A Gift for Mom! 🤍

In the nearly 24 years I have been married, I have worked full-time, worked part-time, stayed at home with my children, worked full-time again, and then returned to part-time work. In all of these years, no matter how many hours I spent working outside of my home, I have always considered myself, first and foremost, a homemaker.

Dictionary.com defines homemaker as: a person who manages the household of his or her own family, especially as a principal occupation.

I do, in fact, manage my own household—not perfectly. Many days not even all that well. But I do manage, and my household is always my primary occupation. My household—my children, my husband, our home—occupy my mind (and my heart) the majority of my waking hours. Having a job that pays doesn’t change the fact that caring for my family and creating and maintaining a home for them is my single most important job. It requires as much creativity, discipline, intelligence, skill, and hard work as any job I’ve ever had.

However being a homemaker, or at least calling yourself one, is no longer fashionable. We half-jokingly use titles like Domestic Engineer, Family CEO, or Director of Domestic Affairs. But I am none of these things. Those terms are far too cold, and worse, they suggest that the title of Homemaker is somehow beneath me. Stay-at-home mom (or sometimes dad) is still a socially acceptable term, but that label is too exclusive. What about moms whose kids are older? What about moms who work? What about women with no children? What about men? Is homemaking just for women with small children? Just for people who stay at home full-time? Or is being a homemaker more than that?

As a homemaker, I care for my children. When they were small this meant everything from nursing babies to tying shoes. Now that they are older, my children don’t seem as needy, but the truth is they just need me in different ways. They need my attention and my focus now as much as ever. This doesn’t mean I can’t or shouldn’t work outside the home, but being a homemaker means my children are my primary occupation.

Being a homemaker also means that I cook—not because I am a slave to my stove but because I want to. It’s something I do for my family and for myself. I like the time I have alone with my thoughts in the kitchen. I like the smell of soup simmering, meat browning, bread baking, and garlic roasting. But most of all, I love to sit down with my family and laugh and talk and linger over a home-cooked meal. I cook because a family meal is communal. It’s what brings us together at the end of the day to touch base and to be and to become who we are as a family. 

I love to cook. Cleaning is another story. I try to keep a tidy(ish) house. Admittedly this is not my strong suit. But being a homemaker is about so much more than housekeeping. It’s about making our home comfortable and cozy and warm. It’s about creating a place that is peaceful and inviting and, well, homey. 

As a homemaker, that’s what I do. My husband also cooks and cleans and cares for the children. But when it comes time to pitch out the pumpkins and replace them with snowmen or to toss out the pinecones and decorate with seashells, that’s all me. I buy the throw pillows and the scented candles. I hang the pictures of our children and tack their artwork on the refrigerator. I place crosses and statues and reminders of our faith around the house. I put the vase of flowers on the dining table and the art books on the coffee table. I make our house a home with comforts and small luxuries, through art, religious reminders, family mementos, and seasonal decor—not because these things by themselves are important, but because being a homemaker means creating a home that is an expression of who we are as a family. It means creating a place that feels like us.

Still, there’s more to being a homemaker than just what I do for my family in the home. I also manage most of the day-to-day business of being a family. We need to take a casserole to a funeral. The dog has to go to the vet. Bills have to be paid. The church needs a volunteer. One of the kids needs a gift for a birthday party or a haircut or an appointment with the dentist. I do or arrange most of that stuff. Why? Because I am the one working the fewest hours outside of the home and because making sure that a family does things for others, gives back to the community, pays their bills, and gets their teeth cleaned is part of running a home, part of being a homemaker. These things matter. They help to define us as a family—dog lovers, casserole makers, volunteers. 

I love my job as a teacher. It is my career, and I am honored and proud to be a teacher. But it is not my primary occupation. Even when my children are grown and gone, my primary occupation will always be homemaker—making a home for my husband and me, for our children to come home to, and for our grandchildren to be spoiled in. Being a homemaker isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am.

No, I’m not bothered by the term homemaker. In fact, I quite like it. But I prefer the Urban Dictionary definition:

A person, usually a woman, who cares for her own home and family by cleaning, cooking nutritious meals, doing laundry, running errands, caring for pets, working with a budget, organizing, etc. She is her own boss and enjoys the freedom of creating her own schedule. She does not have time to be lazy. She realizes the value of her unpaid job as a homemaker because it brings stability to the family and less stress for all. 
 
I would also add:  A homemaker is any person, whether at home full-time or working outside the home, who sees caring for her family as her greatest accomplishment and her most important contribution to society.

This piece originally appeared on Huffington Post.

You may also like: 

Somewhere Along the Way My Dreams Changed to Staying Home With You

Why I Still Stay Home

Want more stories of love, family, and faith from the heart of every home, delivered straight to you? Sign up here!

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Laura Hanby Hudgens

Laura is a junior high teacher and a freelance writer. She lives on a buffalo farm in the Arkansas Ozarks where she enjoys cooking and baking, which is also the key to bringing her busy family together. Her work has appeared on The Washington Post, Huffington, Post, Grown and Flown, Aleteia, ChurchPOP, and elsewhere. Find out more about Laura here.

