Wednesday, September 22, 2010

All That's Missing Is The Ticker Tape

Yesterday was one of those days when I felt like someone should have thrown me a parade for surviving it. Marching bands and floats and those old guys that ride around in those tiny cars, up and down my street all evening long.

It was one of those days when you feel the mantle of motherhood pressing firmly down on your shoulders, weighing you down with all the have-to's and take-care-of's. It was a thankless day of doing the stuff that mothers do and by the time I plopped on the couch once my babes were quiet in their beds, I felt a bit sad that this is what my life is all about.

Washing everyone's sheets and making their beds again. Mowing the lawn. Cleaning the bathrooms. Tending to a very sick Sienna. Up and down the stairs, over and over again. Pushing Austin in the swing. Folding the laundry. Cleaning out the freezer. Cleaning the bathroom again after Sienna's illness caught up with her. It was the same thing over and over and yet a million different chores that kept me busy.

And I find, on days like that, that it can be hard to remember why I chose this life to begin with. I have talents and skills and things to offer that seemingly get lost as I busy myself mothering. Wasn't I made to do more than clean sheets? Isn't there something else I can be doing to contribute to the greater good? Shouldn't I have more a of purpose?

And then today, while making granola bars with Austin as my sous chef, and getting frustrated with his overly eager helping hands, I remembered why I chose this life. Because for Sienna, the biggest part of her feeling better was knowing that I was there. And for Austin, his time in the swing with all of my attention will help him to grow up feeling loved. And for Brad, sinking into a freshly made bed after an exhausting day of 150 teenagers and hours at the duplex, knowing that I thought of him in the midst of my busy and wanted to make his night restful. For my family, showing them that cleanliness really is next to godliness and that it's important to take care of what we have. And for me, because they are what I have. And they are everything. Taking care of them allows me to be my very best me. Raising them right will contribute to the greater good. Being their mother is my purpose. They allow my talents to shine.


(Me and the cutest little sous chef ever )



And I wouldn't have it any other way.



But I sure would enjoy a good parade.

7 comments:

vwbabe said...

Great post Karen. You can always say it just right.

Amy said...

I love this post as well. I was thinking today, would it be bad if I said I couldn't be an art docent at school, if I couldn't participate in Henry's joy type preschool, and if I bagged out on my cub scout calling all because I am spending less and less time at home, doing the job I feel I was born to do?

I feel that when it comes down to it, I am more of a chauffeur and school/church volunteer than I am a mother and a wife. But my guilt keeps me there, still chauffeuring, still saying yes to all the things I don't want to do. Why? I don't know the answer, I just keep waiting for the nervous breakdown to hit. But not having the nerve to scale back my life and truly simplify. Cuz Heaven forbid someone thinks I'm lame or lazy or that I don't do enough for my kids or my community.

Can of worms, Karen, for me at least. And would it hurt the rest of the world to slow down a tiny bit, or at least let me slow down without judgement?

So no, it's not unreasonable to wish for a freakin' parade once in a while.

tharker said...

Beautiful.

Washington Rimmasch Family said...

so nice to know I'm not the only one who feels that way plus you say it so perfectly.

Sarah said...

Totally have those days all the time where I feel like no one appreciates anything I've done. It's a tough feeling to have. I think mom's make the world go round!

Dallin and Ashley said...

You TOTALLY deserve a parade. I don't think I fully appreciated my mother until I started nannying. I never realized what went on "behind the scenes", so to speak. I have a feeling my kids won't fully appreciate everything either, until they are in my shoes. If only we could have had a small dose of perspective when we were young to help mom out. :)

Lisa said...

Yep...I totally get it.