Moms.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about mothers and motherhood lately.

This is most probably because this Monday I began homeschooling my children, and it's got me looking at the world with pretty fresh eyes.  On top of that, last week I wrote this blog and I got a note from my mom about it.

First of all, I wasn't really sure if my mom read this blog.  I maintain a couple of others and I know she peruses those from time to time, but I wasn't sure about this one. 

Then, on the R.J. facebook page, I got this comment from her in response to my blog:  "Miss, this is excellent! I am proud of you. Did you actually send the letter? I hope you did!"

My heart was so warmed by this comment - I can't even begin to tell you.  

If it had not been my mom, you can bet the effect would have been significantly diminished.  First of all, the phrasing is decidedly intimate - but besides that, it's from MY MOM.


I doesn't matter how old I get - I still seek after my mom's approval.  


I still think about what my mom would think or what she would do.


Sometimes I know I'm doing something outside of her comfort zone, like shaving my head, for example...  but it is always one of THE BEST feelings to know that Mom is proud of me.  That she approves.  That she's there.


I know of folks whose mothers were not so good as mine.  Moms who hurt their kids or abused them or degraded them or what have you.  The thing about that is - I also know that those kids still long for that kind of approval.  Maternal pride.  And love.  Unconditional love.  


As a mom, it's been humbling to understand that I, as a thirty year old woman and mother of my own children still look to my mom for wisdom, for advice, for approval of my actions.  I still think about what she would think, what she must be thinking.  Humbling because I know that every thing I say to my kids will effect them so strongly.  That in twenty years or so it will be MY voice in their heads when they are faced with a tough decision.  That's a lot of responsibility.  


This particular post is for the moms out there who are thinking that maybe they aren't all that important.  Or that their job doesn't really matter.  Because those things are just insanity.  And I've been there before - I know.  I've felt isolated and lonely and tired and depressed about being a mom.  Felt like I was so insignificant.  But seeing my moms comment about her being proud of me - that's what it's all about, people!  It's a powerful position, and a humbling one all at once.  A paradox.  An important one.  Maybe the most important job in the world.  

This post is also for all the other women out there who might not have kids but who long to be moms.  Please know that there are a lot of hurting kids out there whose moms couldn't be there, couldn't face it, couldn't handle this responsibility.  Who turned to abuse, to drugs, who ran away.   Those hurting kids need mom figures in their lives.  Maybe you could find them, be one.  


To all you kids out there who have a mom who is trying her darndest to help you grow up in the best way possible (and you're still her kid til you're dead and she's still trying til she is), give her an extra hug today.  Think about that humble responsibility that she is face with.  Try to put yourself in her shoes sometimes.  


I know that especially when I was fourteen and fifteen my mom and I went through a really rough time.  I felt like she didn't understand me and she was trying to get through to me and I was scared and pubescent and angry and not telling her everything and just a general mess of a kid.  Maybe you're there right now and your mom is the last person on your "like" list.  If I could go back to my freshman year of high school I would tell myself to try hard to listen before speaking.  To talk calmly before freaking out.  To take time to get to KNOW my mom before jumping to conclusions about who she was.  


In the end, this post is about moms and for moms and about kids and for kids - kids who are now moms themselves and kids who are grown-ups and kids who are just starting to read this stuff.  Moms are a gift.  Some of us don't really have a mom, at least not one who is able to function right now.  Who is showing you maternal love?  What does that person mean to you?  What does Mom mean to you?

The past few days, weeks, months...hell...years...I have been feeling...just discontent.

It is not something that goes away, just something that sort of... ebbs and flows as the seasons change.

I try to tie it into other parts of my life. Try to justify it. Try to understand it. Now I think I am just accepting that it is simply a part of me. A part of who I am. Maybe a part of Christianity. Maybe a part of human existence. Maybe a part of womanhood. The answer escapes me now.

I look around me and everything is broken.

Today a baby bird was pushed out of its nest by its parents and I ran with a cloth to put it back inside.

When I picked it up, I could feel the warmth of its blood. The beating of its small heart. It was beautiful. Magic. A miracle. I put it back inside the nest next to its sibling.

Then I took my son to the library.

When I got home, I learned that the parents had pushed the baby back out of the nest. My husband looked up this particular species of bird and found that they push their babies out of the nest to live on the ground for a few days, feeding them there, until they are strong enough to fly.

To me, it seemed this cruel twist of fate that the two birds could not manage to fit into the nest any longer together. Here it was just the way nature had of helping the babies to be mature - to head out on their own.

How often we do this. Stifle ourselves and others, trying to put them back into the warmth of the nest when what they need in order to fly is just a few days on the ground.

