motherhood

Ordered to stay-at-home. Oh, can I?

Just over three weeks ago was a typical Thursday. I’d attended an after-school volleyball game (Rachel’s first). I dropped Eve off at soccer practice then headed straight to drop Rachel off at hers. That bought me two hours to drop off donations at the local thrift store and make my weekly grocery trip to Winco.

COVID-19 had been marching its way slowly across the country for over a month, beginning with Washington (with whom we share a border). Idaho was one of the last holdouts, so I wasn’t concerned. And frankly, though I’d heard about people hoarding toilet paper, I’d had no issues securing what I needed in the previous few weeks.

But Winco that night was a disaster. Still well-stocked. But completely unprepared for the crowd that descended at the exact same time I did. Holy cow. I waited in line for over 45 minutes to check out, making me 10 minutes late to pick up Rachel from practice. (Tim picked up Eve, since her practice was closer to his work).

While waiting in line I discovered that our church (a global organization) had canceled all Sunday meetings until further notice. Huge deal. Dominoes from there on out. Soccer game canceled. Then all games/practices for the next two weeks. After that-after-school activities/sports canceled. Not long after that – school was canceled.

Suddenly my schedule was completely clear. No running kids to extracurriculars. No art lessons in the near future. No church obligations to fulfill. No waking up at 5:30 to make breakfast before Lily leaves for seminary. No Joy School lessons, no teaching piano, no drivers ed.

Granted, I actually enjoy most of the things I do as a stay-at-home mom. But the term stay-at-home has sort of become a misnomer. And I won’t lie when I say that parenting five kids and all that entails occasionally leads to serious burnout.

It turns out that canceling everything is all I’ve ever wanted.

It means that family dinner happens every single night now. It means my gas tank has been sitting on full for longer than 5 days straight. It means my to-do list is shrinking instead of growing longer under a cloud of obligations I haven’t ever been able to shake. It means my work-from-home husband gets to take a walk with me daily during his lunch break. It means family movie night is every night. And so much more.

So here are a few things I’ve caught on camera the past two weeks:

Home church – complete with Jack giving his first on-camera talk and a few families (including ours) providing singing time for our ward family.

Tim making a Toney family special for Pi Day.

Green pancakes for St. Patty’s Day.

Planting our spring garden.

Sunday outing along the Boise River. Lots of rock-skipping (or, in Jack’s case, throwing).

Breaking in the fire pit for the season.

Pinterest-fail donuts for Anna’s birthday breakfast. (They were tasty – but the hack I’d secured to compensate for the lack of a donut pan misfired, in a major way.)

Hours of fun playing with rice.

Brand new throw pillows for the couches (I bought the fabric last summer so this to-do list item was long overdue).

Matching piano bench re-cover.

A deep appreciation for a full-container of eggs.

Starting on a recipe book of family favorites for my soon-to-be-college-bound daughters. Beginning with banana chocolate chip muffins.

Game night with the fam.

A complete inventory of our food storage. Spring cleaning – 5 boxes destined for Deseret Industries (that will unfortunately languish in our house until it reopens after the pandemic dies down). A freshly cleaned (and painted) pantry.

We even resurrected the butterfly garden we used years ago and ordered some painted lady caterpillars.

Right after they arrived.
They grow a lot in ten days.

Plus a whole lot of reading, binging on TV, video gaming and overall laziness.

I’m living my best life, peeps.

Make new friends, but keep the “old”.

When Tim got his first post-college job and we consequently moved away from both of our families, I was mother to a four-month old daughter. Being active members of our church, we happened into a built-in support system of families, many of whom also had no family close by.

My first week at church, I discovered my tribe in what is called “the mother’s room”. It’s a place where moms can go nurse their babies in privacy while the service is piped in from the chapel. You’ll sometimes find moms with disruptive children who need a time-out. The room also hosts plenty of diaper changes and, during Sunday School, the occasional teenage girl (usually accompanied by a friend) who’s just wants to escape.

But mostly, moms go there to breastfeed. And that particular Sunday, I found that pretty much every female in my congregation was a breastfeeding mom. And all of our babies had to nurse at the exact same time. I’m telling you, it was standing room only in that little space.

Stifling, yes. Encouraging, even more so.

You see, every new mother needs support. We all crave the feeling that we are not alone. Each of us typically finds this camaraderie in women who share the same age and stage. Because they totally get us.

And yet, that first Sunday in a new area, I was fortunate to rub shoulders not just with women who were also young mothers but with those just a few years ahead of me. Those are the friendships I’ve really needed.

