This morning my sweet 2-year-old boy delicately cupped my chin in his dimpled hands, widened his bright, brown eyes, and said to me, “Do laundry. Make dinner.”
I have to admit I was expecting him to profess his unfettered love to me, not give me a to-do list.
I laughed at this unexpected moment but if I’m completely honest, my heart felt an ounce heavier, too.
Lately I’ve felt like my life has been reduced to a list of menial tasks. Many of my friends have careers outside of the home or they at least work part-time. I’ve drastically cut back on the amount of freelance work I do. I have one chapter of the novel I say I’m writing, and it’s not a very good chapter either. When I homeschooled the older children, I at least felt like that was my job. I was a teacher. I was imparting great wisdom to these impressionable souls gifted to me. These days I feel like I am simply the person who cleans up spills, folds clothes, and makes sure permission slips are signed and returned to school.
I don’t write much. I blog sporadically and am always apologizing for my vapid posts. I don’t run (still resting…and hurting. Sigh). I don’t homeschool. Here’s what I do do: I clean. I nag. I wipe snotty noses. I schlep kids around. I worry that I’m doing it all wrong, that I am ruining my kids. I feel like no one notices all that I do. I feel taken for granted, used, and ignored. Wah, wah, wah. Please tell me you have felt this way before, too.
A friend of mine texted me a few weeks ago and asked me if I ever feel invisible. Um, yes. All of the time. I’ve wondered what would happen if I slipped quietly away. Of course, the world would still turn. But my household? It would be even more chaotic and discombobulated than it is now. I remember reading Ladder of Years by Anne Tyler before I had any children and being miffed with the heroine’s selfish behavior. In the novel, 40-year-old Delia Grinstead strolls down a shoreline and just keeps walking, abandoning her husband and three older children. The decision is not a premeditated one, and there was no big fight or breaking point that forced her to walk away from it all. She leaves more on an impulsive whim because she is tired of feeling like a “tiny gnat buzzing around her family’s edges.”
I didn’t get it then. I could not empathize with Delia. Today I have more insight. Today I sometimes feel like that gnat, too, that everyone is swatting away and doesn’t want around to bug them about picking up dirty laundry off the floor or being kind to their siblings.
I’ve taken two pregnancy tests recently (both were negative), not because I really thought I was pregnant (it would have been a miracle) and not even because I am desperately longing for another baby, although I would certainly embrace a new, little life if one was given to me. It was more out of a need to feel useful, to have a sense of purpose, and duty, to be more than a pesky gnat. I’ve written before that babies, while certainly physically exhausting, are beautifully simple to me. Their needs and wants are one in the same. I nurse them when they cry, and they are at least briefly satisfied. They want only mama. I have an excuse to “do nothing” except care for my baby. People allow you that when you have a newborn but when you have older kids, you need to be team manager for the soccer team and make homemade snacks. Or there’s the pressure – real or perhaps just perceived – because you’re “just” an at-home mom.
Lately I’ve found myself pining for those simple, early days of motherhood when it was just my baby and me in a cathedral sort of calm, cloistered off from the rest of the world and to-do lists. The miracle of what happened within my body – the laborious process of growing a human – was obvious as I held the baby in my arms. When I had that pregnancy bump, it was a visible sign of sacrificial love. Those first smiles were big returns for my investment. I felt needed. I had a great purpose. The babies needed my womb to house them. As newborns, they needed my milk and arms to comfort them. As my kids grow older, I feel more like a glorified waitress and maid. My job is to serve (and serve again) and pick up after them, and I’d better not forget to send water bottles with them to school or soccer practice. Sure, there are plenty of bigger teaching moments. I know mothers do far more than keep house, but I do struggle with this dying to self and all this quiet, unnoticed work. There has been a longing in my heart for little ones to nurture – as if I don’t still have young children underfoot (my oldest isn’t even 9 yet, but she’s getting very close!).
I could blame my internal struggle on society and the push for women to do it all. It’s easy to feel like a slacker when you only have four kids whom you no longer homeschool, and you don’t work outside of the home, and your husband even hired a house cleaning service to help you out for a bit. I mean, what exactly do I do all day?
