Written by Barbara Curtis
It was the kind of splendid September day when sending kids to school just feels wrong. Fortunately, that year I was homeschooling and calling the shots. Plus we were living in California, an hour from the Pacific Ocean. For all I knew, it could be the last day of summer, and we wouldn’t want to miss that. So it was off to the ocean with five children under eight – Josh, Matt, Ben, Zach, and Sophia.
Together, we cleaned up from breakfast, prepped the car, then gathered beach blankets, umbrella, towels, swimsuits, diapers, sunglasses, sand toys, first aid kit, sunscreen, a cooler full of snacks and drinks – ay yi yi yi yi! Hello, motherhood – goodbye spontaneity.
I loaded the assorted car seats and strapped, snapped, and buckled five wiggling bodies into Big Blue – the 1989 Suburban we grew out of only a few years later. And we were on our way.
With everyone else in school, the whole beach was ours. I staked out our territory close to the water, hauled everything down from the car, and set up camp. For five hours I served as personal valet, sunscreen slatherer, weather advisor, recreation director, swim instructor, lifeguard, EMT, food concessionaire, manners consultant, bus boy, interpreter, peace negotiator, psychologist – not to mention lost-and-found.
Finally, I hauled everything back to the car, strapped, snapped, and buckled five sunscreen-and-sand-coated no-longer-wiggly warm, limp bodies back into Big Blue and headed for home.
The sun through the window was soothing, and the car was full of contentment. It had been a wonderful day and I was pleased with myself as a mother.
Then from the back seat, I heard Zachary clear his throat, and in his deadpan four-year-old Eeyore voice ask, “Mom, when are you going to get a job?”
“This is my job,” I said, somewhat amused and just a little edgy.
But homeward bound, as the kids fell asleep one by one and I was left alone with my thoughts, I began to see the beauty of Zach’s question: somehow – even though it could be hard work and even though I had my testy moments – my kids didn’t think of motherhood as a job.
And I decided that was a good thing – because it’s not really a job at all, but a calling. And callings just don’t look like jobs, because they require more of a person than a job requires.
Which makes it hard for moms whose days are spent conquering mountains of laundry, creating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and kissing owies.
We live in a world where success is measured by progress – as recorded on report cards, sales reports, performance reviews, pay raises. And symbolized by ribbons, trophies, and merit badges. In our lifetimes, our husband and children will bring scores of these items home and make us proud. We’ll put them in scrapbooks, sew them on uniforms, frame and hang them up for all to see.
But I don’t know of any special awards for teaching a child to tie her shoe or come to dinner when he’s called. No raises or praises when a mother drops everything to drive someone out for posterboard: “Your project’s due tomorrow? But it’s almost eight o’clock!”
Every day this goes on: everyday moms doing everyday things – sometimes struggling with feelings of inferiority or even worthlessness – just being obedient to their call.
But while motherhood can look easy – it’s certainly not rocket science, after all – the irony is this: while lots of important people in important places conduct lots of important business every day, the truly most important work in the whole world is really going on at home, where the CEO is mommy.
And God is like an equal opportunity employer, giving every woman in the world – through birth and adoption – this wonderful, unequalled opportunity.
I guess if we got disgruntled enough from lack of appreciation, we could start a Mommy Power movement (the same seeds of discontent that began the feminist movement – only in a direction away from motherhood). We could have bumper stickers that say: If Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy
We could sue people who put us down at parties and maybe even get a special mention as a protected minority not to be discriminated against.
But that wouldn’t be very mommy-like, would it? Because there’s something about mommies that should be soft where others are hard, kind where others are cruel, patient where others can’t wait. We may not start out that way at all, but there’s absolutely nothing like motherhood to change anything about us that needs to be changed.
At least, that’s how it’s been on my motherhood journey. I set out to make a home, to grow a family, and to help my children reach their potential.
The most amazing thing is that while I was helping them reach theirs, God was helping me reach mine.
Be sure to hug a mother today!
11.7.09
Every Mother's A Working Mother
8.7.09
Epiphany - Schmiphany
As I stood at a checkout of a well-known surf shop this afternoon I had an epiphany! YES an epiphany :)
I realised that for the majority of my life I have tried to define myself by what I own and how I present myself in society. Instead of putting my time and energy into working on my character and who I am in Christ, I've been trying to keep up appearances...though it wouldn't seem so these days!
As Russ and I wandered through the shops today (a rare occurrence these days) to grab a present for someone, we were talking about how hard it is these days to find and maintain our identity.
You may not believe it, but once upon a time, I had style! Some may not agree, but I put my own stamp on whatever I wore. I had a unique style and it wasn't uncommon to spend most of my weekly pay on maintaining that style, that identity. Now we are in a place where I haven't bought anything new or nice in a VERY long time. Most of what I wear these days are practical...not trendy. And I am finding myself feeling lost. I feel that I have lost a part of me.
When I walked into 'Live' today I just wanted to sink into the floor. They had some jeans on sale which Russ suggested I try on. My current jeans...I somehow managed to break the button. It's sort of there but only half there so I can't put it in the button hole...can't remember how it happened, but I currently have to wear a belt to hold my pants up! So, anyway, Russ wanted me to look at these ridiculously cheap jeans. When I walked in I suddenly became very aware of myself. I'm not wearing anything nice, my hair has regrowth the length of a giraffes neck, no makeup, and remnants of pumpkin spew on my shoulder. They had those horrible lights in the changerooms that show EVERY flaw. I felt like I had no right to shop in such a trendy store. I left feeling even more lost and even more ugly than before.
Anyway...that's not what this post is about. But I guess why I wanted to post was because of my epiphany. I'm tired of chasing the unattainable. I am slowly realising that there is more to this life than what I look like. I want to start living my own life. I want to work on my character, who I am in Christ.
It's easier said than done though. It's easier to say that I will work on developing who I am (at heart) rather than who I appear to be. I wish I could be the 'yummy mummy' that society expects of young mothers these days. I wish we had the money to keep up appearances. Russ could keep getting his music and I could keep my style...my identity, who I, who we are.
I guess it's going to be a long journey. One that I hope I will come out of better off. Knowing who I am and finding my identity in Christ. That no matter what I wear, what sort of house we live in, what my children wear (as long as it's something) that He accepts us as we are. That He loves me and that I can be worth more than the clothes on my back.
So, I don't know what I've come to after all that. It is really late and I should be in bed, but I'm watching the 'living with Michael Jackson' and I must admit I'm a little hooked...talk about an identity crisis!!
