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Work at Home Moms Fill Important Needs for Teens, Too.

By JoAnna Tacheny

A heartwarming story on one mother’s choice to work from home during her daughter’s teen years.

My heart ached, I could barely catch my breath. Each tear took their journey from my eyes down my cheeks. I was consumed, caught, in a storm within myself. I stood in the garage crumbling and weak. The jacket of my dark brown suit, still very snug, made my breathing even more difficult. I watched as my

JoAnna and her Daughter

husband’s car, carrying our 9 week old daughter, turned the corner. I stared at the tail lights, necessarily on due to the early morning dawn. And then they were gone. The car, the lights, my baby. It was just me, in the still of the morning, with my purse in hand, my hair tied back and my make-up on. My 9 years of infertility, the invitro procedure, the happiest day of my life when our daughter was born, all came flashing back within seconds. The choice to stay home with my baby or return to work was not mine. It was the 9 years of doctor bills, surgeries and bank loans for the invitro procedure – and my dark brown Ann Taylor suit that pressed against the door of my new Ford Explorer. I so unwillingly let go of my daughter that morning that I fell to my knees, running my nylons and not caring, and then I prayed. For something, for anything to get me back up and into my car and drive the all too familiar route to the office. That day I made a concrete decision. I would someday find a job where I could work from home.

That day came 16 months later and I felt blessed and overwhelmingly grateful. I was making less money, but had a hundred times the rewards. My daughter still had to be in daycare because my job was in sales and I knew I could not be successful in my home, while tending to a toddler. Yet I was able to be there when she woke up and go see her at our daycare provider’s home during lunch. Many days, I picked her up early. During her daycare years, until she started kindergarten, I knew she was being loved, nurtured and cared for, by someone else. Someone I trusted completely and was envious of. My heavy heart had eased over those years and I would tell myself that she would never remember that I was not home with her all day, the first 5 years of her life. If she had fuzzy recollections of being 4 or 5 years old they would most likely be of other things than her mom not being there all day.

Fast forward to today, my daughter is 12 years old. As I sit and write this article, it is with great anticipation to share what I have come to so strongly believe in. I now have no regrets of the years my daughter was in daycare. I received gentle and sometimes not so gentle persuasion that when she started 1st grade it was time to get a ‘real’ job, and make the big bucks again because she was in full time school. Well it didn’t happen, and it won’t happen. Especially now that she is in middle school. During her elementary years I was able to volunteer at her school and go on field trips, while I continued to work full time from my home. I got her up in the morning, made her breakfast and was there when she ran in the door after school and excitedly shared her day with me. Or sometimes, not so excitedly, shared her day. Those were important years too, as she had begun etching memories that could last her lifetime. I know how very blessed and fortunate I was. I also know that there are many other awesome moms that did work away from home during those years, either by choice, or financial necessity. This is my story, my thoughts and my feelings. I am not writing to pass judgment or tell any mother, that whether they stay home or work away from home, are right or wrong. But I do feel the need to share a perspective that could change the way you think or feel about working from home. The middle school years and high school years, ages 11 to 18 are crucial to your children. They are being exposed to social elements and behaviors that can turn destructive at any given time. They begin to care what they look like, how they dress, what they say and who they hang out with. Or, they begin to withdraw, shut down inside and bask in their confusion. They may remain in tact in a womb, not their mother’s, their own. In their shell of doubt and fear and often, anger, they may feel different. Their face may not be as pretty or good-looking as others that confidently pass them in the hall. Their legs and their arms, uncoordinated and unable to perform may prevent them from being a star on a sports team. They may struggle with homework and get poor grades. Often having to fend for themselves, figure out their own math problems, only to be teased later for failing a test and to be reprimanded by their teachers for not caring and not studying. Ultimately they find themselves disgraced and tormented by parents that they know don’t understand them for their awful report card. They may find love, solace and companionship, not at home, but on the streets or somewhere in their town where they feel accepted and acceptable with the other unwanted and unloved children where teens seem to gather. Often, alcohol, drugs, sex and disturbing music are the crutches that hold them up, until they crash and fall.

I can’t be with my daughter 24/7. I can’t physically stop her from making bad choices. But I can search for the means, the way to be there when she gets home from her middle school, and eventually her high school. I can see her face at 3:10pm, read her body language or listen to her silence. I can hear her on her cell phone, see what windows are open on her computer. See and observe her friends who knock on our door, or pick her up in their parents’ car, or their own. I can know where she is going and what time she gets home. I can continue giving her unconditional love and support. I can sometimes overwhelm her with love if I want to. Because I will be there. I will be there to notice a change in her. A look, a mannerism or an attitude that will trigger a red flag. I will sit there with her quietly and hold her and love her until she is ready to talk to me. Or, I will sit in another room and give her some independence, some space and some time to remember that she can trust me. I can’t and won’t ever be her best friend. I have to remain her mother. But she can like me and find comfort in knowing that I will never walk away from her. Ever. I can ask her questions, and realize that often I will likely have to accept a yes or no answer. What I won’t have to do is rush in the door at 6:30PM and be angry that the traffic was horrible, or that my boss criticized my work. I won’t have to scream at her for messing up the house or forgetting to take the chicken out of the freezer. I won’t be too tired to ask how her day at school was and what she’s got planned for the evening. I won’t have missed out on those few hours between 3:10PM and 6:30pm Monday through Friday when freedom, temptation, opportunity and boredom face my daughter head on. I won’t be too tired, or too stressed to notice that something is wrong with her. I won’t because, I will have been there.

These years….these heartbreaking, ecstatic, disappointing, frightening and happy years for our children and are teens come around only once. I will have my life, my independence, my time with my husband, my siblings and my friends. I will have my hobbies, my activities and my world with my own set of problems and disappointments. But most importantly what I will have, is my daughter, my love for her and my time for her when she walks through the door. And during those precious few hours after school, I will sense and I will know, if I am losing her and I will pull her back in. And then I will drop to my knees and this time not run a nylon, but be thankful that I was home and that my home office is just up the steps.

JoAnna Tacheny is a Minnesota-based freelance writer, wife and mom and she works at home. You can reach her at: jotack16(at)aol.com

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