I'm domestic, and I love it. Anyone who knows me would say I'm very domestic. Now some would scoff at me and run as if domesticity rubs off or is catching. Domesticity has a bad rap today - kind of like being stupid and badly prepared for "real life." Admitting that one is domestic makes one especially suspect for friendship, for respect and for believability.
What I've learned over the past forty years is that being domestic does not mean you can't do non domestic things well too. In fact, it probably means that a person can do other things better. That better is a very well kept secret - especially today. I compare domesticity to "having one's ducks in a row." That means that my home front is clean, sound, and easily managed. Those nicely placed ducks mean I CAN do other things.
As a domestic person, it is easy for me to make a meal for fifty, organize a home, space, and time, and make just about anything needed - clothes, drapes, rugs, upholster a sofa or chair, and know the difference between well made furniture and antiques and junk.
Domestic people don't fear children. I remember several years ago baking for a room party at the local public school. I made a cake, three kinds of cookies, some new candy samples and some kind of bar cookies while I was caring for fifteen children. While the other mothers brought in a plate of tacky tube dough chemical tasting circlets, my score of goodies went the way of all blackballing. It only made me laugh. "Oops, I'm sorry you can't cook...lol."
I realize that domesticity is the enemy of the feminist movement because somehow being domestic is losing one's real self for some kind of servant mentality - like putting on an apron is losing brain power. That enemy-ship also makes me laugh because it is through domesticity that one learns the order of life, the organization of time, and the building of just about anything.
As a young bride, it was my duty to build a home for my husband and children to be. My husband was busy building a career and didn't have a lot of time to spare looking at furniture or planning shopping trips. It took years to put together a home, a garden, a cookbook of makeable meals, and those things came along with children. It was not easy. In fact, it was very hard. It was sometimes grueling, but as the children came and the house took shape, and the meal plan evolved, so did the understanding of the order of life, the ability to organize time and the creativity to build, make and do just about anything that came our way.
Three years after my last child was born, I went back to school. At that time, I was contributing to the family income by having a family daycare at home. I saw thirty children every day in my home. I cooked three scratch meals for them and did a nursery school program. I ran Right to Life for the county and volunteered at my children's school. I walked four miles a day as well. At school, I took an accelerated program of intercession classes for three years and graduated at the head of my class. I attribute my success to one thing...my knowledge of domestic things. I knew how to organize my time - not unlike producing a meal for thirty children. I knew how to build a paper which was not unlike upholstering a chair. And I knew how to find things out and how to have the patience to study for a test.
After school was done, I got a side job at the local newspaper writing a column on child care. I had honed my writing skills in college - might as well not waste them. In three months, my column was picked up by Scripps Howard - because it was good. I had a sense of humor and a knowledge of my subject - children. That writing success led me to write eight books, four plays, a book of poetry and some children's stories.
I've done a lot of public speaking about children and have been an advocate for hyperactive personalities. I've done a lot of workshops along the way, and about fifteen years ago, I decided to build a school, because having a day care at home was beginning to destroy my house. Today, that school is a huge success. We employ nine people.
The last time I saw my mother, she said she never thought I would amount to a hill of beans - simply because I was domestic. She wanted great things for me. She wanted me to be a success, and she truly thought that the domestic tag was a ridiculous interest that would lead to nothing. She was, after all, a very modern woman, a very sophisticated woman who knew the score, and that score had nothing to do with the label - domestic.
Today, at sixty, I have four fabulous children, six incredible grandchildren, a job that is enviable, and a home that is warm and welcoming. I can stand before a congregation of people and give a reasonable address; I can write a book; I can turn around and feed the audience...all because I learned a great lesson as a young woman...how to be domestic. And now I am going out to my garden and enjoy thirty blooming plants...just for fun ;-}
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