Never say never

At 14 years old, my family relocated to rural Iowa. It was Valentine’s Day, February 14, 2000. I remember gazing out the passenger window as my dad coasted into some “podunk” town I had to call home. Snow blanketed the roads, leading past a lone Napa Auto Parts Store and what appeared to be weathered, deserted brick buildings lining the 1-block long main street. I was not impressed. I mourned the loss of my city life in the North Chicago suburbs and longed for the comforting views of Lake Michigan out my bedroom window. Instead of the array of language classes I once had, there was now only one option: Spanish, a stark reduction from the previous eight. The transition felt stifling, going from a school with over 2000 students to one with barely 200. Everything felt so…. small. I was getting out of there as fast as I could. I begged to skip a grade, and pleaded to graduate early. I could not, would not, would never be happy here.

I was also someone who never wanted kids. To me, they were synonymous with chaos, mess, and a serious drain on freedom and ambition. They seemed like expensive, noisy, life-altering creatures that would only hinder my plans to explore, achieve, and simply exist on my own terms.

So, I hustled hard. And did I graduate early?
No.
My parents and the school counselor put the brakes on that idea, placating me instead with art classes during my senior year, along with plenty of study halls; a nod to my love for reading (#booknerd). Looking back, I understand their perspective—I was already the youngest in my class. I made it to the midterm of my Freshman year of college before turning 18. They were trying to shield me from “growing up” too soon.

Did I get far far away from Podunk, Iowa?
Also no.
In fact, I currently live less than a Bluey episode away from that little town.

Speaking of Bluey- I also have four kids.

I guess never say never, huh?

Four kids- yes, you read that right. I wanted zero, Trent wanted two, so we had four. It might as well be 40 at this point. I DID get all the way to Illinois for grad school and earned a big fancy doctorate only for me to beg Trent after each 2-6 week maternity leave (don’t even get me started on parental leaves in the US) to sell everything we owned so I could stay at home with them. Each time, we were unable to figure out how to make it work….

Until…. now.

As of last week, I’ve resigned. It’s so weird to write that.

Following the end of this school year and contract, I have opted NOT to return to my job as Educational Audiologist. For a while now, I’ve felt a calling to be more present with my kids. For almost an entire year actually, I’ve sat with it, but wanted to be sure it wasn’t just a fleeting thought.

“How does it feel?” people keep asking me.

I almost feel guilty saying it. But I’m over-the-moon excited. It feels so “right”.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely LOVE being an Educational Audiologist. I love the field in general, my team, the educators I work with, the communities I’m in, and the students I work with. Everything in me loves advocating for those with hearing loss- there is such a lack of understanding of its impact on education, relationships, and all aspects of life.

And I’m so f*%!ing proud of myself- I earned every bit of my degrees through blood, sweat, and many many tears. It’s one of my biggest accomplishments, but- BUT!

I’m restless. Burnt out. Or maybe stretched too thin is a better way to put it. I’m also plain old tired. And not in the way that a personal day or a summer vacation can help fix.

We all feel it, right? The world feels like it’s on FIRE. There is so much going on and everything is so fast-paced ALL THE TIME. I know something has to give. My job, the kids. or Trent’s job. How we are/were living isn’t sustainable.

Did we do it to ourselves? Sort of, yes. We underestimated so many things about a larger family like our grocery bill, the time it takes to do anything, and the stress of committing to all the activities…. But what are our options here? Do we make the kids rotate through seasons so they each only pick an activity when their siblings aren’t active in one? (C gets a winter sport, B gets a summer activity, A only Fall, and T only spring?) What do we do when everyone wants to play baseball/softball? Draw straws?

While I lean in on my village (shout out to the village who helps with carpooling and feeding, and caring for my kids) constantly, it still feels like I am RACING the Indy 500 after work! I’m driving in circles 2-3 hours nightly (after working a mentally challenging job for 8 hours) to pick-up, drop-off, feed someone, pick-up again, drop off another, feed someone else, pick-up again, drop off another, feed myself, hydrate, homework, baths, switch laundry, sign permission slips, pack lunches and OMG it’s midnight…..repeat for four more business days, only to get a 48 hour weekend “break” (aka catch-up or pack more in), then repeat for 52 weeks a year for 18 years?

I spent this last year and a half working on self-care, boundaries, and figuring out who I am and who I’m not. At 18, I wanted a BIG education, a BIGGER career, and an even BIGGER paycheck. But at 37? When I stop, pause, and listen?…

This 37-year-old me wants time.

Time to take A to the library. Time to walk Apollo. Time to pursue photography. Time to jump in the combine with Trent during harvest. Time to bake homemade cinnamon rolls. Time to attend the 5th grade field trip. Time to read a book on my patio. Time to prepare real meals. Time to tuck my kids in. Time to wash the makeup off my face before bed. Time to read bedtime stories. Time to braid C’s hair before school. Time to listen to B tell me why he loves his new baseball bat so so so so much. Time to listen to T’s concerns. Time to rest. Time to breathe.

“I’d be so bored,” someone said to me. Bored?!- God, I hope so. I hope I’m so bored that I learn a new skill. Or listen to one of the 300 podcast episodes I’ve bookmarked. That I get to scrub the gross sliding door track that’s been staring at me for 16 months. That I paint one single wall in this house with the 9 gallons of paint stored in the basement. Farmlife + 4 kids + 3 dogs does not = boring! But I can only hope, right?

“I couldn’t just be at home all day.” Umm helloooooo- A) I’ll say it again: 4 kids. Every sport and every activity; none of which occurs IN this house. B) You are also seriously underestimating how much I love being home. Besides the ocean, this is my favorite place on this planet. We designed it and built it. We purged all the extra and filled this space with ONLY the things/humans/pets that we love.

“You’re throwing away your education/career!” Am I throwing away my education or did my education/career get me right here where I want to be? Did it allow me to earn an income that helped build the home, mold this life, and nurture the family I love? Will it empower my daughters and sons to chase what they love even if- especially if- that love changes?

“You do so much good for people- who’s going to do it if not you?” Someone else. But also- what IF I did so much good for the people right here that matter more- my kids? Who might they become? What dreams might they entertain? Whose lives will they impact?

I have spent the last year thinking it over. Is it the quantity of work? Would I want to continue if my caseload were less? Nope. Is it the compensation? Would I want to continue if my salary increased? Nice, but nope. Is it the field itself? Nope. It’s not the job. Not the money. Not the people. It’s this unwavering whisper I feel to my core that I want to step away from the fire to be present for the four wild ones while I still have the chance.

I was right about one thing: Having kids is chaos. They’re messy, expensive, noisy, life-altering creatures. BUT, I can’t wait to spend TIME with those kids I never wanted in a Podunk town I was never going to live in with that farmer husband I was never going to marry.

Never say never.

P.s. Oh and we owned a Napa Auto Parts store for over 8 years. I can see that 14 year old version of me rolling her eyes from here.