After Balin was born and I, confined to the glider rocking that baby to sleep constantly, rediscovered my love of reading. Since then, I have made a special effort to read a book a month. Sometimes I'm successful and sometimes I'm not, but I really like that I am once again perusing a wide range of works: non-fiction, fiction, science-fiction, parenting...the list goes on.
My current read is The Feminine Mystique. I had never read it, though it was mentioned throughout my undergraduate career. I'm not sure exactly what I anticipated - something academic, definitely - but I am really surprised at how much I can relate to the subject matter in this book.
And I don't think I would have been able to identify so fully with what Friedan is saying had I not been a stay-at-home-mom. Her life in the 1960's is my life now.
Throughout the endless dishes, laundry, repetitious days, and carting the kids around, I sometimes wonder: "Is this as good as it gets?"
or: "Is there more to my life than diapers, vomit, tantrums, and nagging?"
or: "What do I want?"
or: "Who am I?"
I am the mother of two boys and the wife of my husband. But I am also myself.
As much joy being a mother is, sometimes I feel utterly lost the sea of motherhood; I feel as though I am drowning and I can't reach the life raft, no matter how hard I try. There are days when I despair at how I can't seem to find a moment to collect my own thoughts. When I do, they appear to be so incoherent that no one except myself can decipher them ("...put whole wheat flour on the grocery list...remember to take a homemade musical instrument to preschool...wash the windows...wipe those smudges off the mudroom doorframe...email so-and-so...pay the electric bill...replace checks in checkbook...").
It's demanding work to care for your family. I've made so many sacrifices and my children don't give a damn about that now. Maybe they will someday, but not now - it's too broad, too vague for them to understand. They just want someone to play with, read with, and - most of all - to love them. And I can do it, but what about me?
What do I need?
I need love and support. I need to know that my efforts are valued and appreciated. I need to know that I'm doing something right. I need time to nurture myself. Most of all, I need time to create and to be creative. It's such an important part of who I am that I'd be lost if I didn't.
Can I count on obtaining these things? Maybe. As the boys get older, there will be more time for creating. Until then, I must make time and work around the boys' schedules.
Sacrifice. It's the way of the stay-at-home-parent.
Blessed be.
My current read is The Feminine Mystique. I had never read it, though it was mentioned throughout my undergraduate career. I'm not sure exactly what I anticipated - something academic, definitely - but I am really surprised at how much I can relate to the subject matter in this book.
And I don't think I would have been able to identify so fully with what Friedan is saying had I not been a stay-at-home-mom. Her life in the 1960's is my life now.
Throughout the endless dishes, laundry, repetitious days, and carting the kids around, I sometimes wonder: "Is this as good as it gets?"
or: "Is there more to my life than diapers, vomit, tantrums, and nagging?"
or: "What do I want?"
or: "Who am I?"
I am the mother of two boys and the wife of my husband. But I am also myself.
As much joy being a mother is, sometimes I feel utterly lost the sea of motherhood; I feel as though I am drowning and I can't reach the life raft, no matter how hard I try. There are days when I despair at how I can't seem to find a moment to collect my own thoughts. When I do, they appear to be so incoherent that no one except myself can decipher them ("...put whole wheat flour on the grocery list...remember to take a homemade musical instrument to preschool...wash the windows...wipe those smudges off the mudroom doorframe...email so-and-so...pay the electric bill...replace checks in checkbook...").
It's demanding work to care for your family. I've made so many sacrifices and my children don't give a damn about that now. Maybe they will someday, but not now - it's too broad, too vague for them to understand. They just want someone to play with, read with, and - most of all - to love them. And I can do it, but what about me?
What do I need?
I need love and support. I need to know that my efforts are valued and appreciated. I need to know that I'm doing something right. I need time to nurture myself. Most of all, I need time to create and to be creative. It's such an important part of who I am that I'd be lost if I didn't.
Can I count on obtaining these things? Maybe. As the boys get older, there will be more time for creating. Until then, I must make time and work around the boys' schedules.
Sacrifice. It's the way of the stay-at-home-parent.
Blessed be.
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