I don’t watch TV. I don’t squander hours on Facebook. I do go to library story time with two littles. I read lots of books. I search for MIA shoes and socks. I bake muffins with sous chefs at my side. I make sure soccer cleats and shin guards are in their place for practice and that soccer balls are round with ample air. I meal plan. I wash dishes. I wipe counters. I kiss boo-boos. I encourage. I tickle. I wrestle wiggly toddlers into diapers.
But too often I am focused on all that I don’t do and on all that I lack. Or I look at my work and think it’s so mundane and useless. What’s the point? Many times I dwell on all that I do wrong: How I may have handled the emotional, raging child the wrong way, how I bark orders too much in the morning to ensure we make it to school on time, how I bite my nails, or ply my kids with Goldfish instead of making homemade crackers from the recipe I found when I was pregnant with my first. (I’m already forgetting about the homemade, healthy pumpkin muffins we made just this week.)
Then I discover notes like this: A “just because” note that should remind me that all this work I do – the routine stuff and the more important stuff too – has meaning that transcends hazardous waste removal.
{She’s asking about my hamstring tear. Sweet girl. }
Those little people do notice and they do love you even when their actions, their hurling of phrases like “I hate you” pierce your heart and cause you to collapse into a heap of self-doubt (or maybe that’s just me).
And you’re probably doing a better job than you think like this must-see video reveals. (Do watch it when you get a chance. My babysitter sent it to me recently, and it was just the pick-me-up I needed.)
I’m traveling through a rough patch right now. People said it would get easier as my kids grew older. I feel like it gets lonelier. I feel more powerless than ever before. There are all these unique people in my midst who have strong wills and their own ideas of how to live their lives. Pregnancy, nursing, babywearing – these were all more obvious signs of love. Now I am more hidden. And so is my work. Being a mom deals far more with that which is invisible. Love cannot be quantified, counted, or priced. It can only be given. Sometimes it’s given in more obvious ways like when you hold a tired child. Sometimes it’s doled out in meal after meal you serve day after day. Sometimes love is offered in a “no, you can’t have an iPod touch even if every other almost 9-year-old in the world has one.” When you give that love, you’re only given rejection and anger in return. Your work is hard. It’s tireless. It brings joy, but it hurts a lot, too. There’s nothing extravagant about it. I am not building skyscrapers. I am not piecing together perfect prose. I’m not saving lives as my husband does on an almost daily basis. There are occasional love notes and hand-picked flowers (thank God for those gifts of gratitude), but there are no raises, promotions, great accolades, and I’ll certainly never be up for a Pulitzer Prize, Grammy, or even finish number one in a race. No podium climbing for me, but there’s another ascending, a drawing closer to Love itself. Motherhood is surely a path to sanctity, especially if we give our work – even the most tedious tasks a greater purpose.
The Jewish philosopher Martin Buber wisely stated, “It is not the nature of our work, but its consecration that is the vital thing.”
All that I have and all that I do, the visible and the invisible – from the bum-wiping to the limit-setting – is not only for my family but for the greater glory as well.
Oh, you caught my mood. It is sometimes so hard and yet feels so trivial, the things that make it hard, it is easier to be doing something you cannot help doing (namely growing a young child internally), than to do the invisible hard work that requires willful doing, growing them outside of you. It is an experience of gnats and death by minutia in those dark moments. I know that hard cave of motherhood, that feels alone. It is then, that having an interior life has to somehow sustain. It is a version of the dark night of the soul, to continue when it feels dry and praise free and not for any reason other than that is how it feels. Prayers.
well said! Watch this and smile! Love you!
Every SAHM has many of these moments, I think, when you get bogged down in the day to day detritus of caring for these souls entrusted to us. And just when you think you can’t take any more, you get a little grace in the form of that note of Rae’s or an unexpected hug from a teenage boys just because it’s taco night, or you went to Costco and there is bacon in the house!
I will be honest . . . this is one reason I like homeschooling. It fills my days completely and I never worry about not doing or being enough. I couldn’t do more. It’s not so much a reason for homeschooling (because I homeschool for a host of more important reasons) but never feeling invisible, or not important, or not involved enough, or that I’m not doing enough, is definitely a side benefit.
