I went to the dentist last week. My hygienist is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She asked me what I did the previous weekend, and like any sleep deprived parent who can’t remember what day of the week it is, I had to pause to recall what had occupied my hours only a day before.
I told her that I spent time in my art studio, painting. She asked me if painting was my hobby, and I said “no” while trying not to let my voice show that I felt a bit offended by the question (ever projecting, it felt like more of an accusation).
The hygienist said “oh, so is it how you make your living?”
“Well, no.” I went on to say that was the idea, but I wasn’t currently “making a living at it.”
I have to believe the things we pursue in life can land somewhere between “just a hobby” and “making a living.” I was there for a teeth cleaning, not a career analysis, so I refrained from qualifying my answer and mentioning I am the primary childcare for my baby, allowing very little spare time for any additional job that would allow me to “make a living.”
I don’t see myself as someone who has hobbies. I see a hobby as a chosen activity that keeps one interested or occupied. But it is also something that could be stopped or replaced with an alternative activity without causing an identity crisis or triggering clinical depression. I could not stop making art and take up, say, knitting or swing dancing lessons. I could not stop making art and still be myself.
As products of late stage capitalism, we can have trouble seeing something that takes up our time without attaching value of monetary loss or gain to that activity. Everything we do is either a good or bad investment, with money as the determining factor. I reject that way of understanding life. This is my only life, and I will not allow the shortcomings of our economic and political system keep me from finding value in things that make me feel whole, regardless of their financial implications.
A few days after my dentist appointment, a former colleague texted, asking if I could help with something later that week. It took me half a day to respond. I texted, “I’d love to catch up soon, but honestly I didn’t sit down for 13 hours today so I just don’t have the time.” Well-meaning, she wrote back: “Wow! That’s terrific that you’re so busy! Do you have a new job?” I didn’t know how to explain that nothing had changed since the last time we talked, and that was precisely what was keeping me from having a moment to sit down, or carve out extra time to help on a side project. I almost replied “No, I’m still just home with Emmylou.” or “Just being a full time mom to a crazy 10 month old!”
My impulse to use the word “just” made me feel shameful. There’s no “just” about it. I will admit to having mixed feelings about being a stay at home mom. I have doubts and question my choice when I’m overwhelmed by the division of labor at home, or how difficult my child can be, or how exhausted I often feel, or how I wish I had more money, or how I miss being in the company of other adults and engaging in intellectually interesting conversations. I feel doubt and shame when others question my choice to stay home, like I have made an unfathomable decision that fundamentally alters how they see my value in this world. When people ask when I’m putting Emmylou in daycare, I often make the not-funny joke, “when daycare isn’t more than twice what I was making at my last job!”
Suddenly I feel the urge to explain to you, reader, why I am staying home with my baby. But do I ask vendors at the farmers market, nannies at the park, medical assistants who take my blood pressure, cashiers at Safeway, or librarians at the circulation desk to explain their professional choices to me? No! Because it’s none of my damn business, and because simple answers are rare, and because everyone makes an impact and has worth.
I will say there were multiple economic factors in staying home while my daughter is not yet preschool age. I also want to be there to enjoy this time that is both so hard, joyful, and fleeting. Another huge factor is that it allows me to keep making art. Not often, I’ll say, as caring full-time for a baby doesn’t allow much in the way of breaks or extra energy, but I fear making art would become “just” a hobby if I had another job outside the home. If I were away between the hours of 7:30am-6:00pm as my spouse who works outside the home is, I would want to squeeze in every moment I could with my child on the weekends. Which means: no studio time.
I want to be with my kid a lot, and I want to make art. Neither pays a living wage, but I find personal value in both.