I have a theory. I’m not claiming it’s valid, true, or noteworthy. But it feels true and that is good enough for today.
There are those who are natural born mothers and I am not one of them.
I’m not saying that natural born mothers don’t feel inadequate at times. I’m not saying that motherhood isn’t oppressively difficult for every person who is lucky enough to undertake it. I’m not saying that being a NBM is either right or wrong.
Take Kathy, for instance. She has seven children, one of whom has disabilities. She has been broken and rebuilt, faced challenges to her mothering, crisis of faith and family, and still talks vaguely about having another child. She blogs lovingly about tiny socks and soft blankets upon learning of the birth of her fourth, did you read that, FOURTH child. (Kathy is going to vehemently protest me putting her in the Natural Born Mother category. However, it’s kind of like those people who protest that they are not organized. You can’t argue with the fact that their socks are color coded).
Another example of a NBM is my sister. She is the mother of four and works full-time. She said to me the other day, “When I hear my kids cry, I want to sob with them.” In contrast, hearing my kids cry makes me want to search for the person who is supposed to be taking care of them.
A natural born mother may even have the capacity to love not only her own, but other people’s children, she may feel that no matter how overwhelmed she is, it’s “time” to have another child, she probably not only read the thousands of parenting books out there, but succesfully had even one of their strategies actually work. Or she may have not read any parenting books at all and just seemed to know what was right for her children.
I have two kids, my youngest has health problems, my oldest has what I like to call Personality. The thought of having three children is as appealing to me as volunteering to perform surgery–on myself. I could make a reasonable argument that my life is complicated, that I am a single mother Monday through Friday, that I am starting a Masters degree in January and own a small business. Those are valid reasons why putting off having more children may be logical. But that is not why I can’t imagine having another child right now. You see, raising my children feels like visiting a foreign country with no idea what language is spoken or whether the people love or hate me, whether I’m eating raw hamburger or cow brain. In fact, let’s just for argument’s sake make this country exist on the planet Mars. Yes, that feels about right.
Sometimes I feel guilty. Sometimes I feel sad. Sometimes (almost everyday) I think, “Next year, when my youngest is in pre-school, I will have six hours a week to myself. So I can do things ALONE.” Things like pee, shower, exercise, work, think, sit naked, join the circus, sky dive, argue with myself, read, and maybe even shop. SHOP. Did you hear the immortal ringing of the cash register when you read that? Did you hear it ringing without any kids yelling, spitting, stealing candy, barfing or lecturing, “NO MOM NO!”?
I adore my kids. I treasure their joys and sorrows, I mourn for their sadness. But, I feel that they need more than I can give. More than I have.
And so, today I guess I feel reflective and sorrowful. But next year when I’m alone for those six hours, maybe I’ll feel Okay. Okay enough to think about having more. Okay enough to sit in a bubble bath and read. Okay enough to be okay with whatever decision I make.
Today I feel on the side of NOT NBM. I’m at that- who’s kids are these anyways- feeling. It’s not fun. For me of for them.
Some days I do feel sort of like a NBM. I feel like I can do what I need to do. I can comfort, teach, help… but not all the time. My MIL had 9 children. I don’t think that you can have that many children and NOT be a NBM. She is naturally patient. I think that has to be a MAJOR requirement to handling that many children.
#4 could be becoming any day now. Somedays it’s really exciting and I long for a baby to hold. Other days I just think I’m a complete nut case for even considering it.
It’s so challenging to be a mother because I want to be able to do everything right- right now! I want to be able to do whatever I want. I want everyone to listen to me and do what I tell them to do. I want to be happy and not be yelling.
I guess I am not much different than my children…
Hi, I am Kathy’s cousin and I don’t want any more either! I do not have anything beneficial left to offer anyone at this point in time, let alone another child who totally depends on its parents. I am afraid I am the complete opposite of Kathy, save for the fact that people also accuse me of being “organized.” When I see all the families in my community with 3 kids (it seems like EVERYONE has 3+ kids), I get wistful for maybe 5 seconds and then I remind myself about how cute babies are when YOU are not the one responsible for them! I never thought I would be this kind of mother, but here I am. I’m just not cut out for any more kids.
