What the Henyard?

Trigger warning - my opinion incoming. Unless you are one of the poor souls who calls themselves a sissy or girlfriend of mine, you aren’t forced to read my thoughts. Or my husband. Since I have to keep the story about me a little bit … Here is where I hope to reach the former me, the young woman who feels unsettled and frustrated with the modern setup but feels trapped without a way out. Or maybe just dissatisfied, but can’t put a finger on it. Or burnt out but reassured that it’s all part of the game, it’s the price of doing business as a working mom in the 21st century. That all sounds very dire considering we are living in the most prosperous times and places in human history, on the whole. But there are very real challenges, hurdles, fears, misconceptions and inevitable sacrifices around making changes to your lifestyle that I hope to address. I wanted this to be my elevator pitch, the too long;have to read, no shortcuts version of what the Henyard I’m gabbing on about and the hens I hope to hatch. Too much alliteration? Too bad. It’s part of the brand I’m working through and you all get to try it on for size with me. We are building the brood whether you realize it or not! When something changes your life, it’s hard not to talk about it. Like Cady Heron, I’m talking about this half the time on my own and the other half I’m hoping someone will ask me so I can talk about it more! That is all true and definitely contributing to my passion for telling everyone and their mother about staying home with my children. Beneath the surface is actually an insatiable hunger to serve God, share the gifts I’ve received with others, maybe change a heart and mind or two, all while living my vocation as a wife and mother. Coming up on a year in my new role, the role of a lifetime, felt like the right time to debut these findings with the rest of the world. After all, real girls girlies don’t gatekeep. 

This is my self drawn logo. Thoughts??? Leave (kind) comments!

This didn’t happen overnight and it didn’t happen all at once. In fact, it happened over a period of about two years before I finally had both girls home full time. The first major change, and financial sacrifice that was worth it then and would do again every time until the end of time, was pulling my older daughter out of traditional daycare and instead hiring a part time nanny. I affectionately called her ‘Magda’ as an homage to the nanny in Sex and the City (the series) with my girlfriends so for the purposes of this article, and any future ones, Magda was our nanny for about a year before I made the full time switch. I had the privilege of working from home, which has tremendous benefits and I’m extremely blessed to have had that opportunity, though I didn’t have an easy job. For better and worse, I had a high stress and very demanding job that meant I worked more hours than I ever had in my entire career, which came with an unbelievable salary and reach, at a cost I ultimately chose to stop paying. Due to this setup, I had the means to pay for part time care in my home -which again is an incredible privilege- that we worked very hard to be able to provide for our oldest daughter. I’m mentioning this to give proper snaps to Magda and a shout out in spirit, but also to share my experience moving from daycare to nanny. This is a very live and dynamic debate in our society today, which benefits from more dialogue and vetted experience to add to the pot. I am a product of the daycare system and at the risk of using one too many cliche’s in one piece- I turned out fine! Which is true and can also be said for a lot of my generation. This isn’t an indictment on traditional daycare, rather a testimonial for listening to your gut and following your maternal instincts. Whether you tip your hat to God or not on those instincts, I think it’s at least agreed and settled on that they exist. All’s fair in love and war, might as well use the tools we have. I followed my maternal instincts well before making the full transition home based on repeated, troubling instances that were occurring at my daughter’s daycare. It would have been easier, more convenient, more affordable, and ultimately probably fine to keep her there. The odds something life threatening would have happened to her were slim and I’m not making anything close to such allegations. But all the same, I was concerned at best and dissatisfied at worst, with the service we were paying (still a pretty penny) for, for the care and rearing of our daughter. Once she was back home with Magda for the first half of the day and myself for the second half of the day, her behavior improved, skin conditions resolved, her sleep improved and I was directly involved in her day to day life. In some ways, Magda nannied both my daughter and me, which I’m eternally grateful for and will forever cherish. 

By the time I had my second daughter, I planned to try keeping her home with me while I worked from home until we could get her into a daycare. I did this with my first daughter for the first six months of her life and I’m so glad we had that long together. It was stressful and basically impossible to both keep her home and adequately perform the tasks at my new remote job without letting on that I had a smol fresh bambino yowling in the background of every call. But I don’t regret having that time and even during the worst of it, it was worth having her home and I felt the first brief yearn to stay home. That lasted five seconds and I was off to the races at my next new job and she was happily settled into her daycare class. I am incredibly grateful for the teachers she had in almost every classroom and assumed we’d have a similar experience the second time around. As the lord would have it, my second daughter never entered into daycare and she’s been home with me the entire time. Technically, you could say it was impossible to do both that time too, though I didn’t know how that would come to pass until it did. Everyone will tell you every kid is different and not to compare them between/amongst one another. That is certainly true and yet I can’t help it, it is still a fallen world. Everyone will also tell you that you can’t ascribe one thing over another for how your children develop (e.g. formula vs breastfeed, daycare vs home, etc) because everyone is an expert of course. That’s partially true, but the messaging and delivery gets … hairy. I am an expert on my own children and I’m sharing the experience I and we have had to encourage other mothers to grow their expertise. I’m not saying I’m an expert on motherhood, just on the habits, tics, quirks, happys and crappys of my own children- which I didn’t come to learn every bit of until now. The past year has allowed me to observe them in their natural habitat, learn how to best navigate the crappys so the happys happen more often and last much longer. They are still four and one so not everyday is a walk through the meadows, but there is no question this setup is better for them and our family. 

