Categories
Fulfillment Faith

You are true nobility

knightly_helmetAs I pondered a title for this post, I thought I should come up with a definition of nobility—and the first thing that popped into my head was that nobility is the opposite of playing the martyr.

I think if any of us had to draw a picture of nobility, we would show someone with their head held high. We think of knights and soldiers in acts of bravery; we think of true martyrs who sacrificed all that they had, even their lives, for their faith; we think of true saints who dedicated their living hours to those around them.

We don’t think of mothers. (Remember? Most moms are the bad kind of martyrs.)

This is especially interesting in light of the quotation that inspired this post:

The noblest calling in the world is motherhood. True motherhood is the most beautiful of all arts, the greatest of all professions. She who can paint a masterpiece, or who can write a book that will influence millions, deserves the admiration and plaudits of mankind; but she who rears successfully a family of healthy, beautiful sons and daughters, whose immortal souls will exert an influence throughout the ages long after paintings shall have faded, and books and statues shall have decayed or have been destroyed, deserves the highest honor that man can give, and the choicest blessings of God.

—David O. McKay in Pathways to Happiness

Being a mother is the most important thing we can do. On this note, I do want to note that most of us are doing well at the most beautiful of all arts, the greatest of all professions. This doesn’t mean we have our families on home-grown organic raw-food vegetarian diets that we spend six hours a day planning, preparing and tending (the garden). It doesn’t mean we have our children in every single conceivable extracurricular from archery to zoobotany club. It doesn’t mean we subjugate our every desire to every whim of our children’s.

It means, as Jane put it so well today, that:

being a good mother takes two things: 1) the desire to be a good mother. . . . And 2) the will to do those things that she determines to be important for the well-being of her children. Even those that require sacrifice, change of habit, or a lot of w-o-r-k.

And that work—as deeply challenging as it sometimes feels—is a beautiful art that, no matter what else I write or do or say, will be my magnum opus.

What do you think? Will your profession as a mother be your magnum opus? How do you strive to perfect your motherly art? Are you a “good” mother?

Photo by salssa

Categories
Fulfillment

Of martyrs and mothers

Mothers have a reputation (especially in movies and television!) for being martyrs. “Oh, I’ve given you so much—life, food, everything you ever wanted,” a mother moans, “and now you won’t even come to Sunday dinner! I see how you repay working my fingers to the bone, my 352 hours of laboring with you, the 15 years of bedwetting, I see what that all meant to you.”

523790_regretAs children of mothers, naturally, just about everyone hates these characters. Yeah, we laugh, but it’s a knowing laugh. We’ve seen mothers or perhaps even had our own mothers act that way—woe is me, I reared you, it was hard and you’re ungrateful.

And I think we’ve had such a strong reaction to this cultural archetype of the mother as martyr that any complaining about how hard it is to be a mom makes some people say (or at least think) “Oh, quit being a martyr.” (I also like the backhanded compliment, “Glad you got over being a martyr.” Thanks.)

Another stereotype in the media (that’s gotten to be passé, but still persists) is the mom who does everything for everyone all the time (except herself) and is smiley and happy and overjoyed. This one, I think, is even less rooted in reality, unless you’re stuck in 1957. Oh, and TVLand. (Or, like in this archive photo, it’s your first baby’s first birthday.)

Although that image isn’t portrayed as often these days, it’s still ingrained an impossible standard that persists today—if you don’t love every second of motherhood, you’re a bad mother, you must hate your children, and you’re just voicing your discouragement because you’re a helpless martyr (who was, apparently, too stupid to realize that you were never meant to have children in the first place).

This lie is insidious. Pernicious. As a society, we have subconsciously accepted this expectation for years—decades. A good mother is always happy, and it is only a bad mother who ever complains (and then, she’s trying to emotionally blackmail her grown children into her outrageous demands—which just goes to show how bad she is.).

But acknowledging our struggles with motherhood doesn’t make us less of a mother—or more of a martyr. It’s okay to acknowledge that my ten-month-old has been grumpy and fussy for five days and by the time my husband gets home I can hardly stand to hear her and I really not into playing trains. It doesn’t mean I’m not right where I belong or that I hate my children or even that I hate motherhood. It just means that it’s hard for me—and that’s okay.

So go ahead and vent: here, on this post, and always. There are no judgments or competitions here—and there are no bad mothers or martyrs.

What are you dealing with right now?

Photo by Dez Pain

Categories
Kids/Parenting

I am such a good mom

I said this to one of my friends this week. Obviously, I was being at least partially facetious, since #1, I was chatting online instead of playing with my kids (a major problem for me, sadly) and #2, the full transcript of that moment is as follows:

I’m such a good mom
I just fed Rebecca a cheeto

Oddly enough, however, I really did feel like a good mom. Not for feeding Rebecca a cheeto (I’m not a fan myself, even though they are “guaranteed fresh” and “made with all natural oil,” as the package states), or for neglecting my kids, but for allowing myself to be an imperfect mother for a minute.

So much of the time, we mothers are quick to judge ourselves. Every time we don’t give our children what they want (even when we know it’s for the best) or aren’t 157% attentive to their needs, we feel as though we’re mean, bad, and ten kinds of terrible. If we don’t keep up on the latest trends—from Baby Gap to Baby Einstein, from Gerber brain-friendly organic finger foods to gerbera daisy hairclips to match every single outfit she owns—we’re bad mothers.

may-2009-024small
Speaking of hairclips, Rebecca wore one in her hair for the first time this month! Stinkin adorable.

So you know what? I’m going to let my baby have one cheeto. Odds are pretty low that either of our immortal souls hang in the balance, so I think I’m going to forgive myself for letting her consume 14 mg of sodium.

What have you learned to forgive yourself for? What do you struggle with forgiving yourself for? Do you consider yourself a good mother?