THANK YOU!!! I love my kids with a surprising depth of emtotion, but that being said, I am a completely rotten parent. People sometimes talk the fun of climbing through McDonald’s playland with their kids, or romping on the ground with them. I cannot imagine, under any circumstances, myself inside a McDonalds playland. I often worry that having more kids will ultimately ruin all of them, as I am moving slowly closer to basket-case.
I am really enjoying my children as they develop into rational and interesting “older children”, but even with that, listening to hour long lectures about pirates or dinorsaurs or butterflies — YIKES. I feel sooo guilty for feeling that way.
I have tried to erase those feelings from my persona and pretend I’m not that way. It doesn’t work. So now I teeter between guilt, exsasperation, exhaustion, and anger. I’m plenty happy, too, except for the times that I’m not. I mean, really. I’m happy most of the time, don’t get me wrong.
But when things don’t go right, watch out…
“that I am a single mother Monday through Friday, that I am starting a Masters degree in January and own a small business.”
Sounds as if you are trying to fit your children into your life, maybe try fitting your life into your children. Take a breath, look at your life. Do not run from your children…. RUN to them.
“But, I feel that they need more than I can give. More than I have.”
So give up all you give to your business, why take on a degree at this time? Move into a smaller house, get a less expensive car…you chose to have them, choose to let them have you. They are worth it, YOU are worth it.
Lots of people mistake me for a NBM. I can see why, I guess. I have five children born in the space of 8 years. I’ll probably have more. I even homeschool them. But I so REBEL at that label. I hate it when people tell me “I could never do what you are doing. You are just special” because I never thought I could do it either. I never even thought I wanted to.
Ten years ago I was the breadwinner for our family. I have an advanced degree, a good job, and no plans for a family. When our first child surprised us, my hubby stayed home with her. He said to me, “If you stay at home with the baby, I’ll come home to find you sitting around naked surrounded by piles of books and newspapers with the baby in the other room eating out of the cat box.” I figured he was probably right.
But God had other plans for us. We were told strongly by the spirit that I needed to come home full time, and two years later I did. It terrified me. I typed up a mission statement for myself, with lots of goals and objectives. I scheduled time out of the house every day. I was afraid I would loose my sanity and be unable to function. Condensed story: I didn’t loose my sanity, but I didn’t suddenly turn into a Holly Homemaker either. Reality is more complex than that. I have continued to follow the spirit, including having additional children when I felt prompted to. I have developed homemaking skills I never expected (or wanted). I now sprout beans, grind wheat, can tomatoes, and remove melted crayons from laundry. Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I don’t. I keep doing it because I know this is where God wants me to be and what he has asked me to be doing.
I don’t feel like a NBM, but I think it’s something that one can develop. I think sometimes we sell ourselves short if we label ourselves and decide this is “who we are” without realizing that “we can change and grow.”
And they DO grow up! Fast.
Lest I sound too negative, let me add that I am now grateful and happy to be where I am. I just wanted to point out that I didn’t always know it would be that way, and I don’t think I have some odd combination of likes and dislikes that make me better able to mother than other women. A willing heart goes a long way.
And I agree that the times I am the happiest are the times I am the most connected with my husband and children. When I decide that I need “space” and mentally check out I feel frustrated and overwhelmed. When I surrender to motherhood (I read a book by that name once…high powered career woman who gave birth to four sons in four years) I experience joy.
Aimee–that’s an interesting approach. One that I try. Daily. I realize that my life may sound as though I spend a lot of mental energy away from my children, however, the reality of it is that I spend two hours a day working on my own pursuits. Those two hours take place before they wake up and after they go to bed. When I start my degree, my husband will watch the children for the four hours a week that I will be away. Something I don’t feel guilty about. At all.
So, in all candor, I don’t think there is anything wrong with feeling like a NBM or a non-NBM. We all have to figure out what works for us. I wish motherhood came more naturally to me. But it doesn’t. And that’s okay too.
Well, all I can say is that I have an image in my head of what a woman with seven kids is like, and I\’m not it.
I agree that NBMs exist. Women who run preschools for fun are NBMs.
I\’ll never forget the day I read Marjorie Hinckley\’s description of summertime at her house, when her kids were little. She said her favorite sound was the screen door slamming as her children ran inside from playing. I realized my favorite sound was the screen door slamming when my children ran OUT. She said she cried on the first day of school. I often felt like crying on the last day. I felt like a total non-woman.
