My Thoughts on Motherhood (Mother's Day 2013)

Photo taken on Mother's Day 2013

For many years, my mother had in her possession a handmade jewelry box that was proudly displayed centered on top of her bedroom dresser.  It was a simple cardboard box about the size of two bricks stacked on top of each other with a lid that folded closed inside the top opening.  It was covered in uncooked wagon wheel-shaped pastas that had been glued over the entire surface of the box with what I imagine must have been Elmer's glue, and it was finished off with a glaze of glossy red spray paint. This jewelry box had been handcrafted by my younger brother during his elementary school days, and I'm pretty sure it was given to my mother as either a Mother's Day or Christmas gift.

For some reason, I have thought a lot about that box as Mother's Day has approached this year. I know it wasn't the prettiest of things, and it didn't match the color of the room's décor or the bedspread.  Truth be told, it was kind of clunky looking and, well, it was made of cardboard and noodles.  But if you were to open it up, you would find all of my mother's nicest necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings.  I know, because as a young girl, I loved to open up that box and play with my mother's jewelry.

What's impressed me the most as I reflect upon that jewelry box is the fact that my mother treated it as a fully functional piece of furniture and she didn't stash it away somewhere unseen; she graciously accepted the gift as it was given and proudly used it for its intended purpose.  In so doing, I would guess that she sent a message to the giver, my brother, that she was grateful for his efforts and that she loved and appreciated him for it. Because she used it over such a long period of time, she sent a message to me.  Now that I think about it, there must have been a certain amount of humility involved in giving up owning an actual, store-bought jewelry box in favor of one that was awkward and, needless to say, looked nothing like a jewelry box.

I've recently been thinking of that box as a metaphor for motherhood.  I once had expectations for myself and what I thought my life would be like as a mother.  Then I became a mother.  I know I never anticipated that motherhood would be so awkward at times.  Like a misplaced pasta noodle that didn't line up in perfect symmetry on the box, I've had many moments where I've been a bit "off" as I've tried to navigate my way in my responsibility and role as a mother.  There has been a certain amount of humility involved in giving up my ideals of perfection in favor of accepting myself and my life with all of its imperfections. And maybe motherhood doesn't always look quite exactly as I once thought it would, but I gratefully accept the gift given of God, and I love and appreciate Him for it, because I know that just like my mother's jewelry box, some of my most precious possessions and experiences--my family, my children, and the good and bad times that we share--are safely contained within the "cardboard box" that is diaper changings, endless laundry, interrupted sleep at night, a sink full of dirty dishes, messy floors, etc.

Truer words were never spoken:  It's what's inside that counts!
    

This post authored by Amber

Wheat and Tares

Mother's Day is an interesting yearly phenomenon.  I often hear grumblings and rumors that it is a day that most women do not enjoy.  I try to understand where the disappointment lies.  Perhaps it has something to do with what I consider the "wheat and tares" nature of motherhood (or life in general, for that matter).

I think women tend to be extremely critical of personal failings when they evaluate their lives and see areas of unrealized expectations.  Inadequacies often become the glaring "tares" that make it hard to recognize that there is "wheat" as well.  When we spend a day to specifically reflect on mothers, many women often feel guilty that they do not measure up to some preconceived ideal. With everyone touting the wonderful things that mothers are and do, it is easy to get wrapped up in personally considering what we aren't and what we don't do.  The "tares" become dominant in the mind's eye.

For me, I have to remember that "wheat" and "tares" is a package deal.  As much as I would want life to be all "wheat," I simply cannot have one without the other, and that's okay. If I am to enjoy the good that life has to offer, I have to be willing to accept that there will be bad as well.  If anything, this intricate weaving of opposition helps create a sense of balance.  Focus too much on the one, while neglecting the other, and life feels unsettled and disproportionate.

