I have been doing this thing called "mothering" for just about eight years now. In many ways it is simply hard for me to believe. I look at their long bodies in their beds and wonder how we all got here so fast. (Wasn't it just yesterday they were learning how to walk?) In other ways it's very easy to believe - my life feels so utterly and entirely other than from what it was before children.
Besides my children, I have definitive proof that I have been at stay-at-home-mom for eight years. You can see the lines on my face (both worry and laughter), the gray in my hair (just worry), and the softness in places on my body I didn't realize could get soft. There is proof in my closet: clothes I have hanging there that I think are still somewhat stylish, I suddenly realize I bought when Amelia was two. Therefore the somewhat stylish shirt is six-years-old and not so stylish, but I'll wear it anyway - it's all I've got!! (And is it satisfaction I feel or sadness that the shirt still fits?) Lastly, I now hear my mother's voice coming out of my own mouth: "Do you treat your friends that way? Then why, in the world, would you treat your sister that way? Surely, I have raised you better."
I never used to say surely.
In approaching eight years, I have been thinking about how short and long these eight years have been. And I understand in a way I didn't before that I am and always will be a mother, even a stay-at-home-mom to a certain degree, if I give my daughters the home I long to give them. Always a mother, a whole life of mothering. There is no finish line in this journey. If I'm not worrying about friends, then I'm worrying about boyfriends, then I'm worrying about husbands. Today I'm praying for strength to make it through the day and tomorrow I will be praying to Jesus to help me bear the grief of seeing them pack up their room and walk out the door. There are moments when I want my life back - my old life that didn't require so much sacrifice and surrender, scrubbing toilets and fixing meals, constantly, constantly attending to others' needs before my own. There are moments, long moments, I need space from them but somehow, at the same time, I want my girls here with me - right here so I can see them, reach out and touch them, hear them and get to see what they say, think, feel and do. I want to protect them, shield them, shelter them. For always...and I do mean always.
Ah, but then they would be total weirdos and I would be certifiably crazy.
Ah, I've been feeling this for sure. You've put my exact sentiments down so eloquently and perfectly! ~m
ReplyDelete:) 8 years!!!!!
ReplyDeleteI was thinking similar thoughts last week:
Our kids just went to camp for a couple of nights and on the first night Brent said, "it's going to be weird when we're empty nesters!" uh, yes it is.
But the funny thing is, I never thought we'd say that. We LOVE our marriage. We LOVE each other and we have FUN together. But that night, not knowing what they were doing and knowing they were more on their own than they have ever been... well it was quiet. A bit too quiet. And I realized how crazy, crazy blessed I am to be a mom.
There were many nights that I couldn't wait for them to leave, but now that I am past those young and really hard years, I'm not so sure :)