I think it\’s important to acknowledge who we are as mothers. I spent many guilty years trying to be someone I wasn\’t.
Once when I had four kids I confided in my mom that I had a problem: I felt more like I was my kids\’ sibling, not their parent. She said, \”But you are their spiritual sibling!\” I said, \”No, that\’s not what I mean. I mean, I\’m still waiting for the mom to show up around here and start getting things done.\” She didn\’t know what to say to that…
I disagree that spending more time with your children will automatically make you enjoy being with them more. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it\’s just the opposite. I tried Aimee\’s approach for ten years, then I bottomed out. I didn\’t start feeling sane again until I started building an identity that didn\’t revolve around my children. And that meant spending time focused on things other than them.
And I\’m darn glad sprouting wheat isn\’t a requirement for being a good mother, because then I\’d really be sunk.
Okay, I’ll admit it. I feel like a NBM. Or, at least, I did. When my kids were little, it was the most natural thing in the world for me to love them, to want to be with them, to snuggle with them, to get down on the floor and play with them. It’s now that they’re OLDER that I sometimes wonder what in the heck I think I’m doing trying to be a parent! But I know many moms for whom just the opposite is true. Moms like Justine. Mara, maybe you’ll be one of those moms. Maybe parenting will suddenly become joyful once your boys hit puberty. Ugh. I can’t imagine it myself, but . . .
Seriously, though, I think it’s the whole *utter dependence* issue that some women have a hard time dealing with when their children are small. Me, I *like* my kids to need me. It’s when they start strutting their *independence* that I get panicky. I’m being a little facetious here, but I really do believe that some women are better (or, rather, more natural) mothers of little ones while other women are better suited to parent older kids.
All that being said, I think it’s important to note that one of the things that made it easier for me to love my role as mommy when my kids were little was the fact that I was never JUST mommy. I always had other things going on–grad school, teaching at BYU, my own writing . . .
And, lest I be misunderstood, I was NOT a perfect mom when my kids were small. I was often frustrated and overwhelmed. But I think I had good instincts and I know I loved being with my children. A lot of that came, I’m sure, from the fact that I had a great mother myself–a mother who genuinely *liked* her kids. So, yeah, being a mom came naturally. It didn’t feel forced. I didn’t ever really feel like I was floundering much. (Ah, those were the days . . .)
Being a WIFE on the other hand is down-right confounding to me. Having been raised by a strong, independent single mom, I have no idea how to do the partner thing. My husband is a great guy, and I love him dearly, but I often forget to consult with him when I make major decisions. And I almost always put the kids before him. That’s wrong, I know (I think), but it’s what comes naturally.
How about the rest of you? Any NBW (Natural Born Wives) out there?
Mara, I just realized that what I wrote above may seem to contradict something I told you while you were in Utah. So, just to clarify: While I personally found more joy, more *magic* in mothering my children when they were little, that doesn’t mean that it hasn’t, in many ways, become *easier* to mother them now that they’re older. I’m referring, specifically, to one of my children who had, um, Personality, when he was a wee tyke. He still has personality, but he’s got it under control now.
So don’t despair!
How I have loved reading all of these intriguing responses. Can I just say that I love this? This, meaning all of the musings and ponderings on motherhood.
As far as whether I am an NBM or not…I am caught in the midst of a huge internal conflict trying to figure that out. all of this has made me think a lot…
I feel totally helpless in some ways. I feel like I am fighting against becoming a mother I don’t want to be, because I have to be…to please others, please my husband, please everyone that looks at me and thinks I”m a great mom, or doesn’t think that…
What I mean is, I feel like I am playing a part I don’t want to play, because that’s what I”m supposed to be. I definitely want and need an identity outside of mothering my daughter, but I don’t know how to get there. I don’t know where to start. Where do I begin?
And how do I justify it to other people? Maybe I don’t even need to.
It seems to me that more than being a NBM, or not being NBM, there are just different types of mothers.
My mother was a baby mother(probably like Sharlee) and she had nine babies. My friend’s mother didn’t connect with her children until they were well into adulthood. Isn’t possible that, even if it doesn’t feel comfortable now, it might later? Or vice versa?
