A Conversation Between Friends

My husband came home today and saw me sitting on the couch, toddler on one knee, and baby nursing on the opposite breast. I was trying to turn the pages of a book with the hand not attached to the infant, while listening for the sound of the stove buzzer, which would indicate that tonight's pork chops were at the stage between "well-done" and "the dog gets tonight's entree." My husband looked at me innocently, and asked "So, did you do anything today?" It's a good thing that most of my appendages were otherwise engaged, as I was unable to jump up and throttle him to death. This was probably for the best, as I assume that asking a stupid question is not grounds for murder in this country.

Let me backup a bit, and explain what led me to this point in my life. I was not always bordering on the brink of insanity. On the contrary, a mere four years ago, I had a good job, steady income, and a vehicle that could NOT seat a professional sports team, and me, comfortably. I watched television shows that were not hosted by singing puppets. I went to bed later than nine o'clock at night. I preferred sex to sleeping in. I laughed at those people who drove halfway across the country hauling a tent trailer, three screaming kids, a drooling dog, and called it a holiday. Now I have become one of them! What happened? The stick turned blue. I have traded in my Victoria's Secrets lingerie for cotton briefs and a firm support-nursing bra. Good-bye, Garth Brooks. Hello, Sharon, Lois and Bram.

My idea of privacy is getting the use the bathroom without a two-year old banging on the door, and the baby spinning the toilet paper roll from my lap. And I finally understand that the term "Stay-At-Home Mom" does not refer to a parent, who no longer works outside the house, but rather to one who never seems to get out the front door.

So here I sit, children in hand, wondering how to answer my beloved husband. DID I DO ANYTHING TODAY? Well, I think I did, although not much seems to have gotten accomplished. I shared breakfast in bed with a handsome young man. Of course, the breakfast consisted of a bowl of porridge and leftover cookie crumbs found between the sheets. The handsome young man is about thirty-four inches tall and only gets really excited at the sight of purple dinosaurs, toy trucks and French Fries. I got to take a relaxing stroll in the woods. Of course, I was on the lookout for frogs and lizards, and had to stop and smell the dandelions along the way. I successfully washed one load of laundry, moved the load that was in the washer into the dryer, and the dryer load into the basket. The load that was in the basket is now spread out on the bed, awaiting my bedtime decision to actually put the clothes away or merely move them to the top of the dresser. I read two or three classics. Of course, Dickens and Shakespeare cannot take credit for these works, as we have moved on to the works of Seuss and Munsch. I don't think I will be making any trips to the Adult Section of my local library anytime soon. In between, I dusted, wiped, organized and rearranged. I kissed away the owies and washed away the tears. I scolded, praised, hugged, and tested my patience, all before noon.

DID I DO ANYTHING TODAY? You betcha! I will now understand what people mean when they say that parenthood is the hardest job they will ever have. In my LBD (life before diapers) I was able to teach young minds how to divide fractions and write complex sentences, but I am unable to teach a strong willed two-year-old how to use the toilet. I was once able to navigate urban streets while talking on the car phone and looking for a decent radio station, but now I can't get the wheels on my stroller to all go in the same direction. I've graduated from university, written newspaper articles, and won awards, but can't figure out how to get carrot stains out of the carpet. I used to debate with my friends about politics, but now we discuss the merits of cloth versus disposables. And when did I stop talking in sentences that had more than five words.

So, in response to my husband's inquiry, yes, I did do something today. In fact, I am one step closer to one of life's greatest accomplishments. No, I did not cure AIDS or forge World Peace, but I did hold a miracle in my arms, two in fact. My children are my great accomplishment, and the opportunity to raise them is my greatest challenge. I don't know if my children will grow up to be great leaders or world-class brain surgeons. Frankly, I don't care, as long as they grow up to be happy and fulfilled. They are my greatest joys, even though I sometimes cry myself to sleep at night in frustration. The point is, that today I got to watch my children take another step on the great journey of Life, and I even got to point out some of the sites along the way. As challenging as parenthood is, it is also equally rewarding, because we are using all our wisdom, our talent and skills to help forge a new person. It is this person (these people), who in turn, will use their gifts to create our future. So every nursery rhyme I recite, every swing I push, every little hand I hold is SOMETHING!

A Conversation Between Friends

We are sitting at lunch when my friend casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of 'starting a family'.

"We're taking a survey," She says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...." But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. That matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle, or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation. I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs. I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

My friend's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my friend could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future. I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts. My friend quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my friend's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. The blessed gift of God and that of being a Mother.

"Author Unknown"