Sure, it’s natural to buddy up with families whose kids are the same age for convenience sake. It simplifies play-date arranging, baby swaps, and GNO’s.

But, if I were to do it again, I would cling even harder to the moms who were just a bit older and wiser. The wisdom they impart is priceless.

When your friends are in the trenches with you, you feel validated. But when they are a step ahead of you, you’re empowered. They can warn you of things to come, teach you tried-and-true parenting methods, give you hope that things get better (and remind you to be grateful, because things also get worse).

Making friends with those who are in a different stage of life can evade us if we are not deliberate about doing so. I was lucky that a few of the nursing moms I met my first week at church were on their last kid. Which put them 5-10 years older than me. I realized something very quickly about them.

Parents of school-age children and especially teenagers are far busier than parents of babies and preschoolers can even imagine. Carving out time for new friends is probably not at the top of their list. But they can be persuaded.

Don’t wait for them to host play dates. Ask if they want an early-morning exercise buddy. Start a neighborhood book club. Hire their teenagers to babysit. Rubbing shoulders with experienced moms will bless your life, despite the extra effort it might take.

The adage to make new friends but keep the old, just might be referring to literal age, not longevity. In my experience, navigating the fatigue of early parenting and the emotion of parenting teenagers with grace would seem a daunting task without older, wiser women in my life.

(It still does, but having friends who’ve already fought the fight provides much-needed sustenance to weather it all). Cling to those “old” friends. They are gold.

How far we’ve come.

Jack and I have spent the last few days together, just him and me.  We’ve been doing it every few months since he was three months old, these pesky infusions.  It never gets easy.  Still, after ten(or more, I’ve lost track) visits to get his bone juice, it’s remarkable to see how far we’ve come.

The difference is night and day.

We’ve gone from subjecting an innocent infant to multiple unsuccessful vein pokes before resorting to the bulging vein in his forehead to Jack the toddler confidently strutting his way into “his room” in the medical facility-figuratively saying, “bring it”.

Those early days were rough.

It took three nurses and myself to hold Jack still enough to slide a needle into a vein, only to barely miss.  Or have it blow.  Or any number of things that could go wrong when working with tiny veins.

Jack would work himself into a frenzy, screaming bloody murder while we held him captive.  His eyes would plead with me to make it stop, not realizing that the very thing that was causing him pain was also the antidote to future pain(in the form of bone fractures).

 

I’ve thought a lot about these tender experiences.  The sadness I’ve felt at my son’s suffering.  Think of it.  His own mother, the one who is supposed to protect him, ignoring his helpless screams to end it all.  It must have been confusing to him at the time.

And yet.

Here we are now.  Jack’s veins are bigger and stronger, resulting in less frequent attempts to locate one successful enough to handle three days of infusions.  He’s done this enough to know that the pain is but a moment.

I hold him close and reassure him as the nurses prick him.  He whimpers quietly, uttering, “Mama, hurt.  Mama, ow.  Mama, all done?”

His resignation tugs at my heart.  His willingness to submit demonstrates strength.  And trust in me as his mother that despite the pain, I’m doing what’s best for him.

Being a parent helps me understand my heavenly parents more deeply.

Those with limited insight proclaim that a god could not exist, else why is there so much suffering in the world?  They imagine a god who caters to their every whim and cushions them from the blows of adversity.

I see a God who is our Father.  A parent who knows that challenges, difficulties, yes, even pain are THE VERY THINGS that strengthen his children.

Jack’s medication has prevented fractures, bone pain and bone loss, an outcome we could not have reasonably anticipated when we received his ominous diagnosis over two years ago.

So too, are the painful experiences in life for us.  A loving Father in Heaven allows them to happen, knowing the full picture.  And, just as I never left Jack’s side during his suffering, rest assured, our Heavenly Father is always there to comfort us.  It is our job to trust Him.

 

Motherhood IS what I want. Why is that so hard to understand?

A couple of weeks ago, I sat down during Jack’s naptime to write up a schedule for a friend of ours who would be taking care of our five children while Tim and I took an international trip.  I did my best to include only the essentials, nixing a few lessons and practices to make the schedule more bearable for her.  It took me almost four hours.

The spreadsheet included what needed to happen and when, who would be taking whom and where, what needed to be prepared ahead of time, which of these events she would need to attend, and when/what to have each person eat so no one would get hangry.  Seriously, it was quite the process.

And that didn’t even include basic instructions for caring for Jack, essential rules to keep order in our home and other suggestions for ensuring a smooth six days!  (I typed those up the next day-it took another 2 1/2 hours).

