Motherhood is more than carrying a child in your womb for 9 months. Motherhood is more than daily wiping of noses, cleaning of faces, filling of bellies. Motherhood is more than driving, shopping, cleaning, cooking. Motherhood is part of being a Woman, but not all of it. It is part of growing up, for some of us. It is conducive to gaining appreciation, but not for everyone. I was still a child myself, really, when I became a Mother. Joshua and I did a lot of growing up together. We both learned a lot about sacrifice. I learned how to say good-bye to him in the morning, he learned that separation from Mother wasn't such a bad thing after all. Especially since he got to go to Grandma's house (which, sorry Disney, was the happiest place on earth). I learned I could love someone until my heart might burst and be completely enraged at the same time. He learned that the wrinkling of my forehead was not a good sign for anyone. We learned a lot about time, more specifically abo...
When we are kids we ask questions like 'why is the sky blue?'. Now that I am an adult, I ask different kinds of questions...here are a few I thought of today while making some mac-n-cheese and doing dishes: ~ Why do people* leave dirty laundry on the floor next to the dirty laundry basket? ~ Why does my father-in-law save the milk top rings? ~ Did my laundry take it literally when God said to multiply and replenish the earth? It seems to have the concept mastered. ~ How is it that dinner takes an hour to make and 5 minutes to eat? ~ Did the laundry teach the dishes how to multiply and replenish too?? ~ In what way is using plastic cups and paper plates more sensible? ~ What is it about cooking outside that makes things taste better? ~ How come I have a cupboard full of food and nothing to eat? ~ Just how does my mom's voice come out of my own mouth? ~ How come boys have no problem 'going' in the shower, but are grossed out by cleaning the toilet? ~ Where did that ...
When my daughter was born, a new person was born inside of me. One that thought a lot more about what it meant to be other, outside, and different. I had lived my whole life inside the comfortable confines of being a middle class white person. Sure, my parents struggled and lived on the fringes of consumerism. We had enough, but only just. My dad worked hard, my mom worked hard, and we got by with enough. I never spent a whole lot of time considering what not enough looks like. I had what I needed, I never went hungry, and my parents provided toys and movies and other entertainments that are the hallmark of what we might consider American life. But, when my daughter came to us with a complicated background, this new person inside me started to wonder. Why were circumstances for others so different from my own? How would her life be different with another family? What if her birth mother had decided a different path? These...
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