For instance, when the primary children were invited to go up on the stand during sacrament meeting to sing a song this Mother's Day, Garrett was very conflicted about whether or not to go.  I encouraged him to walk up to the front when it was time, but he hesitated and said he didn't want to, so I told him he didn't have to and he could stay sitting with me.  This must have caused some sort of turmoil and frustration within him so he blurted out (very loudly, I might add), "I hate you, Mom!  You're a butt crack!"  Yeah, not exactly the sentiment you want to hear, much less, have the rest of the congregation hear (especially since I thought we had broken him of the habit of using the word "butt crack."  I thought he had long since moved on to the more sophisticated insult of "idiot").

The fact is, were I a new mother, that would have mortified me.  Instead, I had to cover my face to stifle my outburst of laughter.  I'm grateful that a few years of experience have helped me be comfortable in my own skin.  I can recognize that it's nothing personal, nor does it fully reflect the kind of mother I am (or the kind of person my child is) when the "tares" are on display.  I can look past Garrett's actions, accept them, even, and move on, knowing fully that I will have much more "wheat" in the long run. Because of his expressive, passionate nature, I have to deal with a few inappropriate outbursts.  I'll take them because it is also his expressive, passionate nature that inspires the loving and joyous things that he says and does constantly.  If I can't have one without the other, then I prefer to take it all!

I think I am at peace with my "wheat and tares" life.  It's a blessed life!

This post authored by Amber

Pedestals

 Mother's Day 2011

Our bishop was driving by our house as Jason was taking pictures of the children and me.  He was kind enough to stop and offer to take one of the entire family.What a great Mother's Day gift!

I recall a sacrament meeting talk given some years ago on Mother's Day when the speaker said, "Every year on this day, we put mothers on such a high pedestal, that all the women go home feeling guilty."  Well, since then, I've let go of all unreal expectations I've had for myself and for my children...well, at least my Mother's Day expectations. 

Why should this Sunday be any different, simply because we're supposed to honor mothers?  I know I will still have my "battles of the bench" in trying to keep three rowdy boys reverent.  I will likely struggle to console a child who is in a great gulf of woe and misery because his brother is now sitting in his spot. I apologize if the plastic dinosaur, thrown in a fit of tantrum, hit you in the back of the head.  I'll have the intuition to hand the babe off to daddy just before she spits everything up that I just managed to feed her, and I'll try not to laugh too loudly at the sight of him dripping wet in his suit.  (I'll even do the laundry...eventually.)  I should definitely still expect to be called upon to remove my son from nursery for using the chairs as a weapon.  I will delve into my arsenal of dirty looks to flash across the Primary room at the son who is giggling with his neighbor when he's supposed to be singing Praise to the Man. I will do all this, and more, and it won't seem so bad.  I'll just "chalk it up" to another three-hour block survived, and there's no guilt in that.  In fact, I think I'll just take my place on that pedestal, thank you very much!

This post authored by Amber

Job Perks

I love being a mother! 

I'll be honest, though.  There are some moments when that sentiment is pushed back into the recess of my mind (like when we are trying to get a decent picture of me and my three boys on Mother's day before we end up being late for church. Yeah, the picture up top is totally Photoshopped). 

There are days when I wish the mundane task of changing a diaper was just that--mundane.  "Insane" is a more accurate description of what takes place when I change a two year-old who hates being laid on his back.  Weeping,wailing, and gnashing of teeth occurs (and sometimes it's the both of us)!

There are days when I get so tired of telling Brevin to finish the task at hand and stop getting side-tracked, or I loose my patience with Spencer who won't answer a question if he thinks he'll get in trouble but will run and hide under his covers instead.

Yeah, there are days...

...and then there are Mother's days where I get to watch my excited children clamour to be seen while singing at the top of their lungs, "Mother, dear, I love you so!" during sacrament meeting.  There are Mother's days where Spencer repeatedly announces, "Happy Mother's day, Mom!" all throughout the day.  And it is a happy Mother's day, because I get handmade gifts and handwritten notes, like this:

That's when I am reminded that, yeah, I really do love being a mother!  Now I know why my mother was always so happy!

This post authored by Amber