I am a woman who, despite motherhood, wants to live life to the fullest. I reside, however, in a community in which the means I have chosen to accomplish this are often criticized. I am here to provide my perspective, to encourage mothers to self-reflect on their needs, and to impugn the critics of my pursuit. I am optimistic that in time, women will reach a balance between caring for others and caring for themselves.

Firstly, the title of this work I imagine is a foreign concept to some. The terms traveling and housewife do not often go hand in hand. By substituting the latter word with one more befitting, the resulting phrase will conjure recognition. Ah, yes, the traveling salesman! Once upon a time, they were a welcome sight providing the rare opportunity to make a purchase without leaving home and offering immediate gratification to boot. During the fifties, people appreciated the service they provided so much that in 1951 alone, they were a $7 billion industry. These days, the majority of us are less than thrilled to find one on our doorstep. Many home-owners even go as far as to affix “no soliciting” labels in plain view to discourage one from ever ringing their bell. Much like a traveling salesman of today, as a traveling housewife I often feel as though I am living in the wrong era. He and I briefly coexist, sharing a tiny dot on the time line–he nearly obsolete, I narrowly preceding the domestic revolution.

In our loss of appreciation for what was once a respectable line of work, I find a glimmer of hope. It proves to me that, albeit slowly, we are capable of molding our community sentiment to fit the needs of the times.

Today traveling salesmen are nearly extinct. Harder to shake, however, has been the other role epitomized in the fifties; the oppressive role of domesticity. As I reproach the popular mindset of a bygone era, I challenge the adoption of a new mindset. One in which a ‘traveling housewife‘ would not be the subject of gossip and condemnation. Firstly, we need to nullify the misconception that in order for a mother to be a good one, she must adopt a selfless affect, always ready to serve others, regardless of her own needs.

Perhaps it would help if we consciously appreciated mothers as the world’s most substantial and influential volunteers; volunteers that are responsible for cultivating in the rising generations the confidence, values, and flexibility needed to govern and contribute to society. These volunteers almost always sign on with the support of a donating collaborator and the conception that they are commencing a partnership. Soon after the baby business takes off, she comes to realize that the job is exhausting, frustrating, under appreciated, and comes with little to no time off. Ever.

Is it our wish that those who bear this invaluable responsibility become so depleted they eventually grow resentful or worse, apathetic? The solution is to allow or, rather support mothers to intermittently take time to indulge her whims and rejuvenate her spirit in order to maintain a healthy sense of well-being. While it may seem that I would purport such a theory for selfish reasons, in essence, it would come to benefit each member in her family. Furthermore, if implemented by the majority, it would perpetuate the betterment of society on the whole.

While each woman has her own preferred method to rejuvenate herself, the pursuit I have chosen in order for me to ‘live life to the fullest’ is exploring some of the amazing places earth has to offer. Experiencing the world beyond the familiar corridors of this nation is paramount to my vitality. Perhaps a fusion of curiosity, intuition and fascination lead to my affinity to travel. Much of it is the novelty of seeing diverse people, places and customs. One thing is absolute: exotic food, enchanting people, and eclectic experiences generate new insights not found in the comfort of conventional surroundings. These elements together are unequivocally the best means to replenish my sense and sensibility.

Do not mistake me, motherhood is often an immensely rewarding job, the benefits from which aren’t measurable in profits or net worth; indeed they are priceless. Some are able to find that cooking, cleaning, and caring for their family is enough to endow their emotional needs. Notwithstanding the rewards and the tremendous love I have for my children, I long for more.

Because I am so passionate about my travels, it would not benefit my family if I were denied these occasional escapes (99% of my time is spent alongside them). My children have no doubt in my love and dedication to them. Devoting time to replenish my soul only enhances my ability to reinforce those elements. Furthermore, by sharing with them my enthusiasm, they are rendered the confidence to use their imaginations and ingenuity to follow what gives them joy.

With a more flexible attitude (one in which a ‘Traveling Housewife’ is not subject to scoffing and criticism) toward the stringent role held to us, I feel, in turn, a change will occur. Once we start taking more time to replenish our emotional well-being, happier mothers will begin to emerge. It is cliché, but true, that a happy mom is fundamental to a happy family. Promoting my position from “housewife” to “traveling housewife” has literally saved my family business.

I haven’t driven off of a bridge yet. Thought you should know. And since I will be unable to post for a few more days, I thought I would give an update on my friend who was scheduled to give birth last week to a baby boy with a host of problems, including a major heart defect.

