My Least Favorite: Mother's Day, An Epiphany

Mother's Day is often a day of bitterness for me. This last week leading up to Mother's Day has been rough, and I've been so emotionally drained that I haven't wanted to sleep or carry on with my daily duties. Of course, this week I had more on my plate than usual, since that is how life works. I barely made it. If it weren't for the great attitudes of the kids, and their optimism with life in general, I would have spent all day online while they ran wild and starving.

In meditating upon my life, I am wondering why Mother's Day is so depressing for me. It's not like the day is horrible or anything. I am thinking that it has something to do with a selfish desire to be appreciated and honored for the role I play as mother. What's wrong with that, you ask? Well, sometimes in my heart I do this job because I want to glorify myself. Secretly I want fame, fortune, to feel "successful" and have my worth come from the commendations of those I serve. Having said that, I am now thinking I'm in the wrong line of work.




Day to day, I fight the uphill battle of housework. The mounds of laundry are endless, the crumbs on the floor relentless, the dishes and sticky counters invasive. Then there is the daily training of the children where persistence, patience and perseverance are musts on a minute by minute basis. On top of that, the maintenance of marriage requires more patience, constant forgiveness, diligent discernment, open and kind communication, respectful and loving behavior and humble submission. There is not a moment to relax and breath. Every moment, every thought must be dedicated to others.

But on Mother's Day, I want the day to be about me. What would I like for breakfast? What would I like to do after church? What would I like for a gift, and what should the children make for me? I want everyone to show their appreciation for me by joyfully and willingly and lovingly doing my job for a day. The house stays clean, the children are off playing nicely and the husband is doting on me and hanging out chit-chatting. It would be all about me. Me, me, me, me, me.

My expectations of having a perfect day dedicated to honoring me are way too high. The whole problem is my favorite word, "me". Simply put, it is not about me at all. Life and the universe do not orbit around me. I am not in this profession for glory or fame. In fact, the above description of my job goes to show me that I fall short of being the perfect housewife and mother. I do my best, but I wish my best was better.

Mother's Day is depressing for me because I want to feel special. I want to be treated special so I can feel worthwhile. You might not see the fault in that. You might even say that I should deserve to be especially treated. But every Mother's Day, I am not treated any differently than if it was a normal day off. And I want to be Queen of the Day. I practically want my husband and children serving at my beck and call, and know that I deserve it. Therein lies the problem. I am relying upon people to fill in my bucket of self-worth. And sadly, that bucket is always left nearly empty.

I must refocus my lens and stick to the Truth. My job has been assigned by the Big Boss. He has given me one of the most honorable jobs that a woman could be entrusted with. He understands how hard the job is. In the Bible, it says in Isaiah 40:11--
Like a shepherd He will tend His flock,
In His arm He will gather the lambs
And carry them in His bosom;
He will gently lead the nursing ewes. (www.biblegateway.com)

Mothers are near and dear to His Heart. And there I should be placing my worth. To Him, I am worth sacrificing and dying for. To Him, I am worthy enough to be blessed with husband and children. My worth comes from humbling myself, releasing my desire to conform to the world and seek man's approval. Instead, I realize my fallibility, my sinfulness, my imperfections, my daily struggles and I give them up to Him. I focus in on His Blessings, His Trustworthiness, His Strength, His Power, His Sovereignty, His Faith, His Undying Love, His Personal Investment into my life through Jesus. There is none like Him, certainly nothing created.

Here and now, I let go of all those selfish desires to be acknowledged as that perfect mother who knows all and does all. I release the desire to be worshiped, and turn my own worship to God above. I know how He feels about me, and He is Perfect. He is Not Wrong, and by bowing at His Feet and obeying Him and serving Him by fulfilling even the most mundane of duties, He fills my worth bucket until it is overflowing. Through Solomon, God says in Proverbs 31:30--
Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain,
But a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.

Suddenly, Mother's Day doesn't seem so bad. I give honor and praise, not to myself, but to the God who created me to be specifically a wife and mother. Drawing upon the Holy Spirit for comfort and peace, the burden of selfishness has been lifted. To be God's good and faithful servant is all I need.