Rarely do we as moms (and dads, for that matter) sit down and quantify all the minutia required in running a household and caring for our families.  We settle into a groove, waking up at insane hours to care for children, clean house, meet schedule demands, and fill stomachs.

We rarely keep a tally of the daily sacrifices we make for these humans we love so deeply. Sometimes not quantifying these mundane tasks can create a sense that what we do day in and day out doesn’t count for much.

Oh, but it does.

I was raised to believe that motherhood was next to godliness.  I learned it in church, I watched it modeled by my mother, and I saw my father’s appreciation for what she did on the homefront while he put bread on the table.   I felt the love that one can only feel when a mother prioritizes her children over worldly pursuits.

My mom is truly one of the best.

I pursued an education, understanding that I could perform well in any career I chose.  My intellect, among other talents (in music and languages) was strong.  It would have been easy for me to rationalize that a career would satisfy me better or that my talents would be wasted if I stayed at home to raise my children.

I held firm in my motherly aspirations.  My goal was to pursue a field that I enjoyed, get a degree (or two or three) and be flexible if/when marriage and children came along.  Fortunately for me, both of them did.

Though my plans for law school were sidelined, my performing opportunities stymied and my earning potential decreased, there is no doubt in my mind that I am doing exactly what I was born to do.  And I have zero regrets.

Why?  Because I have an unshakeable knowledge that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that the modern feminist movement has steered women away from our homes by teaching us that home life is mundane and “beneath” us.  This misguided philosophy has contributed to what I see as a crumbling society.  Truly.

Think about it.  When our children spend more time learning at the feet of their peers than their parents, what are the outcomes?  When our children see that our careers take up more of our days than time spent with them, what messages do we send about their worth and value?  When family dinners consist of grabbing take out and shoveling it in on the drive home, what benefits do our kids miss out on?

I’m not trying to make people feel bad, particularly those who need to work.  We all have to make choices based on our circumstances and limitations.

But I am trying to empower women who choose family over career.  Absent the accolades and financial benefits that working mothers attain, mothers who do not work outside the home need reassurance that their work is enough.  Valued.  Essential.  Indeed, next to godliness.

I am abundantly blessed to have a husband who provides adequately for our family and supports me staying home 100%.  That is a gift I do not take lightly.

But we cannot underestimate the damage that society faces when we decide that women should do anything and be anything they want.  And that wanting to be a mother doesn’t count.  It’s too…beneath us.  It lacks aspiration.

There are costs to this dangerous philosophy.

One of my daughters engaged in a discussion with some peers at school a few weeks ago.  Her teacher overheard her saying something to the effect of: “If I don’t get married, I’ll probably do something in the medical field.  If I DO get married, I’d like to pursue photography so I can stay home with my kids.”

Her teacher, overhearing this portion of the conversation, could not pass up the opportunity to set the record straight.

“Lily, you can do whatever you want.  You don’t need to adjust your dreams based on whether you start a family or not.”

You know what?  She’s absolutely right. Lily can do whatever she wants.  But since when is doing whatever one wants best for society at large (or even for oneself, for that matter)?  Why can’t we, like Lily, be a little less selfish in our approach to family life and careers?

Is it so unfathomable that what my daughter wants most is to be a mother?  And why is that aspiration greeted with the suggestion that she’s being complacent?

Stick to your guns, Lily.  What so many people think they want out of life turns out to be fleeting.  What you want?  Motherhood?  The impact spans eternity.

How to discover the joy of being a stay-at-home mom.

I took Jack to story time at the library for the first time in his life this morning.  Poor youngest child – we were faithful attendees from birth to age five with each of the others.  I decided I had to commit to at least one thing per day that we do “just for him”, and although I consistently read to him and play with him on the floor, I determined that we needed to “get out” more so that his world consists of more than the four walls of our home (and the inside of my car – because, as the youngest of five, you can be sure he spends ample time in his car seat between 3 and 7 p.m.)

There’s a new library that just so happens to be on our end of town – 10 minutes closer than the downtown library we have always frequented, so we hit it up this morning.  Story time was all right, but surprisingly, the best part was after the stories had been read and the developmental toys spread throughout the room for the kids to sample.

I met a sweet Vietnamese lady and her 13-month old daughter who were new to the area and anxious to rub shoulders with others.  She talked incessantly, admitting that she felt isolated as a stay-at-home mother and was itching for opportunities to find satisfaction in that particular role.  She remarked that she couldn’t wait until they started to feel settled in their new situation (husband’s job, neighborhood, etc.) so that she could perhaps go back to work.

