pan out, I’d prefer to keep that under wraps rather than have my entire community witness it. But deeper than that, I sense an unspoken expectation that after spending a decade nurturing my children, I should continue to prioritize self-sacrifice. The message seems to be that while women can have ambitions and dreams, those aspirations should take a backseat once they become mothers.
I’ve spent the last ten years in the thick of motherhood—pregnant, nursing, chasing toddlers, and managing special needs therapies. While it has been a privilege to be home, it has also been one of the most challenging periods of my life. I’ve carved out snippets of time to write and occasionally publish, but before kids, my aim was to write full-time. With all my children now in school, this is my first real chance to approach that goal—and I intend to seize it.
I admire those who find fulfillment in supporting our schools and teachers, and I’m grateful for their contributions to enhancing my kids’ educational experience. However, I believe that turning these sacrifices into expectations for mothers can lead to feelings of guilt and shame, perpetuating outdated stereotypes. The narrative often suggests that once women have children, their paths are predetermined: pouring their lives into nurturing their kids or finding jobs that accommodate family life.
I’m determined to tell my sons a different story—one that reflects my beliefs. It’s a message of ambition and dreams: Yes, women can be driven. Yes, women can aspire. Watch me.
For more insights on navigating motherhood and personal aspirations, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination. And if you’re interested in exploring the journey of artificial insemination, this guide can provide valuable information. Likewise, if you want to learn more about home insemination, visit this helpful post for tips and resources.
Summary
As I embrace the transition of my youngest starting kindergarten, I’m excited about the opportunities that lie ahead. While societal expectations often suggest that mothers should prioritize volunteering or self-sacrifice, I believe that women can pursue their dreams and ambitions. I plan to focus on my writing and seek fulfillment outside traditional roles, demonstrating to my sons that ambition and dreams are still very much attainable.