It's been said time and time again. And I don't disagree with the statement.
At times, motherhood has made me tired. Not like the, I didn't get a good night sleep, tired; more like the, I'm going to be sick to my stomach if a see a perky person today because coffee doesn't even work, kind of tired.
Motherhood has made me worrisome. Just a few days ago, Lily was riding her bike at the park. She wanted so badly to ride down a very steep hill. We told her she could, but the entire way down I imagined the fall, the scrape, the screaming, and the scoffing from her older brother.
But we let her. And so onward she went. But instead of the fall, the scrape, the scream, and the scoff, Lily lost control of her bike and rode straight into a pond at the bottom of the hill.
Fortunately (at least for us), there was a couple getting their engagement pictures by the pond. As they watched the five year old scream past them and land in the water, the man reacted and pulled her out. Moss and all.
Poor guy with the wet pants. And while we had a hard time gaining control of our laughter once we realized she was OK, don't think for a second I don't worry every time she says she wants to ride her bike.
At times motherhood has made me strangely self aware. Every once-in-a-while I look in the mirror and think to myself: I can't believe I'm a mom (at least I say it to the mirror and not to my children). And then there are times when I can't believe how easily I can become introspective and ignore all else going on around me, including the repetitive: Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom! Can I have milk, can I have milk, can I have milk! I need help, I need help, I need help! stop kicking me, stop kicking me, stop kicking me!! I'd like to think this kind of introspection is a sort of gift.
But when the strange introspection wears off, the job of motherhood can (and has) made me incredibly impatient.
We had company the other night. It was an adult dinner, but I figured I could multitask and play mom and host. I could play SuperMom! for a few hours.
Lily was in the shower - I ran up the stairs to check on the kid and back down to cut the pie. Back up the stairs to tell her to wash her hair and back down to make sure everyone had napkins and forks. Once dessert was served, it was time to scoop up the kid, put her in bed, and fly back down to clear the plates.
Supermom's don't exist, just so you know. No matter how awesome our cape, we're human. And human's fail.
When she got out of the shower, the first thing I noticed was how slimy she was and how slimy her six barbies were. It didn't take long to figure out what she washed herself with when I saw the empty bottle of conditioner.
"Mom, I decided to use the 'air condition' on myself since it makes my hair so smooth."
There was no time to remedy the situation, so I pulled PJ's on my slimy (still wet) and "air conditioned" five year old, sung a fast forwarded "Jesus Loves Me," and turned out the lights.
She started bawling:
"My barbies can't go to bed naked!"
"Yes they can. They're barbies."
"But they'll be so cold."
"They don't have feelings."
"How can you say that, mom!"
I picked up the slimy dolls and began the process of clothing the barbies. For those who have experienced this sort of things before, it's no surprise that by barbie number 2 (of six) my frustration level was at it's max. I began mumbling to myself giving commentary on the ridiculousness of dumb barbie clothes while sitting in lily's dark room. While company was down stairs.
I finally threw the doll and shut the door. I heard Lily yelling:
"That's only two of them! The rest will be so cold! And you said dumb!"
I left her in her room crying. And went down stairs to entertain.
I felt awful. Not for the barbies, just to clarify.
Oh Motherhood.
Recently, I came across an article entitled, Why I regret being a Stay at Home Mom. The title intrigued me, and to be honest, I expected there to be some twist. Surely she wouldn't feel so raw in her decision to stay at home with her children?
But she was. And, frankly, the sadness I felt after reading this article had nothing to do with her choice of working. I have many dear friends who work hard at their jobs and come home to continue the hard work as moms. I also have dear friends who stay at home working hard all day with their kids.
What made me sad in reading this article is her regret. She said it more than once.
Sadness exudes as she expresses how she wished she led a different life, clearly reflecting on her own desires and wants rather than the difference she made in the lives of those around her during her years at home.
But isn't this easy to do? To buy into "The grass is always greener" syndrome? The kind of syndrome that leaves me wishing I was the mom who has a full time nanny while nearing the reality of actually strangling a barbie doll.
And yet, there is no doubt that this kind of attitude leads to regret and disappointment. The article proved that.
What's the remedy? How can we live in the business and the mundane, the tough and the joyful days of motherhood and still find contentment where we are?
It's all in our perspective.
An Eternal perspective. This is anyone's greatest source of encouragement - including a mothers.
For every bit of work that is done to provide income, for every diaper that is changed, for every ongoing conversation that is had at bedtime when we're longing for down- time, for every load of laundry that is done (when four more sit in their baskets), none of it is without purpose. These are the things to which we've been called and it's a high calling, no matter how mundane or overwhelming the task may seem.
It's an Eternal perspective that reminds us that our ultimate job is to point our kids to Christ.
Dueteronomy 6:7 says, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise."
And the joy that comes from parents who have the opportunity to watch their kids grow into their own personal love for God and His Word must be overflowing.
Regret becomes of little significance when we see eternal value.
There's no doubt that the job will continue to be difficult. And there's no doubt that there will be temptation along the way to wish for a different life - a different plot. And there's no doubt that I'll continue to need the date nights and the occasional glass of wine at the end of a long day, but there's no doubt that each day's work, no matter what was involved, is significant and meaningful. Each day has eternal value.
I left our company again the night they were over and slipped back into lily's room. Putting the half naked barbies aside, I tucked her in. It didn't take long, it just took a little patience. She put her arms around my neck and whispered, "It's Ok if you don't care about my barbies, mom. I still love you."
I love you too. Lily.
