"take care & teach"

I think I can attribute my better week last week to a change in theory. I had an "aha" moment while I was journaling about my parenting struggles.  You know everyone always says that you need to have "realistic expectations", but what does that really mean? And who ever actually sits down to write out age-appropriate expectations? I decided to take some time after my mini-meltdown, to figure out where my expectations were off, and how I could adjust them to make the days more palatable for all of us.

In this brainstorming I came upon a few ideas. One is that my favorite part of the day is preschool, when I am teaching Logan & Jack.  I love having their full attention, I love expanding their knowledge and I love the feeling I get knowing I am doing my best as a mom in those moments.

Another is that I often miss out on moments to cuddle, hug or soothe because I am so busy.  Sometimes I am genuinely busy (on the phone, paying bills, or caring for another sibling) but most often, I am "busy" on Facebook, folding laundry, or doing something equally mundane that could totally wait.  I love those moments: hugging a sad baby, consoling a frustrated sibling or working with them through a fear.  In my daily life, though, I often lose sight of how important those moments are.

While exploring my actual responsibilities as Logan, Jack and Wyatt's mom, my calling jumped out at me: I am here to take care and to teach.

For example, when I am washing the dishes (a job I loathe doing when the children are all awake) and Jack comes to me with a cut that is this big (imagine me squeezing my fingers together to the point of almost touching) and hurts this much (now imagine my hands spread as far and wide as possible); and Logan is yelling from the bathroom, "Mo-om... Can you wipe me?!?"; and Wyatt is opening the garbage, trying to reach last nights' leftovers, what they need is to be taken care of and taught.  Jack & Logan need to be taken care of. To be given a band-aid and a bottom wiping.  And Wyatt needs to be taught that the garbage is yucky and he can't play with it.

Before I had this personal epiphany about my job as a mom, that exact scenario (which played out, I swear, nearly every morning as I tried to do the dishes) would leave me exasperated, usually yelling, and doling out consequences.

Our job description, we believe mistakenly, is simple. "I'm a mom."

But what does that actually mean?

What does that look like on a day-to-day basis?

Our job is to take care of our littles.

To wash their clothes, their bodies, their potty chairs.

To organize their toys, their socks, their playdates.

To soothe their owies, their worries, their fears.

Our job is also to teach our littles.

Teach them how to wash their hands, wipe their noses and share.

Teach them our expectations, social rules and how to eat at the dinner table.

Teach them about patience, and kindness, and family.

If I were being honest, my expectations of my littles and my job description were all way out of whack when  I got here in August.  I believed my children should never need discipline, should always listen the first time and should never question or test the limits we placed on them.  I believed all three should sleep through the night, always share, and play cooperatively 100% of the time.  I believed they should never embarrass me, always remember their manners and never make messes. Their lack of perfection was infuriating.  In terms of myself, doing this job, I felt the most important thing was a clean house.  Or at least that's what an outsider would have witnessed. In the months since then, I have instead discovered it's most important to end the day with a smile, to provide warm, home cooked meals and to educate them.

{Jack folded these towels for me. I did NOT refold them. I was proud of myself. Oh, and him!}

I am a strong believer that no one can have it all, all at once.  Most days, if I have had a good day with the boys, there are little to no additional chores completed. Sure, I can usually keep up with the dishes and laundry, but all other house cleaning has taken a back seat to pre-school and cooking for the family.  Josh and I spoke very frankly about the shift in priorities for me.   It's a hard one. I hate seeing the house dirty. But I console myself with the fact that someday it will be neat & tidy & clean.  Right now, it's lived in. And that's okay.

Another thought that plagued me as I studied what I thought about my role as a mom, is how much outside influences seep into our lives, and how if we don't stop and check, we may begin to think they are our own thoughts, when in fact, they are not.  Why did I find myself nearly worked into the ground a few weeks ago? Because I also believed that I am Superwoman. That I can work and clean and cook and caretake, all with nary a thought about my own personal needs.  A good mom, a perfect mom, never needs a break from her children. She is able to persevere, despite all circumstances, no matter the situation, and she never burns out. The expectations I had of both myself, and my children, were out-of-this-world-unattainable.  I know that now.

Whereas taking care and teaching are actual, tangible things that I can do everyday.  They are standards against which I can measure my progress, and they are stepping stones that will slowly, day by day, lead us toward the futures we want for our three sons- for them to be happy, independent, successful citizens.

And so when I start to feel my teeth clench, I repeat to myself that it's my job to "take care and teach".  This usually gives me a little direction as to what to do next.  Give them a consequence, and take the time to tell them why. "We don't hit our brothers because it is unkind. You should use your words."  Stop what I'm doing when one of the boys is crying, give them a hug and say, "I love you."  It reminds me to slow down and take this job, this responsibility of parenting, seriously.  Parenting is a verb. "To be or act as a mother or father to someone."

Parenting is what you do. Each day when I wake up to Logan & Jack standing side by side next to my bed and I respond, I am parenting. When they are fighting and I intervene, I am parenting. When they are crying and I console them, I am parenting. Parenting is what I do. Everyday.  All day long.  

This quote puts it more eloquently than I ever could:

And so each night, I forgive myself.

And each morning I repeat my mantra:

My job is to take care and teach.

Take care and teach.

Take care and teach.