Something inside of me says that it’s not good to give up all being an NBM. Afterall, these gifts all come from Heavenly Father in due time anyway. Maybe your children will need an NBM when they are going into the MTC.
Maybe?
Courtney–This is my problem with not “giving up” on being an NBM. You assume that God wants it to feel natural. You assume that is the end-goal. What if it isn’t? I’ve learned many wonderful and terrible lessons from my mothering experience. You see, with my first baby, everything felt natural. I mothered him joyously for two and a half years without a hitch. It was the approach and arrival of my second (problem pregnancy, PPD, undiagnosed illness for two and a half years, continual health issues) that shook my world. And I have learned more in the time when I have felt like an alien than I ever did during my more “natural” years. I have learned lessons that I treasure like the importance of creating an identity of one’s own, not taking my children’s actions as a personal assault on my parenting, like the art of listening, caring and disciplining.
I wouldn’t take back the last two and a half years. It has shaped who I am. And I think those lessons have made me better, not worse.
I think it’s true that mothering feels more “natural” to each of us at different stages. It probably depends a lot on which age of kids you like in general. If you were a teacher, what would you choose to teach? Preschool? 1st grade? 5th grade? Junior high? High school? At church, where would you rather hang out (as in, fulfill a calling)? Nursery? Primary? YW? For me, that’s easy. Primary. Junior Primary, to be specific. I love kids that age (3-8). (I love nursery age kids too; just not so many of them all at once!)
See, for me the problem with teenagers is that they look like they should know better. (Well, at least most of them do.) They *look* almost grown-up, so I figure they should act, think, reason like grown-ups. And when they don’t, it surprises and disappoints me.
So, with three teenage boys in the house, I spend a lot of time being surprised and disappointed these days.
A good friend of mine, on the other hand, didn’t have any idea what to do with her kids when they were little, but she adores them now that they’re teenagers.
Go figure.
Sharlee, you have averted a serious crisis for me! I think I need to embrace my strengths and forgive myself of my weaknesses. I have been trying for years to “feel” differently about my small children. I love them and adore them, and we do laugh and sing and dance. But it just doesn’t come naturally to me.
My two oldest children, who are soon to be descending into the tween years, are just “waking up” to me. I am enjoying their company more and more every day. I think if I can accept and accentuate my strengths, maybe I’ll be a better mother.
Sharlee, I’m glad you’re in my life.
Maralise, thank you for bringing this up. We may be two peas in a pod after all. Take deep breaths and just keep swimming. We’ll make it.
Angie–You say you don’t feel like a NBM. I can understand that completely. Here is where the logical leap baffles me…if so, what is your gut-deep, honest reason to have more?
Kristen–the only comfort I have to give is that you’re not alone. And you don’t have to justify having a life of your own to anyone. Not hubby, not baby, neighbors, bishop, ward members, friends, mom, dad. I can’t imagine that God would give women so many wonderful gifts and not allow/expect them to have a unique identity, one separate and equal to their husbands and children.
Bekah and Amber–Welcome!
I just want to emphasize something that has occured to me while responding to these comments. Again, I think this issue is less about being a NBM or non-NBM. I think it is less about what age and stage of child you feel most natural around (although I am much encouraged by Sharlee and Justine’s hope-giving comments about that!). I think this issue has EVERYTHING to do with recognizing where you’re at. Dealing with it. Improving upon your natural tendencies. Loving it. And, moving on. I hope I will not be defined by how natural I feel in caring for my children, but by how well I dealt with whatever feeling encompassed me at the time.
I’m not scared to grow anymore. When I felt natural, I was terrified that my perfect world would come crashing down. And it did. And it sucked. And now I know more deeply who I am because of it. I know more deeply who my children are. I know more deeply who my God is. And although I have no answers to why I feel this way (this being the main motivation in writing this piece) I do know that after the shock and awe, I feel okay. I might wish I felt different, but in the spectrum of feelings surrounding parenthood, ok is not a bad place to be.
Sharlee, I was thinking that very same thing last night, about how different women tend to feel more “natural” at different ages/stages. Give me the YW over the junior primary any day.
