In the Andersen Submarine
I'm not sure why I equated the idiom "I'm submarined" with the song "The Yellow Submarine", but that's where my title comes from. I'm just living in the Andersen submarine. I'm also feeling just a little sunk.
We've had a couple of rough nights at our house: late nights, followed bylong nights with restless kids, coinciding with friends needing emergency help at 3:30 a.m. And rough nights usually mean rough days. So today, as I was dealing with my own rough day, I had to deal with multiple others who were having their own rough days. I'll admit: teenage girls, distraught elementary schoolers, and an overtired, overactive preschooler with no listening ears and little understanding of the way his actions affect others make a loooooong day. Really long. A few of these summer days have rivaled the difficult days I often had when my three-under-four were young. For the first time in a long time, I reached into my old file of motherhood talks for counsel and strength. (Would this be a good time to share that I used to carry that file around my house with me? I read talks from it every day. Yup, that's right...every single day.)
Today it was as though my mind's replay button had been pushed. I found myself thinking about some of the same things I used to dwell on, namely, some of the difficulties & challenges of my job.
I'll share a few, and maybe I'll add more another time.
Challenge #1--Loneliness & isolation. Ten or twelve years ago, I experienced a lot of physical isolation. Let's face it: the work of raising a family--particularly a young one--is usually done at home. Home is great, but I found the four walls of my home very confining. I left every morning, even during blizzards, to walk. I'd bundle my kids, and off we'd go. It was one thing I looked forward to. I'd come home with a clearer mind, knowing I'd done something for myself, and ready to face the day. But it wasn't enough. I was young, geographically isolated from family, without a close friend, family member, or visiting teacher. And I was very alone. Even now, I'm still alone. Why? I get out a lot more. I have a lot of acquaintances and even a pretty good friend nearby. But motherhood can still be a lonely place.
Here's the simple truth: Every mother worries about her kids. Sometimes, she worries a lot. And no one else--not even another mother--can relate completely. A mother has invested so much in her children and wants so badly for them to succeed that her reponsibility becomes pretty heavy sometimes. And no one else knows her children and their personalities, Spirits, struggles, successes, and failures as intimately. So no one else can relate exactly. A conscientious dad comes close, but, let's face it: his sphere of responsiility is just different enough that it's...well, different. And sometimes, there are things a mother bears alone.
But there's hope. Some people have sisters. I've really wondered what that'd be like. If someone I was entirely comfortable with and trusted completely was in my boat, would braving the storm together be hepful? I really think so. But I'll never know.
The greatest hope is in the fact that the Savior was often alone. And He doesn't intend us to be. But that doesn't change the fact that I sometimes feel that way.
We've had a couple of rough nights at our house: late nights, followed bylong nights with restless kids, coinciding with friends needing emergency help at 3:30 a.m. And rough nights usually mean rough days. So today, as I was dealing with my own rough day, I had to deal with multiple others who were having their own rough days. I'll admit: teenage girls, distraught elementary schoolers, and an overtired, overactive preschooler with no listening ears and little understanding of the way his actions affect others make a loooooong day. Really long. A few of these summer days have rivaled the difficult days I often had when my three-under-four were young. For the first time in a long time, I reached into my old file of motherhood talks for counsel and strength. (Would this be a good time to share that I used to carry that file around my house with me? I read talks from it every day. Yup, that's right...every single day.)
Today it was as though my mind's replay button had been pushed. I found myself thinking about some of the same things I used to dwell on, namely, some of the difficulties & challenges of my job.
I'll share a few, and maybe I'll add more another time.
Challenge #1--Loneliness & isolation. Ten or twelve years ago, I experienced a lot of physical isolation. Let's face it: the work of raising a family--particularly a young one--is usually done at home. Home is great, but I found the four walls of my home very confining. I left every morning, even during blizzards, to walk. I'd bundle my kids, and off we'd go. It was one thing I looked forward to. I'd come home with a clearer mind, knowing I'd done something for myself, and ready to face the day. But it wasn't enough. I was young, geographically isolated from family, without a close friend, family member, or visiting teacher. And I was very alone. Even now, I'm still alone. Why? I get out a lot more. I have a lot of acquaintances and even a pretty good friend nearby. But motherhood can still be a lonely place.
Here's the simple truth: Every mother worries about her kids. Sometimes, she worries a lot. And no one else--not even another mother--can relate completely. A mother has invested so much in her children and wants so badly for them to succeed that her reponsibility becomes pretty heavy sometimes. And no one else knows her children and their personalities, Spirits, struggles, successes, and failures as intimately. So no one else can relate exactly. A conscientious dad comes close, but, let's face it: his sphere of responsiility is just different enough that it's...well, different. And sometimes, there are things a mother bears alone.
But there's hope. Some people have sisters. I've really wondered what that'd be like. If someone I was entirely comfortable with and trusted completely was in my boat, would braving the storm together be hepful? I really think so. But I'll never know.
The greatest hope is in the fact that the Savior was often alone. And He doesn't intend us to be. But that doesn't change the fact that I sometimes feel that way.
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