It happened while we were driving home the other night.
I had picked up my daughters, five and seven, from their first night of arts camp at our church. We had screeched in a minute late only an hour and a half earlier, after we had waited for my husband to arrive to take over with our toddler. So we had accomplished baths and dinner and cleaning the kitchen and “dance hair” and made it to camp. While they danced, I had run to Trader Joe’s to stock up on the things we’d run out of over our long weekend away.
Their eyes danced with excitement as they breathlessly told me about their first night. Mirabella, had a real ballerina for a teacher and wanted to teach me all the steps, right there in the sanctuary; her younger sister, Emerie, wanted to know if we could go for ice cream. “Yes,” I said, as I clumsily mirrored Mirabella’s moves.
Emerie jumped up and down. I smiled at my ability to say, “yes.” I don’t say it often enough, and I hate it.
They talked excitedly through dessert, about new friends and what they were learning. For some reason, as we turned into our neighborhood, Mirabella made a comment about porcupines. “You know,” I said, “sometimes Emerie reminds me of a porcupine. Because she’s very cute and sweet, but when she gets mad, she can get kind of prickly.” I looked back at Emerie to see how this made her feel, and she gave me a self-aware thumbs up.
“Deal,” she said.
We talked about how Mirabella can be a bit of a sloth; she likes to take her time and is deliberate about all that she does.
“What animal would I be?” I asked.
“A cheetah,” Emerie said, “running around everywhere.”
“A bee,” Mirabella said quickly. “Because you’re always busy and running around cleaning something.”
Sucker punch.
While Daniel and I had brunch during our getaway the previous weekend, my eyes had welled with tears. Over a fistful of months, we’d been dealing with a lot of meltdowns, a lot of unchecked emotion, behavioral issues without clear solutions, and I finally had the distance there to evaluate my role in it.
“Ever since we’ve had three,” I said carefully, “they are not getting the one-on-one attention they deserve. I haven’t learned to manage all the things that have to be done and spend quality time with them. I know other people do. I just haven’t.” We talked about how the work can’t just be left undone – if we only go on adventures, the laundry will pile up, the house will be cluttered and dirty, stressing us all out, the tomatoes will rot on the vine – there are jobs that just must be done.
“I feel like part of my calling in this season is to cultivate a home that we want to be in. This is the backdrop of our children’s memories, and I want it to be comfortable; I want it to be a haven. I want you to breathe a sigh of relief when you walk in the door.”
“I get that,” he said, “but we haven’t worked as hard as we have for you to come home just to clean. That’s not what I’m still working so hard for. When I come home and ask about your day, sure it’s nice to see things clean. But I get much happier when I hear about what you’ve all done together.”
My eyes filled with tears. He was right.
We are very fortunate in this season to be able to sacrifice in other areas to afford the occasional house cleaning. Previously, we had used it as a reset, every couple months. The kind but pushy woman always jockeys for us to increase her frequency. You know, to save us $20 per cleaning. Of course this doesn’t make financial sense, but it’s not just about money.
Having our home cleaned twice per month feels like a slap in the face to me, like an indictment on my ability to keep our home well. Cleaning our house feels like something I’m supposed to do, since I’m not bringing in money right now, and since I’m here most days.
But then our children called me a busy bee. And they weren’t wrong.
“What animal would Daddy be?” I had asked them, stung.
“He would be a bee too, but he’d also be part giant panda. Because pandas keep healthy and strong by playing, and Daddy is playful.”
“I don’t play?” I asked.
“Well, not really,” Mirabella said.
So, we are spending the money in this season. I am still uncomfortable about it. But Daniel says, “You are the only person who can mother our children. Anyone can clean our house.”
I am so grateful for a husband who loves and sees us so clearly in this way. I’m grateful for the resources that haven’t always been there, that may not always be there, but that we have available right now to make this happen.
So now we’re going adventuring. Maybe it will only be in a blanket fort or out in the backyard. But I am going to work on correcting my course. On looking up, paying attention, listening patiently, and saying the important “yes” as often as I can.
“Mommy, can you watch me dance?” Yes.
“Mommy, play in the pool with me!” Yes.
“Mommy, can you help me with this puzzle?” Yes.
[Tweet “I am working on correcting my course. On looking up, paying attention, listening patiently, and saying “yes” as often as I can.”]
Maybe, for you, it’s not about cleaning the house. I don’t know what it is that keeps you from being fully present for your kids or from saying yes more often. Take some time to ask the Lord to show you where you need to slow down and soak up this season. Ask him what tasks and responsibilities you need to exchange for adventure and connection with your kids. Then wait as he shows you the strategy to change your course.
Anyone can {insert daunting life task here}. . .but only we can mother our children. This may not always mean we can give up said task. . .but it can remind us to lay it aside when our kids need to be top priority. This is a dance in itself and it’s one we will continue to learn and re-choreograph each season of our lives.
What animal would your kids say you are? If it’s not the one you want, what can you do in this season to change their perspective?
You are indeed blessed to have a husband who would rather have you spend time with your children. who recognizes that anyone can_______ but only YOU can be their mother, who enjoys hearing what you did with them that day without making you feel guilty for having done it. If only all women had such a man, I do believe there would be more SAHMS.