Motherhood. The most difficult thing I have ever done. Hands. Down. I know I’m not alone in this. But did everyone else know this would be the case? I didn’t. I regularly find myself asking, “why did no one ever tell me being a mom meant…[fill in the blank]?”. Not that I would make any other decision. Still, I feel like I should have been warned. Maybe someone actually did tell me these things and I just wasn’t listening. After all, I remember seeing moms with matted hair, unidentifiable crusted food all over their clothes, wrangling a child kicking and screaming out of the grocery store, while leaving another child to stagger along aimlessly as the onlookers gawked. “Geez, what a hot mess,” I’d think. But I’m that mom. How could I be so naive and arrogant? I had no right and no perspective. But I knew that wouldn’t be me.
When I first got married, I had the highest hopes and dreams for my future family. But I had not idea what I was in for. My first son was born and everything else immediately fell off the board. I was determined to do anything and everything I could to pour into his life and guide him to Christ and the joys and blessings of following Him. Even being home with him, I found that by the time Shug got home from work I was hours past done. I was in a complete fog and stupor. It slowly got better, but not much. His first year, I never had child care or a babysitter, and I can count on one hand how many times I even had family watch him so I could grab a hair cut or go to the doctor. A couple years later we had added two more baby boys. Suddenly, it was painfully obvious that all the time and flexibility in the world wouldn’t make it possible for my two hands to keep up with these six.
How are other moms doing this? I can’t. It is a daily, hourly, and sometimes minute by minute reminder that only God can. Davis and Rachael Carman of Apologia eloquently explained this at their keynote session for the Homeschool Curriculum Summit 2.0. I try to verbalize this when things get dicey. “I can’t” has to be followed by, “but God can.” I’m bent on doing whatever it takes. I’m a do-er. But no matter how hard I try to set myself up for success, I will still fall short. I rely on so many tools and tricks. I have created routine and predictability for my pre-K, toddlers, and babies. I have taken mom time-outs when those fateful times arise that I find the limit to my patience that I never before knew I had. I self-medicate with coffee and chocolate. I will even pop the kids in front of a television or iPad for a short time. But none of these tools will ever be enough. I have to go to Him.
In fact, this blog post is part of that. I am a linguistic and solitary learner/processor. Writing and reading what I wrote helps me to sort and understand information. I make lots of lists and I re-make my lists. I love post-its and paper. But ironically, I’ve never journaled or had a diary for any long stretch of time. This probably stems from the fact that I’m also a giver and chronically over-committed. It’s always been hard for me to take time to be alone and focus on me. Obviously, becoming a mom did not help that. But I told Shug after my very first blog post how helpful it was to me actually to share the words and encouragement I knew in my head and my heart but I hadn’t gotten out on paper, and revisit the Word on these topics.
Earlier today, my world was crumbling as my best made plans for some math time with my oldest came to a halt with some pre-K defiance. The time left for my middle son’s quiet time was quickly expiring as was the littlest’s nap time. It doesn’t seem that extreme now, but in the midst of it, it became a power struggle as I tried to maneuver holding on to what little control I had left. Luckily, Shug had just wrapped up a project and I tagged him in so I could take a 10 minute breather. I wanted to just go lie down in bed in the fetal position and wallow away in self-pity about the impossible situation of getting my 5 year old to complete a math problem when he simply did not want to.
However, not two minutes later, I felt God nudge me back down to the office to write a blog post in the midst of the turmoil. I sat down and told Google to turn on the music. The words pouring out of the speaker were exactly what I needed to hear. “When every day’s just another struggle and every choice is an act of war, gotta pray, gotta press on to the prize worth fighting for.” Thank you Jamie Kimmett. This was just what I needed to hear and God knew it.
I then pulled out my copy of Motherhood: Hope for Discouraged Moms. In it, Brenda Payne wrote: “Perhaps you are taking God’s call to motherhood as seriously as you should and are pouring your heart and soul into the task. In the process, you have been overwhelmed because this way of working asks far more of you than you can give in your own strength.” Yes. Exactly the insight and encouragement my heart needed. Not by my strength, but with His. I started writing, my spirits lifted and I felt energized. What a rollercoaster. But boy am I thankful for how quickly the valleys turn back in to peaks!