I used to joke that I was also an invisible wife and mother! I’m a little further along, with 2 of my children on their own and 2 still at home, one in high school and one in jr. high. For years I was a SAHM who also felt the need to “justify” my choice. In hind sight which is always 20/20, I believe my children benefited from having me around to organize their world. They talk about their happy memories. Hubby, too, couldn’t accomplish what he does out there in the world if he had to take the time to manage all the repsonsibilities I handled. In that, wives are partners and helpmates. Those quieter times were times of prayer and sacrifial love which also taught me a more spiritual way of being in the world. NOW, I work part-time, and frankly, couldn’t handle more without our home life falling apart. (How tired do I want to be? – is a valid question.) I truly believe that what I learned as a SAHM is benefitting my employer now, and my spiritual way of being enhances my work now. Embrace the season of life you are now in. It will pass by all too quickly. There will be chapters in the future when you will surely do other things, but with a richness, wisdom and appreciation of life and people that you are learning now. God Bless everyone who has commented!
This made me cry and laugh out loud. You are an amazing story teller and I know your novel will be a success one day when its time comes. For now, revel in the mundane meditation of it all. You know who is watching from above and below ;)
Oh Kate, I wish I could come and hang out with you all and give you a big hug. The daily round is hard. And I know if homeschooling were taken away from me I would feel a great loss. Even knowing it’s the right choice for your family doesn’t mean you aren’t mourning its loss.
At the same time I do really appreciate what you have: the ability to slow down and focus on the little ones, to not have them get lost in the shuffle as sometimes I worried my younger ones are. Oh there is no perfect way to do this, we are all just muddling through as best we are able, aren’t we?
I love the title of this post. I love your insights and wisdom and the way you share not just the conclusion all wrapped up in a neat bow but the messy process of trying to figure it all out, to muddle through. The mess and the love go hand in hand, don’t they?
I wish I had more to say, but I just want to let you know I’m reading, thinking of you, praying for you.
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Beautifully written and just what this Mama needed to read today. Check out Auntie Leila’s recent post, too. I think you’ll like it. http://ourmothersdaughters.blogspot.com/2013/11/affirmation-in-thick-of-things.html
Good Morning Kate. You always seem to capture something that I am going through, at just the right moment. I have been feeling the exact.same.way that you portray here. What is my purpose? I have four children as well. I do home school the older three, but I have had feelings lately of going ahead and sending them to school. I feel like a failure every day. But then God reminds me of the good things I do, if I let Him. For instance, as I was doing the dishes this morning, I remembered laughing hysterically with my son (whom I have a hard time with) about a science lesson. It was fun! And I was developing a relationship with him, aside from being a gnat. ;) Besides all that though, I have also had that horrible invisible feeling lately. My youngest will be 3 in January. Every month I think about having another baby, but I question why. I hate getting up at night. I don’t really enjoy nursing. I love that I have a baby to take care of. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE my children and I LOVE taking care of them. But you’re right, babies are outward signs of love. It is easy to “see” our love. It stares us in the face all day, and all night. When they are older, it’s a different kind of love, a love you can’t really visibly see. I am struggling with that pretty hard. This new season I have been thrust into is not something I really want, but it appears it is something God wants for me. For now. He is teaching me to let go of the world. To always look to Him for approval. I didn’t grow up with God, so I never had anyone to tell me that God is the One that matters. I was raised to rely on myself and to go for the gold. So I did. God is putting me through some sort of purification process. Well… enough about me, back to you. I just want to share one more thing that I have learned in the past few days. Look to the Blessed Mother. She is the ultimate guide when it comes to invisibility. There isn’t much said about her in the Bible, so the Protestants have decided she’s not very important. Thank GOODNESS we have the Catholic Church that values EVERYTHING we do, and not just what gets put out in the public view. Mary did lots of things that were invisible. SHE RAISED JESUS. She pondered God’s Word in her heart. She said YES. God has been leading me to her, in more ways than one. I think she is the epitome of invisibility. She didn’t seek outward signs of acceptance. She already knew she had it with God, and then with Jesus. I feel your pain. I was crying as I read your post. I walked away from my phone to finish my dishes, but there were these words I wanted to say to you. So I put my dishes down and turned on my computer. ;) Keep up the good work, mom. You are doing so much good. It’s just hard to see it right now. Please know that as I tell you these things, I am telling myself these things also because I need to hear them too. Your fruits will come. My fruits will come. And actually, if we look hard enough, we have buds each and every day. We just have to be looking in the right light to see them, God’s light. God bless you!!
