Domestic Monastery
In the morning I get up first. It's always too early in my mind, but actually I'm always about 15 minutes behind. I turn on the computer to soothe me into the day with emails and news. I never feel soothed. After I take my shower I feel better but I'm still not really ready. I wake the reluctant kids and suddenly it's mayhem and everything moves too fast. My level of crankiness soars as I'm trying to get the kids dressed and ready to go downstairs to have breakfast. The bus pick-up is always looming. The more I try to be patient and sunny the closer I feel to a meltdown. Veronika is always in her own world, needs to be told everything twice. I usually end up dressing her, because the alternative is to start yelling. I don't want to yell. I guess she will just need a maid when she's in college. Ivan is more present but he is two: I want dis shuh-wt, not dis pants, no dis socks... etc. Only the baby doesn't complain about getting dressed. Once we are downstairs and they are sitting down and eating I relax a little. Fifteen minutes later I start another round of herding to get Veronika (and Ivan, he has to come along) dressed to go to the bus stop. By the time I'm back I'm beat. It's been almost two hours.
I turn on the TV for Ivan and put the baby down. I go upstairs to make a list. This is my favorite time of the day. It's relatively quiet. It's short. It's the only time of the day where I feel somewhat in control and am firmly anchored in the illusion that everything will go well. After that the onslaught of physical labor, organizational demands (bills! phone calls! appointments!), conflict resolution (but I had it first!) and oh-how-much-do-I-hate-it meal preparation reduces me to a mere survivor at the end of the day.
This is not news, I know. It's just what I do, what tons of people do. It looks like nothing much. It's a lot of work but it doesn't look all that significant. It doesn't even feel significant to me, because it's so repetitive, whatever is done is undone the next day. True, what you have to show for at the end are your grown children, hopefully good people, hopefully successful etc, and it may seem that that would make a difference in the infinite string of tiny repetitive moments... but not really. It is the ultimate goal of course, but its effect and shine dissipate when you find yourself at the beginning of yet another day, facing these little people who expect everything from you, seeing all the tasks in front of you, knowing that most likely you will not talk to any other adults while you do them and knowing that nobody will have seen what you did and how much self-control it took.
I think the loneliness is the worst. We depend so much on who we are to someone else. While it's wonderful to be a mother, I can't turn into this role permanently. But it's so hard when 99% of your day it is who you have to be. At the end of the day it messes with my head. I shrivel up mentally. I am cranky, dissatisfied, drained. In those moments when I feel I can't do this... I can't empty the dishwasher anymore. I can't clean up these crayons. I can't go and find out who hit who... I summon up all my strength, all my awareness. This is today and this is me and these are my children and all I have is now and I will give up this minute and do what has to be done out of love, which I don't feel right now, at all. Sometimes this doesn't involve much doing, but just surrendering. This process ends up being my big daily drama, my inner fight, my scrambling to stay the course, to remind myself what I believe life is about and that in the end God will not ask me what I did but how much I loved.
So I know that it's the "how" that makes the difference, not the "what", but I always feel like I'm just now realizing it and only just attempting to put it into practice. This is not the kind of job that makes you feel accomplished on a daily or even yearly basis. It's not a job, where you check off a list or which you could summarize to give to a potential employer... "Made about 300 dinners a year, improved taste by 34.5% over the course of 8 years, accomplished keeping everyone alive and not hungry in the process; Implemented new disciplinary measures, made children unhappy short term, long term results are as of yet unknown, will provide update in 13-15 years..." Most of what I do is invisible, it is not quantifiable, it can't be measured. Only I know what it took. I can't even really describe it or "tell" someone. This loneliness is the hardest. It's not just not having someone around, it's the nature of the job: seemingly simple tasks on the outside, incredible spiritual demands on the inside. And I fail so spectacularly at both. Those are the moments where I wish I could just run away. I can't turn myself into a cleaning and nurturing machine (one solution) nor am I capable of turning washing dishes into loving joyful worship like a monk (other solution). Instead I send angry emails to my husband and eat chocolate.
My biggest accomplishments are not big finished projects, but more things that need to be described in clunky sentences like: "Today I did not yell at Ivan when he spilled his juice twice." "I took the kids to the park on foot, which was good exercise (also for the dog) and saved gas and also I didn't really want to go, but I did it anyway." or "I went to sleep on time because I didn't read my Time magazine even though I wanted to, but it made a difference because I wasn't as cranky and it made the kids be in a better mood." These things are a big deal. They are also not really explainable. This is the enormous challenge of my daily life, making myself available, making conscious choices, fighting my anger and frustration. On the outside it just looks like a bunch of housework and babysitting. But in reality it's my shot at making a difference in the world and creating a meaningful life for myself. And sometimes when I'm having feelings of futility and invisibility I think of my friends, of the other mothers who do the same things and feel just the same and I make myself one with them for a moment, because I do see them and I know it's not for nothing.
Posted at 09:30 PM on October 27, 2008
This is a brilliant post, Dinka!You are not asking for a piece of advice and you don`t need any. Your analysis contains both questions and answers. This education of selfless love/which one oftentimes does not feel at all/is the hardest and never ending schooltype. All of us mothers have to repeat to ourselves "Don´t ever give up" on daily basis. I am looking forward to being able to make some meals for you, at least.
Pusa mama
Great post Dinka. I was thinking just this morning that there is not enough time. I had this mental list of what I wanted to get done with the girls before my husband got out of the shower. The list got blown to smithereens because the baby had to nurse...I was lucky to get dressed and at least I got the baby dressed. 4 year old got dressed herself (luck of the draw) and my 2 year old is still running around with no pants because there ARE no clean pants!! I totally feel your pain!
I agree perfectly with Baka, also from my point of view and situation!
"I think of my friends, of the other mothers who do the same things and feel just the same and I make myself one with them for a moment"
Yes.
I loved this post. Thank you for sharing all your thoughts, and once again helping me see that I'm not alone in this. We all have similar struggles as mothers!
I have actually had breakdowns the past two days at the points you described (when the kids wake-up; after dinner with clean-up). I just broke-down and felt. so. alone. Why am I always alone?
Until I read this, I thought I was alone and losing my mind.
Oh Dani.
Well, you ARE losing your mind, but you have company! :)
Well put. You described my life and the life of so many others perfectly.
I read this to my husband and laughed out loud when I read the part about emailing your husband and eating chocolate.
Thanks for this. It was a good day for it!
I always love reading your posts. It shows the "real side" of life if that makes any sense at all.
I haven't been around much so was just catching up with your blog. I know it's late but just wanted to say I am really sorry to read about your father passing away.
Will try and stay more up to date.
I found your blog just now through a comment you made at Jen's blog. All I can say to this post is this is exactly how I feel too. Wow, what a talent you have for writing. I love the part about seemingly simple tasks on the outside but incredible spiritual demands on the inside. I look forward to reading more.
Wow....I didn't realize you had full access to my brain. And where are the hidden cameras??...thank you for putting so eloquently on "paper" what I and so so many other mother's feel. By you writing this blog I somehow feel heard and it makes it easier.