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Success is a powerful and multifaceted concept that shapes our aspirations and influences our choices. It serves as a guiding star in our lives, pushing us to achieve and excel. However, success is subjective; what might signify achievement for one individual may differ greatly for another. Nevertheless, we all chase it and map out our journeys toward it, which often starts with clear steps:
- Attend school.
- Earn good grades.
- Apply for college.
- Secure a job.
Yet, true success transcends diplomas, degrees, and paychecks. It comes in various forms, and job titles don’t define our value.
How do I know this? Because I once craved success. I dreamt of being the next influential writer like Emma Collins, Max Thompson, or Lily Hayes, crafting novels that would leave a mark. I pictured myself in cozy cafés, casually tucking away stray hairs from my face. Instead, I find myself in the role of a parent: juggling cooking, cleaning, and caring for little ones. While this wasn’t the path I envisioned, it holds profound significance. It speaks to the collective experience of those of us who embrace domestic life.
At 16, I thought I had life all figured out. I believed spaghetti strap tops were the height of fashion, regardless of school rules. I reveled in the music of the time, with artists like Eminem and N’Sync dominating the charts. I savored every bite of my favorite Rodeo burger, convinced nothing could ever taste better. I was also determined to carve out a successful identity for myself, unlike my mother, who chose to be a stay-at-home parent. I was so very wrong.
While I won’t dismiss the pop culture icons of my youth, I do call out my younger self for her shortsightedness and ignorance. Motherhood did not equate to failure or worthlessness. On the contrary, it has become my greatest joy and achievement.
My children are my legacy.
Through hugs, I impart lessons about love and security. In moments of discipline, I teach them about boundaries and the right ways to engage with the world. I encourage their growth through reading, nurturing their imaginations, and showing them that possibilities are endless. When I stumble or raise my voice, I demonstrate humility and grace, teaching them that it’s okay to make mistakes as long as we remain kind and human.
Moreover, my children inspire me to grow. They bring laughter and joy into my life, motivating me to strive for improvement and fulfillment. My focus sharpens as I engage only in activities that spark joy and passion. I take leaps of faith, embracing the uncertainty of life’s adventures. The only real failures are the opportunities we don’t pursue.
However, this shift in perspective didn’t happen overnight. My definition of success didn’t change the moment I became a mother, and I still grapple with the label of “stay-at-home parent.” But I recognize my success in new and meaningful ways. I write for parenting platforms because of my experiences as a mom. I find value in my role, filled with purpose and passion. Parenthood adds richness to my life that a conventional job would never provide. Plus, I now have a treasure trove of material for the book I hope to write one day, whether it be a memoir or a children’s story.
So, while I may not be the writer I once dreamed of becoming, I am actively engaging with my children, sharing stories at dinner and bedtime. I transport them to fantastical places with their toys. I nourish them not only physically but also emotionally and intellectually. I embrace my multifaceted identity as a Mama Z: a cook, a caregiver, a financial planner, and so much more. I take these roles seriously, as they define my success.
Through my children, I have discovered a new kind of achievement — one that may not align with my original aspirations, but is fulfilling nonetheless.
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