It's starting to sink in that motherhood is a life-long work.
That sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? I mean, my oldest is nearly two and a half, and I'm pregnant with my third. I should think I'd have figured out the above statement quite some time ago.
Maybe it's because we're rapidly approaching Christmas. All of our regularly-scheduled activities are winding down for the year, not to resume until mid-January. For what, twelve, sixteen years of your average American's life, more if you work in an academic setting, that means one thing: Christmas break!
I suspect that the next two weeks will not be drastically different from the previous hundred (or so) weeks.
"Leave the boys at home with Isaac and go out," people tell me. And I have! Twice this month, in fact. Last year, I even went on a four-day tour with my college choir (though being 37 weeks pregnant might have affected the "vacation" feel of being gone from my firstborn). But being out of the house childless, while pleasant for a time, doesn't actually make me any less of a mother. Part of me is always running the little boys' schedule in my head, wondering how things are going in my absence, fretting that I should get home sooner but longing to make the alone-time last.
A dear friend (whose children are in high school and college) was telling me a few days ago about taking up a new craft hobby, because she has two hours to kill during her son's music rehearsal each week. I was incredulous: two hours?! To just sit?! Sure, that may be in my future, but depending on how many more children we have, it's probably 20 years down the road. Yikes.
I'm not unhappy with my choice to pursue motherhood. I love a million things about it, and can appreciate how the things I don't love are shaping my character. I don't even believe strongly that I need more opportunities to be alone: this is a lifestyle choice, not a career. There are no "off" days.
But oh, how weighty the endless days can feel sometimes!
That sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? I mean, my oldest is nearly two and a half, and I'm pregnant with my third. I should think I'd have figured out the above statement quite some time ago.
Maybe it's because we're rapidly approaching Christmas. All of our regularly-scheduled activities are winding down for the year, not to resume until mid-January. For what, twelve, sixteen years of your average American's life, more if you work in an academic setting, that means one thing: Christmas break!
I suspect that the next two weeks will not be drastically different from the previous hundred (or so) weeks.
"Leave the boys at home with Isaac and go out," people tell me. And I have! Twice this month, in fact. Last year, I even went on a four-day tour with my college choir (though being 37 weeks pregnant might have affected the "vacation" feel of being gone from my firstborn). But being out of the house childless, while pleasant for a time, doesn't actually make me any less of a mother. Part of me is always running the little boys' schedule in my head, wondering how things are going in my absence, fretting that I should get home sooner but longing to make the alone-time last.
A dear friend (whose children are in high school and college) was telling me a few days ago about taking up a new craft hobby, because she has two hours to kill during her son's music rehearsal each week. I was incredulous: two hours?! To just sit?! Sure, that may be in my future, but depending on how many more children we have, it's probably 20 years down the road. Yikes.
I'm not unhappy with my choice to pursue motherhood. I love a million things about it, and can appreciate how the things I don't love are shaping my character. I don't even believe strongly that I need more opportunities to be alone: this is a lifestyle choice, not a career. There are no "off" days.
But oh, how weighty the endless days can feel sometimes!
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