Motherhood

With Mother's Day fast approaching and the whole Ann Romney thing going around on the internet, not to mention the blogs and articles in response to said Ann Romney flap, I've been thinking quite a bit about my own journey to motherhood. I realized that my thoughts might offend some, while giving others a reason to never leave their kids with me again, but I just wanted to put them down somewhere.

Here goes...

I did not settle very easily into motherhood. Sure, it was planned and sure, no one has any idea what they are getting themselves into when kids come into their life, but it was truly a wake-up call for me. I don't really like most little kids and spent the first years of my married life not wanting to have babies. But, after a call to repentance, we felt it was right, so we took the plunge. Pregnancy was great, labor and delivery went smoothly without incident. I held in my arms a perfect, strange-looking-goop-covered-tiny-old-man-baby who would begin squalling the next day and not stop for 3 months. He was beautiful, intense, so precious, so needy. I had no idea how to care for a baby. No idea how to breast-feed. No idea that I was flooding him with milk, which is why he was screaming every time I tried to nurse him. No idea what cues I had to look for around naptime, eatin' time, playtime. I received many not-so-helpful bits of advice from people who clearly thought I was clueless (which I was). I received a few very helpful bits of advice from people who could see the wild look in my eyes. I bonded with my little baby early on, but it didn't make it easier. I fell into the role of servant, wet-nurse, baby-sitter, maid, and diaper-changer quickly -- answering the demands of my spirited child, my Ephraim's child, my gifted child, my Aspie. It wasn't until much later that I found myself actually "mothering."

Even when we added our second little monkey to the brood, it still felt like J and I were playing house, playing with babies, pretending to live the domestic life. Then along came #3, the move to a bigger house, and the start of Kindergarten. Since my first little one doesn't easily pick up on social cues, we avoided the hurt feelings, the creeping in of pop culture, the bathroom humor, etc. that seems to accompany most Kindergarteners. And hallelujah for that! But still not feeling the "motherhood" of my life. Now with a 5th grader, a 1st grader and an almost-Kindergartener, J and I finally feel like we are no longer "playing house" but actually living the life. And now I feel like a mother.

I have a really hard time with women who just write about joyousness and exhilaration and sweet sweet children and happy-happy-happy-love-motherhood-110%-of-the-time-make-me-puke! I don't think this is the case for any of the mothers I know, and I don't want to hear about it! I think it does mothers everywhere a disservice to only read such gushing, positive drivel. Being a mother is hard. It's supposed to be. We all go through it, loving it and hating it. Sometimes wishing that we could be away from the kids, other times wanting only to spend the days with our sweet little ones. We need to know the reality and difficulty of motherhood and that our "perfect" neighbor down the street with the "perfect" children struggles too. It's how we support each other and teach our children to support and serve one another.

To me, motherhood means prayers; selflessness; sacrifice; growth; pain; selfishness; laughter; tears; frustration; faith! faith! FAITH!; years of sleeplessness, followed by years of more sleep, followed by sleeplessness yet again; maturity; joy; sorrow; rice cereal kisses that give way to hot chocolate smeared by mouths on my shirt by my belly to carefully hugging the 10-year old whose head squishes my booblets (not big enough to be called boobs); certainty; uncertainty; watching my baby, my big 5-year old take off on his bike without training wheels, wondering where the time went; listening to my 7-year old read with more fluency each passing day; seeing my 10-year old cut through the water so swift, so strong, as he swims laps at the pool; humility; wonder at the incredibleness of these amazing souls; comforting my 1st grader when his favorite girl decides she doesn't want to marry him when they grow up; talking to my sons about faith, testimony, goodness, accountability, boogers, and why their peanuts sometime get hard; singing bedtime songs with my 10-year old in sweet, shaky harmony. The list goes on and on...

I don't know anything about raising kids, but I know that S, O, and H were supposed to come to J and me and be part of our family. I hope I can continue on, open and humble, to receive guidance from the Lord as I strive to guide the monkeys to know their divine worth and make smart decisions. I realize that there is so much more to experience with the boys and so much more to learn about each of my kids.