You get a pedicure WHILE holding a nearly 8 month old infant the whole time, attempting to nurse him under a cover that he’s not used to, and experimenting with the squeezy applesauce packs for the first time, thinking “what could go wrong?”
Your own mom takes 2/3rds of your children to give you some breathing room in the middle if the week (in all seriousness, thank you, Mom). So you head out for a Tarjay Vacay but once in the store, you can’t help but find yourself darting through the aisles, heart pounding/aching, to check the source of the screaming-someone-else’s-child-who-sounds-spot-on-your-own-middle-child, just in case it might be, which of course, it’s not. And then you feel a little weepy, and your Starbucks bevy you’ve reasoned you deserve starts to coagulate in your throat.
Your husband goes out of the country for a 5 day business trip (aka personal vacation) and you think it’ll be easy, fun even, not having to keep up with the housework or cook dinner while he’s gone (because hey, he’s the soul reason I even touch raw chicken, or really any sort of meat), but then, the house is disgusting.
You angrily mutter to yourself, “THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS MOTHER’S DAY!” knowing what you’ve known all along, that motherhood cannot be boiled down to one day because it is a 24/7 job, and loathing yourself for secretly wishing for a surprise day filled with doing whatever Mommy really wants to do (which honestly, is just taking a shower and maybe getting to finish a cup of hot coffee).
You chase your “breaks” as if they’re the only thing that will get you through the day.
You may or may not have eyed a bottle of beer at 2pm. And you may or may not have had it with lunch while the children napped.
This is the recipe for doing motherhood wrong, folks. It’s something I find myself sliding into every few weeks, or whenever I’ve slacked off on my prayer life. Praying is a JOB, whoever said it comes without a direct, marked choice to acknowledge God’s hand in our life, is someone who’s had their free will taken from them. And when I find myself spiritually lazy, everything else is affected. It is surrounded by the idea of “NON SERVIAM” the same words Satan spoke to God.
I WILL NOT SERVE.
The short truth of the matter is that when we serve others, our moments open up to us.
When we refuse to serve our children, our parents, our spouse, we end up repeatedly chasing a self constructed fulfillment that leaves us empty and still hungry- be it clothes, shoes, food, drink, time alone, or even a “perfect day where I get to do whatever I want.” As a mom, you know in your heart that in fact, EVERY DAY is Mother’s Day. Every day is a blessing and a gift. Every moment our head aches in annoyance at the piercing screech bouncing off the bathroom walls as we try to pee is a true moment in heaven.
The moments of solitude at Target are spent in the toy aisles, pining to purchase a Batman shaped Hot Wheels truck for our little boys, or a beautiful yellow sundress for our little girls. And when grandma keeps the babies overnight so that we can relax, we turn on DisneyJR just to fill the silence, and we fall asleep in the rocking chair at 9pm after swearing to take advantage of the freedom and watch Pride and Prejudice.
I will never EVER be “free” of motherhood. It is a vocation. Vocation, not career. Not something we retire from and get to obsess over our degenerating health for the rest of our days. I will never be oppressed by the superficial, material idea that “freedom” is the ability to obsess over my own comforts in place of my family’s comfort. And if I find myself doing just that, then PLEASE someone Batman slap me, cause I’m doing it wrong.
Lalalaaaa, go check out Jen’s 7QT now, bai!