by Nancy Reynolds

There I was at 7:30 in the morning, walking each of my three children to their classrooms on the first day of school. This was a big day for all of us. My youngest, and only son, was entering kindergarten, and my daughters, ages 8 and 9, were moving up the ranks in elementary school, heading into third and fourth grade, respectively. We dropped my son off first and, surprisingly, he did very well…just a quick kiss, “See ya, Mom!” and he was off. My middle child had a couple of tears as she watched me walk away, knowing summer had officially come to an end, and my oldest daughter strutted right into her class with confidence and eagerness to begin another year.

On the way out of the school I passed several mothers, some of whom I stopped to chat with. Some were thrilled that school was finally back in session, giving them the much-needed break after a long, active summer. Others seemed saddened that summer was over and mentioned how just one more week would have been perfect to remedy back-to-school apprehensions. As for me…I was entering a new era. For the first time in nearly a decade I found myself completely alone. No diapers to change, no temper tantrums, no more midday trips to preschool and no messes to clean, other than my own, for the next seven hours! The house was so quiet and lifeless. At first I had to hold back my tears, but a reassuring hug from my husband gave me the strength I needed to clean the breakfast dishes and start my day.

So…what exactly was I going to do today? I really hadn’t given it much thought up until just this very moment, and now that I had time to think about it, the thought was truly daunting. It wasn’t just the question of what I would do today, but rather, what was I going to do every day, all day, while my kids were in school?

The fact is, I had thought, in passing, about this moment for years. Wow. How exciting to think of having the entire day to myself!

Now that day was finally here. I couldn’t help but think about all the things I could do that I had put on hold for so many years. Now was my chance to really get in shape – work out for an hour, eat healthy and truly get in the kind of shape I was pre-kids. Now was my chance to re-paint the kitchen, take down that dated wallpaper I’ve been thinking about changing for the past three years, clean out the garage, and maybe even plant a few more flowers. Now was my chance!

My husband had been asking me for years to help him with his business. Now I could finally give him the undivided attention that he needed to run a more successful business. Answer phones, help with marketing, accounting, whatever he needed. He was so excited.

But…I wasn’t excited. I couldn’t be. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. All I did know was what I didn’t want to do – and that was everything I’ve just mentioned.

I also knew that whatever I did decide to do had to be my decision and my passion. At one point in my career as the director of public relations for a successful developer, I was working 80-hour weeks and on call 24/7. Although I wasn’t interested in returning to the rat race of corporate life, I longed to be a part of something special that needed me. Something where my talents would be utilized and finally allow a part of me to resurface that had long been swept aside to make room for motherhood. I know it is still in there somewhere. I just have to dig it out!

So often I feel that I’m in a boat by myself. Struggling to make the right choices. The choices that will ultimately give me a sense of self-worth and accomplishment without compromising my family and the time they need. But as time goes by, I find that I’m really not alone. I’ve spoken with dozens of women who are faced with the same challenges every day. Through all the discussions, it seems the key is to find your passion.

Writing has always been my passion. It has always been a way for me to vent, create, explore and discover. I’m not sure where my passion will take me, but I’ve always believed that if you do what you enjoy, something good will come of it. I suppose it doesn’t matter what I do; what matters is that I do what I truly enjoy. Whether it’s volunteering my time at the local school or hospital, taking a little time off to explore my creativity, or entering the workforce again after a long reprieve, what matters is following my dream. Having the guts to take a chance on something new and waking up each day, taking a deep breath, and knowing that this day will only be what I make it. No one can make it for me, just me.

After all, it’s a new era.