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Why Mothering is Hard

Mothering is hard because . . .

. . . on Rose's share day when the children are supposed to bring something to school that begins with the letter "R", and I suggest Rose bring a rose or a sprig of rosemary, and after she agrees and helps me pick the plants and put them in a vase, she decides at the last minute that she'd rather bring a box of raisins.

. . . on the morning I have to myself and on a day when Lee is excited to go to school and watch a movie about penguins with his class, he wakes up with a wheezing cough and a runny nose, and despite his pleas to go to school, I must keep him home with me.

. . . I lay wide awake in my bed listening to Lee coughing and wondering what more might be done to help him sleep peacefully. And when I can think of nothing else, I then wonder if he is as distraught as me or if he is already asleep.

. . . I can hardly get through a day without seeing internet articles or hearing a parent or grandparent or magazine telling me to do different and conflicting things, and how, if I don't do them, my child will end up in jail.

. . . the little people always seem to be standing where I need to walk or walking very slowly in front of me when I need to get somewhere quickly.

. . . when Lee and Rose fight and act as if they can't stand one another, and then I separate them, they take a great amount of pleasure trying to secretly get back together and laugh about their naughtiness like little cronies.

. . . everything is so foreign and frightening and seemingly detrimental with the first child.

. . . the children have no tip-it-back-up reflex. So when the milk jug starts to spill, they stand there staring at it as if this fountain of white liquid were a brand new phenomenon and they wonder what will happen next.

. . . everyone seems to frown upon small children having screen time, but they frown even more upon children entertaining themselves in creative ways in public places.

. . . when I give my children the freedom to dress themselves, I must live with the real or imagined looks that others give me when they see the results.

. . . allowing my children to play hard in the backyard means that some of their clothes are ruined and the house is covered in dust and fingerprints.

. . . it gives me the impression that I have control of these little children's futures, and it is so easy to forget that I neither made them nor am going to save their souls. I suppose then that mothering can be rather easy because I don't have to fret about anything. Everything is in God's hands: their education, their personality quirks, their understanding of the bible, their future careers, everything.


Unknown said…
I know these are very real and tough moments, but the way you share about these struggles ("little cronies") makes me laugh and gives me hope. It makes me want to examine things about my job that are super frustrating, and find a way to spin them more humorously. :)

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