When she found out I was the mother of five, and that I had stayed home for over fourteen years, she was incredulous, wondering how I could do it.  I didn’t really have an answer for her.

In some ways I feel like the fact that I enjoy this gig so deeply is a result of dumb luck.  For starters, my mother had modeled it for me – and her performance was admirable.

My husband values my role in the home, (and his) so he makes an effort to be an active participant in family life and show consideration for the fact that I bear the brunt of the child-rearing.

I am a naturally structured person, so I craft routines that provide stability for everyone in the home.

I like being social but I can survive without a whole lot, so isolation is not something with which I struggle.

I belong to a church that values motherhood and provides a support system for those who stay at home.

In my early parenting years, we moved into a community where the majority of residents were in the same stage of life as us, so I had ample opportunity to befriend those around me.

I adore babies/toddlers/preschoolers and have no trouble coming up with ways to enjoy parenting “littles” (it’s the older kids I with whom I struggle).

I am pretty frugal and don’t feel that our lives would be greatly improved if I earned a living.

I’m not anywhere near a perfectionist and rarely beat myself up over the inevitable mishaps of parenting.

And last but certainly not least, I have a deep and abiding commitment to motherhood and a considerable drive perform it to the best of my ability.  I know fundamentally that there is no job in the world that is more important and that keeps me going.

Sometimes I feel like motherhood is my calling in life, as though each of my characteristics was carefully crafted so that I would tackle it head on and find immense satisfaction in it.  Does that mean I don’t have days where I have watched the clock for Tim to come home and provide backup?  No.  Have I never locked myself in a bathroom to give myself a few minutes of solitude?  Of course I have.  Has the pure exhaustion and countless demands of my kids never driven me to throw in the towel and lose my temper with them?  We all know the answer to that one.

Despite the fact that the favorable conditions of my life and innate personality traits support staying at home with my children, there are tweaks that almost anyone can make to find joy and satisfaction in it.  Certainly, there are those who would simply rather work outside the home.  That’s okay.  My train of thought comes from my interaction this morning with a person who had decided it best for her to stay home but who was struggling to determine how to make it work for her.

Here are my top tips for how to find the joy in being a stay-at-home mom:

  1.  Convince yourself that there is no better place for you to be.  Because it’s true!  Study literature that supports this premise, try to surround yourself with people who believe similarly and move forward in that belief.  Laundry and cooking and cleaning and child-rearing can be awfully mundane and thankless but they have to be done.  So do them to the best of your ability with the belief that they matter!  If you don’t believe me, try NOT doing those things for a week and see how depressing your life(and everyone else’s) is.
  2. Learn how to live with less.  If you are struggling to make ends meet, you will inevitably feel the pull of a job outside the home.  Shop at thrift stores, cook your meals from scratch, take advantage of all the freebies around town, try camping instead of more expensive vacation options (I guarantee the kids will like it better, anyway).  Stay within a budget and resist the urge to “keep up with the Joneses”.  When you keep life simple, you find that you don’t need a whole lot to be happy…the end result being that you are much happier!  Funny how that works.
  3. Spend time with other people.  Set up playdates with other parents, go places you would expect others with young children to frequent (library, parks, the zoo, etc.) and reach out to others around you.  Build a support system of friends – you will glean important parenting tips from them in addition to social interaction.
  4. Prioritize your spouse.  Make date night happen regularly so you have an excuse to get out of your sweats and feel like a person again.  The conversation will benefit both of you, your connection will grow, and, perhaps most importantly, you’ll get a much-needed break from your kids.
  5. Give yourself a break.  I mean this in two ways – first, cut yourself some slack and don’t imagine a pinterest-worthy existence for your children.  Decide what is most important, do those things and let everything else be a bonus.  And don’t beat yourself up when you screw up.  That’s what therapy is for.  😉  Secondly, carve out some time for self-care.  It could be a daily workout, curling up with a good book on a regular basis, taking a class, learning something new.  Whatever brings you joy.  Make it happen so that you’re not always running on empty.  Wise is the woman who knows that you cannot draw water from an empty well.  Take time for yourself so that you have more to offer those in your care.

I realize that staying at home with your children is not a one-size-fits-all position.  It demands the very best of us physically and emotionally.  I have been incredibly blessed to have a husband who supports me financially (and otherwise) so that I can do it with relative ease, so that the sacrifice does not seem so great.  As I conversed with my new friend this morning, I was renewed with a commitment to it.  I wanted to urge her with all the energy of my heart to stick with it, because it can be, and has been in my case, the most satisfying job in the world.   Look at this face and tell me it isn’t.