Being ambitious... or not

I was thinking the other day (yup, here I go again...) about ambitions.  Or lack thereof, as the case may be.

I often sometimes feel dissatisfied with what mothering small children offers me day to day, but I'm mostly very content with what I'm doing right now.

I don't have big dreams of greatness for myself.  I never have.

Evidence of Mum! Photo courtesy of my dad a couple of weeks ago at J's kindy

My parents raised me to believe that I can do and be anything I want.  I went to a fairly prestigious girls' school where it was assumed that you would be a) graduating in the top whatever percent of the state and b) going to an equally prestigious university.  I didn't know what I wanted to be, unlike the future doctors and lawyers in my year, so I did whichever subjects appealed to me at the time.  My uni entrance score didn't get me in anywhere.

I worked in a supermarket for a while.  Worked in my dad's office.  Did some conveyancing which in a very roundabout way got me into the oil and gas industry.  Which, as an aside, is also how my life suddenly and wonderfully changed direction and how I met B... but that's a story for another time.

When I finally landed in oil and gas, I loved I mean really loved my work.

I was even sent to a... symposium? conference? seminar? whatever it's called for up and comers in the gas industry.  The problem once I got there was that I realised I knew nothing about the pertinent issues facing the industry at that time.  I had no opinion, nor even any basic knowledge, on the potential carbon tax - sorry price - to be introduced.  I had no engineering degree, or any degree.  I didn't even really understand how my industry worked.

I came home and thought hard about actually trying to catch up academically.  To take the next step.  But really.  Doing an Engineering degree part time for ten years?  I'm hopeless at maths.  I hate studying.  I just really loved my job.

Eventually it dawned on me that I loved doing what I was already doing.  I didn't want to become a manager or an engineer or climb to the top of the corporate tree.  It was just ingrained in me that you keep striving towards the next goal, that next step.  But actually I wanted to type, answer the phone, manage diaries and travel, and format documents.  It's what I was good at and what I loved doing.  Why do anything else?

No next step.  Just do my best at my job, which was nothing grand but which I adored.

And, now that I'm a full time parent, I'm not in any rush to return to the workforce.  Obviously we're really lucky that I have the choice whether to work or not.  But I'm not feeling like, man I wish my kids would grow up so I can get back on that career ladder/start that business/conquer that dream.

I, uh, have no dreams...?

I've never had a life plan or even a five year plan.  I had no idea that I would end up here.  I have no idea where I'll be in the future (although I really hope I'm still here).

I'm very content.  When my kids are older and more independent I can see myself quite happily doing more of the same.  Baking.  Knitting.  Gardening.

I'm not old-fashioned at all, I would very passionately define myself as a feminist, and yet here I am feeling extremely fulfilled in the old-fashioned role of housewife (not that I would ever call myself that).  In this day and age it can be hard to admit that you don't actually want to do anything else.  To not be ambitious.  I guess the thing is choice.  At least we have the choice.

You go conquer that corporate world if you want.  And I'll sit by the fire knitting if I want.