We all know that motherhood is a balancing act. A fine art of juggling many breakable plates whilst appearing like everything is under control. As was the case recently when I was on my way to Charlottetown, P.E.I. for a radio interview related to my day job.
I am driving when I remember that my kiddos are heading on a field trip this particular morning and I haven’t paid for the park pass they need to get into the attraction of the day. I haven’t got the pass, paid for the pass- haven’t even made an attempt to call about the pass. It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. The pass, that is. It’s just that I have been thinking about too many other things. Things like, whether or not I can get myself to an interview and my three children to school on time (probably nope). Or even more pressing things like ‘Did I remember to take my lunch/carafe of coffee/grocery bag of stuff with me when I left the house mere minutes ago?’ (nope again) Which is the problem (of my life/reality within which I live) most of my waking moments.
Thoughts of ‘passing out‘ with all this last minute pressure on me to perform ‘pass‘ through my mind.
With that in mind, the count down is on. T minus 30 minutes and counting. I tell my childrens’ teachers when I drop them off that I will text them the pass number, which I proceed to do later on that same morning with one hand as I pay for the pass using a debit card with the other. This Mama might be absent-minded, but she can multi-task like nobody’s business. I turn and make a lame excuse to the cashier and then the person behind me- something about being a mother with lots to do. I get a few nods of sympathy from the curious onlookers witness to my desperation. Or maybe they are just glad that they were more organized than me. Smiles of pity- the worst kind to receive.
I do eventually get the pass. But as I am driving, I remember that our three cats at home have no cat food (because we also have a family of racoons living in the barn which eat us out of house and home). So I slip in to pick that item up en route. And while there in the grocery store, I also realize that my three children are going on said class outing without ready access to a water fountain. As I have a sinking feeling that Husband forgot to pack water bottles, today it is going to be blue Gatorade juice bottles to the rescue. All the better in the unfortunate event that my children happen to approach dehydration from the scorching hot sun. In which case, I will be the mother who is ahead of the game. Ready and prepared. Never mind the fact that Kiddos will probably all come home with only a cap full of the stuff drank and I will therefore have to pour the whole thing down the drain. It’s worth it.
And so it goes. Just another day in a mother’s life.
If I was to sit down and contemplate my life right now with all of its busy moments and crazy ups and downs, there is no doubt in my mind that this parenting gig is one of the hardest jobs I’ll ever have to do. It’s grueling being a mother. No words can adequately describe the simply hard, exhausting physical (yes) and mental work mothers do. And the above is just the tip of the iceberg.
It’s not that I don’t love my kids — I would die for them. I would. And I would drive to the ends of the earth for my children, if not for a park pass — certainly if it was a matter of life or death. Not that I don’t enjoy being a mother either, because really (most of the time) I certainly do. But I do have to say that being a mom is HARD for many reasons that are not always visibly apparent. Not only am I tending to the physicalities of the daily grind like laundry, bed-making, hair brushing and the like, but I also care- and care deeply about what’s going on inside my children’s hearts and minds. I care that my multi-tasking creates anxiety for both my Youngest and Oldest and I wish there was an easier way to do large-family living up in a more effective way. (I think I would start by hiring a live-in nanny.) I care that my children sometimes feel sad and alone. I care that they have important questions to which they are searching for answers. I care about the little and big things that affect their life.
Peter McKay has made recent comments about the day-to-day essential tasks associated with being a mother which would very much be in line with the first part of my little diatribe above, the part about what moms naturally are known for. But what he forgets to make note of is that moms also care deeply about “the immense and life-long influence we have over our children” every bit as much as do the dads. We certainly are in the business of shaping minds and futures alongside the other important adults in our children’s lives, namely fathers, grandparents, guardians, teachers and coaches to name a few. Although I am not a woman applying for a judicial position, I am a woman who cares deeply about her career and where it is heading, even as I ponder the ways in which I can influence my children to reach higher and probe further themselves — all things I think about while I cook up pork chops for supper or type out a blog post on the computer.
What I wish Peter MacKay could understand is this: a mother’s work is not just about bonding and balance, it is about inspiration. While we do have a lot on our plates and many of those plates to juggle, our children are watching us. They are inspired by the choices we make. And it is up to mothers and fathers both to provide good role models for children to follow and pattern their lives after. Parents with decidedly different roles at times but both important for the function of encouraging the next generation to be all that they can be. And that missive includes clearly showing that men and woman both have contributions to make both inside and outside of the home.
One thing Peter and I would agree on I think is this: being a parent, while exhausting and challenging, is worth ever little second of worry and exhaustion and tears that comes with it as part of the package. It’s exciting to see growth in our children and it’s important that they in turn see growth in us. When we give our children a picture of the possibilities they have, they are always the better for it.
And just for the record: a sense of humor never hurts either for all those crazy in-between moments when we are just hanging on by a single thin thread. At least that’s how I roll.