Motherhood With an Invisible Illness Feels Like Surviving in Plain Sight

In: Living
Mother holding sleeping child

There’s a kind of exhaustion that’s impossible to translate. Not the “I stayed up too late” tired. Not even the newborn, up-every-two-hours kind of tired. It’s something heavier. The kind that settles deep into your bones and makes even the simplest task feel like you’re pushing against gravity. Living with Sjögren’s syndrome and discoid lupus while raising young kids means carrying a weight no one else can see, and one that’s almost impossible to understand unless you’ve lived it yourself. The closest comparison I’ve ever found is the first trimester of pregnancy. That overwhelming, all-consuming fatigue where your body feels...

Keep Reading

These Simple Summers Will Live In My Heart Forever

In: Living
Kids playing in water in yard

There’s something I love about summers with the kids, more than any other time of the year. It’s not my favorite season, not even close. But I will always look back on the summers spent with our kids as some of the most beautiful, joyful, yet simple memories of our life together. And that’s just it—it’s the simplicity of summer that makes it so magical. It’s the weightlessness of “nowhere to be,” and the way the kids settle into a routine that’s not a routine at all. I love watching them run through the yard, popsicle in hand, red strawberry...

Keep Reading

We’re Trusting God through Unemployment

In: Living
Family posing by wooden wall

The calendar tells me that almost three months ago today, my husband and I resigned from our joint position as house parents in a residential foster care ministry. Three months of no income. Three months of moving to a new state, navigating new doctors, two brand new schools for our daughters, and a smaller living space. Three months of looking at each other and knowing how hard it is to wait for a paycheck. One day, I dared to check the bank account, and my body quivered when I saw the balance. We had savings, but I am pretty sure...

Keep Reading

Some Friendships Are Not Meant To Last Forever

In: Friendship
Landscape photo

I remember hearing as a child that not all friendships last forever. Back then, I didn’t believe it. Not my friendships. We had grown up together—through elementary school, through high school. We were inseparable. Plans were made around each other, and life felt like it would always look that way. But life has a way of changing things. I became a young mom, trying to figure out who I was while also learning how to be everything my children needed. At the same time, I was still holding tightly to the friendships that had been part of my life for...

Keep Reading

My Sister-In-Law Is the Sister I Always Wanted

In: Living
Two women friends smiling

There’s a very specific kind of longing that sometimes comes with growing up without a sister. Yes, I had half-siblings on my dad’s side, but they were older and out there living their adult lives. My brother and I were always very close despite the age difference. He was the cool, funny, rockstar big brother who was (and always will be) a big kid at heart, and I was incredibly grateful for that. But still, there was always this quiet, persistent longing for something else: a sister. Someone who would be mine in that way only sisters understand. You know,...

Keep Reading

The Life I Love Was Built From the Life That Broke Me

In: Living, Marriage
Family of four

In my early- to mid-twenties, everything felt like it was unraveling. I was depressed, uninspired, dealing with health issues I didn’t fully understand, and carrying the weight of past trauma I didn’t yet have the language for. At the same time, I was wading through a dating pool that felt more like I was unintentionally starring in an episode of Punk’d, all while still carrying the scars of a serious relationship that ended in betrayal—cheating that didn’t just break my heart, but shattered my sense of trust in a way I wasn’t prepared for. For a while, I stayed there....

Keep Reading

My Mom Was Just 13 When I Was Born. Now That I’m a Mother, I See Her Differently.

In: Living
Young girl and teenage mother

There are only 13 years and 11 months between us. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been—how lonely it must have felt at times. A childhood cut short, replaced with responsibilities that were night and day. Confusion and love, all wrapped into one. Growing up, it felt like I had a big sister beside me. A friend I loved with everything in me. But she wasn’t just a friend. She was my mother. I relied on her for guidance, for reassurance, for someone to look up to. And now I find myself wondering, how could she give me...

Keep Reading

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman standing over water

Praying for My Son Send a storm to stop him; Let his friends throw him out. May he drop to the deeps, But gently, please, Stubborn though he may be. If it could only take three days, How my mother’s heart would Rejoice in praise.  From the hell you allow him, Let him cry to you. Is not Nineveh and mercy Exactly what he knows He needs— A mercy on enemies He fears You will concede? Please let all the shade wither If his is an angry soul; Humble him and help him follow Where you would have his purpose...

Keep Reading

I Never Got to Meet My Grandmother on This Side of Heaven

In: Living
Old black and white family photo

Grandmother, I never met you this side of Heaven, but I feel as though I have. Your pictures, scattered throughout my mother’s home, tell your story. Born to a woman who came to this country alone when she was just 16, you would be the youngest of four, with two sisters and a brother. Your short, dark, straight hair clings to your little face, a line of bangs neatly combed high on your forehead. You couldn’t be more than three years old as you sit on a stool at your sister’s First Holy Communion. The black and white photo makes...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Part of Divorce Is Being Away from My Kids

In: Living, Marriage, Motherhood
Woman in driver's seat

I’ve written several times about how divorce has allowed me to find myself again, and how that version is even better than the one I was before I was married. All of that is still true. I am happier than I’ve ever been. More confident and sure of myself. I understand my emotions and how to handle myself when things get tough or scary. I am more grounded and calm than I’ve ever been. Truly, I have come out on top. I’ve received comments about how happy I look, how I’m “living my best life with kids only half the...

Keep Reading