You are an excellent mom and the perfect mom for your four little ones. And when they are all grown up and asking you for help with their children, you will realize that those menial things really did matter.
Give the hamstring tear a little more credit. Sometimes the physical nature of our beings, especially the parts that help us be ambulatory bipeds, is the over-arching culprit. Yes, the other stuff is there, too, but c’mon man! – you TORE a major part of your body! Prayers come with this for swift healing and the opportunity to rest and do so.
Motherhood is not only a tricky balancing act, but it’s an *everchanging* act, and sometimes I just want it all to settle down. Forever. :)
I now have a college sophomore, a senior in high school, and a 6th grader, and sometimes these girls need me just as much as they did when they were little. The work shifts from so much physical stuff to a lot of emotional stuff, but they still need so much. Heck … *I* need so much from the people I love, too.
I think all of these feelings — these honest, tough, universal feelings — are not only part of motherhood, but just part of life. Life is a constant series of changes, challenges, triumphs and disappointments. The walk to the end is hard, but you summed it up beautifully … for the greater glory.
Also? I do sometimes still threaten to stop being the one who does the constant declutter job on things like that one kitchen counter that collects *everything.* If I ever stopped all the little, unseen chores I do in a day, my family would probably faint. They’d shake their heads and say, “When did we start living in the house of hoarders? Where did all this clutter come from? Quick…someone find Mom.” :)
Hugs to you, Kate. It *is* tough in the trenches. The trenches don’t ever seem to totally let up, though — not in this life. So we have to keep turning to each other for those hugs. :)
I seem to always think longingly of any time but the one I’m in. I remember when my first was born and I said, “It will be how long before she can sit up?!?” And I still look forward to when they are old enough to see more, read more, understand more and we can share more. But when the school day is done, I long so very much to snuggle with my baby and I relish every night when her body lies limp against my chest and her head is snuggled into my shoulder and her heart is beating againt mine and I want to vanish into that moment and remember it and cherish it. Every moment, every age, every season is so fleeting it can be hard to savor it while it is present but also hard to appreciate while it is there. I’m sure you know better than I do how each stage has its joys and its challenges.
Lately, I’ll spare the reasons, I’ve been dealing with ample bodily fluids from multiple small creatures. I’m in awe how much of my day is devoted to stenches and cleaning them. But I remembered something I read about Mother Teresa. She would request the most despised job, which was usually the cleaning of the bathroom. She asked to do the jobs that no one else wanted. And I thought, if a Saint would request such a job, I must be greatly blessed to be given such a job. It is a job no one jumps and down to claim, just like the dusting, de-cluttering, diaper-changing, laundry laden days, but it can be the unseen jobs that give God the greatest glory. Sometimes I think, when we are most invisible to the world, that is when He is the most visible to us.
Loving motherhood is never easy but I greatly admire your insight and understanding. God Bless you in your beautiful vocation! You’re doing wonderfully!
You spoke the words trapped in my heart of late. My youngest is two and I feel the same way about the possibility of a new baby–should one come. The newborn gives such ‘easy’ structure to one’s life. You have clear tasks, and meaning in them; better yet, no one questions them, not even the voices in your head. Now that my baby isn’t a baby, I struggle with my role in the world. No longer teaching at the college level, my life is so different from what it was. I did a job in front of a crowd. Now I am ‘hidden’ from people outside my family. I would much rather think up arts and crafts activities than midterm assignments, but not entirely. Of late, I keep my mind active in ways that no one sees. I live a life that no one sees. I am here, but I’m not, and so I struggle, like you, to hang on to the sense of self that transcends the mundane, but that is also, ironically, anchored within it.
God bless!
I wish I knew you in real life. I’d give you a hug. Here’s a virtual one: {—HUG!—}
I take anti-depressants, and I sometimes still need to repeat the mantra “make it through today.” Tomorrow may not always be better, but making it through today is a victory to celebrate. This world is full of sin and pain, but heaven awaits us. Pray, pray, pray! God hears you and loves you more than you can fathom.