So I may not be Queen of the Day, but by acknowledging His Love and Plan for my life, I become God's Princess. Nothing could be better than that.

End of an Era

In less than 3 short months, Henry will be a one year old toddler, likely walking around and saying his first words. I will be entering into a new era in my life. A baby-less era. I will be done being pregnant, done nursing a babe, done with infant clothes, done with multiple night feedings, and done with squeezing little baby booties. Forever. It's kind of sad and happy at the same time.

Our decision to be done and satisfied with 5 children has left me feeling odd. I almost don't know what to do with myself without a babe in arms. It seems that my identity for the last 9 years has included being pregnant or nursing. Maternity clothes still hang in my closet, my nightgown has clips on the straps so I can nurse in the middle of the night with ease, and let's just say my under-garments are not those of the fancy boutique kind. I have worn the same outfits over and over, seeing as I've always anticipated large fluctuations in weight. I've attached myself to neck fat and love handles as if they were family. And I've resigned myself to being tired and exhausted always, as if I'm a "functioning lack-of-sleep-aholic."

But now I'm reaching the light at the end of a very long tunnel. A large part of my parenting journey will have passed, and I will be on to new and bigger things. It is bittersweet. No longer will I be someone's favored person. No longer will I be the sole source of nourishment and comfort. I won't be the only one to decipher different cries and new words. I won't be witnessing the miracle that is the beginning of life. And, of course, the first smile, the first laugh, the first discovery of toes, the first sound, the first word, and the first step.

I gotta say, though, there are many things I won't miss about the baby stage. I won't miss the runny poops 4 times a day, the inability to stay on a project for more than 2 hours at a time, the crying as the only means of communication (from baby, not me), the lack of energy and time for exercise, the odor of poop and pee following me everywhere, and the moodiness that comes with nursing (from me, not baby).

So I have resolved to cherish these next 3 months and enjoy my baby boy. I'll enjoy the baby elbows, the toothless grin, the smashing of food on the high chair, the beginnings of sibling bonds, the belly laughs when I kiss his tummy, the splashing in the inflatable bathtub, the teeny toenails, the teeny toes, the first teeth, the fuzzy hair, the cute outfits, the first shoes, the delighted squeals, the first dancing, the napping schedules, the little squeezes, the open mouthed and slobbery kisses, and so much more that I can't think of now.

Because next comes the tween stage, with the funky teeth and the first chapter books. Then comes the junior high stage, where they will start breaking off and developing their own person. Then the teen stage, where they will physically mutate and the training ends and the practicing of adulthood begins. And then they will be adults and out of my home. I'll have to give them away to someone else. They will start their own phases of marriage and parenting. I will officially become a retired professional mother.

Time goes by so quickly. I think I'll savor every moment as best I can. Every day is a day I'll never get back.

A Happy Sad Tale of a Housewife

In the last couple of weeks I attacked the weeds in the backyard in preparation for the Rosendale Dream Backyard. I have been obsessing, shopping around, pricing things out and planning our backyard. I have so far succeeded in de-weeding almost the whole yard and hoeing the side yard so the kids can plant their vegetable seeds. I have also lost a couple pounds and strengthened my hips and back in the process. Win-win.

But, there is a down-side to all this awsomeness. And that is: the inside of the house. While I am outside reveling in` the awesome smell of fresh dirt, the satisfying sound of a stubborn root coming out of the ground, the production of Vitamin D as I soak up the sun, a demon comes into my home. The messy demon that comes in and leaves brownie trails, dried mud paths, piles of tiny Lego pieces, dirty laundry, clean laundry, and whatever else he might have a mind to mess up. He allies himself with the dust bunnies, cobwebs, sticky drippings, stray pencils, dirty cloth diapers and sometimes the three year old girl. He attacks when the war front on his side is left unguarded. I can't wage war on the weeds and on the messy demon at the same time. I just don't have enough man-power. Literally.

*sigh. I guess that will just have to be life as I know it. I cannot put all my resources into war on both sides. I will have victory in my backyard and rest in the knowledge that I will live to fight another day. Until then, messy demon: You Win. For Now.