Remembering not to be defined by our jobs

Growing up I knew that I would be the president of a multi-national corporation, my husband would be a stay-at-home dad to our 2 children and we would have a modest summer camp in the country and a nice house in the suburbs.  I spent several years climbing the corporate ladder; career advancement was paramount.  When leaving the house my cell phone topped the list of items which I could not leave without along with my wallet, and keys.  It was only while talking on the phone did I verify before getting into the car that the shoes matched and the eye makeup wasn't smudged.  Multi-tasking was key and I became thoroughly adept at talking on the phone, smoking a cigarette, writing down information garnered from the telephone conversation and driving 75 mph on an over crowded interstate somewhere between Philadelphia and Fall River.  Then one day it was over.

For more than ten years I had worked my way up the "corporate ladder."   My salary was 3/4 of the six figure mark.  I had a relatively new car, all the business attire I could possibly need, the latest technology, the newest cell phone and I was alone.  There was no one to come home to besides my furry and four-legged roommates.  I had alienated many who I had called friends for missed birthdays, showers, and weddings.  Family functions were missed because I was travelling.  Then I had nowhere I had to be, my company closed.  I was unemployed and I didn't know who I was without work. 

So I did something that was completely out of character; I moved to Vermont.  For the past seven years the pace of things has slowed.  It is a rare occasion when I remember to grab my cell phone when I leave the house.  Important things on the check list besides the little man himself, are the diaper wipes and the burp cloth.  Any make-up that I do own is at least seven years old and I have no plans to replace it any time soon.  Rushing out the door only occurs because I have spent good quality time with my family before getting ready for my off farm job.

Baking, playing, farm chores, gardening, farm building construction, maintenance and repair, website editing, and blogging are only a few of the activities which occupy my day.  My early morning meetings consist of my coffee and a bucket of water for the piggles.  Returning from that 'meeting' usually involves a stop at the hose to clean off the mud from a little splashing and scratching behind the ears.  Inventories are double checked while feed bowls and water bottles are filled; procurement occurs with an actual trip to the feed store usually accompanied by little man and without a cell phone.  Economies of scale are measured and return on investment is gauged with rabbit weights and number of kits instead of coupons redeemed or billable hours.  When people used to ask me what I did for a living I said, "I AM an operations coordinator for a marketing company."  I was identifiable only as the job I was performing.  I wasn't Jennifer the painter and gardener who worked as...  I was the office manager or administrative director.  My answer has changed significantly and it surprises me how few people notice; often when they do their story is very similar to mine.  Today my response includes, "I am employed as a public safety dispatcher and 911 call-taker; I volunteer as an EMT and I am a farmer."

For several months now I have tried to balance the growing farm and its requirements of my time with that of a very stressful off-farm job.  After many a restless night, I made the decision to stop working full time.  From here forward my response will start with, "I am a farmer, I volunteer as an EMT, and I work part-time as a public safety dispatcher."  It will be yet another learning experience working with my husband full-time and counting on off-farm income on a part-time basis.