May 8, 2015

Sometimes I don’t know how to do Mommiehood well. Sunday is Mother’s Day and even though we as moms act so outwardly selfless through the year, inwardly I resent my station sometimes. I feel taken advantage of and run over and manipulated and gerrymandered and boundary-less. It’s overwhelming to have 3. Don’t tell me you have 4 or more. That’s not my reality, and even one used to feel too big sometimes.
I’ve been told I’m an amazing and great mom, as recently as last night (thanks Marcey). But I’ve also been told otherwise. And for some reason, the negatives tends to weigh more than the affirmations. Uugghh! They weigh so stinkin’ much. I’ve shed some of the negatives that don’t matter to me. But the opinions that matter most are the ones from the girlies and my husband because they experience my heart more than even my sister or my friends and co-workers and softball moms and certainly more than that evil-eyed perfect Fabletics mom at Target who thought she had me figured out because she saw Pop Tarts in my cart. From breast feeding to organic to co-sleeping to vaccines to careers to free-range-parenting, aren’t there already too many ways we can be critical of each without dragging Pop Tarts into it?
Paul would be a blockhead to voice anything other than platitudes about my mothering. Wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t you clobber your man if he said you were a sucky mom? But at the same time, he is the one who has come to me and said “whoa, you were kinda harsh. Don’t ‘cha think?” And I’ve had to decide how valid his point might be. And yeh, he’s right sometimes.
My Gorgeous has her struggles and I am useless in some ways to help her. Grace has battles I can’t fight for her, and she doesn’t usually invite me to fight them with her. She is strong, but still needs me to be stronger. Silently at times and obnoxiously at others, I am stronger than she knows, and her battles are my battles, and I wage war on her behalf everyday as I go before the throne of the only One who can win.
My Lovely seems to be coasting along nicely now. Lauren’s confidence has schmushed anxiety into the trunk. I never thought she would be the socialite she has become, with so many friends and a voice that rises so high. She uses her voice now. Who’da thunk it back in the day? I’ve noticed in her loudness she looks to see if I’m watching. I am. But then when she is quiet (it happens), she needs me more than ever to cheer for her. And I pray for her voice to come back in those moments, and that she will hear the voice of God even over her own.
My Enchanting. The wildest one at home, she is most likely to want to hide and disappear and hold on when it’s time to drop her off at Sunday School. A quick wit and sharp tongue on that one, and she needs me for direction. Little Miss Independent thinks she outshines her sisters at being a big girl, and in her own way she does. But Oh Emily your bat swing cannot hit to the outfield today, and right now you are not a Michelangelo at shading and drawing. And the tears come in her frustration. So my heart longs to help her find her strengths, and I rest knowing that her strength will be in the Lord.
But then in my selfishness I consider what’s in it for me? Paul has told me that Lauren already knows what special gift to get me for Mother’s Day. Oh dear, will it come in a plastic container with air holes? “Mommie! No! Stop!” Well Lauren when you say no, does that mean it doesn’t need air holes, or does it mean air holes aren’t that significant since it’s going to die soon anyway? “Mommie!”
In my mind, I consider all the carpooling and soft balling and therapy appointments and the tonsillectomy and bandaids and class projects and homework and bags of groceries and laundry and mud and vacuuming and parties and last-minute-oh-I-forgot-I-need-a-poster-board-by-tomorrow. I think I deserve a self sufficient, chore-loving rainbow Pegasus with sparkle hooves and musical wings and magical eyelashes. But I’m afraid Lauren is getting me a half dead salamander from our creek. And that’s ok… really…it’s fine…I love it….it’s the thought that counts…I don’t want you to do anything big for Mother’s Day…all I really want is just some quality time with my family.
And a rainbow Pegasus.