looking our nuclear best

I remember sitting in my room as a kid, whimsically thinking about what life will be like when I am older. I was one of two kid who grew up, in my early years, in a nice house, in a good area. Had 2 parents at home. Our house sat on a hill and overlooked the whole city. My bedroom as a kid was considerably girlie. I had a canopy attached to my 4 poster bed. Pink ribbon wallpaper adorned the four walls of the room, where I would sit and play dolls hours on end. I was definitely girlie; squealing at spiders and afraid of dirt. I played barbies and collected dolls (which actions were enforced by family members who were only allowed to buy me dolls with the name Sarah on it). I lived a whimsical, idilic, girlie life for the first ten years in a beautiful nuclear family. 

In 6th grade, I realized that the "cool" girls weren't girlie-they were hardcore. They grew up in the barrios. Their single parents were at work or doing drugs when they were walking home from school. They threw fist fights and used words I had only heard in movies and when my parents were extremely upset at each other. I tried as best as I could to be "hardcore": wearing wet-n-wild 578-a deep, dark purple, getting my first perm and learning how to "do" my bangs correctly, watching all the girls' moves when they'd start a fight. 

During this time, what my parents portrayed to me as a traditional family was just that-a portrayal. We weren't really a nuclear household, we just played one on t.v. And everything that I knew as normal was not. So, I threw it all out the window. I did not want to be traditional. Because most of my friends came from a divorced or single family home, I thought people who had a traditional home was lying. Lying to me, lying to themselves, lying to others. And to be honest, I loved it. I loved being non-traditional. I remember fighting with my grandmother at age sixteen on how I didn't plan to celebrate holidays with my kids because all the ones I experienced was not a happy ordeal. Oh, boy, was she mad at me! 

As I grew, and came to know Jesus, I continued to feel a tension. a tension that was beyond me. I wanted to love-love a man, a child, a family. But I wanted so much to not fold into the "traditional" mold, because frankly, it didn't exist for me. People I knew that were such were secretly unhappy when they closed the door for the night. I hated flowery dresses and was so afraid of losing my own identity. 

I rebelled: i refused to learn to cook, would not give up my dreams for my early college boyfriend whom I thought I'd marry (he believed in a traditional relationship, which meant that I'd have to find a career that I could dump once the kids came), refused to be the housekeeper as I was at my childhood house for many years. I was SO hoping Mike would be mr. mom. It was like I was a punk teenager (and adult, really) with my arms crossed mostly just in one area: gender roles. 

But wonder sometimes that this world that people created for me (intentional or unintentional) of whimsical dreams of girls doing "girl things" and boys doing "boy things" was well intentioned, but actually failed. Maybe only in a few people out there, people actually, happily, live out truly traditional roles. Maybe most of us live a hybrid lifestyle. Maybe because of my uprooting and shaking of all things traditional in junior high has left me a bit jaded. Or a lot jaded. 

I think I might be maternal somewhere inside of me. One day, it will emerge. I don't doubt it. I think it is starting. I think the pendulum in my life is finally swinging back to moderation. But I'm probably going to use a banana sling thing to carry around my kid, probably going to use cloth diapers so our kids will actually have a planet to live on, sing lullabies of Nine Inch Nails and Nirvana to them (Black Hole Sun works well on crying newborns). I'll probably write a book in the wee hours of the night while they are sleeping, never really quit drinking coffee (I have gone back to my wicked ways, friends), mountain bike til I die, hopefully travel part time for work with the other half in the office, baby in tow (ok...that might not happen). 

There are things that I probably won't do as a wife or mom...stay at home 24/7 without some type of outside fulfillment (otherwise, i'll probably go insane), do crazy deep cleaning (that's where Mike's government training steps in), run a Mary Kay/Tupperware/Candle/Pampered Chef company (not that it is a bad thing at all-I definitely will not miss a party, my consultant friends!), own a large SUV to hold all my kids sports gear and use up all the world's natural resources, join a moms-only club, forget to take care of myself for the sake of junior, wear an apron for extended periods of time or adopt male headship theology. 

I know-you are reading this thinking one of two things: 1) it's about time i realize that no matter how hard I ever try, I will never be Suzie Homemaker and am hung up on this whole issue or 2) I am highly opinionated.  And it's true. One and two are very true. and I have been ever since I was a little kid, waking up in my four poster bed, fighting with my grandmother as a teen over traditions, I have always been an opinionated non-traditionalist. And inasmuch as I have been so afraid of upsetting the norm of christian culture...it's ok. Jesus will not smite my family for not looking its nuclear best. We plan to love each other and Jesus, keep our commitments, and have fun. That's all that matters really. And it's ok.

And it's ok to be me. 

And to be honest...and I am enjoying finding out what looks like for us. 

(more twisted tales from the non-traditionalist to come!)