And what I have learned so far is that nothing can replace the love of a good man. Compromise isn’t a far off notion, it is a daily concession. I will have regrets, no matter what. Chemistry is for the birds. It is hard to truly appreciate where I’m at when I’m there, despite a desire to focus on gratitude. God first, husband, kids then self (not last in everything but it’s just the order of things). I “needed” my mother less and less in my twenties, but more and more in my thirties. Never put off laundry. Having children is the single greatest and simultaneously least valued thing I’ve done. Some things are more important than being right. Teenage boys are cruel. You are what you eat. I should always be ready to apologize to my kids. Life balance is impossible. There’s only time to maintain a handful of meaningful relationships so choose wisely. Youth IS actually wasted on the young. But most of all, I have learned, that I know less and less with each passing year.
Category Archives: This is my life.
There goes your dignity…
The more I grow into my role as a mom, the further and further I get from my pride, my dignity, and my shame. Putting your family first means so many things. It means doing what’s right for them before what’s right for you, it means making sure that they have what they need, it means making their feelings a priority and giving them the guidance and the attention that they deserve. But of all the sacrifices you will make, the toughest to swallow is making a fool of yourself, for them. Take this from someone who wasn’t even cool to begin with, you’ll be lamer still when you have kids. These little people who have you by the pride, want to see you dance, (literally and figuratively), in public, on a whim, at their bidding. You’re a trained monkey now, casting aside self-esteem for humiliating Halloween costumes. Singing aloud in the car to Sound of Music, Mary Poppins or heaven forbid, the Frozen soundtrack. Singing bad cockney with the windows rolled down as you play Dick Van Dyke to their Julie Andrews.
And yet such a huge sacrifice is so easy to make. It’s freeing and liberating to turn your care of the world’s perception of you, into an exclusive interest in their perception of you. And what comes along with it is beneficial for anyone, being dropped down a notch, being reminded of your station in life. You’re here for them and any selfish drive to save face or be cool just completely melts away in the face of a freckled nose who wants to engage in a public medley, who wants me to run in circles and fall down on the ground in public.
The other day, I saw a bumper sticker on a minivan that said, “I used to be cool”, and I laughed aloud, almost to tears, then I thanked God that I don’t have a minivan yet and then I thanked God that coolness, pride, shame and dignity are all a thing of the past.
The SAHM’s Art of Doing Nothing
No matter how you cut it, a Mom’s work is hard, plain and simple. I respect every mom for her chosen path. Some have to work; some choose to work to be better moms when they’re at home; some stay at home; some stay at home and homeschool; some stay at home, homeschool and bake their own bread (and for the record, I’m no pioneer. I am (most days) just barely a SAHM). It’s all challenging. All versions of the gig have their pitfalls. There was a time before Soren when I think I might have been under the assumption that this wasn’t a job. That if I could just stay at home with my kids, I would, you know, do nothing but eat bon-bons, put my feet up, have more time to do laundry and on the side, raise my kids. As it turns out, not the job description.
One of the scariest parts of this job are long days, trapped inside the house. On these days, I try to amp up the activity. I keep us real, real busy. Working really hard, hauling kids from place to place. But this morning, I took a different approach. Sure, there are no bon-bons and I only put my feet up from 8:30pm (kid’s bedtime) to 9:15pm (my bedtime) but I could embrace some “doing nothing”. Instead of a playdate at the park, I was the human jungle gym. Instead of running errands in the car, we did airplanes on the floor. Instead of teaching them their ABC’s, I taught Soren how to rub my shoulders (for which a grateful daughter-in-law will thank me one day). Didn’t do a stitch of laundry. It will be there tomorrow. It always is.
Some on-the-job injuries were sustained but all in all, I got to enjoy what I do today. I ought to explore the perks of the job more often: my only deadline is dinner, bath, bed. The only important call I need to make is on a Fischer Price telephone. The only spreadsheet in my life these days houses the addresses for our Christmas card mailing list. My uniform is sweats. And when I want to, I can just hang with these kids and do nothing.
It’s not always easy and there are days when I wonder what my career path is. My patience with The Management is tested time and time again. But then I get a Bonus Kiss, or my “bosses” say that they love me or my husband gives me a vacation day. I get to hang out with some fabulous people. Serious perks to this job.
20x/day
20 times a day:
- I wash the highchair tray
- I wash tiny hands
- I close the bathroom door
- I pick the same books up and put them back in the bookcase
- I clean up a puzzle
- I say “not for you” to Francie
- I say “you can’t lay on your sister” to Soren
- I open and close the fridge door
- I clean finger prints off very impractical stainless appliances and a whole lotta windows
- I have to hear about boats/trains/tractors/trucks
- (At least) I fold a piece of clothing
- I remake Soren’s bed
- I say “how do you ask Mom?”
- I pick up mysterious shredded paper
- I pick up blocks
- I take a wet wipe out of Francie’s mouth
- I confiscate a toy
- I find a Matchbox car in the couch cushions
- (I swear) I change a diaper
- I wipe up the kitchen floor
- I take a deep breath
- I think about eating my feelings
- I think my head might explode
- I consider turning on the tv
- I fantasize about Soren still napping
- I look at the clock
- I put the dog’s water bowl out of Francie’s reach so she won’t spill it
- And then back down again so the dogs won’t get dehydrated
- I wonder why we have two dogs
- I talk to Jenni
- I talk to my Mom
- I wonder if I’m damaging them
- I wonder where I am and how I got here
- I think about hurling a noise-making toy across the room
- I can’t wait for their bedtime
- I can’t wait for my bedtime
- I pray for strength and patience
- I think about single moms (like my Mom)
- I think about Moms who would love to stay at home but for whatever reason cannot
- I think about my family with sick children
- I think about my friends who’ve lost children
- I think about my friends who want but haven’t yet had children
And so 20 times a day:
- I hug and kiss my daughter
- I hug and kiss my son
- I marvel at their little bodies
- I marvel at their learning minds
- I thank God for their health
- I go to bed, I get up. I start all.over.again.
from cheeky to frumpy in 4 years flat 