And I can’t speak for Angie, but as an accused nbm :), who swears she isn’t one, who has had a large family, I can say that there has indeed been leaps in logic when I’ve chosen to become pregnant. When I chose to become pregnant 8 months after having my first baby, the reason was that I was having a lot of fun and wanted to have even more fun. But that was the end of that logic. Every other pregnancy has been chosen for illogical reasons. The spirit gives me a certain feeling–doesn’t dump it on my head, but rather awakens it within me. It’s not God saying “you need to have a baby” and me saying “no! NO! but okay, if you say so.” It’s me saying, “holy cow, I really want to have another baby, even though it makes no sense. I’m already exhausted, overwhelmed and somewhat crazy with the ones I have. But I need another baby.” Seriously. I’ve never felt “I’ve got this down to an art form–bring on the next one!” It’s been adding chaos to chaos. But all with a deep seated desire and assurance that I’m on the right path. And every time I had a baby I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Until Thomas was born. After he arrived my feelings changed completely. I won’t have another baby unless that familiar, unmistakable spiritual desire returns (or a note from God on my pillow, either way).
I console myself with thinking that there are days that I really can’t stand my son, and there are days when everything he does completely enchants me. Aren’t we all entitled to up days and down days? Even up years and down years? As an infant, my son was fairly easy. He got mobile early, though, and it blew my mind. He got harder and harder, and I had less and less support from my husband as his job got more complex, and I figured the reason we couldn’t have any more was because I didn’t really want it badly enough.
But I’m learning that kids grow, and enter different stages, and things change. I told my sister I am really enjoying having a 4 year old, and she, mother of three, said, “Who doesn’t?” They’re still cute, they still love you, yet they can put their own shoes and socks on in the morning.
So even though I don’t feel at all like a NBM, I figure I manage just fine. And my kid seems like a happy enough kid, and isn’t that the point? And just because I’m not like Marjorie Hinckley does not make me a bad person, or even a bad mother. Would she like the same things I like? Would she enjoy the choices I’ve made in my life? Given what I know about her, probably not. But just because we mother differently than another woman, or even feel differently about mothering, doesn’t make us a bad. It just makes us different, and somehow we all still muddle through. And somehow, our kids survive. Thrive, even.
I have chosen children for the same reasons Kathy said, actually…When the Spirit speaks, I respond. I don’t mean that in a martyr kind of way, because I believe that these things are right and good, but it is an issue of following inspiration. In the area of family I feel the Spirit more strongly than in any other area of my life. I have never understood how women could talk about how many children they want (I’ll space 2.8 children 3.5 years apart and then have my tubes tied) as though they were making up a shopping list. The spiritual reality is so different than that for me.
Many of my friends from my earlier years who seemed like NBM to me don’t have lots of closely spaced children now, because they have had medical probelmes, infertility issues, or the like. I’ve pondered that alot. I think God puts us in the situations we need to grow, and often those situations are outside our comfort zones.
I really look forward to your posts and your comments, Mara. When are you going to write an essay for us?
I have a theory that many of us enter motherhood (and marriage, for that matter) unprepared. We spend the majority of our lives developing particular competencies (educational, career) and preparing ourselves for the associated sort of life. Then suddenly we try to drop into the middle of life as a homemaker. It’s different. The skills we previously gained recognition for and the traits that we had built our identities around aren’t useful there. We feel frustrated and incompetent. And don’t most people enjoy doing things that we are good at? After a short time many women seem to say, “I can’t take this. I want to get away from the piles of laundry and go do what I’m good at.”
Many of us don’t even have the vision of what homemaking is. I hear so many women way, “I’m bored. I watch Oprah all day. Maybe I should get a job.” I can’t imagine that. I’m too busy learning about nutrition and cooking and herbs and gardening and food storage and child development and dog obedience and investing and leading 4-H and figuring out how to get melted crayons out of laundry. And if I could find the time I’d love to learn about sewing and decorating and yoga and any number of other topics, all of which enrich my life and help me to better teach and serve my family. When I hear women say they feel lost or frustrated, I always wish I could give them a piece of the vision of how wonderful our role and work potentially can be.
I’m not a NBW. I messed up all the wife stuff big time early on in our marriage. But I will say that I’m a good student. I’ve become a much better wife, and that part of my identity is one of my greatest joys. The more I have learned to let Don lead, the happier we both have been. Coming into adulthood I had no idea what feminine power looked like. I might as well have been a guy with breasts. The change didn’t come naturally to me, but it has been so worth it.
