Parenthood is so consuming. We scour books, searching for some sort of direction and instruction; we probe friends and family, discussing disappointments and achievements alike, gleaning any sort of feedback possible; but most of all, we just want ways to improve, well — me, us, them — our family. I say this not in the saintly, I’m-the-best-mom type of way, but in the my-kids-have-fully-furnished-rooms-designed-for-creative-expression-play-and-thought-while-my-own-looks-like-a-glorified-dorm-room-with-plastic-dresser-drawers type of way. Seriously. Hence I say “consuming.” The bubble popped a few weeks ago after I put a new lamp in the boys’ room for better reading light, yet later that night I found myself reading in bed by the light shed from my closet. What the? I promptly removed the lamp to my room (much to Liam’s dissatisfaction) and bought new pillows to fill the bright white bedding that Mark and I had bought months ago. Perfect. In two very small steps, I had drastically improved the quality of my own and Mark’s life (and I suppose my kids by some sort of approximation).
You can now imagine the deflation to my new found enthusiasm when I noticed Blythe sauntering out of my new sanctuary last week shirtless and painted in red stripes like some heroic woman-warrior — only, “hero” was not the word in my mind at the time. I ran to my room to find a bloody-looking sacrifice of four lipsticks, two mascaras, one blush, one eyeliner, and one emptied bottle of loose shimmer powder sprawled out and rubbed into my bathroom rug. But the rug was not a large enough canvas. Blythe painted the cabinets and floors and walls and blinds, and since she had used her hands for all of this mashing and painting and destroying, she needed the white duvet cover on my bed to clean and rid herself of evidence. Humph.
I wish I could tell you that I laughed or calmly reprimanded my daughter, immediately recognizing the transient nature of “my stuff” — but I didn’t. I. was. angry. So angry in fact that Blythe sat in time out, oh, for maybe 15-20 minutes until Mark returned home from work. I just love “my stuff” too much; only, I suppose, moths and rust would have taken too long to reveal this secret (or not so) love in my heart. Sigh. Mark and I were able to get all the reddish, pink smears and handprints out of the white duvet: liquid dish soap. I’m so grateful — for the soap and the daughter alike (lest I not clarify).
Comments
Thank you Joy and Patti for your encouragement and wisdom.
Heather, thanks for your comment; what I meant to communicate is not that i was wrong to get angry, rather that in that moment i was weighing the value of my stuff as greater than the relationship with my daughter. She’s 3, and while we are training her, I hope, to be a good steward of her/our things, we also hope to teach her to be slow to anger when people hurt us or our things. I wasn’t feeling like such an excellent role model that day. But, I guess I’m also modeling humanity.
Alexis, you sound like Mark. He thinks my love of white is insane — maybe that’s my downfall.
First of all, you bought a WHITE duvet and you have FOUR kids??? What the?! Second of all, BAHAHAHA! I love this story!
I found you again! I had been thinking of you and your blog name came back to me (well the cloistered away part anyway)!
Anyway, that hit close to home. Sadly.
We’re at http://www.theadventuresofmissmommy.com now- would love to hear from you! I dreamed you had 6 kids last night (after I thought of your blog name)- still 4 right? ;)
I’m not a mom, so I can’t comment on that part. But we are called to be good stewards of our resources, so I think it’s okay to be upset when your stuff is damaged and has to be replaced (in an appropriate way of course, this can go too far, though it doesn’t sound like you did). So don’t be too hard on yourself.
Love this. All of it. I am continually indulging in martyr mom thoughts. Our bedroom is also College Dorm, complete with plastic drawers.
My new theory on the constant tension in pursuit of Family Excellence,as it were, is that, as long as the tension is not just thinly veiled discontent, it is decidedly a good thing to always be trying to find the best way to do life as a family. I think that families who are confident that they have figured out the exact right way to do everything (school, discipline, worship..) are kind of insufferable. Humility combined with a sincere search for wisdom–you and Mark have that in abundance. So, with that, I’m glad the duvet is white again. Because it is okay to want to see beauty, by the light of your very own lamp, in your home.
Oh my goodness! Thanks-as always-Bethany, for your authenticity, your insight, your way of describing every-mom’s experience and process. I love you so!
You’ve probably heard it said, “We read to know we’re not alone.” Well, MANY of us read your blog to know we’re not alone. (And you’re experiencing these things times four! After three very exciting diaper changes the other morning (I literally have to lean on and push down Elijah with all my coordination and might to remove a diaper, wipe, and place a new one on as he kicks his legs as fast as he can and fights to throw himself of the changing table), I found him hanging–both feet off the ground–hands gripping the edge of a high, heavy potted plant in the pull-up position! His head was at plant level!)