If there is anything I can confirm from (re-)learning how to parent my children– it’s that less is more. More seasoned mothers of three or more children who have always been at home may have completely different outlooks on this than me, though I’ve found a pretty robust community who models exactly what I came to realize myself. Children actually need very little in the way of NEED. They need food, clothing, shelter, love, moral and spiritual formation, routine and play. That’s really about it, because life took care of the rest. The excitement, ‘play dates’, socialization, activities, crafts, ABCs and everything else … all came in their own time. In just this past year, we’ve had the blessing of seeing cousins (plus aunts, uncles, parents, gparents AND girlfriends) at least once, usually twice a month for lots of happy, loud, fun filled visits. Which was a fab time for me as well to spend time with my family that I wouldn’t have gotten to see, or enjoy, otherwise! It’s not that I’m able to see my family more often, though I am, but also able to enjoy the visits more now that I’m not burnt out and anxiously avoiding the eventual end to the trip. It seemed never long enough but I was also anxious to get home to start my week ahead. It seemed like the sand was constantly flooding out of the hourglass only to flip it over and start over again. Not that I don’t still love coming home and would prefer to sleep in my own bed, but our visits now are unhurried, sometimes relaxing, and completely fill our cup. 

Motherhood is every bit the humbling experience He designed it to be, and every bit the indescribable moment your baby kicks in your womb for the first time and steals your next breath as you think ‘HOLY SHIT did that just happen!?’. Again, this is my story that you may or may not relate to. Perhaps yours is more gentile. For me, it was something I prayed so hard for and found myself terrified of but unable to really put my finger on why. If this is everything I’ve prayed for, and has been answered, then why does it feel so hard to enjoy? In my frantic search to make sure we were giving our daughters the safest, happiest, faithful, healthiest, coolest but not too spoiled, wonderful life; I found myself more unsure of the decisions and endlessly turning questions over in my mind but ultimately ending on: what am I even doing? Or rather, why do I feel more lost after checking off all of these boxes on ‘life’s’ prescribed list of how to make a happy bambino? I want my time (and money, Rachel Hollis) back, because let me tell you what it brought me – close to death. I didn’t know the answer was my faith, only on the verge of a menty b did I finally hear the gentle, subtle call of the Lord. I know, I’m mildly cringing as I write that but I must be honest! “But God, who is rich in mercy, because of the great love he had for us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, brought us to life with Christ (by grace you have been saved) … For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast” (Ephesians 2:4-5, 8-9). Even when we aren’t aware of it, God is forever waiting and ready to welcome us home, back into His comforting embrace. Motherhood was waiting for me to come home, even before I knew what to ask or that I needed TO ask anything. My faith gives meaning to the sacrifice of staying home, serving the Lord even in the little ways as St. Therese of Lisieux taught us, which is the most important lesson there is for me to teach my children. There’s a reason they call it “the most important job in the world”. I think there are still some of those they’s who say that anyway, at least one 🙂

My daughters changed my life in different ways and to varying degrees at different times, but the most important and life altering lightbulb is as simple as- they give meaning to my life, busted me out of the prison of my own thoughts, and reminded me what (or whose) checklist we really should be consulting, let alone checking off. If you are rocking the house at home and abroad- more prayers to you! Many of the women I admire most in my life are not only the most tender, loving mothers I had/have the privilege of observing and learning from, but are also inspirational and deservedly successful in various fields I can only hope to get a handle on just enough to follow the conversation. Ipso facto – I only know bomb ladies, wives, daughters, sisters, aunts, grandparents, nieces and sweetest little girls in our church community as well. Enter Kuzco to remind you this story is about me, not them. I wasn’t keeping it together anymore and I couldn’t ignore the calling I’d always had but never thought would be within reach – staying home to raise my children. 

Me to Joe everyday.

If you’re feeling unsettled, pray for courage and fortitude to make the next move. If you’re feeling settled, say a prayer of gratitude and look for ways to serve your family. But as Juni Cortez says in Spy Kids 1, “it needs … children”. He was talking about Floops Fooglies show but the wisdom remains: WE need children, our civilization quite literally requires offspring to survive- to put a finer point on it. Working to leave my children -God willing grandchildren and beyond- a world with more children, more disciples of Christ, that strives to live and share the gospel, and (hopefully) an ever growing Church … is the job of a lifetime. Blessed are the mothers, for they will heal the henyard. I made that up, but I think it’s pretty clear??? The henyard is my home, your home, a place to come home. A place where motherhood should feel right, hard, rewarding, and made whole. It’s where I hope to teach my children the value of simplicity, slowing down, living presently and with humility, loving and accepting God’s will for us. It’s the name I found on my heart after hearing God call me home. I hope to help even just one hen find their way home, too.

Until then, the rest is His and Henstory. (I had to do it).