“sigh” This is what I get for listening to my sister. “Just read this blog in ‘Segullah’,” she says. “I’d like to hear your comments about it.” If I would have known what the subject was, I don’t think I would have logged on. But I did and when I read “Natural Born Mothers” I made the additional mistake of reading on. So now here I sit, giving my own two bits while in my kitchen are Christmas projects only half done, my dining room table is a blast-site mess of wrapping paper, ribbons, gift tags, family photos, and unwrapped presents, and my floor is littered with Christmas tree ornaments that my one year old has managed to pull from the tree even though we only decorated it from the middle up.
Don’t get me wrong. I love discussions about motherhood and mothering and mothers and motherishness. I just feel I’m too overwhelmed right now to contribute to this discussion (I say as I type furiously). Overwhelmed by Christmas preparations (Are you ready for Christmas, I asked my sister. What does that even mean? she responded. Amen!) Overwhelmed by my house. Overwhelmed by my calling. Overwhelmed by my children. Overwhelmed by motherhood.
See, I’m one of those women who always thought she was a NBM. I always loved kids. And cats. And dogs. There is a picture of me as a little girl carrying around one of the farm cats, wrapped in a baby blanket. I am (or was) a nurturer. My nieces and nephews were the moon and stars to me. Oh, and did I know everything about parenting? Of course! I was the most informed, intelligent, intuitive single, childless woman in the world! Often I would dreamily picture my idyllic life surrounded by beautiful, smart, well-behaved children (I wanted eight). Bedtime was a blissful hour of sweet-smelling, snuggly story time, scriptures, prayers, and songs. My house was always the “Kool-aid” house where the neighborhood children would congregate to eat home-made cookies and receive the kind of profound advice that would change lives.
Gag!
Then came reality - in the form(s) of four children and a husband who works 12 hours a day and is rarely (read: never) home at bedtime. I still want to be a NBM. I long to be a NBM. But I contintually fall short. I think I’m a pretty good mom to a single infant. In fact, I’m a darn good mom to a single infant! But that’s about it. I’m finding that I’m not that informed, intelligent, nor intuitive - especially with each child that joins our family. I want my kid’s friends to come to my house but I feel horribly guilty at the relief I feel when he goes to his friend’s house. Because it’s just one less voice to single out from the din. And bedtime?!?! Let’s just say that in this house it is h-e-double-toothpicks just about every night (my cousin often threatens her kids, “You’d better be in bed by 8:00pm because after 8:00pm Bad Momma comes out!”)
Basically I feel that I’m just keeping my head above water. I love my kids so much and yet I find that I’m yelling too much and complimenting too little.
I have two mantras that I alternate chanting these days. One is some advice that another cousin gave me. “You haven’t failed until you give up trying.” So, even though I fail about 342 times every day, I guess as long as I wake up every morning determined to try harder and do better, I haven’t failed. The other mantra I say to myself is: “This is what you wanted. This is what you dreamed about all your life.” This is what I chant when I’m sitting on the couch nursing a baby while my three year old is draped across my knees and my five year old is sitting on my shoulders. This is what I chant when I’m trying to get dinner, answer the “new math” (what was wrong with the “old” math I learned!) questions that my eight year old is throwing at me, break up a fight between the three year old and the five year old, all while the nine month old is wailing at the top of his lungs as he clings to my leg and pulls down my elastic-band pants.
And now I’ll go finish my ginger cookies.
Hey, you’re baking–that’s more than I can say.
Glad you posted.
Sali-Kai (great name by the way), thank you for your post. I can SO relate. I love my kids, but. This is what I always wanted, but. It’s just so hard sometimes. One foot in front of the other, right? Did you read cjane’s blog entry about greener grass? If not, read it! It might help. Then again, it might just make you jealous.
I don’t know if any of us are NBM. (Even those who appear to be) This is our first go around as moms and, man, is it tough! I personally cannot think of a single mom (or dad for that matter)that does not say or at least think that parenting is the hardest thing they have ever done. It is. The famous Oprah Winfrey herself said the she refuses to have kids because it is too hard. And the fuss she makes over having a few dogs to care for!