We stuff them full of self esteem and pride and expect this to make them worthy of greatness.

I have no idea what the "right" answers are.

I find myself, as a mother, struggling daily with my highly gifted child and my highly active child who may or may not also be gifted, clueless more often than not. Desperate for answers and unable to find them.

I am not sure of the conclusion I am hoping to read in this particular blog. I just want to write and this seemed the place to do it.

I want to break out of my skin and put on something new.

I see the girls in college, the ones just starting life and I find myself jealous of them. Making decisions I should have made. I do not regret my life now - I love my children, my husband... but I wish I would have taken better advantage of my time as a young adult. Stretched my wings a little before I had them somewhat clipped by responsibilities.

I admit I am not sure where I should go from here. If there is anywhere to go.

A friend of mine wrote to me on facebook and told me that I need to understand that life comes in phases. During this time when my children are young I have to understand that I cannnot have the things that I value so much in life - theatre, time to myself, time to write, whatever. My life is supposed to be about my children.

I understand this. I feel that much of my life is about my children. But I refuse to lose myself in that. I refuse to be the mother who, twenty years from now, is sitting at home with no plans, no future, no interests - dreaming of the days when she was changing diapers.

I have fun with my kids. I work toward being a good mother. I devour book after book to help me in finding the "right" education for my children. I homeschool. I love them and the "Mom" part of me. But that is not the entirety of who I am.

I hope that it never is. And yet society still makes me feel guilty about this.

The truth is - you cannot do everything. You cannot be the best mom and the best in your career and the best artist and the best writer and the best player on your softball team. You might be able to do a few of these things if you give up sleeping. Balance is the key. I am not sure that we ever figure out balance in our lives until we are too feeble to get around on our own. Then we are forced to change our very human habits a bit.

I realize this blog is drivel for the most part. I think I might be making some kind of point in there. Not sure where it is. Maybe you can glean a little nugget of gold for yourself. Maybe you just wasted a few minutes of your time reading.

a domestic trap?

Michael and I are throwing around the idea of homeschooling. It's something we've been talking about since Jonah has started coming into his own and both of us grew tired of the public school system.

Things reached a head when we realized the severity of Jonah's food allergies and that traditional school simply wasn't working for him.

He currently attends the local Montessori School, but the tuition is breaking the bank, literally, as we smashed my piggy bank I've had since high school and counted out $84 in coins so we could afford groceries. A $635 tuition bill would be a nice one to lay aside.

Jonah is also highly gifted. At least I think he is.

He's not a super genius. He's not reading at a 12th grade level or multiplying large sums in his head or writing concertos. He IS reading, doing basic arithmetic, and creating his own science experiments. He's also extremely precocious.

I have my doubts at times, about what we should do when it comes to education.

I am a product of the public school system and I feel I turned out alright. My husband attended private Christian School most of his life and turned out about the same as I did. I know people from all walks of education and when it comes right down to it, it's about who they are as people and how their parents maintained the home. Sure, teachers can affect kids in a huge way, but not before their parents have already molded them in a specific vein.

I've been a stay at home mom now for a little over thirteen months. That sounds insane to me. I never thought I would do the stay at home mom thing. Never ever ever in a billion years. My education was important to me. Empowerment as a woman is important to me. Further education is high on my priority list. I have a master's degree. I love teaching. But I found, as a mother, that I love my kids more, and daycare wasn't working for my family.

Jonah had fun there and nice friends, but he was drawing with only the black and red crayons, literally, and it was time to reassess our lifestyle.

I'm not sure I'm capable of homeschooling.

It was something somewhat looked down on when I was a kid and also something that to me seemed a trap for a woman. To be teaching the kids at home, changing diapers - putting off life for another year and another year until, in the end, what is left of you as an individual?

But I have worked hard to maintain my personage since quitting my job. And I've found a lot of myself that was lost in my career moreso than it has been lost at my home.

No, I don't have time to sit down and finish my novel or my painting that has lulled in the easel now for six months or more, but I do have time to let my mind paint pictures. I do have time to act in the local theatre, direct around the town, throw some culture into the education of my children as we listen to Rossinni and identify the instruments in the orchestra in the CD playing in the living room.

Our family is just different. We're vagabond artists. We can't help it. My husband's job on base is there to put food on the table. And while he's a mathematician, he's also an artist. I have never met someone who can more fully use both sides of his brain. I'm the right brained psychopath with a feminist streak. So our kids and traditional schooling? The public school system? It just doesn't seem right.

And me, the feminist, Christian, artist, hippie, vegetarian...well...I guess homeschool does fit, after all.