She delivered him last Wednesday, April 9th. The good news is that he is hanging in there. But it is still a very tense and worrisome game of wait-and-see. The open-heart surgery which was originally planned to take place when he was about a week old was urgently moved up and performed within hours of his birth. In addition to only having three chambers instead of four, his heart was not properly connected to the lungs; therefore, making it impossible for his little body to circulate oxygen. He does have other congenital anomalies, but the heart obviously gets priority.

She is not able to pick him up or feed him as his chest has been kept open to relieve pressure and allow for swelling. Additionally he is hooked up to many machines and she said there must be 20 different tubes coming in and out of his tiny body. He is kept unconscious to aid in healing, and I imagine for pain management. At one point on the very day of his surgery and, therefore, the day he was born, he surprised the nurses by awakening. He began to stir and nearly pulled out the tubes that had been placed in his tiny little nose. I think he must certainly be one strong little guy to go through the trauma of birth, open heart surgery and a plethora of sedatives and other drugs and not only open his eyes, but have the strength to move!

But the doctors have cautioned her not to thank them yet, for he is a very sick baby. She was at the hospital two days ago shortly after they had re-closed his little chest, when he suddenly began losing blood at a rapid rate. She had to stand there, powerless to do anything while helplessly witnessing this distressing and heart wrenching sight. He lost 100 cc’s of blood in a very short time, which has to be a lot for a 7 lb infant. They were able to stabilize him and gave him a transfusion and meds to coagulate his blood. Then, yesterday while we were speaking on the phone, she got another call from the hospital reporting that he was not doing well and had excess air in his chest. They were working on putting yet another tube in his chest to expel the air.

I know it has been extremely difficult for her physically and emotionally. She was released from the hospital Friday, while her newborn will be there for a minimum of several weeks. His problems are so severe that she had to deliver him at a hospital 90 miles from home, so they are not even in their own hometown. She’s been fortunate to be able to stay with her sister, but has been there for several weeks now which is hard for her, as well as her two-year old son. Taking care of him and driving to the hospital to be with her baby every free chance she gets, which is during her toddler’s nap time and late at night, has been grueling.

This brings me to the reason my blogging may suffer considerably over the next few days. I have agreed to take her two-year old for a while, giving her a chance to rest and spend more time at the hospital at her newborn’s side. I know there is a lot in store for me. My emotional state hasn’t been the best lately due to my own personal circumstances, which has dwindled my patience to nothing and my house to be neglected. Our new temporary addition is still in diapers, throws copious amounts of food on the floor when he eats, leaves a trail of destruction everywhere goes, needs constant attention and doesn’t always sleep through the night. In other words, he’s typically terribly two.

What was I thinking?

I remind myself that I was thinking how even at this critical moment in my life, someone I have been friends with for 16 years has it much, much worse. So, I’m bucking up, dusting off my diaper changing skills (uh oh, remember what happened in my last post?), and preparing to change my frame of mind.

This ought to be fun, right?

I don’t know why, but I felt compelled to post this today. Possibly because of what I shared in a comment yesterday about the picture in my sidebar I’ve entitled, Wheel of Fortune. My grandpa died just 2 weeks before he turned eighty-nine in October 2006. His birthday preceded mine by only six days, so when I was a child we often celebrated them together. Oddly, my daughter was born six days before my dad’s birthday, just as I was born six days before my maternal grandfather’s birthday. It’s kind of a peculiar fact, but nevertheless, I find it interesting and for whatever reason, I consider it special.

My grandpa’s death had a huge impact on me, and on the day he would have turned eighty-nine, just two weeks following his funeral, I felt this urge to grab a pen and paper. I didn’t really think–I just wrote what came to me and this is what resulted. I had never written poetry, so it falls quite short of marvelous…but I can assure it was heartfelt.

 “Happy Birthday In Heaven”

If you had any faults
you kept them all from me.
Humor, love and modesty
were all that I could see.

I’m so sad to have lost you
as all who knew you are.
I know it’s only Heaven
but it seems so very far.

I doubt that you can hear us,
those of us still here on Earth-
but a happy birthday to you
on this anniversary of your birth.

This day is still a special one
for it’s when your life began.
You were a hero, husband, father and grandpa-
one truly terrific man.

You meant the world to your wife and kids
and to your grandchildren–yes, all seven.
and so it’s with a heavy heart
I wish you a happy birthday in Heaven.