I, too, had five kids in eight years. I wanted children so badly that infertility would have led to my demise. I just know it is the one thing I could not handle.
I think it is so important to just keep trying. I have so much of the natural man, or should I say woman, in me. I want my sleep. I want some space. I don’t want my kids to hang on me, or fight or complain, or tease, etc. I grit my teeth many a day. Well, almost all day every day. I even tried to tell my kids once that I was taking a break and I wasn’t the mom for awhile. “So don’t say my name!” They just looked confused. It didn’t work.
But, I think if we notice in life and from this blog, how many of us feel the same way. We are not unique or alone. It is tough, but it is okay. We have a terribly wonderful chore to do. The harder the task the greater the joy. and I have no greater joy…
It always works out in the end, as my mom always used to say. Faith, Girls! We can do it!
Angie and Kathy–thanks for sharing your understandable and personal reasons with the rest of us who sit and scratch our heads.
Angie–What about those who don’t find sprouting beans and other (arguably cool) homemaking tasks fulfilling? I agree that SAHMs have a lot of freedom to choose what tasks they want to excel in. I’m not a fan of the “trapped” scenario. And yet, sometimes I feel trapped. Angered by stereotypes. Unfulfilled in homemaking and my supposed freedom. What then?
Sali-kai–my new mantra that has gotten me through many a stressful situation: Sometimes my best has to be good enough. I laughed and sighed while reading your comment. And be relieved that I have not one present wrapped, no christmas tree up, no lights, no baking, no craft projects. Again, sometimes my best has to be good enough, even when it’s not.
Melinda–I’ve tried taking a break too with the same results. Also, question? Do you think it is the natural woman that needs sleep and space? I just wonder if we deny some things that we claim are the natural man as if it were evil to need those things. It’s not evil. It’s natural. I guess that’s one thing that I actually feel “natural” in demanding. Thoughts?
Heather O–Yes. Yes. Yes.
I think it\\\’s important to not make LDS motherhood a cliche. Especially concerning the homemaking arts. Motherhood and homemaking are not the same thing. If women feel that they have to be domestic goddesses in order to be good mothers, that\\\’s a big problem. I imagine the spirit might inspire some of us to pursue becoming domestic goddesses–with a hoe in one hand, a canning jar and a quilting needle in another. But to others of us (myself included) he says, \\\”Don\\\’t worry about any of that. Buy your tomatoes pre-canned if you want. Eat white bread in peace. You have other things to offer your family and the world.\\\”
I don\\\’t knock the whole bean-flour baking, flax-weaving version of LDS motherhood–it fascinates me and I admire the women who choose that path (because they like it or because the spirit tells them to). And I\\\’ll gratefully eat the delicious nine-grain bread they bring to the Enrichment night dinners.
Men are charged to provide for their families, and protect them, and preside over them in love in righteousness, but that doesn\\\’t mean they go about it in the exact same ways. I think all righteous fathers have some things in common but they also have a lot of differences, in their professions, interests, personalities, etc. I think the same principle is true for women. All have been charged to nurture children and build gospel-centered homes, but there are as many different ways to do that as there are women in the church.
Having said that, I like how Angie points out that she doesn\’t always enjoy the things the spirit leads her to do. Sometimes we need to do things that we don\’t necessarily like. It all comes down to inspiration. We can\’t assume that we should do a certain thing just because it\’s the cultural norm. We also can\’t assume that we _shouldn\’t_ do it just because it doesn\’t particularly appeal to us.
I’m glad Kathy doesn’t spend all her time canning. If she did, there wouldn’t be Segullah. That’s the great thing about being a full time mom. There are so many opportunities to nurture and bless. If Kathy isn’t into canning tomatoes or being a youth group leader (which I always seem to be doing) that’s cool, because she’s nurturing in other ways. The call of womanhood is a grand and beautiful thing.
It is easy to feel frustrated, though, because it (however you define “it”) isn’t what most of the world is doing. It isn’t what we see depcited in the media. It isn’t what our school and work experiences prepared us for. It is hard work, and it can feel isolated and tedious.
