"Come Out Here Where
We Can See You."
In case you've just joined us: links to parts 1 and 2:
As my contractor hummed and worked, I was reminded of the
second project that I had in mind for him.
I’m talking about building my Mom Cave. I planned it to be carved
into my unnaturally hot attic, accessed by a ship's ladder, with no ventilation and full exposure to natural
predators like fleas and wolves. Now
that I see this in writing, I’m wondering if I was sniffing glue at the time I
planned this. But upon further
thought, I realize it was the only unclaimed spot in our house and therefore
made perfect sense.
The added bonus: the ceiling would be low. My 6’2” husband said, “No way would I go up
there…it makes me claustrophobic." So it really was the ‘Carrie Bradshaw –A
Place To Be NOT A Wife Or A Mother’ hideaway for two days a week. The problem was, it would have cost $15,000
to build. With our boy going to college
soon…there was only so much I could steal from his funds, undetected.
I prided myself on coming up with the idea of a Mom Cave. However, I googled it and was disappointed to
find I wasn’t such a trailblazer because others have already thought of it
too. But I was also shocked to find the
condescending attitude in the remodel industry magazines:
"Ladies, find a place
in your house…under the porch, behind the washer, a cupboard in your bathroom, or
even in a van down by the river and MAKE IT YOUR OWN SPACE!! Call it Home.
You deserve it, little lady, a special place to do all your important work, or have your
‘me-time’, or whatever it is you do. Do your girly work where no one will bother you!”
Of course no one will bother you: you’re BEHIND THE WASHER!
I fight for our sisters, women who need a space in their
house to do their thang. I submit to you
a novel idea:
Don’t settle for being a porch dweller. Live out loud right in
front of your stinkin’ family or roommates or pets. Come out, be proud, take as much space as you
need. You probably have important jobs
like running the budget, driving the calendar, manning the holidays, being in
charge of home repairs and medical visits, being the boss of the castle. Or you have a hobby that needs a space. All of those reasons entitle you to the
noble, Mistress of the Realm status with full land-owner rights.
As my contractor was gutting our front room, I
scratched my head and wondered how to get my house to cough up a decent Mom Cave. An hour later, I accidentally got
invited to Pinterest and saw a photo that made me all sweaty, but not in a Hulk
Hogan sort of way.
THIS was it. This was the Lady Cave idea I was looking
for. My rightful place in our family
home. I had spent all summer making sure
my family unit could do homework, chat, interact, play, work, be entertained, eat
and sleep better. But what about My spot
for My work? What had I done for me? I am fighting the urge to not feel selfish as I look at that last sentence.
The picture I saw was beautiful, and I sketched my evolved
version to be this:
And yes, someone got chocolate or gravy on my dream paper. I can just taste the respect! But then again, maybe I did it.
Somehow, the dream had to be birthed from this:
I stapled my sketch to the Wall of Dreams, and heard the second
troll die. This troll is the back-up
troll who guards the bridge to my bank account.
My eyes twinkled because I had just found a way to honor
Woman-dom, and I invited my Lady Cave into our living quarters where it needed
to be.
It will be a 14’ long swath of floor, being a mere 33’’ wide, with
its own lights, shelves, a window seat/reading nook combo, and a Norad desk for
my writing.
Flirting with danger, I also decided there would be no
perimeter fencing or barrier to keep the family out. The
family has been warned…this will be MY
area. No sandwiches, shoes, sheep or
teeth on my desk…nuthin. By invitation
only. You may not trespass. You are on the honor system. And if you broach the perimeter, the hidden
lasers...they’ll singe the little hairs on your arms.
Got it?
Mine.
My work, my thoughts, my hobbies are all honorable and will
not take place anywhere but here in front of you, so we can always be together
for the rest of your natural lives. It’s
time you saw an example of a happy woman who is living her dream at the same time you get to live yours.
I said this all to my family...in my head. They haven't heard it yet. I suppose next week, when the shrine dream of the xBox/Wii/Netflix/Entertainment Nook gets kicked aside for my fragrant mom-stuff, they'll finally know.
