On a sunny Tuesday afternoon last month, I found myself lugging cupcakes, party hats, and juice boxes to my daughter Mia’s classroom for her sixth birthday celebration. With just one car in our family, I made the trek to school pulling a wobbly Radio Flyer wagon, panting as the wheels rattled over every bump, silently cursing the missing screw in the handle. As I walked her home, blissfully unaware of the pink frosting smudged on my shirt, I asked Mia how her day was. She bounced over the sidewalk crack, her eyes sparkling. “It was the best birthday ever, Mama! Because you were there!” she exclaimed, reaching for my hand.
Seeing her radiant smile filled my heart with joy. In that moment, I felt appreciated for the daily challenges of parenting, which helped ease the uncertainty I’ve grappled with nearly a year after leaving my full-time position as an academic dean to pursue freelance writing and spend more time with my girls. I’d been drained trying to juggle increasing work demands while being the parent I aspired to be. Something had to change. Now, my days are sprinkled with sweet moments of connection, but working from home has introduced unexpected tensions. I’ve gradually embraced this new role, revealing a resilience and flexibility I never knew I had.
It wasn’t always smooth sailing. Finding my place at home was a struggle, as the absence of external validation took a toll on my ego and sense of identity. My 20s were filled with dreams of a life like Simone de Beauvoir’s, not mid-afternoon games of Simon Says. While I left my job to be more present for my family, I often found myself frantically trying to fill every minute with tasks, viewing money through a lens of “mine” or “his” instead of “ours.” Disagreements over small expenses prompted a fresh evaluation of our family finances and the concepts of worth and power in marriage, as well as the very meaning of independence.
Days spent writing and hunting for jobs I didn’t even want left me feeling just as frustrated as I had been before. My two-year-old daughter played at my feet while my attention remained glued to my laptop, anxious and impatient. I had mistaken busyness for productivity and achievement. Almost a year after departing my job, I was still not fully present at home, distracted by the “real” work I thought I should be doing, blinding me to the joys of watching my daughters build with blocks or climb trees. I had the opportunity to embrace the changes I longed for, yet my mindset hadn’t caught up.
For years, I naïvely believed that my mid-30s would be a magical time when life would fall into place, providing a clear path shielded from upheaval. I thought that stability and a linear journey equated to maturity.
Instead, peace has crept in slowly, teaching me to accept that life’s path is winding and often uncharted. Maturity means allowing myself to change and adapt as life unfolds. I’m not racing down a defined road; rather, I’m gently adjusting the course of my journey daily, navigating the complexities of young children, aging relatives, financial responsibilities, and the realities of marriage—an intricate dance of love and hard work. Reality has a way of breaking through, altering the script of the life I thought I was leading.
The narrative thickens and shifts, creating space for my story to be rewritten each day. I’m learning to embrace the present, to be with what is instead of what I had envisioned. During this phase of my life, I’m choosing the path that has chosen me. I’m letting go of “could,” “should,” and “would,” focusing instead on nurturing the relationships I cherish and the family legacy I hope to create simply by being present.
I’ve started reaching out more to my aging grandmother, remembering that her greatest gift to me was her undivided attention when I was young. In my mid-30s, I’m rediscovering my own mother, learning to see her as a partner rather than a contrasting figure. I call friends, send handwritten letters, and watch Mia glow with excitement on school field trips, grateful for the chance to experience these moments with her. My husband and I engage in meaningful conversations about our evolving lives, recognizing that sometimes we need to reinvent ourselves to make space for one another, and that’s perfectly okay.
This path may evolve, as it always does. But for now, I find solace in writing during fleeting moments and shaping my version of the world through words and shared experiences with my children. As I navigate the bumps in my Radio Flyer wagon, I strive to savor these precious moments when their little hands reach for me and their hugs envelop me, knowing like everything else, this too shall pass.
In summary, my journey through my mid-30s is about embracing the unexpected twists and turns of life, nurturing relationships, and finding joy in the present. As I navigate my new role as a parent and a writer, I am continuously learning to appreciate the beauty of the winding road ahead.