I do need periodic time outs. And I need those time outs to be with inspiring women who share my vision. I actually get up at 5 am a couple of times a month to have early morning “inspiration” session with other homeschool moms. We discuss books and share writing and bring stories etc specifically chosen to uplift us and get us excited. I HATE mornings, so this is a big sacrifice for me, but I NEED it. I sometimes come to those meetings ready to drop my whole crew at the door of the nearest public school, but I walk away on fire about what I believe and things I can do to build my family. I have also found my involvement with an organization called Art of Womanhood to be really helpful. They sponsor discussion groups of women who read and talk about books related to principles of womanhood. Being involved there keeps me learning and gets me excited. It’s easy to loose the vision of motherhood if you don’t choose to keep nurturing that vision.
If I spent my time-outs with those friends and family who don’t understand or support my choices, or even just “being” in the world at large, I would be worn down really quickly.
And Maralise, I have to let you in on a trade secret. Sometimes having fewer kids is harder than having a whole crew. When I’m looking for effect it’s great to mention how many I have, because people tremble in awe. Occasionally I tremble in awe at the reality of it too–mostly if I try to take all 5 munchkins into a gift store or a nice restaurant at the same time. Crowd control can be an issue! But overall, I was more burned out when I had just a couple of little ones who needed me to be everything–playmate, cook, maid, teacher, nanny. Now that I have a whole crew they can play with each other, and I don’t personally clean all the bathrooms. I used to collapse at 8pm. I was DONE. Now my life feels more balanced, although all those little voices talking at once do sometimes give me a headache.
I used to look at those matronly Mormon moms with (gasp) four kids and think I could never be like them. Now I realize that we were alike all along. We’re all just doing the best we can.
We are all expected to be mothers, if we can. But obviously God gave us all different talents.
I’ve struggled with this when it has become obvious that there are some talents that I lack that make some aspects of mothering easier. But if God required that I have those talents in order for me to be a successful mother, he would have either given them to me or he would have sent me children for whom my lack wouldn’t matter eternally. I’ve decided to have faith in that: he sent these guys to me, knowing what I’d struggle with. The fact that some things are harder for me than they appear to be for another mother really doesn’t matter. I must still do what I’ve been called to do . . . AND NOT ANYTHING ELSE. That means that I may be called to raise four boys instead of seven because it’s hard for me. Or it may mean that I’ve been called to raise four (with great struggle) when someone else was called to raise only two.
My job is simply to find out what God wants of ME (and no one else), and then do the best that Darlene can, which is all He needs me to do. IMPERATIVE to all this is refusing to compare myself to anyone else, or even to what I think a perfect mother is. My only source of measuring should be the spirit, and my belief in the atonement, for me and for my kids.
Being “natural” or not doesn’t matter. After all, none of us is a natural Christian. (What do the scriptures say about the natural man?) We all fall short. The trick is to do it with joy, patience, and, most importantly for me, HOPE.
I never liked kids. I found them either boring or obnoxious. I coo’d at babies because that was what you were supposed to do. That changed when I had my son. I not only love him, but I like him. He exposed my soft underbelly. To this day, I have to care about the parents of other children to like them at all.
Just as I wouldn’t accept an employee who came to my office telling me that he couldn’t do the task at hand, I wouldn’t accept failure at motherhood. I refused to buy into a stereotype of mothers: from the over-achieving bean sprouter to the lazy hausfrau. I wear merino wool and don’t vacuum. I’ll get up every hour to tuck my child back into a warm bed. I will also let him watch Sesame Street for hours. I will spend hours on the perfect nutritious meal. I will also pick up chicken nuggets on the way home. I can be lazy and call it character building. Sometimes I think my heart will burst just looking at him. Then there are days where I can’t stand him. So?
I was raised by a mother who was an only child. She is foreign born, always worked, and has advanced degrees. She had no idea what to do with four American kids. Now, she’s so much fun. We’re finally at a level (adult) where we get her and she gets us. It didn’t do us a bit of harm to have a mom who wasn’t into little kids. I think that experience allowed me to realize that there are different kinds of moms, as Courtney was saying. I think we need to have the faith that we’re the kind of mom that our kids need. Vice Versa, my kids will be the kind of kids that give me the opportunity to progress—they’re what I need too.
I found my way to NB Motherhood. Don’t buy the hype. You’re the NBM your kids need. HF didn’t make a mistake.
I love this post. And I love the idea that motherhood is not one specific set of skills or abilities, but a relationship with our children that changes and will change over time.
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