"Let's face it, none of your children are ever going to be doctors."
He went on to explain that he wanted my daughters to attend some luncheons with his wife where they could meet successful powerful women of considerable stature and influence in their careers so that they would have something to aspire to.
There is some good to take away from what he said, and I do think that the luncheon would be, theoretically, a marvelous idea. It is always a good idea to meet different people, especially ones successful in their careers. I am not sure how much a bored 15 yr old, a prepubescent 10 yr old, and a 6 year old who lives to move and dance, would take away from it. Looking back at the different conferences I was able to attend and people I met between the ages of 10 and 20 years old, there was a fairly impressive roster. What do I remember from it? Nothing...not a single thing. Except my peanut butter and jelly sandwich was warm and squished the one time, and the sun shone too brightly and made my head hurt at another. Not exactly the "take aways" that well meaning adults intend from those kind of events.
He is right though, it is highly unlikely that any of my children will be doctors. But is it really necessary for them to be?
I am not a doctor, or a lawyer, or an engineer. I don't, after 15 years of college give or take, even have a degree. And I am okay with that. I happy. I am content. In as much as I may not have succeeded in college, or in a career, I am succeeding in life.
My children dream. They dream in bright vivid colors of a world wide open with possibilities for them to do whatever they set their hearts upon. They aren't limited to a picture book list of careers to chose from, deterred by gender roles, and feel free to create their career if it doesn't already exist.
When asked how they are going to accomplish their dreams when met with a struggling economy and limited market, they have answers. They can explain profit margins and overhead costs, as well as projected marketability. They know what the world out there is going to hit them with, and instead of letting it weigh them down like a boulder tied to their ankle, they figure out how to use it as a stepping stone to launch and propel them forward.
They know to do what they are passionate about. If they are passionate about helping people be healthy, then yes, they will be doctors. But if I were to go off what they are passionate about at this very moment, I would have a princess party planner, a mechanical engineer, a Broadway star, a video game designer, and a dentist, and that list isn't to shabby either.
I haven't set up high profile careers as things they should strive to achieve. Why? Because as cliche as it is, money really doesn't buy happiness. I have an aunt, and a cousin (my aunt's daughter), who are doctors. They are well respected in their field, have won prestigious awards and are in high demand. The waiting list to see my cousin is months long. My aunt is rarely in the country, let alone the state where we reside. Her days at her home are kept track of, because they are so few. If that busy lifestyle is happiness to them, then I am grateful for their happiness and I raise my glass to their continued prosperity.
My happiness is different...I love the smell of the dirt in the garden after it has just rained, and the feel of it between my toes when I am weeding and picking the tomatoes off the vines. I love it when my children run to me grinning wildly while holding eggs that are still warm, fresh from the chickens, so that I can feel the warmth and share in the magic too. I like teasing them about their berry stained faces when they were supposed to be gathering, not eating, and watching them catch fireflies at dusk. I love the leaf piles, smells of bonfires, and bright colored cardigan sweaters matching the leaves. I love running out to catch fat snowflakes on construction paper, curling up under quilts, and reading stories with different voices.
Yes, I am sure that my extended family is able to do this too - in fact I know that they carve time out to make a point to do it. But this is my happiness and joy, and I get to do it all day, every day. We aren't wealthy, and it isn't always easy. Of course I have other dreams - and I plan on doing those too. That is exactly my point. I live my happiness everyday - and it is work. My children see that it is work and sacrifice and frustration and challenging. (However grammatically incorrect, all those ands were necessary) They see that there are obstacles that fall in every path, and that you have to be able to work around those obstacles, and that sometimes you have to change course - because there is more than one road to every goal. They see mistakes and set backs, and learn that there isn't a "Game Over" screen. You can majorly screw up, and choose to make different choices from that point, and still have a pretty good life. They see everything it takes in order to "live your happiness" and know to do it anyways.
Having a "Dr" at the beginning of your name doesn't necessarily make you a better or happier person. Though the plastic surgeon that makes a living off of correcting perceived cosmetic flaws for the sake of someone's vanity makes multiples of the money of an urban teacher or library story time lady, it doesn't mean they are more intelligent, more capable, or more qualified for respect. My children know that too.
I want my children to go into whatever utilizes their talents and gifts and brings them joy, and then shares that to the betterment of others. If being a doctor, or plastic surgeon does that, then so be it, but if being a cake decorator, or a chef, or a wildlife conservationist does it, then that is just as good in my eyes. Even a princess party planner - because in that moment, the make believe princess becomes real in a child's eyes in a way that is magical and precious, and they are filled with wonder. That is an amazing thing, and a gift to experience.
Money doesn't come with us, and is a fickle friend. It's the hearts we touched, the smiles we gave away, the laughter we shared that people remember after we are gone - those are our true legacy.
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