Commentary

As many people who follow my journey know, I had children later in life. By the time I became a mother, my life was already shaped in certain ways. I was more the breadwinner in our family—or at least the public face of the enterprise my husband and I have worked hard to build together.

Now, with a return to “traditional values” sweeping parts of the country, I see criticism coming from both directions. On the left, the message is often: “Don’t just have children—do something more with your life!” Motherhood is portrayed as too small, too limiting, even oppressive. On the right, it’s “Stay home, don’t work, and let your husband provide.”

The recent New York Times piece on Ballerina Farm’s founder, Hannah Neeleman, written by Megan Agnew, tried to cast her as an oppressed woman whose life couldn’t possibly be as wonderful as it appears. Yet more traditional or conservative voices also criticize her—for working too much, for not being “at home” enough.

The irony is that none of this is truly traditional. The image of the man leaving for ten hours a day while the woman stays home with the children really emerged in factory culture in the early 1900s. Before that, industry was in the home. Husbands and wives worked together as blacksmiths, shoemakers, tailors, bakers—running family enterprises where the children were underfoot, learning the trade as they grew.

For only a short fraction of American history—mainly the post–World War II decades into the early 1970s—was it considered “normal” for a man to go off to work while his wife stayed home with the children full-time. That model was largely a product of economic prosperity, suburban expansion, and postwar advertising—not a timeless tradition. Before and after that brief window, families across America worked together in agriculture, trades, and small businesses.

We shouldn’t mistake nostalgia for accuracy, or imagine that the 1950s image of “traditional” is the only—or even the best—path forward. In reality, when men and women both contribute to a home enterprise, they bring unique strengths that serve not just the family’s income but its entire way of life. Children in these environments learn enterprise, problem-solving, negotiation, decision-making, and how to navigate complex situations long before they ever fill out a résumé.

In that way, Hannah’s work is actually closer to tradition than many critics realize. At Ballerina Farm, she and her husband run multiple enterprises—some in the home, some outside—but all connected, with the family working together.

That’s also my reality. If you visit The Barn restaurant at Sovereignty Ranch, my kids might burst through the door, hair windblown, sticks and dirt clinging to them. They’ll run to give me a hug or ask for pancakes, maybe beg for a popsicle from the farm store, and then run back into the wild of the farm.

We’ve also built a small homeschool on the ranch, where a teacher comes for three hours each morning to focus on reading, writing, and math. The rest of their education comes from the farm, the restaurant, and our other enterprises. They do everything from helping with newborn calves to brainstorming Instagram video ideas. They often ask how much something costs, how much we’ll sell it for, whether that’s a lot of money, how much the mortgage is, or how many products we need to sell to make a car payment. In many ways, these questions—and the real-world math, economics, and decision-making they lead to—are more valuable than much of what children learn in conventional classrooms.

This model may not be perfect, but it is far better than my life in California—driving an hour and twenty minutes each way, working more than eight hours, then commuting another three, and leaving them with others or dragging them along just to spend time together.

We need to remember what “traditional” really was—and what it still can be. We need more small, home-based enterprises where kids are involved and learn by doing. My children set up tables for big party reservations, wipe down tables, bus dishes, put stickers on hot sauce bottles, help bottle vinegar—and as they get older, their responsibilities will grow, and they’ll be intimately connected to the work that sustains our family.

I won’t pretend I never feel guilt about working so much or wishing life was different. But I am grateful that God, in His grace, blessed us with children later in life and allowed us to weave them into our daily work, rather than relegating them to schools, babysitters, or screens.

Maybe my home doesn’t fit a perfect “traditional” mold. But in the truest sense—family working together, children learning responsibility, life lived with purpose—it’s as traditional as it gets.

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