This is the weekend of the yearly women's retreat. I have been planning how to be Mr. Mom for weeks. Right now I am with a good friend and his kids in the same situation. We took all 6 children to the Greensboro Childrens Museum where they can roam free in their play and not destroy anything that belongs to us. For twenty bucks you can't go wrong. Last night we had pizza and movies. Tonight we have more friends coming for dinner and a Wii tournament. Tomorrow is a play date and a concert. All this so I can hopefully make it through the weekend with them.
It occurs to me that my wife has them all day every day. She teaches them, ties their shoes, brushes their teeth, feeds them, gets them to their rehearsals, takes them to the grocery store and (shreek) Costco - alone - without help - with all those people around, and then puts up with me when I get home. That isn't natural! In fact I believe they may be some kind of genetically engineered humanoid aliens among us. Who could do this every day without mind-altering drugs? Seriously, I am ready for a Prozac drip now and my wife hasn't been gone a day yet. And the more I feel the weight and gravity of my unfortunate state, the more excited the kids get. Like dogs and bees sense fear, children sense distress in their parents, especially their fathers. It is in those moments of weakness and vulnerability that the obligatory questions begin to assault us like flaming Roman projectiles against unfortified earthen walls. Daddy, can we go get ice-cream? Daddy, can we stay up late? Daddy, is it okay if we start a fire in the bathtub? HELP! I'm not even sure I heard the last question. Wait! What did he just ask me? And yet I answer the same way every time: sure - okay - just go ahead and stop asking me.
How do they do it? What is it that drives Moms forward? Is it something special within them that God placed deep inside, or is it something much more sinister? All I know is that whatever it is that lights their fire, I don't have it and cannot hope to attain it. Like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop, the world may never know.
Serenity Now... Peace
Well, it really helps when a Mom's husband takes care of the kids so she can go to the beach and recharge! Although our kids are a source of joy to us, having a break and being "Valarie" or "Cheryl" and not "Mom" for a few days, or even hours, makes a difference and gets us juiced up for the next round.
ReplyDeleteHey, Chris. Go read Song of Solomon and rewrite this post. Paul Harvey would tell both sides of the story!
ReplyDeleteI don't know about cyborgs, but I am pretty sure motherhood was the beginning of the death of me. Before I became a mom, I thought I was a decent person. Pretty nice. Fairly unselfish. Smart. Kind. Then came this baby who required all I could give and then some. Nice? Sometimes. Unselfish? Not at all. Smart? Maybe, but my brain felt like mush. Kind? Oh, sometimes, but I wasn't thinking such kind thoughts in my fog of sleep deprivation and isolation. All my weaknesses and short-comings were thrown up in my face, full-force, every day. Yet God, in His grace, picked up those pieces and showed me if I really would die to myself each day and allow myself to be led by the Spirit, I could not only make it through the day, I could triumph! Not a day goes by that I'm not thankful for that experience.
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